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

11. Levi

ELEVEN

Standing in the middle of an aisle of the grocery store, I look down and attempt to focus on the list Georgie gave me. I’m looking at the paper, it has words, but none of them make sense to me. Nothing makes sense in my world all of a sudden.

Have you ever had a seismic shift of epic proportions happen in your life, in a very short amount of time, and you don’t know how to handle it? Because this is me. This is what I”m dealing with.

Look, I’ve known her for the past year, more than that actually. Before I knew who she was, I had a crush on Georgie. First, she was the hottie who ran the new bookstore in town. Then, when I met her through my friend Riley, my childhood bestie who’s been my ride-or-die forever, that very day I was hit with a thunderbolt of feelings to my heart center. Swear to the heavens and on my Super Bowl ring.

Getting to know her was easy; we fell into step together from the word “go.” From the second she busted out her own homemade lemonade and introduced me to Toto, I was hooked. I’d go away for games, we’d text. As soon as I was back in the area, she was the person I wanted to see. We’d grab lunch and talk about what I’d seen and done, and I wanted to hear about how she was. I needed to know she was okay…and even grit my teeth as I listened to her talk about the guys she dated, too. Kind of semi-accepting I might already be in the friend zone, but in denial as well.

I round the corner of the freezer aisle and glance down at my paper: chicken fingers, French fries, and ice cream are listed. All things from this part of the store. I quickly review the list again, a little surprised there aren’t any vegetables on here. Which makes me wonder: is she eating nutritiously? Maybe I should pick up a few things from the produce section. I could make her a nice salad today…also, why am I worried about her eating habits?

The sound of a woman clearing her throat behind me gives me pause. It’s not like I stop anytime someone does this, but there’s a tone to it that feels oddly familiar and the pitch sounds like a person who wants and needs to be seen.

I start to turn around, a shiver crawling up my spine as I do. When I see who it is, I understand my body’s natural reaction.

“Lorna. Imagine running into you here.” Tom’s mother and the woman who wants to take Duncan from me like Atilla the Hun when he took Greece. I could engage, but I don’t want to. I just want to fulfill my list and get outta here, so I open the freezer door and pull out the chicken fingers and a bag of fries.

“Bound to happen since there’s only one grocery store around for miles,” she says, plastering a smile across her face that is anything but heartwarming. It’s tight, her features looked pinched, and I’d swear she’d had something bad to eat, but no. She’s only talking to me.

She drags her eyes to my cart, judging me based on Georgie’s choices, no doubt. “Chicken fingers and fries, huh?” Tapping on the freezer door, she points to a different brand of chicken fingers. “Those are actually the ones Duncan likes.”

“Good to know.” I hold up the box and shake them at her. I can’t help myself. “These are for someone else.”

“That makes me feel better,” she says with approval in her tone. Not that I need it. “There are no vegetables in your cart and I’d hate to think that my grandson”s nutrition needs aren’t being met while he stays with you.”

While he stays with me. I could stand here and we could go back and forth, but no. Nothing good is going to come out of us conversing right now, so I start walking away. “I need to keep moving, Lorna, got a lot on my plate today.”

Somehow I manage to get away from her swiftly, and I resist the urge to pat myself on my back. I want to scream at her. To ask her how dare she try to do the opposite of what her son and daughter-in-law wanted for their son. I want to ask her why? Why put us through a court case, but then I remember she is also his grandmother. She is his family, too. I have to believe she’s doing this out of love for him and what she thinks, in that tiny judgy mind of hers, is best for him.

On the end cap of the aisle, I’m stoked to find that the store has a tasting table set up for new products. Am I one of those people who likes getting samples? Oh, you bet I do. My mother taught me well. I pluck up a few meatballs as I go by, the pretty cook behind the table letting me know about the barbeque sauce that’s been slowly cooking all day. I take the plate she offers with more, catching her as she winks at me. I’m used to this when I’m on the road, having women flirt with me. They see a football player and…well, I can’t even begin to guess what they are thinking, I just know they get really flirty and some get aggressive.

I should keep moving, but these meatballs are like witchcraft. I can’t stop eating them. My fingers are covered in sauce, to the point she hands me a napkin, giggling, pointing to where the sauce is dripping down my arm. I’m delicately balancing the plate and about to say thank you and keep going, when again, a voice from behind calls out. This time it scares the bee-jeezus outta me.

