The Art of Falling in Love with Your Fake Fiancé: A small town closed door romantic comedy (Sweetkis

5. Georgie

FIVE

Reaching for my second cup of coffee for the day, I keep one eye on the kid, who is currently paying his penance for his attempt at thievery last night. I don’t think any other shop owners on this street would have been as cool as I was. Since most of them are older and have been in Sweetkiss for all their lives, I’d venture as far as to say that they’re stuck in their ways and would have had Zac arrest him, done something a bit more extreme.

But that just is not who I am.

I pat myself on the back for being a bit more realistic about the situation and adaptable. I don’t talk about my past very often, not that it comes up in conversation, but I was a foster kid. That meant being shuffled from house to house when I was younger, though I got used to it. There was always a moment of sadness when I had to pack and unpack again, for the first time or two at least, but then I made it into a game.

I had to learn to be independent when I was younger out of sheer protection for myself and my wellbeing, and it’s a trait I’ve carried with me into adulthood. I don’t consider it toxic, instead I say it’s one of my best qualities. Now, did I ever resort to stealing? No. But did I consider it when I was at school and everyone else had shiny new Christmas or birthday gifts and I didn’t? Yeah. I did. I said I was adaptable, not a perfect angel.

Duncan kneels on the floor on the other side of the counter, pulling a shipment of books out of a box and stacking them by the cash register. Me, I’ve parked myself on my stool behind the counter and I’m cracking my proverbial whip.

As he places another book on top of the pile that’s growing, I put my coffee cup on the counter and point to the stack. Here comes that whip.

Turning to him, I put him in my sights. “So, Duncan, what do we do next?” Thwack.

Duncan’s big brown eyes meet mine as he shrugs in that awesome way that only kids can do, where a shrug speaks volumes. “I dunno.”

“Duncan,” I say in my best adult-in-charge voice, threading my arms across my chest tightly. I also really like his name and enjoy saying it. “I just told you the steps to doing this. You know what to do.” Thwackity thwack.

Duncan sighs, pushing his hair out of his face. I’ve watched him do that so many times today already, and it’s only been about an hour that he’s been here. The kid needs a hair tie or a haircut.

“I’m going to price the books, then put them on the table for the book signing.”

“Yes!” I exclaim, slamming my hand on the counter with such force that it causes him to jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so aggressive.”

He bends down and grabs the now-empty box, handing it to me with an air of nonchalance. “I wasn’t scared.”

I purse my lips together super tight, trying with all of my might to keep this smile from creeping across my face as it threatens to literally explore into my cheeks. “You’re funny.”

Duncan cocks his head to one side and looks at me like I’m suddenly holding something really weird. Like a chicken or an octopus. “What do you mean?”

I can read people. Like, in an empathetic way. I had someone tell me once that my empathy volume is turned all the way up and that it must be hard for me sometimes because of all the feelings I catch, and I gotta say—they’re so right. I can feel a room and its energy the moment I walk into it, and I can even vibe off the people as well. The emotion of a space can drip with weight and it affects us, as humans, and we don’t even realize it. Well, I do, but it took me a long time to understand and hone that skill.

I look at Duncan knowingly. “What I mean is that you’re funny in the way that I can see through you.”

“You can see through me?” He rolls his eyes. “Lady, I’m not a ghost.”

I purse my lips and give him a librarian-like tsk. “Lady?”

“Sorry,” he says automatically. “Ma’am?”

I stifle the laughter bubbling inside. He’s witty, but I’m not going to let him know that either. As a former defensive child myself, of course I get him. But I know I need to also play this slowly so I don’t scare him off. I know from all of my late-night talks with Levi that Duncan’s had a rough time mourning the loss of his parents, and I cannot even begin to imagine where his head is, even with my empath skills.

I tap on the counter, keeping my gaze level with his, before deciding to move on. I don’t want him to know I’ve got his number. Yet.

“You’re right. You’re not a ghost, something you proved to us last night when you tried to steal that book.” I hop off the stool, kicking it behind me as I point down an aisle, toward the back of the store. “All of these books here are on special so they need to be priced using my sales sheet. What doesn’t go on the table will then be stacked in the spot on the shelves that’s been cleared.” I thrust a piece of paper, the aforementioned sales sheet, his way. “Go by this sheet, then go stack, then let me know it’s done and I’ll double-check your work.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just huffs. It’s a weighted huff, filled with a few unsaid expletives, but I refuse to be moved by his attitude. He won’t break me. I watch as he snatches up the sales sheet and studies it, my phone going off in my bag beside me.

