Page 67 of Maybe We Can Fake It

“Ah, okay. I think I’ve heard something about them.”

I turn on the radio, then set my eyes firmly on the road as I take off, hoping to discourage him from asking anything more. It’s not my business to tell people about Brenden’s family situation. Especially one of his employees. I know his relationship with Elise and Grant is complicated.

Though I can’t help but wonder again if Brenden even knows their conflicted feelings about visiting Mayweather. Would it change anything between them if he knew how hard it was for them to come here? That they do itdespite thatfor him and May? And is it my place to tell him these things?

If I were really his boyfriend—his partner—then maybe. But I’m not. We’re just faking it.

So I should stay out of any emotional minefields and simply enjoy the perks of this fake relationship while I can.

“Who’sreadyforMayFesttomorrow?” Brenden asks cheerfully, as he passes Elise a mug of chamomile tea. He’s learned how to fix it perfectly to her taste.

I press myself farther into the arm on the opposite end of the couch to make room for him in the middle. He glances down at May, who is sprawled on the floor again with all her school stuff spread out on the coffee table. I probably should have scooted myself to the middle to make it easier for him. But I’m pretty glad I didn’t when he sort of takes a dive across my lap to get into the open spot. I catch his leg to prevent him from kicking May in the head, and we’re both chuckling by the time he gets settled.

He flushes when he notices Elise and Grant watching us with amusement. May hasn’t even looked up from her homework, her concentration unwavering.

“The festival sounds delightful,” Elise says, not commenting on Brenden’s less than graceful moves.

Brenden grins. “Oh, it’ll be absolutely delightful when May and I kick everyone’s butts at the May Games! They’re named for her, so obviously we always win.”

At this, May’s head snaps up, and he reaches down to ruffle her purple hair. A guilty expression crosses her face, but I don’t think he notices in his excitement. “They’re not named for me,” she says. “They’re named for the month. And the festival. And the town.”

“Andyou’renamed for the town,” he tells her. “Therefore, they’re named for you.”

She sets her pen down on her notebook and twists to face her dad better. “We don’t always win.”

He scowls. “All right, fine. We usually win. But we’re not letting the O’Brien twins beat us this year. I don’t care if they have freaky twin advantages. We’re the dream team.”

May’s guilty look returns. “Um, Dad? About the games...”

“What?” he asks.

“I asked Grandma if she’d do them with me this year. Since we’ve never gotten to do anything like that together before.”

Brenden’s face falls, the brightness dimming like the sun sliding behind a cloud. But he recovers quickly, giving her a smile thatalmostlooks real. “Oh. Well, sure. Of course you should do it with your grandmother, if that’s what you want. That’ll be fun for you guys! I’ll get to just chill out and watch for once and cheer you on from the sidelines. That’ll be fun. Super fun. Maybe I’ll make an embarrassing sign to hold up.”

I reach out and gently squeeze his thigh, hoping to calm him so he’ll ease up on the babbling.

“Actually, I figured you’d want to compete with Travis,” May says.

Woah there. Compete withwhonow?

My panicked eyes meet Brenden’s. I’m planning to do the boyfriend thing and go to the festival with him. But my participation is not supposed to extend beyond watching and trying not to sneer at the madness.

He grimaces. “May, you know that’s not Travis’s thing.”

When she glances at me, her guilty look has morphed into something else. Something a little more mischievous. “I know it’s not normally his thing. But I’m sure he’dloveto compete with you. Isn’t that the kind of thing boyfriends do together?”

She smiles sweetly, but I see the calculation behind it. She knows exactly what she’s doing—trapping us. Is it weird to be scared of a thirteen-year-old?

“We, um.” Brenden kicks her subtly, out of her grandparents’ view. “He... It’s...”

“What’s the matter?” Elise asks. “Are you two afraid you’ll get beaten by a teenager and an old lady?”

Oh hell. They’re in on this together.

“There’s no way you’ll beat us!” Brenden exclaims. Then he shoots me an apologetic look, because that sure sounded like an agreement that we’ll be competing together.

I hold his gaze, wanting to be a good fake boyfriend, to give him whatever he wants. But come on. Those games are ridiculous. Do I really need to make a fool of myself to be a good boyfriend?

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