5. CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
brENDEN
Looking up from my phone, where I’ve been busy triple and quadruple-checking that everything is ready to go for tomorrow morning’s events at the inn, I realize that May has already scarfed down half of her burger and fries while I was too distracted to even order anything.
Day one of the corporate retreat went off without a hitch, but that hasn’t stopped me from sending check-in texts to Danny and Addison every fifteen minutes since I left.
I’m not sure I’ll sleep tonight, because I’ll be dreading some sort of emergency call from the night staff.
Maybe I should go sleep there.
There are no available rooms, but my desk chair is comfortable enough.
Yeah, no.
Sleeping hunched over my desk would definitely fuck up my back.
I just need to relax and.
.
.
focus on the other thing I’m stressed about.
Elise and Grant are coming tomorrow evening, and I’ve barely had time to prepare for them because of the retreat.
And I haven’t talked to May because I’m a big fat pile of chicken shit, so I haven’t been able to tell Travis whether or not we’re actually doing this, and—
“Dad?”
“What?” I croak.
“You looked weird. Are you breathing?”
“I think so.” I am now, at least.
Forcing a smile, I ask May, “Are you excited to see your grandparents?”
She sucks down some of her orange soda, then nods.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun.”
Nope.
Not the word I’d use.
“How are you?” she asks.
“I know sometimes you get uneasy around them.”
Damn, she’s too perceptive and knows me too well.
“I’ll be fine,” I lie.
This would be the perfect transition into asking her to do the biggest, most absurd favor I’ll hopefully ever have to ask of my daughter.
Instead, I steal a fry off her plate and jam it into my mouth.
“Get your own food,” she complains.
I pout at her.
“Travis is busy now.”
Most Saturday nights, there’s another server helping him.
But tonight he only has Sullivan in the back cooking, and he’s handling everything else alone.
I take a glance around the packed diner to locate him.
It’s the middle of the dinner rush, and he’s been running around since we got here.
I know this because I was sneaking occasional peeks at him while I was on my phone.
Ever since he came out to me, I’ve been looking at him differently.
Which might sound messed up, but I don’t mean it in a bad way.
Obviously.
It’s just that I’ve never looked at him as more than a friend before.
Even though I love talking to him and teasing him and letting him give me shit for my unhealthy habits.
I love how he complains about all the town events but participates in little things when I ask him to.
I love the way he pays attention to May, and cares about her, and is always there whenever she needs anything.
And, of course, whenever I need anything.
But I’ve always assumed he was straight, and I make it a point not to fall for straight guys.
Now that I know the truth, though?
I don’t know.
Yes, I’m aware that just because we’re both into men, that doesn’t mean we have to be into each other.
But damn, Travis is hot.
I subtly track him as he hustles between serving plates, refilling drinks, cashing people out, and hopping on the grill when Sullivan gets backed up.
He’s removed his flannel shirt at some point during all the running around, leaving him in only a tight black T-shirt.
If I said I didn’t appreciate how this provides a glorious view of his bulging arm muscles, then I’d be a lying liar who lies.
He should be happy—because a steady stream of customers means more money—but it looks like he’s barely managing not to frown as he serves people.
He probably reached his peopling capacity for the day about thirty plates ago.
“Flag him down,” May insists.
“You know he’ll come over for you.”
“No, that’s rude. I can wait.”
She bites into a fry and lets the end dangle out of her mouth, taunting me with it.
“I told you to order when I did.”
“I can wait,” I say again.
And it would’ve sounded believable if my traitorous stomach didn’t choose the next moment to let out a loud rumble.
May snorts.
“You look like you’re two seconds away from eating your own hand.”
Right as I’m coming up with a witty retort, a giant plate of food is slammed down in front of me.
“Wha—” I look up to find Travis hovering beside me.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“You need to eat. Stop worrying about work.”
“I wasn’t wo—”
“Yes, you were,” May interrupts me.
I scowl.
It’s true, but I was also worrying about Elise and Grant coming tomorrow.
And what I’m going to say to May about the fake dating thing.
I’m a multifaceted worrier.
