Page 34 of Fake It Til You Break It

“You’ll have notecards. What else?”

“What if I get nervous and say something stupid?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“I don’t know. I can’t be stupid on command.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. I didn’t really see what was so funny.

“Listen to me,” he said when he’d composed himself. “You are going to be amazing. You’re prepared.” He cradled my cheek and bent his neck to rest our foreheads together. “And if you screw up, you shake it off, keep going, and when we get home, I’ll make you forget all about it.”

I sighed and arched my neck, bringing our lips together in a slow, grateful kiss. After all this time, he still knew exactly what to say to calm my fears.

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

“It’s kind of my specialty, and I take my job very seriously.” Then he shoved me onto my back and rolled on top of me, pinning me to the bed as he tickled my ribs mercilessly. “Say it.”

“No!” I yelled between bursts of high-pitched laughter. “It’s dumb!”

“I’m not going to stop until you say it.”

“Okay!” I screeched, writhing beneath him. “I don’t have to be perfect,” I forced out through gasping breaths. “I just have to be real.”

The torment stopped, but he didn’t move off me. Straddling my hips, he hovered over me, his smile broad and triumphant. “Damn right.”

“You are an idiot,” I panted. “But I love you.”

“Aww, you say the nicest things.” He lowered over me to capture my lips in a hard, bruising kiss. “I love you, too. Now get up, get dressed, and go crush that speech.”

My one-man hype team. I honestly had no idea what I’d do without him. His specific brand of pep talk hadn’t eased any of the nervousness I felt, but it did give me the courage to keep going anyway.

So, I did exactly what he suggested. Well, minus the speech crushing. That part was still to be determined. But I did drag myself off the bed, shower, and dress in a pair of faded jeans and my ugly sweater from the previous Christmas.

No one at the party noticed.

“Cool sweater, Mr. S!”

“Not bad yourself, Mr. Sherman.”

Seventeen now, Caleb had grown from a timid, underweight child into the star forward of the varsity basketball team. While it had been a long, stressful process, his adoption had been finalized the previous year, and he loved when people called him by his new last name.

“Thanks, Sean helped me make it.”

I perked up, glancing around the room. “Is he here?”

A goofy grin spread over Caleb’s face, and a tinge of pink entered his cheeks. “Yeah, he’s getting us drinks.”

Ah, young love. I knew the statistics on high school romances weren’t great, but that didn’t stop me from rooting for them. Maybe because I saw a lot of me in Beckett in their dynamic. Caleb had been through hell and come out on the other side, but he still had his days. Sean helped make those days a little more bearable.

“Where’s Beck?”

I mirrored his smile. “Getting us drinks.”

We talked for a few more minutes until Sean arrived with two plastic cups filled with cider. Not wanting to be a third wheel, I took my leave and went to look for my own date. I found him near the catering table, surrounded by a group of single moms.

I sighed and shook my head. Some things never changed, but luckily, I had gotten pretty good at these rescue missions.Pasting on a bright smile, I strode up to the group and wound a possessive arm around Beckett’s waist.

“Excuse me, ladies,” I said, interrupting Hannah Aldermore’s recounting of some injustice at the supermarket. “I’m afraid I need to steal my husband. Enjoy your evening. The cake is amazing.”

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