Page 72 of Faking it with the Billionaire
“Do you love my daddy?” Bristol asks as soon as I sit beside her in the back. I buckle my seatbelt and glance at Kyler.
“I love all sorts of things about him, like how he’s good with you. And he’s kind. He also has a great sense of fashion,” I say, gesturing at the jersey I’m wearing.
Bristol’s head is tilted as she stares at me. “Daddy told me you’re faking it.”
Kyler relaxes in the backseat beside us. “Fake dating,” he corrects his daughter. He doesn’t seem phased by addressing it in front of Mitchell.
Was he aware, or does Kyler not want his ego to take another hit?
“That’s what I said.” Bristol jabs a finger in her father’s direction, giving a scowl and a playful pout.
“You told her?” I ask, glancing at Kyler.
“Yes, she also found out from Liam that we told his parents you’re her mother.”
“Oh.” I inhale a sharp breath. That one was entirely my doing.
“It’s fine. I mean, I think she knows to keep it between our family,” Kyler says, “but I also told her not to talk about our fake relationship.”
Bristol shakes her head. “No. I promised if you answered my question, and you didn’t answer.”
“What question was that?” I ask, glancing between them. I can’t even fathom how this conversation between them came to pass.
Kyler is glaring at his daughter, silently warning her not to answer my question.
“I asked Daddy if he loved you.”
Kyler exhales a heavy breath, and I feel the exact same way. Well, maybe not the same. I don’t know how he feels about me. Only Bristol asked a very loaded question that neither of us is ready to address.
He can’t love me because what we have isn’t real.
That’s the truth, but I don’t want to voice it, either. I don’t know why it stings and makes me sad, but it does.
“I’ll turn on some music,” Mitchell offers, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to help the situation or just give the three of us privacy in the back.
“Good choice,” Kyler mutters.
* * *
Lia is off for the day, so Kyler preps dinner, and I keep an eye on Bristol to make sure that she’s not getting into any more trouble.
I head into the kitchen to grab us both some water when Kyler’s peering into the fridge, distracted. He doesn’t seem to notice me.
“Can you grab us two waters?” I ask.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” He grabs the bottles of water from the fridge and hands them to me, shutting the door.
“Everything okay?” I ask. The air between us feels stuffy and overly complicated. Not that either of us did anything overtly wrong to make it that way. It’s been a trying day. Tomorrow will be better, I’m sure of it.
“Yeah, just thinking.” He glances at the oven where he’s got dinner, and he’s just hanging out in the kitchen.
Is he avoiding me?
“Don’t do something that might hurt too much,” I joke.
He snorts and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “I’ve been working you hard. You should take more time off.”
His comment surprises me. “What?”
