Page 94 of Maybe We Can Fake It

As I card my fingers through his hair, I tell him, “I think they don’t come here more often because of April, not because of you.”

He lifts his head to look at me again, his hair slipping from my grasp. “What do you mean?”

“This was their vacation spot with her, right? I’m sure it’s hard for them to be here in this place that constantly reminds them of their daughter.”

“I...” Understanding slowly dawns in his eyes as he stares at me. “I’ve never even thought about that.” He lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Wow. How self-absorbed am I?”

“You’renotself-absorbed.”

The face he makes says he doesn’t agree with me. “I’ve spent so much time being sad for May losing her mom and for me losing my best friend. And then I’ve spent even more time and energy trying not to show how sad I am. In the midst of that, I’ve almost forgotten about the fact that they lost theirdaughter. They don’t talk about her with me.”

“Do you talk about her with them?”

“Oh,” he says so softly that I see the word form on his lips more than I actually hear it. “I don’t really talk about her with anyone.”

“I know,” I tell him, guiding his head back down to my shoulder. “And you have the right to deal with your grief in whatever way works best for you. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I only wanted you to consider their perspective, because that might help your relationship with them.”

“No, I appreciate it. Really.” He turns slightly so he can bury his forehead in my shirt. “But I don’t want to bring down the date night mood. So let’s change the subject now, and I can process all this later when I’m alone.”

I subtly sniff his hair. “Deal. Just so you know though, you don’tneedto do it alone.”

He sighs and burrows into me a little more.

I hope he understands the part I didn’t say. That I’ll always be here for him if he needs me.

The waiter comes back a few moments later to box up our leftovers and ask about dessert. Regretfully, this prompts Brenden to move away from me. But I get it. No server likes standing awkwardly at a table while a couple is being all cuddly.

“You pick what you want for dessert,” I tell him. “I’ll only have a bite of whatever you get.”

“Like hell you will,” he says. Then to the waiter, “I’ll have the crème brûlée, and he’ll have the raspberry cheesecake.”

I laugh softly at that. Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that he plans to eat both?

Once we’re alone again, I return my arm to where I want it. I don’t know when I became this person, feeling the need to hold someone, even in public, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He leans easily into me, running a finger over the line of buttons on my shirt. “You look really good in this.”

“Had to dig through my closet to find something appropriate to wear,” I confess.

“Believe me, I appreciate the lumberjack look a whole lot, but this just proves you’d look good in anything.”

“You look amazing,” I say. But he always does.

He leans in to kiss me, taking me by surprise. It’s only a brief press before he pulls away, but I chase him, capturing his lips again for a few more sweet moments. He has a smile on his face as the kiss ends, but it fades as he glances nervously past me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Did I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “No, no, you didn’t. That was really nice. Um. I just thought you might be worried about doing it here. I’m sure it already looked like we’re on a date, but that makes it kind of impossible to deny.”

Oh.Maybe I should be worried about that. But I’m not.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you back if I cared,” I assure him. Then I remind him how I was living my life as essentially out for years while I was in Boston. “I don’t really care what strangers think of me.”

Only my father.

So yeah, if we were at a restaurant in Mayweather, it would be a different story. And the more time I spend with Brenden, the more I’m ashamed of that.

“Do you ever regret moving back?” he asks.

I take a moment to consider it. Sometimes I’m resentful of being stuck in Mayweather, of the way I escaped for a while, only to eventually wind up back in the town’s crazy clutches. And I stuffed myself back in the closet when I returned, but that’s not exactly the town’s fault.

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