Chapter 12 #3
“The thing is, she didn’t think I was serious,” Lake supplies, talking to my mom. “All the times I asked her.” He pauses, giving a self-deprecating grin. “I kept leaving these little stuffed foxes on her desk.”
“Like the ones you hit on the ice?” my mom says, enthused. But then she stops, like she’s embarrassed now, or maybe secondhand embarrassed at the mere mention of the incident.
But Lake doesn’t give in to that lore. He barrels forward like the foxes were always part of our story.
“Yup. Any kind of stuffed fox. I’d leave them with little notes.
Sometimes with cookies. Other times with cupcakes.
Sometimes, even a plant. A succulent, of course,” he says, and holy smokes.
This is not what we planned. It’s…better.
It’s fun.
It’s delightful.
The pressure in my chest eases. The blaring in my brain dissipates.
And I want some fun in the middle of this tense picnic, so I jump into the fray. “My favorite was the one that said For fox’s sake, will you have coffee with me?” I say to Lake, smiling dopily, like I’m recalling that imagined moment perfectly.
“Yeah, you liked that one. Even though you still didn’t say yes,” he says, and wind him up and watch him go. “I’d wanted to ask her for so long.”
Lake blows out a pleased breath—like he’s thrilled the entire table is eating out of the palm of his hand, from my parents to Jameson to Caroline, who’s watching this with avid eyes.
“I finally left a big stuffed fox on her desk with a note that said I don’t give a fox about anything but taking you on a date. ”
I blush. I smile. I freaking giggle. It’s such a ludicrous tale, but he tells it with one hundred percent commitment and I nearly believe it.
“So I said yes at last,” I say to him, and Lake leans close, swiping a thumb affectionately across my cheek, then smiles contentedly before he lets go, leans back in his chair, and meets my mom’s enraptured gaze head-on.
“That’s probably why she didn’t mention it to you.
It took her a while to know I meant it.”
“But when I knew, I knew,” I say.
He squeezes my hand once more under the table. “And she finally planned a perfect date,” he says, and I feel bubbly everywhere from the save.
He gave us a whole new story. I give him a smile that says thank you and I want you all at once.
“And what was the date?” Jameson interjects, and can’t he leave well enough alone?
Caroline waves toward a server heading our way with a picnic basket full of sandwiches. “Oh look, more lunch is coming.”
But her deflection tactics don’t deter the conversation, since Lake’s already answering my ex with, “Costco. We had the best time eating samples.”
Jameson chuckles under his breath.
Lake looks at him sharply. “Don’t laugh till you’ve tried their granola.”
“It’s so good,” I second.
Lake turns back to my mom, flashing a supportive beau smile that just slays me. “Honestly, it was a perfect date, Mrs. Hatmaker.”
Damn, this man can fake-boyfriend ridiculously well. I’m surprised he’s so upbeat, so sunshiny, but I’ll take it. I bump my shoulder to his, getting in on the affection.
“A perfect date,” Mom says happily, then looks at me with fondness in her eyes. “You were always so good at that! Remember that candlelit game night you set up for your father and me?”
I sit up straighter. All the tension slams right back into me.
My muscles are tight everywhere. I remember those nights all too well—nights when I tried to fix their marriage.
When I tried to help repair whatever was broken for them at the time.
But I don’t want to think too long about the dates I crafted for my parents, how long I planned them, how much time I spent making sure everything was just so.
“I sure do,” I say tightly as the server sets a tomato and avocado on focaccia bread in front of me and Lake shoots me a curious look.
“Now comes the true test of our makeup,” Caroline declares from her end of the table, once more taking the reins of the moment, like the host she is.
“Can the lipstick withstand the sandwich test?” I ask, grateful for the chance to talk about something else. Something besides the fake dates with Lake and the very real ones I arranged for my parents once upon a time. Or the look my fake date just gave me.
I bite into the sandwich, and it’s delicious—so good in fact that it distracts me from the bloom of feelings for my fake boyfriend that I didn’t anticipate either.
He takes a bite of his sandwich, chews, and finishes, then leans closer to me, saying, “Score two.”
And I like scoring with him even though I shouldn’t.
* * *
After lunch, Lake tips his forehead to the edge of the gardens. “They have a succulent garden here.”
“They do?”
“Yeah. Want to see it?” His tone is intense, like he really wants to do this.
There’s a tug in my chest. I’d like to see it too. I glance around the scene, unsure if I can just slip away from my sister and everyone else. “I do, but can we take a rain check?”
“Yeah,” he says, all casual. “Another time.”
“Definitely,” I say, then make a mental note to add this detail to my World Domination Notebook—Lake knows there’s a succulent garden here.
Margot calls my name, and asks me to join her and the other bridesmaids. Good thing I didn’t sneak off to the succulents. I meet them at their table, and we ooh and aah over all the wedding events coming up, saying we can’t wait and that’s going to be so fun more times than I can count.
When the picnic winds down at last, Parker’s chatting with Lake about the Foxes’ chances this year, so I say goodbye and hug the bridesmaids.
As I’m saying goodbye to the last one, the photographer sails past me again, stopping to catch my attention with a tip of his forehead.
“One last shot,” he asks, waggling his camera. “Fallon said to get one more.”
She needs another one to show I’m not the pathetic MOH? Fallon’s off with Caroline, reviewing something on her tablet by the hellebores, so I’m going to have to trust that she wants this even though my Spidey senses are tingling. This seems like a bit much even for the stick-up-her-ass stickler.
“Sure.”
“Lovely,” he says, then guides me to a nearby bush bursting with gold flowers. He takes a few more shots, and when he lowers the camera at last, he drops his voice too. “Listen, I’m only in town for a few days, but I’d love to give you my hotel card—”
Out of nowhere, a possessive hand lands on my back and a man appears by my side. “She’ll be with me.”
Then, to emphasize his point, Lake gives me one more kiss.
Hand holding my face.
Lips claiming mine.
Beard leaving its mark as my fake guy scores a hat trick after all.
And I didn’t really doubt it earlier but I’m dead certain now. I want my fake boyfriend to do very real things to me. And that’s a bit of a problem.