Page 60 of Lessons in Faking
As if to sweep the tension out of the air, their older-looking golden retriever rushed into the room. I’d fallen in love with Rose in about two seconds, in which she’d only just managed to jump up my leg. Now she scurried around the dining table in search of any food that might have fallen off our plates. The way she looked up at me with her big brown eyes made me want to sacrifice my entire meal.
After we’d settled, McCarthy made sure I wouldn’t get the chance to excuse myself and hide out to mope some more. Not in a cruel or forceful way—but in less than an hour at his place, I was so involved in conversations that I forgot I should be grieving. I’d learned and come to understand more about my fake boyfriend in that hour than I had in the entirety of our arrangement.
“This”—I pointed to the rest of the lasagna on my plate—“is delicious, Natalie.”
She seemed pleased by my words. “I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed it more if this guy hadn’t stopped by some awful fast-food place earlier,” she said pointedly, then sent a warm smile my way. “But I’m glad you like it, Athalia.”
“It’s really good, Mom,” he agreed, nodding grandly and trying to keep her eyes off his fork, which was digging into the rest ofmymeal. He didn’t succeed, of course.
But Natalie just shook her head once more, hands in the air as if she was giving up. “Good luck,” she said as she stood.
“So,” Dakota popped into the chair her mother had been in two seconds before. “When are we doing baby photos?” Her question caught me off guard, though I wasn’tabout to complain about getting the chance to see embarrassing childhood pictures of McCarthy. So many stories and so much compromising information within my reach.
“As soon as we can, please.”
Dakota seemed pleased by my eager reply. McCarthy shot me a look of betrayal, before seeming to realize he shouldn’t have expected anything less. “We’re never—”
He was cut off by Denise, his Europe-traveling older sister. “Did someone say baby photos?” She stood behind Dakota’s chair, her hands placed on the backrest, excitement lingering in her voice. Her curly hair was in a bun atop her head. “I’m pretty sure Diana still has that video from Aunt Kiki’s wedding.” She turned her head toward the living room, the words sounding more like a question as she directed them at their oldest sister, Diana.
“I do!” It came from the couch, and Denise was halfway to her by the time she’d finished that sentence.
“His first drop of alcohol,” Dakota filled me in quickly.
“When I wasfifteen,” McCarthy added for context. His head landed on the table in playful annoyance. “No baby photos,” he groaned. “No dancing videos either.”
“Dancing videos?” I was officially intrigued.
Neither of his sisters took him seriously, including his one last attempt when he said, “I mean it.”
“Sure you do,” Dakota agreed.
McCarthy glared at his sisters, then pushed away from the dining table. The way his chair scraped across the floor was loud enough for Mr.Williams to shout, “The floors, Dylan! Jesus,” from the adjacent living room.
“It’s getting exceptionally late, everyone,” McCarthy announced loudly. The clock only showed half past ten.
I barely managed to accompany my awkward wave with a “good night” before I half-followed and he half-dragged me out of the room and up the stairs.
Chapter 27
I felt like an art critic in a gallery when I looked around his room.
Dark wooden floors, windows cut low. Scattered on the windowsill were a few books and a single plant. The most noticeable feature of the room—apart from the king-sized bed positioned with its headrest against the center of the wall—was the grand piano. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the black surface. The leather bench in front of it was placed thoughtfully, allowing for a spectacular view of the backyard when you weren’t looking at the ivory keys.
“What?” he asked behind me, amused by my critic act.
I stepped into the center of the room with my hands crossed behind my back.
“What?” he asked again, voice much closer than before.
I knew if I turned, I’d be staring right at him—his chest—with only a few inches separating us. It was tempting, which was why I continued staring at the few books on the shelf against the wall.
“Are you not pleased with your chambers, Princess?” he asked mockingly.
“Mychambers?” I finally turned to find him just as close as I’d expected. My nose would brush his if he weren’t so much taller. Looking up, my eyes narrowed as the question hung in the air between us.
“Well.” His head cocked sideways as he shrugged. “Yours for the time being.”
My gaze fell on the king-sized bed.
