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

14. Georgie

FOURTEEN

“How long are you going to stay online?”

Duncan’s standing in front of me with his hands on his hips, looking a little perturbed. Can’t lie, the stern expression he’s wearing is really cute. Like adorable and precious cute.

“Can you give me one more minute?” Glancing down at the open webpage, I hold up a finger. Only two more steps and then I’ll have completed my very first online bridal registry. I mean, kind of. Not that I should be, but still.

The registry I’m doing is with our local store, Altman’s, and it’s only for fun. I won’t make it live, ever, I’ll just save it as a draft. Something I can laugh about with Riley and Bex later this week. After yesterday’s conversation, I feel like messing with them.

“One more minute,” he repeats, nodding his head and narrowing his eyes. “I’ll time you.”

“Wow, you’re a drill sergeant.” He’s pushy but he’s excited. He’s been working for me all day, and Mondays are busy because of all the deliveries we get in, so our deal is that he gets to pick out three books to take home tonight.

“I have to be. It’s almost closing time and you still need to reconcile your sales so we can get out to the farm in time for dinner.” Duncan crosses his arms, and I wonder where oh where has Duncan no-talk gone from just a few days ago?

“The fact that you know I reconcile my daily sales is impressive,” I say with a grin, tapping away on my keyboard.

He comes over to the counter and begins to rhythmically tap his little fingers on it. Kids.

“What are those?” Duncan points to a stack of autobiographies next to me.

“These,” I say, laying my hand on the top of the stack, “are for Mr. Altman. He loves autobiographies, so I always put some aside for him every month.”

“What are they?”

“Stories written by people that are about them. About their life.” And I wish they were currency, because I would use them as trade to refurbish my whole apartment if I could. This morning’s trip down registry lane has taught me how expensive things still are. But, man, Levi’s place is really making me want the nice things in life.

Just a few more clicks and I’ll be able to close down my computer. I look back over my list, laughing at the ridiculous giant metal ostrich I picked out. Toto would flip out if that thing showed up at my place. The list is full of things I really would love to have, but mostly really weird things that a very particular person would be after. I’m not saying these things are hideous or that they’re stupid, they’re items that are just not me. But that’s the point, I just want to freak out my friends.

“People like reading about other people’s lives?” Duncan asks, pulling my attention back to him.

“They do. Celebrities have some good autobiographies. There’s one written by Prince Harry that was really popular last year.”

“Do you have to be popular to write one?”

“No,” I respond, my eyes still on the screen. Babysitter of the year right here. Or would I be a stepmother? “You don’t have to be popular nor well known to write your autobiography.”

“Just have a cool life, right?”

“In my mind, all of us have a cool life. We all have a story.”

“Do you have one?” Dark eyes bore holes into me.

“I do.” I stop what I’m doing momentarily to focus on Duncan. “Not a lot of people know I was in the foster system in New York when I was little.”

“What does that mean?”

“I never knew my parents, and I was placed in different homes all the time with strangers who would take care of me. I used to pray that I’d be adopted into a perfect family, like the Porters seem to be, but it never happened.”

Duncan nods his head, biting his lower lip. “So you didn’t have your parents around, like me?”

“Kind of,” I say with a smile, reaching out to squeeze his forearm. “I had other adults who contributed to taking care of me, but not my blood parents. I didn’t know them at all, but that’s okay.” I hold my hands up as if I’m showing him the room for the first time. “All of that made me stronger, so I could work really hard and make this happen. Have something like the bookstore that’s all mine.”

I can tell he’s hanging on to my words, realizing the roots of our kinship at the same time I do. There’s a little bond happening here, and I never want to betray this guy. As he goes quiet, I leave him with his thoughts and go back to chuckling at my registry, but also making sure I’ve not ticked off any boxes, accidentally making the page live for anyone to be able to see.

“Do you think you want to be a mom?”

My eyes snap up to Duncan’s in a millisecond. “Huh?” I reply, as if he just asked me if I wanted to join the circus and learn to juggle flaming torches.

“Like, would you be a mom even though you don’t have one?”

I’m literally chewing on the inside of my cheek so I don’t giggle out loud. “Probably, but I’ve not ever thought about it.”

We’re going deep quickly for a ten-year-old. How can I change this subject? I nod at the pile of autobiographies beside me, but turn my attention back to the laptop. “Hey, do you want to check one of these out?”

