Page 35 of False Start
As Dad fan-girled about Duckie’s date, Weston introduced himself to my sister. When she reached across the table, it took everything in me to keep from knocking her hand away. I didn’t want them to touch. I didn’t want her to take him from me. He was mine. And not just because he was a well-known football player, but because he was Weston.
Except he wasn’t mine, was he?
What would they say if they knew our relationship was fake? I needed to do whatever it took to avoid finding out.
“How much did you have to pay him to come here?” I nodded toward Cian, in case she wasn’t sure who I meant. Weston shot me a curious look, but the more I thought about it, the better the idea became.
Deflect, redirect, stay safe.
If everyone was questioning the validity of Duckie’s relationship, they wouldn’t look too closely at mine.
“I didn’t.”
I snorted. Of course not. What was the saying? The girl you brought home to meet the parents? That was Blair. She was smart and successful. Plain looking, but that just meant this guy liked her for who she is. It also meant that she wouldn’t be worrying about Botox and fillers in a few years like I would have to. Like Mom already did.
“Oh! Hey, you play for the Engines, right?” she asked, drawing Weston’s attention again.
“Yeah, I do. I play tight end. Do you watch?”
“Whenever I can, the hockey season keeps me busy though.”
“That’s sport, isn’t it?” They shared a knowing smile and a part of me curled up and died. He liked her. Probably more than me. Everyone liked her more.
“Hey, Cian. Do you know why Blair is called Duckie? Tell him, Blair. It’s funny. It’s because she’s the ugly duckling. Get it?”
My stomach burned at the look Weston gave me, but whatever. I wasn’t saying anything people didn’t already know. I suddenly wanted nothing more than to crawl into a corner somewhere and cry. Weston and I had been fake dating for months, and even though I knew I wasn’t good enough for him, there was a small part that was desperate for him to want me. Not just for sex when we blurred the lines of our deal, but always. That just wasn’t in the cards for me.
Instead, I chose carbs. A large scoop of potatoes from the bowl in the center of the table hit my plate with a loud plop. Mom clicked her tongue.
“Do you really need that, Georgia? You won’t keep your job long if you stack on more weight.”
Why did she have to be right? My face warmed as I returned the majority of the serving to the bowl and picked at the salad leaves instead.
I hated it here.
The table fell into an uncomfortable silence as everyone ate until Mom heaved a dramatic sigh and dropped her cutlery.
“It really was nice of you to be here with Blair today, but I can’t in good conscience let you get her hopes up. If this is transactional, that’s fine, but if not… this is just cruel.”
“What… do you mean?” Cian asked.
“Well, all I’m saying is that if you expect us to believe that an athlete like you would be interested in someone like her, then clearly something else is going on. I don’t like deception and I’d hate to think you were using her.”
Holy shit.
I cast a quick look at Weston, terrified we’d be next on the list to be called out by my bitch of a mother, but her focus was solely on the hockey player.
Thank god.
“That’s enough. None of you appreciate this woman, and I’m not going to let her sit here and listen to you belittle her anymore.” Cian’s words were sweet, and everything I wished someone would say to my parents on my behalf, but as he laid down the law and dragged Duckie out of the house, it occurred to me that no one ever would.
Mom pushed out of her chair, ready to chase them down, but Dad came to the rescue. Like always. The silence descended once more, heavy with the weight of things that couldn’t be changed. I caught Weston’s eye, ready to make our excuses, and found a profound sadness looking back at me.
“Thank you for dinner. We should really be going,” I said without breaking eye contact.
“Don’t be stupid. We haven’t had dessert yet,” Mom spat, smoothing her apron.
Dad said nothing, taking an intense interest in his hands as I stood and pushed my chair in neatly.
