Page 46 of My Fearless Fake Fling

Thirteen:

Ten hours after we left the mountain (we stopped to eat, stretch our legs, and take pictures) we turned into his parking spot in front of the condo. To say I was whipped would be an understatement.

There’d be time to unpack the truck tomorrow. For now, we both needed a shower and to veg out with a movie until we passed out.

Exactly what we did. But not before Len uploaded our entire trip to my social media accounts. After all, we’d kept radio silence for a week.

At the end of a third round of morning nookie, my cell rang. My mom.

“Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

“Sweetie, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

“Sorry, I went camping and we were in the middle of nowhere. No cell reception.” That was the honest truth.

“It’s your father,” she said. Her voice cracked.

My breath left my lungs.

I swallowed. “Is he…okay?”

“Yes, I mean, no. Yes and no. He had a small heart attack. He’s in the hospital. They’re putting a stent in his artery today.”

“When?”

“At four.”

I gripped Len’s hand and squeezed.

“Kam, baby, what’s wrong?” he asked in one ear.

While my mom asked, “Who’s that?” in the other.

“He’s my—um—Len.” I didn’t want to lie to her and say he was my boyfriend, but I didn’t want to admit he was fake either.

“Can you come home, Kami? I need you,” Mom said, as if I wouldn’t be showering and rushing out the door as soon as I got her off the phone.

“Of course I’m coming, Mom. What kind of daughter do you think I am?”

“The best kind,” she said. “Love you sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Mom.” I disconnected and stood from the bed naked and uncaring. He’d seen it all numerous times.

“Is everything okay?” Len asked. “Your mom okay?”

I nodded. “It’s my dad—he had a heart attack. He’s having surgery today. She’d like me there.”

Len shot up from the bed. “Then let’s get ready.” He started pulling clean clothes from the drawers, tossing them into my overnight bag he rescued from the closet. Then, to my surprise, he started piling his clothes on top of mine.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Baby, shower,” he said.

“I’m going… but what are you—?”

“You think I’m going to leave you in the lurch when your dad is sick? Give me some credit. That doesn’t make me much of a boyfriend, now does it?”

“Well, no, not if you were real, but we’re—”

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