When I look up at Travis again, he’s smiling at me.
A real one, not his obligatory customer service one.
I know the difference.
“Just eat, okay?”
A sudden swell of emotions rushes through me.
“Thank you.”
With a simple nod, he walks away.
As I dig into the juicy burger—the man even put mayonnaise on the bun for me so I wouldn’t have to do it myself—I get lost for a moment in a memory.
Back when I first moved to town, I wasn’t in the best place financially.
I was able to use the money from selling my parents’ house to buy my house here.
But because I needed more and more stuff for May as she rapidly grew, and I didn’t have the best job yet, I had to be careful.
Since I suck at cooking, I did come to the diner for meals more often than I should have, but a lot of times I’d let May order whatever she wanted for breakfast, then order something cheap like toast for myself.
One day, when Travis dropped off our food, he set down May’s plate of pancakes and set an omelet in front of me.
When I told him I hadn’t ordered it, he grumbled, “Made it by accident. Don’t wanna let it go to waste.” Then he walked off before I could even thank him.
I was pretty sure the accident thing was a total lie.
And after that, I considered us friends.
Travis was doing things to help me out even way back then.
Now he’s offered to do a huge, crazy thing for me in pretending to be my boyfriend.
Knowing I’m running out of time if I’m going to make it happen, I look at May and steel myself for this conversation.
As she’s wiping her hands with a napkin, she looks up and makes a face.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Because... I love you?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Sure, okay, but what’s the real reason?”
I glance around to make sure no one nearby looks particularly nosy today.
Betty Harlowe is notorious for spreading information she wasn’t even told directly, but there’s a few tables between ours and hers, and she currently seems very invested in the slice of cherry pie she’s eating.
Plus with the din of everyone in here talking at once, it’s pretty hard to overhear anyone unless you’re really trying.
Still, this is probably the worst place to talk about this, so I say, “Is it okay if we get out of here, and then we can talk about something on the way home?”
“You’re making me nervous. What’s wrong?”
“No, nothing. You don’t need to be nervous.” Shit, I suck.
“Are you almost done eating?”
She tucks a wavy strand of lavender hair behind her ear and says, “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Looking for Travis, I spot him as he’s coming out of the kitchen with a tray of clean coffee mugs.
He moves behind the counter to put them away, and I jump up and go over there to catch him.
“Hey, can I grab a box and pay?”
“You need to eat that food,” he says, his back to me as he slides the tray into place on top of another one beside the coffee machine.
“I will, I promise. I just need to get out of here so I can talk to May before I lose my nerve.”
He turns and gives me a searching look, then recognition dawns in his eyes.
“You’re going to ask her about... the thing?”
I shift my weight nervously, pulling my wallet out of my pocket.
“Mmhmm. I’m sorry I waited ‘til the last minute, I’ve just been caught up with work and—”
“It’s fine.” Reaching below the counter, he grabs a Styrofoam takeout container and shoves it at me.
“Go. Talk to her. Let me know what you guys decide.”
“So you’re still cool with...”
“Yeah. Whatever you need.”
Smiling, I hand over my card.
He rings me up, and when I go to sign the receipt, I notice the amount is way too small.
He didn’t charge me for the burger he made me.
I want to protest, but he’s already rushed away to take care of another customer, so all I can do is leave a hefty tip instead.
By the time I get back to our table, May’s burger is completely gone.
I hastily dump my food into the box along with her leftover fries, and then we head out.
As we cut across the path through the town green to walk home, I pop the box open and start munching on fries.
“Dad.” May nudges me in the side.
I finish chewing and brace myself.
My time’s up.
I either have this incredibly awkward conversation with my daughter, or I have an even more incredibly awkward conversation with her grandparents when I explain that I completely lied about being in a relationship.
Only one of those options has me talking to someone who I know loves me.
“This has to stay between us,” I tell her.
“Is there a celebrity staying at the inn?” she asks excitedly.
“Oh my god, please tell me it’s Skyler James!”
“What? No.”
Her face falls.
“Damn.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Anyway, this is something that nobody else in town knows, and it needs to stay that way, but... Travis is gay.”
