Charlotte
“I brought Nerds Clusters, so even if everything goes to hell, we’ll at least have something to look forward to,” I announce from Callan’s passenger seat on the way to my parents’ house that Friday. It’s close by, something my mom is far more enthused about than I am.
He reaches across and squeezes my leg in a gesture of reassurance that feels natural.
Somewhere between driving to the training facilities and headquarters most mornings together—listening to his “Music” playlist—and having a drink together on his patio each night after we get home while listening to one of my many playlist options, based on an assessment of our days and the vibes we need, we’ve fallen into a friendship.
Or maybe something more than a friendship.
I groan as the white columns of my parents’ place in the Denver Polo Club neighborhood come into view. “Maybe we should eat a few clusters now, to bolster us.”
The man has created a monster. I got the family-sized bag of candy when I was shopping on Wednesday. And they’re already gone.
His smile is lethal. “You have an addiction, Princess.”
The nickname doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m not sure whether I’ve stopped hearing it as derogatory, or if his tone has actually changed, but it feels sweeter somehow.
Like a term of endearment is supposed to.
Not that I’m a reliable source for that.
Jace used to call me Char-whal the Narwhal, which I never really understood.
Though, when Addie asked me about it, I told her it was because he thought I was a unicorn but real.
No way was I going to let her have more ammunition to fuel her hatred of him.
“I blame you entirely,” I reply. Because it’s hard to argue that I don’t have an addiction.
Might even need to talk to my therapist about it this week.
Which will be a good break from the disapproving vibes she’s been giving off since I told her about the fake-dating plan.
She hasn’t actually said she disapproves, but I’ve been seeing her long enough, I know.
I also know she’s not pleased with the way my dad has handled the whole thing.
“Ready?” Callan asks as he pulls to a stop.
I peer at the house through my window. “I don’t think I have an option.”
“We’ve had dinner together every night this week. And you are living with me. Sure, the feelings might be fake, but for all intents and purposes, we’re dating. You don’t have to feel like you’re lying to them all night.”
He’s not wrong. We are dating, more or less. And for some reason, that makes me happier than it likely should. Though it’s likely just that Callan, it turns out, is a pretty great fake boyfriend. Though I remain a pretty mediocre girlfriend, at best.
Like last night, when he asked me why I was so worked up about family dinner, I told him I didn’t feel great about lying to them.
Which is true. But it’s also not the only truth.
I love my family so much, but there’s something about family dinners that makes me feel like I’m nine again.
Like my dad is trying to groom me into who he wants me to be.
Like Mom is constantly fretting if I’ll “be okay.” Like Chris is both my best friend and the person who annoys me the most in the entire world.
And it’s not like we don’t see each other all the time outside of family dinners. We do. But it’s not the same. We’re more professional then. Grown up. Not the case when we’re in the house I grew up in.
And the part of me that’s starting to care what Callan thinks about me…
Well, I don’t want him to witness the awkwardness that is a Langford family dinner.
And, since Jace is the only other man I’ve ever brought home, I’m not really sure what to expect on that front.
My dad grilled Jace and made it clear he wasn’t a fan, but my dad likes Callan.
Or, at least, he did. Before I told him that we’d been dating in secret.
My dad doesn’t like being left out of the loop on anything, particularly when it comes to his kids or his business. And this is both. So I’m a little worried about how he’ll treat Callan. Because, if nothing else, the man doesn’t deserve to be put on notice by Steve Langford.
“You’re right,” I finally tell Callan. “It’s almost like we’re dating.”
His smile is feline. “Glad you see it my way. Now, stay there while I come and open your door. I can’t have your dad thinking I’m not a gentleman.”
Deciding I cannot be the type of person who waits to get out of the vehicle, I get out anyway.
“I thought I told you to stay.” Callan’s breath is warm on my ear as he places one hand on the door.
He’s caging me in in the best way, surrounding me with the deep masculine scent of his cologne.
Combine that with the very fashionable gray suit he’s wearing, and if we really were dating, there’s a good chance I’d beg him to make up an excuse to miss dinner so he could take me home and have his way with me.
Not that I’m thinking about doing those things, of course.