“Levi.” Lorna’s voice cuts through the air as I lose the grip I had on my plate. It’s like a slow-motion scene from a film, where we see the handsome male main character—that’s me—drop a plate covered with red sauce down the front of his very white T-shirt, down his jeans, and, as the plate hits the floor and flips in the air, it sends out a spray of sauce that attacks his sneakers and socks, too.

I close my eyes and beg for strength before opening them and turning around, slowly, to face this woman. “Yes?”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” she says with a smirk that could rival the Cheshire Cat’s. She leans in closer so only I can hear. “I hope you’re better at cleaning up messes than you are at holding onto plates.”

“Touché, Lorna.” I swipe a few napkins from the demonstration table and try wiping my mess. “What do you want?”

She stands in front of me, shifting her weight from one side to the other. “I’m trying to see a path forward for us, one where you’ll still be able to see Duncan if you’d like, once things calm down.”

I feel like she’s purposely trying to get a rise out of me. You know when people do that and you can smell the manipulation?

“I don’t think we should be talking, Lorna.” I stare at her pointedly, gripping the cart handles as I move away. “I appreciate your efforts, but since you’ve taken the time to serve me with papers, I feel like we need to go through our lawyers for any communication.” When she doesn”t respond, I nod my head her way. “Have a good day.”

Making an executive decision to get out of here, I head for the checkout line. I’d circle back and get Georgie the chocolate chip ice cream she requested, but if Mom found out I did that, I’d never hear the end of it. I make a mental note to make some for her when I get back to the farm, and surprise her with it. That way everyone wins.

I fly through the checkout; the young cashier and her friend who bags groceries do a good job of not laughing at me and my newly stained self, until they do. As the cashier slides a jug of bleach to her coworker, they exchange a look and both pairs of eyes dart my way, and teenage giggling ensues.

As soon as I pay my bill, I make a beeline for the exit. I want to get out of here before I have any more run-ins with Lorna. I should also call Buzz and let him know how she acted; it may help my side of things in the end. But even as I think this very thought, I feel sick inside. I hate going to court. I hate that we’re thinking of Duncan as property, and I hate that my first instinct is to “tell on her” when in reality, she’s just a sad lady who’s mourning the loss of her son and daughter-in-law.

As I get closer to my SUV, I see Georgie’s rolled down the window on her side of the car. Spotting me, she waves and opens the door, her jaw going slack as she sees the state of me.

“What did you spill—”

I wave a hand in the air as I click my key fob and the back of the SUV flies open. “I’ll fill you in once we’re out of here. Get back in the car, you won’t be able to help me with your gimp self.”

She laughs, then ducks back in and rolls up the window to wait. I load the bags in the back, kicking myself for not getting down the produce aisle, but add it to my list of things to do for her. I’ll grab some things from our garden at the farm and bring them in with her ice cream.

“Hey, Levi.” The sound of Lorna’s voice is like a nail being thrust into my skull. With a giant mallet the size of Thor’s hammer. While I’m fighting a migraine. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’re done.”

Swiveling in place, I turn around to find her at the back of my car, the new thorn in my side, standing with her hands on her hips facing me.

“Oh,” I manage, turning my back to her and tucking the last bag safely inside the truck. “Why is that?”

Her energy has changed, and she’s buzzing with something more manic. A bit frenzied. I’m getting the feeling people don’t usually walk away from her.

“I really think you need to look at things from my perspective. How I’m feeling about this. Me. I’m Duncan’s blood.” She hoists her shoulders up, standing a little taller, but to be honest, her face looks a touch crazed. “My lawyer doesn’t want to go to court against you, and neither do I if we can avoid it. It’s a waste of time and resources, don’t you think?”

“Of course I do, but I’m not the one who lawyered up,” I say.

“We can settle this out of court, you know.“

Crossing my arms, I set my lips in a tight line, trying to hold back all of the anger that’s beginning to well up inside of me. What a selfish woman. “That I do know. But again, I’m not the one who started this. I’m just the person who was named guardian and wants to fulfill his role that was laid out by Duncan’s parents.”

“That’s a low blow, Levi.” She shakes her head and looks haughty and disgruntled.

“No, it really isn’t. I’m dedicated to doing what I need to do to make that boy comfortable and see that he’s happy.” Unraveling my arms, I let them hang at my sides as I shake my head at this woman yet again. “Don’t you get it? I want him to have a relationship with you, I don’t want him to not know his family. But I also want to do what Tom, and Katie, have laid out for me to do.”