“Okay. That’s none of my business, so why are you telling me?” she asks.
Then, eyes growing wide, she grips my forearm.
“Oh my god, you guys are dating!”
“Yes,” I say, relieved she gets it.
Oh, wait.
No.
“No, we’re not dating. Why would you think that?”
She cocks her head at me.
“Um. Because you guys are kind of obsessed with each other?”
“ What? We are not!”
“Sure... Then if this isn’t about the two of you, why do I need to know about Travis’s sexuality? He’s a private person.”
God, she’s too mature.
And yeah, I guess I didn’t need to start with that.
I stuff another emotional support French fry in my mouth while I recalibrate.
Then as we walk past some of the small businesses on the other side of the square—the general store, the salon—I spill everything.
I mean, not everything .
I don’t explain my fear that her grandparents might try to swoop in and take her away from me.
She doesn’t need to know about that.
But she knows how off-kilter they can make me feel sometimes.
So when I explain how I accidentally told Elise I had a boyfriend, that’s probably why she’s kind enough to try to hold back her laughter.
“It’s fine, you’re allowed to laugh at me,” I tell her.
“I’m a mess! I don’t know what happened. I just blurted it out, and now they’re expecting to meet my imaginary boyfriend.”
“So tell them the truth.”
I cringe.
“Right. Yes. See, I could tell them the truth, except it feels like I really can’t. I don’t want them to not trust me or think I’m a bad parent. It’s hard to explain, but your grandmother really liked the idea that I had someone else around to help take care of you.”
May frowns.
“I don’t need anyone else.”
“I know,” I say automatically.
Although maybe I’m wrong and Elise is right.
If that’s the truth, I really don’t want to face it.
“But I think it would be best if we just go along with this and make her happy.”
“How the heck are we supposed to go along with it?” she asks.
“You can’t just pull a boyfriend out of thin air.” She abruptly stops walking and stares at me, mouth hanging open for a second.
“Tell me you did not ask Travis to pretend to be your boyfriend.”
I pick at the corner of the Styrofoam.
“Um. Well.”
“Dad! You can’t do that to him.”
“To him?” I only thought she might be upset about me lying to her grandparents.
What am I doing to Travis?
“He said he wants to help me.”
She rolls her eyes in perfect thirteen-year-old-girl fashion.
“Of course he wants to help you, because he—” Cutting herself off, she pauses, then says, “All right.”
“All right?” I question.
“As in you’re okay with this? Because you don’t have to be! I know how much it sucks asking you to go along with this in front of your grandparents, but it’ll only be for their short visit, and then I swear after they leave, I’ll tell them we broke up.”
I feel guilty for not specifying when I’ll tell them.
I’m thinking maybe in four years—when May’s close enough to eighteen that they won’t bother trying to take her from me.
May sighs.
“Stop stressing, please. I hate the idea of lying to them, but it’s not going to hurt them. If this will make their visit easier for you, then it’s fine. You do so much for me. I can do this one thing for you.”
I didn’t think it was possible for me to love my daughter more than I already do, but for this, I just might.
Because this is hardly the first thing she’s done for me.
She does so much for me, apparently without even realizing it.
I hold the box out so she can grab some fries.
“Have I ever told you that you’re the best daughter in the world?”
“Many times.”
“Well, you are,” I say as we start walking again.
“You know what? I should get you that pony you always wanted.”
She laughs because she’s never actually asked for a pony.
She grew up happily playing with Delilah.
“I’m a little past the pony stage now.”
“You’re really sure about this?” I double-check, joking aside.
“I promise I’ll never ask you to do anything this insane ever again.”
“Somehow I doubt that. But yes, I’ll do it.” Hopping off the curb, she peers up at me.
“Can I make a suggestion though?”
“What?”
“After grandma and grandpa leave, you should probably look into therapy.”
I gape at her, unsure if she’s joking.
Her face is telling me it’s one of those things you joke about but also sort of mean.
And well.
That’s fair, I suppose.
“I love you, kid.”
“Love you too,” she says, coming closer to snag another fry.
Passing her the box, I take out my phone and text Travis.
