Page 87 of Maybe We Can Fake It

Damn, that sucks. I can’t imagine being married to someone for so many years and then just not being happy with them anymore. That must be a tough situation, especially when you own a business with your spouse.

“She’s still a cheating cunt,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood.

It seems to work, because Addison laughs and holds up her mug to clink it against mine. “Yes, she is.”

“Just so you know... I’m sorry she did that to you, but I’m so happy and grateful to have you here. Seriously, you’re amazing. If I could make you cook all my meals for me, I would.”

Okay, maybe notallof them. Because that would be like cheating on Travis. And I could never give up the excuse to see him at the diner.

She takes her coffee back over to her workstation, knocking her phone to the side as she sets the mug down. “I appreciate you saying that. Coming from somebody who probably can’t even cook a hotdog, I’m not sure if it’s saying much, but...”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding. Well, not about the cooking.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Yeah, yeah. We all know I’m useless at a stove. I might as well let May store her books in there.”

“That seems like a very dangerous recipe for a house fire.”

“So our bonding moment is over, I take it?”

A hint of a smile forms on her lips. “No, really. Thanks for being here to talk me off that ledge. I’d really prefer to never give that woman another bit of my mental energy.”

“I hear that.”

As she gets back to prepping the lunch menu, she says, “Sorry I didn’t clear the new hires with you first. I meant to, but I reallyneeded to get them in here quickly so they can help me for the big Mother’s Day brunch.”

The wordsMother’s Dayare like a slap in the face, ruining my good mood.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I manage to keep myself together and not trauma dump all over her. I’m so glad she opened up to me, but that would be way too much emotion in this kitchen for one day.

“It’s really not a problem at all,” I assure her. “I promised when I hired you that you’d have full control over kitchen staff. I trust you.”

“Thanks.” Picking up her tongs, she gestures to the door that connects to the dining room. “By the way, your family’s having breakfast out there.”

Ouch.Another word that shouldn’t be painful, but is, in this context.

“They’re not...” I start, then shake my head when she looks at me curiously. “Never mind. Guess I better go say good morning.”

Fucking Mother’s Day. This time of year is never great for me. It’s awful that May doesn’t have a mother to celebrate with. And to make things so much worse, April died shortly after the holiday, so that anniversary always brings up even more grief for me.

Usually, I’m good at preparing for the onslaught of emotions that I know are coming. I can let myself enjoy the spring festival with May, and then I spend the rest of the month compartmentalizing hard, only listening to depressing music and quietly falling apart when I’m alone in my bedroom.

This year, with Elise and Grant being here, they’ve kept me too busy and panicked to think ahead. So the fact that Sunday is Mother’s Day has kind of snuck up on me.

We hold a brunch at the inn every year for mothers and daughters, and I’m thankful Addison is on top of the menu stuff.I’ll do my part to organize, but as much as possible, I like to avoid being around during the actual event. I’ll find myself other busywork to keep me occupied so I don’t have to witness all the celebrating.

Hopefully Elise and Grant will be leaving by this weekend. Having them around for the holiday would make it so much harder for me to ignore my grief.

Because it should be April here. It should be April living a happy life with her daughter in Mayweather, and I should be fun Uncle Brenden who visits the two of them all the time.

But the world isn’t fair at all, is it? And even though that’s how things should’ve gone, I can’t imagine a life for myself now where I’mnotMay’s father. Maybe I’m horribly selfish, but I’d never want to give this up.

Walking into the dining room, I force a smile on my face. I’ll need to find a polite way of asking Elise and Grant when they’ll be checking out of here and getting back on a flight to Philadelphia so I can breathe again. The longer they’ve stayed, the more comfortable I’ve started to feel around them, but I can’t expect Travis to keep up our charade much longer.

Shit, his dad could be coming home soon, and that would be a disaster.

Elise waves when she sees me. She and Grant both have glasses of orange juice and plates of eggs Florentine in front of them. I slide into one of the empty seats at their table, setting down my coffee as I say hi.

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