Duncan’s eyes light up. I love how into books this kid is. “Yes, please.”

With my eyes still on the computer, I reach out for one of the books on the stack. I grab the top book and go to pass it off to Duncan, only as I do, I lose my grasp on it and it tumbles from my hand, knocking into my coffee mug from this morning, which is of course not empty, sending liquid all over the counter.

“No!” Both of my hands slam down on the keyboard in surprise as I take the laptop off the counter, tossing it on a box beside me. Duncan and I both grab books and anything that could get damaged and move them out of the way as fast as we can. After a few minutes of full-on scrambling, we both stop, facing one another with our eyes wide.

“That could have been a disaster,” Duncan confirms.

“You bet it could have been, but you acted fast.” I ruffle his hair. “That’s a lesson for you. This is why we should always use cups and mugs with lids around here. In fact, I’ll make sure to get us a couple so this doesn’t happen again.”

“Cool.” Duncan grins, nodding at my computer. “Is that okay?”

Flipping It over, I quickly inspect it, only to find the bottom of my old 2015 MacBook Air is coated with coffee. Grabbing a towel, I wipe it while praying that it’s not dead. This poor thing has been on its last legs for ages, and this could be the final straw. I open the cover and the screen, once bright and full of zest, and a bridal registry, is now blank.

I shift my gaze to Duncan. “Well, it doesn’t look good.”

“My mom dropped her phone in the toilet once and she made it work again by putting it in a bag of rice.”

While it sounds like a good fix, I doubt it could help my situation, but hey. You never know. “Really? Should we try that when we get to the farm?”

Duncan’s eyes sparkle. “I’ll do it for you!”

“Okay.” I chuckle, handing him the computer. “You’re in charge of it.” I look at the time, pointing to the front door as I do. Mary had dropped Duncan off this morning for his “shift.” When she did, she asked if I minded driving him back out, which of course I can, especially since today I’m officially off the crutches, and she’d asked if I’d like to stay for dinner. “Flip the sign from open to closed, and you can pick out your books while I close out.”

Had she made a side comment about it being my engagement dinner? She did, but she’d punctuated the awkward moment with a cheeky grin, too. I’m no stranger to dealing with awkward moments, I know how to sidestep ‘em and change the subject like nobody’s business. As soon as I told her how much I loved her homemade peppermint stick ice cream, I could see her literally puff up with pride right in front of me. What can I say, I know where my bread is buttered, if you know what I’m saying.

Actually, I know where my ice cream is getting scooped—at least, where I’d like it to be, and I want to keep that ice cream coming. If it also allows me to maybe talk to Levi since we haven’t had a chance to be in person since last week, then that’s the cherry on top of the peppermint stick sundae.

“But it was Easter, did you really hide both baskets so well that they never found them?”

Family mealtime with the Porters is exactly as much fun as you’d think it would be. Duncan and I arrived just as Mary pulled her famous homemade lasagna from the oven, corralling all of us into the dining room almost immediately. All of this leaves no time for me to pull Levi aside and at least address the lips-on-lips situation from a few days ago.

Mary tries not to spit out her sweet tea. “Look, I was tired that day and wanted these two to stay busy. I’d been up working in the fields with the dogs all morning before they even got out of bed that year…let’s remember I was also a single parent.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Austin teases, fake punching his mom in the arm. “You had us two strong boys around, you didn’t need anything else.”

“I needed an adult.” She laughs. “At the time, I couldn”t even remember hiding those baskets. I was that tired, so when they came in after looking for them for most of the morning and had nothing, I was no help.”

“You didn’t remember where you left their baskets?” I’m holding my side picturing the look on a young Levi’s face when he couldn’t find his present from the Easter Bunny. Eyes wide, lips in a tight line, feet firmly planted in frustration.

“You think that’s funny?” Levi says from his seat beside me, poking me in my ribs. “We did eventually find those baskets.”

I spin in my seat to face him. “When?”

Austin bursts out laughing. “Three years later at the top of the barn in the loft, buried in the hay. They were moldy and half-eaten by wild animals.”

The table erupts in laughter; even Duncan’s giggle joins the chorus, making both Levi and I grin as we exchange a look of pride. There’s a stabbing in my stomach as this happens, as if a cautionary warning reminding me that this is all fun, and while this family dynamic is amazing, in the end I’m the part of this story that doesn’t fit.