Callan inhales deeply. “Come on, Princess.” He slides his hand around mine, his fingers warm and large as they wrap around me. It’s a jolt to the senses for sure.
We’re almost to the black double doors of my parents’ house when I find enough brain cells to whisper, “Are we the type of couple who hold hands?”
Callan lifts one shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to be part of one of those couples who always have to be touching each other.
You know the ones. Not the ones sucking face at the family dinner, but the guy who’s touching his girl’s waist one moment and then kissing her cheek the next. Brushing her hair off her face.”
I stop in front of the doors, my heart halting completely before restarting at an unhealthy pace.
Taking a deep breath, I try to convince my body to act normally, and not like one of the most physically attractive people I’ve ever met just confessed to wanting to be in one of those relationships.
The kind I’ve never been interested in but now seems remarkably appealing.
But, nope. This is fake. Remember: this is fake.
“Wow. I’m not sure whether you’re joking or not, but I’m all in.
My parents are like that with each other, and they’ll eat it up. ” And also, that sounds… nice.
Still struggling to get my body back under control because we’re not doing that, I knock and then push into the house before waiting for a reply. My heels click on the wood floors as I call out, “We’re here!”
“Hi, honey,” my mom greets us, gracefully descending the rounded staircase from the upper floor, her dark pants perfectly matching the accent line on her light sweater. “Callan. We’re so glad you could make it.” She presses onto her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Mrs. Langford, it’s great to see you again. I appreciate the invitation to your lovely home,” Callan replies, his face lit up in genuine warmth. And there goes my heart rate again. I should really consider an appointment with a cardiologist.
“Oh, please.” Mom is in full hostess mode. “Call me Winnie. You’re practically family now!”
“Mom!” I chastise as Callan sends me a smug smirk.
Mom’s hazel eyes—the ones I inherited from her—meet mine, mirth dancing in them. “Oh, come on, Charlotte. You’re living together! You’ve never been this serious with someone before. Of course he can call me Winnie.”
Nothing like telling all my secrets to the man I’m fake dating. “Let us take things at our pace, huh?”
“Okay, dear.” It’s Mom’s response when she’s definitely not going to be doing that, but doesn’t want to argue about it.
“Well, come in, you two.” She’s about to pull us into the dining room when the door behind us opens again, my favorite three-year-old bounding into the house in a rainbow unicorn dress.
“Auntie Char!” Marlee shrieks, wrapping my legs up in a hug.
“How’s my favorite niece?” I drop into a crouch, a move that more people should be impressed with, considering the dress and heels I’m wearing, and pull the small girl into a hug.
“You brought your boyfriend?” she whispers into my ear.
I catch Callan watching us, trying his best not to smile, as my mom says hello to Chris and Kim. “He begged me to let him come play with you,” I fake whisper back.
Marlee drops her arms from around me and turns to Callan. Sticking her arms up, she proclaims, “You can play with me.”
Callan, taking the gesture as the command it was, pulls her into his arms.
“Marlee,” Kim chides, “I told you no more getting carried today.”
My niece tightens her arms around Callan’s neck, like she’s afraid her mom might try to physically remove her. “Peas?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Callan interjects. “I’m happy to hang out with Marlee again.”
“Again?” Mom asks, her voice smug.
I can’t contain the eye roll. “God, Mom. Can we not? He stopped by the other night when I had Marlee for a sleepover.”
“There you all are.” My father’s voice is louder here than it ever is at the office, all the wood in the house amplifying his low tenor. “Are we hanging out in the foyer these days?”
Mom kisses his cheek. “Of course not, honey. We were just deciding who had the distinct pleasure of carrying Marlee back.”
Dad chuckles, full of nothing but amusement for his only grandchild. “And it looks like you picked the right choice.” He holds out his hand to Callan, who has to rearrange the barnacle previously known as Marlee before he can return the handshake. “How are you, Callan?”
“Well, sir.” It’s the first time Callan has seemed remotely unsure since he agreed to this fake-dating thing. Maybe he’s realizing that he’s lying to the man who owns the team he plays for. Or maybe he’s intimidated by my dad. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to be.
“Oh, we don’t need any of that. You’re practically family now. Call me Steve.”
I look at my mother. “Did you two rehearse how to best embarrass me?”