Page 56 of Love is Fake

I manage to control my blush, but only just and only because he looks so incongruous in his ‘kiss the cook’ apron. Incongruous and gorgeous as all get out.

“Who gave you that thing anyway?” I ask, watching as he flips a pancake with an expert flick of his wrist. Breakfast for dinner is the absolute best and it’s a sign of Lennox’s good taste that he shares that opinion.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” he gives me a pointed look.

I only need one. “Does his name begin with K and end in -ai?”

“Ding, ding, ding, got it in one!” Lennox points to me with his spatula. “And the crowd goes wild!” A few seconds later, he’s sidling up next to me, holding the spatula like a microphone and using his best ‘sport’s commentator’ voice. “Tell me, Isabella, how does it feel to be a winner?”

I laugh, loving this relaxed side of Lennox. It feels like we’ve been floating in our little bubble, being able to hide from the outside world. The last few weeks have been a dream and the truth is, I don’t want them to end. But reality is starting to muscle its way back and with Lennox almost back to full strength, it won’t be long now.

I try to ignore the twinge I feel in my chest at the knowledge we haven’t got much longer together before my contract’s up and life goes back to normal. I’ll go back to my work in the city, back to my apartment. Lennox will start training with the Pelicans again and he’ll no doubt be wall-to-wall with interviews and photo-shoots on his return to the sport. I just don’t see how there’ll be a chance for us, for me, in his life. As far as my experience has taught me, you can’t depend on anyone else to make you happy. I saw what it did to my dad for so long after my mother walked out on us. I won’t fall into that same trap, I can’t.

So, I ignore the whisper in the back of my head telling me I’ve already fallen hook, line and sinker.

The smile on Lennox’s face drops as he frowns at me. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” I wave away his concern. “I was just thinking about my dad,” I lie and hate myself a little for it.

Lennox looks at me sympathetically which only makes me feel worse for lying.

“Ya’ll talked yesterday, right?” He kneads the knots out of my shoulders which are suddenly tense.

“Mmmhmmmh,” I reply noncommittally because I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“I’m looking forward to meeting him. What did he say about coming up for the first pre-season game? You said he’s a fan, right?” Lennox goes back to flipping pancakes and sliding them onto two plates for us, only looking up at me when I don’t reply.

“It didn’t come up,” I evade, biting my lip at the lie of omission.

Lennox’s eyes narrow on my mouth, reading my tell as easily as if I’d blurted out my truth. “It didn’t come up?” he repeats, giving me his no-bullshit look.

I shrug, still avoiding his gaze. “You know, I’m not all that hungry.” I slide off the stool and I’m half-way out of the kitchen before Lennox blocks the exit.

This time, his comedy apron doesn’t take away any of the seriousness in his expression.

“Izzy, what’s going on? Is your dad pissed about us dating or something? Does he not approve? I know how close you guys are and I don’t want y’all to fall out over this.” Lennox looks so genuinely distressed at the thought of coming between my father and I that I have to tell him.

“It’s not that he doesn’t approve, Nox.” Big breath in. “I just haven’t exactly told him about you, yet.”

I wince inwardly at the range of emotions which play out over Lennox’s face; from confusion to anger to disappointment to hurt. It’s the last one that gets me, because the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do is hurt him.

“You haven’t told your dad about me, about us?” he asks slowly, watching me with that hawk-like focus of his as I nod. “Are you afraid of what he’ll say?” I know I’m not imagining the pain in his voice – I can feel it as if it were my own.

“No, of course not, it’s not that,” I assure him, although that’s part of it. My dad’s a realist and there’s no way I could spin our story to him that would make him think it makes any sense. Me being with someone as famous and celebrated as Lennox is hard enough for me to square at times, let alone for anyone else to get their head around.

“It’s just all so new,” I flounder, reaching for his hand, but he doesn’t respond.

“It’s notthatfucking new, Izzy. We’ve been together for over a month,” he growls, the anger in his voice starting to break through the hurt. “So why wouldn’t you tell him? I thought you guys talked about everything. And don’t say it’s fucking nothing, because when I fed you that line, you said I should respect you enough to tell you the truth.” He throws my words back at me, knowing I can’t argue with them. “I’m just asking you to do the same.” He folds his arms over his chest, forcing me to drop my hand and I feel his rejection of my touch as if it were a living thing.

“Because…because I don’t want to tell him about this, about us, only to have to tell him in a month that it’s over,” I burst out before snapping my mouth shut, too late.

There, I’ve said it, and it turns out honesty isn’t always the best policy because I don’t feel better, not even a little bit.

“Is that how long you’re giving this?” Lennox asks, gesturing between the two of us. “One more month? I’m just asking so I know we’re both on the same damn page here, Isabella.” I ignore the formality he injects my name with. It’s a world apart from the seductive way he whispers it to me in the dark while he rocks me to my core.

“How long doyoureally think this can last, Nox? I know you’re not naïve enough to think this can work out in the long run!” Us being together is such an impossibility. Our lives are way too different. It’s only a matter of time before we’re pulled so far in different directions there’s no chance of ever finding our way back to each other.

Lennox runs his fingers through his thick hair, frustration projected all over his face.

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