Three of these things belong together, one of these things is not the same…

“Who wants dessert?” Mary asks. Duncan and Austin both raise their hands in the air, Duncan giggling when it happens.

“Okay, then. Austin, you’re on ice cream duty. Hey, Duncan,” Mary says as she pushes her chair back, “help me clear the dishes?”

Wordlessly, Duncan does as he’s told, following Mary into the kitchen as Austin does the same, turning back to wink at Levi and me as he exits the room stage right. Leaving us alone for the first time since all the yummy kisses.

“So.” I turn in my seat, facing Levi. “He asked me if I wanted to be a mom today.”

Levi, who had been taking a drink of his tea, chokes. “He what?”

Slowly I nod, my shoulders shaking with laughter. “He’s pretty smart that kid, more than we probably give him credit for.”

Levi’s eyes stay trained on the door leading to the kitchen. “I worry about him finding out about this whole thing.”

“Which thing? The court case with him at the center, or the part where we’re engaged but not really?”

“Both,” Levi responds, looking at his hands as they twist in his lap. “He’s really opening up. The way he’s communicating with all of us is slow going, but it’s happening. I know a lot of that is the trust you two have.”

I shrug. “But he needed time to settle in, too.”

“He’ll start therapy this week,” Levi whispers, his eyes locked with mine. “I’ll go with him but just be there in case he wants me in the room.”

Instinctively, my hand reaches out for his. “Good. I’m glad you’re doing that for both of you.”

His eyes drop to where my hand covers his, and he smiles. In the next room, there’s a commotion and laughter as Austin does something to make Duncan giggle, his laugh like a melody.

“I feel like I need to ask you how you’re doing after the other day.” Levi’s eyes slam into mine. He drops his voice an octave, gripping my hand tighter. “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

The things I’m not prepared for in life are few. Earthquakes go on the list because we’re in North Carolina. Being invaded by pirates, too, since we’re in the mountains and not on the coast.

We can also add Levi Porter giving me sexy, hooded eyes again as he tells me he can’t stop thinking about kissing me to that list as well.

My hand flies to my lips as a low heat hits my cheeks. “I know I’m totally blushing right now.”

He smiles, this lazy, beautiful, sexy grin that drips from his lips as he looks at mine, taking his time bringing his eyes north. “You are, but that color pink looks mighty fine on you.”

His hand squeezes mine and a warmth fills my belly. Warm from the food, from the family time, from the love in this room when all the Porters are in it, and for sure one hundred percent warmth and fire and heat from the fact that this man is hitting all the right notes.

“Are we doing the right thing here, Levi?” I say in a whisper.

He stares at me for only a brief moment before he takes my hand and raises it to his lips, kissing the back of it as he keeps his eyes on mine.

“I hope so.” He gently puts my hand back down, staring at where our hands are tangled in my lap. “Because I really like kissing you, Georgina Simpson. And I really want to do it again and soon.”

I’m overwhelmed with the giddiness that flows through my body; there’s, like, ten thousand sparks of energy that are flicking off and on inside me. Part of me wants to revel in all of this, just enjoy the ride and see where it takes us, but the other part of me is so nervous. My heart feels like it’s doing the Macarena, skipping beats and then racing ahead. I can’t seem to stop the silly grin that’s spreading across my face, nor do I want to. It’s like my whole world just got a Technicolor makeover, and I’m living in a rom-com montage.

But underneath the excitement, there’s a hint of fear, a nagging voice in the back of my mind asking, “What if this changes everything?” This man has become one of my good friends, and if we don’t do this right, that could go away. There’s also Duncan, and we need to keep him a priority as well. After all, he’s the one all of this is for, right?

I let my other hand find its way to his jawline, stroking it slowly with my forefinger. This man doesn’t have a chiseled jaw, it’s sculpted to perfection, and I let my fingertips dance as I lean closer to him. My fingers find his lips, slowly stroking them as he closes his eyes.

“You’re making me crazy,” he growls, his lips beginning to curl upwards. “Is it time for me to kiss my fake fiancée again or are there limits?”

I’m about to open my mouth to respond when a tiny, familiar voice suddenly pipes up.

“What’s a fake fiancée?” Duncan asks.