Page 68 of Maybe We Can Fake It

Fake.

A good fake boyfriend.

His mouth silently forms the wordplease, and I know I’m done for.

Huffing out a sigh, I say, “Fine. I’ll throw a damn egg at you.”

“Tome,” he corrects.

“Sure. That.”

May claps, sounding positively delighted as she says, “See? This is going to be so much fun!”

When I shoot her a side-eyed look, she gives me another faux-innocent smile. I resist the urge to flip her off, because that’s probably inappropriate.

It’s clear that she planned this. Yeah, I believe she might have wanted to do the games with her grandmother. But I’m certain that forcing me and Brenden to do them together also factored in there. I’m just not sure the reason for it.

She probably thinks it’ll be funny, since she knows how much I hate this kind of shit. I’ve lived in this town most of my life and managed to avoid it. But when my usual urge to give Brenden what he wants is compounded by the new urge to give his daughter whatshewants...

I had no hope of resisting, did I?

“Fun,” I say grudgingly.

She looks way too pleased with herself as she turns back to her homework.

Brenden leans over to give me a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

All of my annoyance melts away instantly. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him in for one more kiss. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s what boyfriends are for.”

His eyes twinkle, like we’re sharing a private joke, before he leans back out of my space.

A bit later, I’m still wondering what May’s angle really is, when she stands up, yawning, and says, “Is anyone else tired? I think I’m ready for bed.”

Brenden scoffs at her. “It’s Friday night.”

“But we should be well-rested for tomorrow, right?”

“I swear it’s like you’re thirteen-going-on-senior-citizen,” he tells her, rolling his eyes.

Elise stands too. “Well,I’mcertainly not thirteen, so I’m going to head upstairs.”

One by one, May, Elise, and Grant leave the living room.

Brenden turns to me with a perplexed look on his face once we’re alone. “I feel like I’m missing something. Are you tired?”

“Not really.”

“You wanna watch something?”

Before I say yes, I get a better idea. A much better idea. Or possibly a much worse idea, if I think about how much it’s going to suck later when the two of us go back to being just friends. So I won’t let myself think about that. Not now.

“No,” I tell him. “Let’s go up to bed.”

“But you just said you weren’t tired.”

“Exactly.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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