Page 28 of The Uncomplicated Café
His mother’s gaze shot to their entwined hands, settling on the large diamond glittering on CeCe’s ring finger. Her dark-blue eyes doubled in size.
Shoot. He should’ve picked a different segue.
Covering her mouth with both hands, his mother squealed, “You’re engaged!” and rushed toward them. Yanking CeCe into a lung-crushing hug, she cried, “I’ve prayed for this moment for so long!”
Panic-stricken, CeCe tossed him a pleading glance that silently screamed,Fix this.
Heat scorched the back of his neck.Peachy. So far, they weren’t off to a great start. “Hang on, Mom. It’s not what you think. We’re—”We’re what?Why couldn’t he get the words out?
“Don’t tell me she’s pregnant,” his father said sternly.
“Dad!” Jayce cried, horrified by the suggestion. He seriously contemplated throwing himself and CeCe overboard to the mercy of the murky water below. Even becoming shark charcuterie had to be better than this.
CeCe made a wheezing sound, either from death by embarrassment or because his mother still hadn’t relinquished her enthusiastic choke hold.
“We’re not pregnant. Or engaged. Well, not technically. We’re fake engaged.”Good grief. He was floundering in his own work of fiction. The plan hadn’t sounded so complicated in his head.
His mother finally released CeCe and took a step back. “Wait. What exactly are you saying?”
Jayce clumsily recounted the details of the situation, focusing on Stacey and her predicament and how he’d tried to shield her real engagement by fabricating a fake one so she and Rob had a fair shot at happiness. Somehow, the scenario sounded even more ludicrous the more times he explained it. When he finally reached the end of his monologue, he asked, “So, what do you think? Can you guys play along for a week or two?”
“Sure, why not!” his mother said so quickly and cheerfully, Jayce wondered if he’d hallucinated her response.
“Karen!” his father chastised, equally baffled by her gung-ho reaction.
“Oh, lighten up, Raymond.” She gave a dismissive flick of her hand. “It could be fun.” Sliding an arm around CeCe’s waist, sheadded, “If the only way I get to claim this adorable girl as my daughter-in-law is by planning a fake wedding, then I’m going to plan the best fake wedding ever.”
“That’s sweet, Mom. But you won’t really need todoanything. Just don’t blow our cover if you’re approached by Gretchen or the paparazzi. I’d actually prefer you say as little as possible.”
“Nonsense. If you want me to play along, then I want to have some fun. That is, if your fuddy-duddy father doesn’t insist on ruining it for everyone by being his usual stick-in-the-mud self.” She flashed a smug smile, and Jayce suddenly realized, for better or worse, agreeing to the plan had become some sort of parental competition.
“Jayce didn’t come by his acting abilities by accident, Karen. I didHamletin college, so I can certainly be a fake groom’s father for a few weeks. More convincingly than you’ll play your role, I’ll wager.”
“We’ll see about that.” Her eyes narrowed in a challenging glare.
Uh-oh. This didn’t bode well. He’d wanted his parents to quietly cooperate, not perform a Shakespearean tragedy.
Around every corner, his well-intentioned plan only grew more complicated. Maybe he needed to call off the charade before things got out of hand. But whenever he looked at CeCe by his side, wearing his ring, he couldn’t bring himself to take that step, as if their tangled illusion had become far more tantalizing than the truth.
Chapter Seventeen
LOGAN
Shieldinghis eyes from the sun, Logan scanned the marina for theJolly Regina. Spotting the weather-beaten pocket trawler wedged between two svelte sailboats, he made his way down the pier, propelled by an intense urge he couldn’t shake since his conversation with Carla earlier that morning.
A gruff-looking fisherman in grungy oilskins descended the gangway carrying two large coolers.
“Good haul today?” Logan asked, meeting him at the bottom of the gangway.
An indiscernible grunt served as a reply.
This wasn’t going to be easy. “Garth, right? Garth Henderson?”
The man eyed him warily beneath his wide-brimmed boonie hat. Based on the behemoth’s impressive girth and massive, scarred hands, Logan didn’t want to get on his bad side. He had a feeling a tussle with Garth Henderson would rival wrestling a grizzly bear—a grizzly bear who smelled like diesel fuel and dead fish.Tread carefully. “I hear you knew Sam Bailey.”
Without a word, Garth set the coolers down, then turned, prepared to head back up the gangway for another load.
Despite the man’s surly, antisocial reputation, Logan couldn’t let him walk away without answers. From the moment he’d told Carla to move forward with the expedited death certificate, an overpowering need consumed him—a need to learn more about the man he’d just propelled toward an official declaration of death. “I’m Logan Mathews, Max’s foster dad.”