The plan is on.
Tomorrow.
As predicted, I didn’t sleep well last night, too preoccupied with worries about the inn and the Richardsons arriving today.
I’m on my third cup of coffee already, but it’s not doing much to help me keep my eyes open.
Although when I see Mr.
Bennington—the businessman in charge of the retreat—approaching me from across the lobby, I manage to fake some perkiness.
I need to stay on my game, because the inn could use more events like this.
They’re stressful and meticulous to plan, but they bring in the money.
“Mr. Sanderson,” he says when he reaches me at the front desk.
Even though I’ve told him multiple times that I don’t mind everyone calling me Brenden.
“Mr. Bennington,” I reply, because he has not told me to call him by his first name.
“Do you have the projector screen set up in the ballroom?”
“I do,” I assure him.
It was touch-and-go there for a minute, because I’m not the most tech-savvy person.
But he doesn’t need to know that.
He nods his head once.
“Excellent. And you’ll have a table set with coffee and pastries?”
“Yes! I think everyone will enjoy the selection we have for you today.”
This gets me a small smile.
“My team have all been raving about the food here. Compliments to the chef.”
My pleased grin is hard to hide.
Addison will be relieved and proud to hear that.
But Travis deserves some of the credit too.
He’s been here almost as constantly as she has.
Honestly, I have no idea how he’s keeping the diner running at the same time, but he hasn’t complained once.
Hasn’t given me any indication that he needs to be anywhere else.
Mr.
Bennington, on the other hand, clearly has no desire to spend any more time in my presence than necessary.
With a final nod, he turns and marches away.
I try not to take it personally.
Refocusing on the task in front of me, I finish double-checking reservations for next week, because I can’t afford another error in the booking system.
Everything looks good, which is a relief.
I’m about to pop into the kitchen to see if Addison and Travis need anything (not that I could truly offer much help to them, considering my lack of cooking proficiency) when the inn’s main doors open, letting in a nice spring breeze.
I turn on instinct to greet the guests—only to face Elise and Grant strolling in, luggage in tow.
A lot of luggage.
“Hello, dear!” Elise greets me warmly.
I freeze, taking a beat too long to respond.
“Hi. Uh. What are you doing here?”
Her smile falls, and it sort of knocks my brain-to-mouth filter back into place.
“Sorry. I mean, I thought you were getting in this evening.” I rush forward to help them with their bags.
“I was going to pick you up from the airport.”
The closest airport to Mayweather is almost two hours away, but I intended to use that time to mentally prepare myself for this.
For them.
I’ve been so focused on what to do about the lie I told, that I haven’t stopped to process the fact that they’ll be here , in my town, in my house .
For an undetermined amount of time.
Elise leans in to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s okay, we wanted to rent a car. And we were able to get an earlier flight, so we thought we’d surprise you!”
Color me surprised.
Grant moves in to hug me as well, though it’s really more of a quick, one-armed pat on the back.
“I told her it’d be better if we gave you a heads up.”
“Don’t worry, it’s totally fine,” I lie through my smiling teeth.
“Do you mind showing us to our room?” he asks.
“I’m a bit tired from the flight and the drive. We can rest for a while and let you carry on with whatever work you’re doing.”
The way he says “work” grates on me just a tad.
Like he doesn’t necessarily equate what I do here—running this whole damn inn—with what he traditionally considers work.
Then the first part of what he said hits me.
Oh, crap, I didn’t even tell them they wouldn’t be staying here like they normally do.
“So...” I start nervously.
“I don’t actually have a room for you here. I’m fully booked. If I’d known you were getting in now, I would’ve had you meet me at the house.”
This situation, having them stay with me and May, is less than ideal.
For me, and surely for them.
But with the corporate retreat not leaving until tomorrow evening, and MayFest next weekend, there’s no way I can give them a room here.
Tourists come early for the festival.
Surprisingly, Elise looks delighted at this news, her face lighting up like I offered her a free upgrade from coach to first class.
Not that she’d ever fly coach.
“Well, that’s no problem at all. We’ll get to spend more time with you and May this way!”
Yeah.