Figuring it’s probably Levi, I don’t even look at the screen to check. I press the phone to my ear. “?Hola! ?Cómo estás?”

There’s silence on the other end. After a few seconds, someone clears their throat. “Is this Georgina Simpson? From Apartment 2 at 313 West Third Street?”

My full name being used is always a cause for concern. “Yeeeessss,” I answer, slowly dragging that word out as long as I can. My confidence has just gone south. “Can I help you?”

“This is Loretta Steele. I work for the rental company that handles your building. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we were there earlier this week doing a yearly inspection.”

I vaguely remember seeing a note in my mailbox about this, but since I’m usually at the bookshop all day long, I didn’t pay any attention.

“Sure. Is there something wrong with my apartment?”

“Not necessarily your apartment. It’s more like the whole building. We’d had a report from one of your neighbors about termites.”

Ew. Just the thought makes me shudder. Bugs of any kind, really. Don’t even get me started on cockroaches.

“Okay,” I say, making my way around the counter and meandering to the front of the shop, where the window overlooks the street. “Were there issues?”

Loretta sighs. “Yes, unfortunately, there’s structural damage that we need to address as soon as we can.”

“Structural damage?” That sounds ominous. My mind goes to an image of my giant Rottweiler sitting in my living room with the floor giving out, and suddenly, like a cartoon, the floor gives way and he’s sitting in the middle of the giant basement that’s below us. “How bad is it?”

“It’s…not good. Look, we’re required to give everyone seven days’ notice to evacuate. We need to fumigate, then look at the damage that’s been done and see if we are going to be able to fix it.”

“So we need to leave temporarily?” Fingers crossed.

“Weeelll,” she says, a little too high-pitched for my taste. “That’s the thing. We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. It’ll be like peeling an onion. We need to check out the layers.”

A sick feeling hits my stomach. “Do I need to pack my things and box them up, as if I’m moving out?”

“It’s advisable.”

This woman is going to make me scream. “Loretta, I need you to understand I’m a single woman who owns her own business. I have a dog, and that’s it. It’s just us. But I need to know what kind of long-term plan I may need to consider.”

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but there’s a possibility you could be out of your apartment for up to three months or more.”

“So I need to move?” Now my voice is taking on a high-pitched tone that makes me cringe. I’ve seriously hit an octave that could rival an opera singer.

“I’m not going to say that, but I will say you should think about other options,” she whispers. “From one single woman to another, you gotta take care of you.”

I get the gist of what she’s saying even though I wish I didn’t. “When do we need to be out?”

“Well, like I said, you have seven days to evacuate. Legally, we have up to four days to fumigate and then another four business days to inspect the structure.”

“So I’m out of my house for at least eight days?”

“We go by ‘business days,’ so really closer to two weeks.”

This is getting sticky and messy. Fast. “So, I need to find a place that will take me and my dog, and I have seven days to do it?” A noise behind me startles me, causing me to turn. I’d forgotten momentarily about Duncan being here until I see him standing at the counter giving me a thumbs-up.

“We’ll organize some compensation for accommodation, and I’ll see if there is anything else you have a right to as a tenant.” She pauses, and I can picture Loretta on her end of the phone: she has glasses in my version of her, they’re wire-rimmed and cat-like, and her hair is jet black and pulled back into a tight bun. Matronly but also kind, yet a hint of scary. “I know this is distressing and sudden, and I’m so sorry. I hate being the bearer of bad news, but look…I just work here.”

Way to wiggle out of any accountability. Now where do I direct my anger? “I hear ya, Loretta. Thank you for the call?” I roll my eyes as the words fall out of my mouth. There’s nothing to be thankful about here. Nothing.

I’d had a hard time finding a place to rent that would take dogs, much less a Rottie as big as mine. Toto is a giant baby doll, but tell that to the average Joe walking down the street. Landlords see a dog his size and automatically think “She has no control over him,” yet they have no idea how much training that dog, and I, have been through.

Disconnecting the call, I shove my phone in my back pocket and plaster a smile on my face as I walk back up to the counter. I can feel Duncan’s eyes watching me carefully, so I make a show out of checking my watch for the time.

“Okay, your time here is almost done, my friend. Levi is going to be here to pick you up in a half hour, so let’s look at your work.” I reach behind the counter, grab the cookbook he’d tried to steal the night before, and slide it across the counter. “Obviously, this is payment today.”