Lorna’s cheeks are bright red, practically glowing with embarrassment or anger—I can’t quite tell which. Her teeth are clenched so tightly I swear I hear them grinding together. There’s a line, a tiny crease that begins to form where her brow is furrowing, and I feel like I’m watching her wind up for the pitch. Her eyes shoot daggers in my direction, invisible arrows filled with emotion, and I swear I see a faint wisp of smoke curling from her ears.

This is not a woman to be trifled with.

“You won’t be any good at this, Levi. Face it. You’re a man who may have resources but not enough ‘oomph’ to be a father.”

“Oomph? You’re worried I don’t have oomph?” Now we’re talking in tongues. “What?”

She plants herself firmly in place. “You’re not even married, Levi. There’s no family unit for him, how can you be a dad when you don’t have a partner to help you? You’re just not enough.”

Her words slam into my gut and I feel a flame light way down deep inside of me. It’s not a good one either. This one wants to burn the world down. My own mother raised Austin and me alone, relying on resources like Big Brothers Big Sisters to help shape us. She made sure we felt loved and whole, and as a single parent, she did an epic job. I want to react, and I’m about to. I want to say something that will cut her sharply like she’s cut me, but…

“Hey.” Georgie’s voice breaks the heat of the moment as she limps around the truck. I say a silent thank you for her calming presence. She eyes Lorna and nods her head her way as she looks at me and taps her watch. “We need to get going, sweetie. We have that thing we need to get to.”

“Yes,” I say, nodding my head in time as she bobs hers, giving me a look that says trust me. “That thing.”

Still ignoring Lorna, she reaches out and runs her fingers through my hair, smiling at me. To even say that she’s smiling at me feels trite; what she’s doing is looking at me and she is seeing me for me, and it reflects in her eyes and her smile, in her posture and her body language.

And I’m enamored. Flummoxed. Gobsmacked. All the weird words. They are me.

“As long as you don’t forget. Because to me, you’re enough,” she whispers, her fingers wrapping themselves around my hair as she leans in and brushes her lips across mine.

Oh, the sweet taste of Georgie tastes a lot like sweet, sweet victory mixed with the sugary amazingness of hot caramel corn. Velvety soft, like comfort foods with a flavor that lingers on the palate, leaving a trail of warmth and delight that”s impossible to resist.

I could kiss her more, but she pulls away too fast. Probably because we’re in the middle of a parking lot and in front of the enemy, but who knows. I’m still reeling when she holds out her hand to Lorna and introduces herself. It’s a gorgeous moment that will stay burned into my memory banks for eternity.

“I’m Georgie, Levi’s fiancée.”

Lorna’s jaw drops as Georgie’s hand slips into mine. This is the moment I needed to have. It’s like witnessing karma firsthand. We all know karma is there and she will get you in the end, but when we get to actually see her happening in the flesh, it is fantastic, isn’t it?

But, even as I silently celebrate the moment, there’s a pang of guilt. But I’ll push that to the side for now, because this is what we agreed to. Friends with benefits, kind of. Different benefits than others have, but benefits nonetheless.

The bright red in Lorna’s cheeks fades, turning into an embarrassed flush of pink. She takes a step or two backward, pointing herself toward the direction of the store. She stops for a brief moment, opening her mouth and closing it, choosing to wave a hand in the air as she scuttles away.

I should feel a little better than I do, but I feel…empty. I’m not combative unless I”m on the field, and then I’m getting paid to be. But me, in life, I like rolling with things and getting along with people. I like singing Broadway tunes and talking about art. I love impressionists. If I had to pick between a guy’s night and an art gallery opening, I’d choose the gallery.

But me and Lorna, I don’t know. Getting along may be pushing things.

“Well, my first job as your fiancée. How did I do?” Georgie asks, pulling herself away from me. She’s only stepped about a foot away and I already miss her being in my space.

What is happening to me?

“If I had to give you a grade, A+ all the way. But,” I point to the sauce all down the front of me, then to where it’s on her now, too. “Sorry. Looks like I transferred some of my mess to you.”

Her eyes dart Lorna’s way before she brings them back to me. “Yes, you have, but that’s okay. You know, ‘cause we’re engaged.” She waves her hand in front of me, in a circle, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Let’s get you back to the apartment so we can do something about this.”

As she hobbles around the car, I can only think one thing.

I’d follow her anywhere.