Chapter 20 Fake Boyfriend
Fake Boyfriend
Fiona
Curiosity is killing me. What did Everett and Max talk about? Why did the air around them feel electric, like they were enemies squaring off, but that’s impossible. Everett is just a kid.
A weird kid, but still a kid.
Maybe I should ask Everett and not Max.
The thing is, Max is currently sitting in my bakery.
This is a bad idea. A very bad idea.
But that doesn’t stop me from grabbing a caramel almond cookie and a black coffee to bring to his table.
Should I sit down? Max had no problem joining me earlier.
Friends don’t worry about stuff like that. I set the cookie and drink down and slide in across from him.
Ever so slowly, he raises his head. A few locks of curls stay in front of his eye.
Are they soft?
What is wrong with you? Friends. You’re just friends.
Possibly not even that after this conversation. “Hey. How did things go with Everett?”
A smile spreads across Max’s face. “Fine.”
Is ‘fine’ code for terrible in man-speak like it is for women?
“Where is Dash?”
“Being cuddled by your daughter. Hope really seems to love babies.”
“She always has. I think it’s from having such a large family. There are always babies around.”
Wait. “Isn’t she an only child?”
“Yeah, but I have more cousins than you can count. They all decided it was their job to repopulate the world.”
What a dream. “That must be amazing.”
“And irritating sometimes.” He smiles and reaches for his coffee. “But that’s how family works.”
Is it? What would it be like—
Don’t dream about things you can’t have. “So what did Everett need help with?”
Max stares at me blankly for a second. “Oh, we forgot to talk about it.”
Forgot? “So what did you talk about?”
He tips his head to the side and reaches out a hand, stopping millimeters from mine. “I don’t ever want to lie to you.”
What?
“Everything with Everett will be fine, but I can’t talk about what’s going on, so I need you to trust me and not ask questions that I can’t answer.”
That feels like a creepy mafia response—which he kind of is—but still. “Everett is one of ours.”
“I know. And Maddox knows what’s going on, but I can’t talk about it with you. Not yet. So please don’t ask me.”
“You know that’s weird, right?”
He shrugs and then reaches for the cookie.
“Everett’s okay?”
“He will be. That I can promise you.” He takes a bite and groans. “What do you put in these cookies?”
“That was one of Emilia’s recipes that I tweaked a little bit.” More than a little bit.
“My nonna can make cookies, but this is—” He takes another bite. “—exceptional.”
“Thanks. I love playing around with recipes.” It’s a hobby of mine when I have some free time.
Max’s eyes shift from me to the door.
I twist around to see why.
Sasha and Alex Kamenev walked in.
Uh oh. I thought the two families knew each other. I stand up and walk over to the boys, hoping to run interference if I got that wrong. “Sasha, Alex, how nice to see you both. Everett isn’t here right now.”
“Fiona.” Alex wraps me up in a big hug.
I’m barely able to hold back a gasp. Where his brother is reserved, Alex is loving and friendly. “Hey, Alex. How are you today?”
“Good. Sasha and I are here to protect Hope. Is she here?”
Protect Hope? “She’s in the back. Why don’t you go say hi. She has a new friend back there for you to meet.”
Alex rushes off.
“What new friend? Hope didn’t mention that you were hiring anyone else.” Sasha frowns at me.
“I didn’t hire anyone. Dash is just visiting for a little while.”
“Dash?” Sasha’s frown deepens.
“Dash is a baby.” Max stands up with his computer bag across his body. “You don’t have to worry about him. I’ll be back by five to take Hope home.”
“No need. Alex and I will take her home. Hope wanted to visit my sister tonight.”
Sasha has a sister? What, do they keep her cloistered somewhere?
“Okay. I’ll see you later then. Thanks for the cookie, Fea.” Max nods at me and rushes off.
“Are you really here to protect Hope? Because we have security, you don’t need to worry.”
“I will always protect Hope no matter where she might be.”
That boy is intense.
Way too intense.
Today is a weird day.
Aren’t they always?
***
I’m not sure who needs the break more, me or Dash. He’s been passed from kid to kid all day, never getting the opportunity to lie in his playpen or take a nap. The little guy is probably going to pass out during tummy time. “Are you an easy sleeper or are you going to give me fits?”
Dash gurgles up at me.
“You’re a good boy.” Let’s hope. I open our apartment door and find Daria on the couch, reading.
She sets her book down and signs, “They finished setting everything up and baby-proofing the house an hour ago.”
“Good. I think he needs some downtime.” I drop the diaper bag on the bench by the door and slip off my shoes.
After setting the baby on the floor with a toy a few inches away for some tummy time, I join Daria on the couch.
“How long will this one be staying with us?”
“I have no idea. Paisley has a feeling about the mother.” Paisley’s feelings are almost always right.
“Hopefully, she comes back. He looks well taken care of.”
“Yeah, he does.”
Dash pushes with his chubby little leg as he reaches for the toy and tips himself over onto his back. Little gurgles of joy float up.
“How is your skin? Do you need to go to the doctor?”
That was quite a subject change. “It’s okay. Just a few scabs. And a little bit sore.”
“Yeah, right.” She reaches for the book she was reading.
“Daria.”
She turns her head towards me.
“I don’t lie to you.”
“But you hurt yourself.”
And thereby hurt you. “I’m sorry. I tried not to.”
She looks down at the page.
Guilt festers in my heart.
Why can’t I stop doing this? It should be so easy. I’ve been in therapy almost half my life. I should be able to conquer one behavior.
It’s so easy to tell the kids to make the right choices, but when it comes to this, it feels like a mountain I’ll never get over.
A little snore pulls me out of my thoughts.
Dash passed out with his arms still reaching for the toy.
Daria’s body shakes with soundless laughter.
This would be a perfect moment in time if all of that weren’t hanging over my head. “What’s so funny?”
“The characters in my book just started fake dating.”
Fake dating? “Why is that funny?”
“Because it’s obvious that she’s into him, but her ex is getting so jealous. I think he’s going to try punching the fake boyfriend. Which is hysterical because he’s an accountant and the fake boyfriend plays hockey.”
“Uh oh. That’s not going to end well for him.” Fake boyfriends…is that really a thing?