Duncan looks at the cookbook, then drags his eyes to mine. “Do you have to move out of your house?”

Kids. I forget they hear everything.

I nod my head, then shake it as I shrug my shoulders. I’m a mess, but I try to play it cool. After all, I’m the adult here, so he can’t see me sweat. “I dunno? Maybe. We’ll see.”

“You have a dog?”

Smiling, I pull my phone out and show him the picture of me and Toto that I use as my lock screen image. “This is my baby boy.”

“Oh…WOW.” Duncan laughs, taking the phone from my hands. “He’s big!”

“He really is.” I giggle. “Maybe you can meet one day.”

“Yeah,” Duncan says, his eyes sliding back over to the cookbook. “So, I get to have that now?”

“You earned it.”

He pulls it across the counter and flips it open, smiling as he looks at the pages. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” We stand quietly for a few minutes, him thumbing the pages, me staring as he does and thinking about my impending homelessness. “Do you want to tell me why that particular cookbook is the one you wanted?”

I’d be a fool to not see his face cloud over; it’s as if a dark storm cloud has entered the vicinity and is only hanging out above Duncan. His eyes flicker as they look around the room, like he’s batting back tears. I stay still, not wanting to disturb his thought process, but we’re both startled when the bell above the door rings out as a customer comes inside.

When I turn to greet them, part of me is a little surprised to see Levi with Austin on his heels. Grinning from ear to ear, he holds up a couple of giant to-go cups and shakes them in the air.

“I brought you guys Georgie’s favorite. Fresh squeezed lemonade.” He hands me one before turning to Duncan and handing him his. “From my mom to you. How’s it been going?”

“I was just about to look at Duncan’s work. He set up the table and display for the book signing this week, and”—I pat the cookbook that still rests on the counter in front of him—“he earned his book, didn’t you?”

Eyes on the floor, Duncan shrugs as he turns away from us, putting his back to Levi. Cocking my head to one side, Levi and I exchange a look. I can see in his eyes there’s some confusion, and I”m beginning to understand even more. This is not the kid I’ve been hanging out with the last few hours.

“Dude, we need to make our next appointment,” Austin interrupts, giving me a wave. “Hey, Georgie.”

“Hi, Austin.” I grab a bag from behind the counter and slide the cookbook inside it, turning it over to Duncan and leaning down to talk to him so only he can hear me. I can sense he’s hesitant, and while I want to reassure him, I also want to make sure that what he heard about my housing issue doesn’t become a topic of conversation with the Porters. “This is yours. Anything we say, me or you, when you’re here, that’s for us to know. I hereby deem this our safe space, capiche?”

Holding out my hand, I stick out my pinky. I’m going full-on pinky swear here and luckily Duncan is a fan of this as well. Chewing back a small smile, he wraps his pinky in mine and nods his head once.

“Okay, then.” Standing up straight once more, I wink at Levi. “He’s dismissed.”

Austin waits for Duncan to join him, and with a wave, the pair disappear from our sight. Levi, who had been standing with his perfect posture looking quite self-assured, suddenly folds in on himself, collapsing onto the counter and putting his head in his hands.

“He hates me, Georgie.”

“I wouldn’t say hate, that’s a strong emotion.”

“He does. He hardly talks to any of us.”

I lean against the checkout counter. “Really?”

“You sound surprised,” his voice oozing with defeat as he glances my way.

“He’s been here talking to me all morning.”

“Stop it.” Levi shakes his head. ”About what?”

“I don’t know. Books, Toto, nothing major. Just talking.”

Levi stares at me incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I say, noticing he now looks a little…bummed.

“So Duncan talks to you.”

“It’s not like I’m anything special, I’m just the adult who doesn’t know his whole story, at least in his eyes. Maybe you guys are too close?”

Levi opens his mouth to say something, but instead chooses to shrug as his phone chimes. Reaching into his back pocket, he slides it out and his face goes pale. Like ghostly-white pale right in front of me. You know the saying that someone’s had the blood drained from their face? Yep. Like a vampire is actually sucking his life force out of him in front of me.

“You okay?”

“It’s my mom. I need to go now.” Turning on his heel, he heads for the exit, but turns around as he grips the handle. “Thank you, again, for going easy on him.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With one last wave, Levi sprints out to the waiting SUV and climbs in the back seat. Austin is behind the wheel with Duncan sitting in the front seat beside him, giving me a small wave as they tear off down the street.

And leaving me to wonder if I’ll ever feel like I can step up and be woman enough for Levi Porter or not.