Page 93 of Maybe We Can Fake It

“He did?” I ask, my gaze trained on him while I cut at my steak.

He nods, then chuckles. “In any town besides Mayweather, a guy ushering a child into his large white van would probably be considered kidnapping. And I did teach my daughter stranger danger. But she knew him, of course, and she felt safe with him.” When he smiles, his face is highlighted beautifully by the soft glow of the tealights. “Anyway, it was really kind of him to do that for her.”

“I never heard about that.”

While my dad isn’t bad with kids, it’s still kind of surprising to learn he’d go out of his way to help someone else’s kid when it wasn’t anything serious. The story makes me wonder what else I may have missed about him, but I’m glad Brenden told me.

Then he starts talking more about May, and his face lights up in an extra special way that it doesn’t for anything else. He gets so animated in telling me all the details of this fantasy seriesshe’s been reading—a series he hasn’t even read himself—that he almost knocks over his wine glass.

“Oops,” he says, giggling as I reach out to steady it. Maybe it’s not only his excitement for the topic that made him clumsy. It could also be the fact that our bottle of wine is almost gone, and I’m still on my first glass.

“You’re cute when you’re tipsy,” I say without thinking.

“Pfft.I’m cute all the time,” he says, then smiles brightly.

I roll my eyes. I’m not about to confirm that, but I can’t bring myself to deny it either.

“Did you know this date was actually May’s idea?” he asks, looking down at his plate now as he scoops up a forkful of risotto.

“Really?”

“I have no idea why. I think she just likes to watch me stress out.”

“I’m sure that’s not why. Maybe she honestly thought you deserved something nice.” I slowly chew my steak, pondering something I want to ask. Then I decide to go for it. “Is being out with me really that stressful?”

“What? No!” He frowns deeply. “That’s not what I meant. But May knows we’re faking this. And she knows my relationship with her grandparents is pretty strained, so this puts me in an awkward position, right?”

I’m not sure why it’s hard for him to accept that people love him and might want to do nice things for him. Though I am wondering a bit about May’s motive too. I haven’t forgotten the gleeful way she pushed me into competing in the games with Brenden.

“I’m still afraid Elise and Grant are secretly here because they’re planning to take May away from me,” he continues, pushing his steak around his plate now, rather than eating it.

“No oneis going to take May from you,” I assure him. “Legally, there’s no way any judge would do that after all this time. And I promise you, if anyone ever tries to take her, they’ll have to get through me to do it. It’s not happening.”

He hums what sounds like a meek agreement. “I’m probably silly for worrying about this. I know they can’t take her. But the idea that they still might not think I’m a good enough father for her breaks my heart.”

Seeing Brenden like this breaksmyheart, so I get up and move around to his side of the booth. I urge him to scoot over so I can slide in, then place my hand firmly on top of his thigh. “I’ve already told you how great of a father you are, how you’ve done an incredible job raising May. But if you need me to keep repeating it to you every single day until you believe it, I will.”

When he looks at me, his grateful, awestruck expression makes me want to wrap him in my arms and kiss him until he’s breathless. Maybe even tell him how much I want him. How my desire goes beyond the fucking phenomenal hookups we’ve been having. How I’m starting to imagine a life where those blue eyes are the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I see before I fall asleep.

“You’d really fight them for me?” he asks softly.

“I’d fight anyone who tries to hurt you.”

He leans his head against my shoulder, and we sit like that for a few moments. Then he says, “Sometimes I think theyarejust trying to be nice, but I get weird about it anyway, and then I end up feeling like a jerk. But I don’t know how to stop being anxious around them.”

“You could try talking to them,” I suggest as gently as possible.

Lifting his head, he eyes me critically. And I know what he’s thinking without him having to say it. What would I know about having a real conversation with family?

“Yes, that’s hypocritical coming from me,” I admit. “You’re a better person than me, though.”

“Well, that’s simply not true,” he replies, laying his head back on my shoulder.

Giving in to my instincts this time, I wrap an arm around him.

He scoots the tiniest bit closer, and I revel in his warmth. “I know they care about May. But it seems like... I don’t know. Like they want to see her more, yet they’ve made no effort to do it until now. I’ve never told them not to visit, but they hardly ever do. And I can only assume that’s because they disapprove of me as her parent so much that they don’t want to be around me any more than they have to be.”

Okay, that’s it. It may not be my place to get involved in their family stuff, but I can’t let him keep thinking the distance between them is because they dislike him.

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