More time with me, May, and my fake boyfriend.
When I came up with the brilliant idea of faking a relationship, I imagined Travis wouldn’t need to spend that much time around Elise and Grant.
Maybe we’d all share a meal or two, just so they could meet him.
Easy-peasy-someone-squeeze-me.
But I forgot to take into account the fact that they’ll be staying at my house instead of the inn.
They’ll be there all the time.
All.
The.
Time.
And they might expect Travis to be around a lot too.
Since my dumb ass told Elise that my boyfriend and I practically live together.
Travis and I haven’t even had time to work out the details of this mess I’ve created.
Jesus, maybe I should look into May’s suggestion of therapy.
That’s an issue for another day though.
After I survive this visit.
“I can head over there with you two now and get you set up,” I tell them.
“I only need a minute to make sure I’m covered here.”
Before they can reply, Travis comes barreling around the corner from the kitchen and almost slams into me.
He grips my shoulder to steady himself.
“Sorry. Can I have the key to the linen closet? We need more rags. A lot more rags.”
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He grimaces.
“It’s fine. We just need to come up with another dessert that can be made quickly for the dinner service.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
I don’t want to know.
Travis notices the Richardsons, who are watching this interaction as if it’s a show, and he grimaces again.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with guests.”
“Oh, we’re not guests,” Elise offers.
“We’re—”
She cuts herself off, leaving the sentence hanging uncomfortably.
Because how do you define what they are to me?
They’re the grandparents of my daughter.
But technically, to me, they’re nothing.
They’re not.
.
.
family.
I attempt to turn my grimace into a smile and tell Travis, “This is Elise and Grant, May’s grandparents.” My eyes send him a quick apology, because this wasn’t how I pictured the introductions going.
He blanches and glances down at the not-so-white-anymore apron he’s wearing.
It looks like a crime scene, covered in splotches of dark red.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“I’m Travis.” His eyes flit to me questioningly, and at my subtle nod, he lowers his voice and adds, “Brenden’s boyfriend.”
The lobby’s mostly empty, but I understand the caution.
If someone local overheard, it would spread like wildfire through Mayweather and reach his dad out of town by the end of the day.
And I’d hate myself for getting him outed.
“Oh!” Elise says.
“We’ve heard about you. Hello! It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Grant’s expression darkens.
“Your boyfriend is your employee?” he asks me.
“No! He’s not.” Do they really think so little of me to think I’d date an employee?
“He owns the diner in town. He’s only helping me out in the kitchen for a bit with a couple big events.”
“I see,” Grant says curtly.
Admitting that I need my boyfriend to help me run my business probably doesn’t make me look much better in his eyes.
I hold back my groan of frustration.
All of this could’ve been avoided if they had arrived when they were supposed to.
“I actually need to be there for the dinner rush tonight,” Travis informs me.
“I don’t have any coverage, but Addison said she’ll be fine here once all the prep work is done.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Does that mean we won’t get to see you tonight to meet you properly?” Elise asks Travis.
“Oh, I—” His gaze shoots to me, looking for the right answer.
But damned if I know it.
“Whenever you’re finished at work is fine,” Elise goes on.
“I’m sure we’ll all be up late catching up.”
When I give Travis another nod—because we might as well get this circus act started—he agrees he’ll stop by after the rush is over.
“It shouldn’t be too late. I can probably sneak out by eight.”
“Excellent!” The gleam in Elise’s eyes is mildly frightening.
“I can’t wait to get to know you.”
Travis ducks his head shyly—which is not a characteristic I usually associate with him.
“There’s not much to know.”
“Nonsense. If you’re a part of Brenden and my granddaughter’s lives, I need to know all about you.”
At Travis’s clearly panicked look, I jump in.
“You will. But why don’t we let him get back to the kitchen now, and we can head over to the house.”
Elise and Grant agree, and I grab Travis the key to the linen closet before I go.
As I’m telling him I’ll see him later, I sense both of them watching us, so I graze my fingers over the back of his hand in what I hope comes off as a familiar gesture.
The zap of electricity that shoots through my fingers and up my arm at the contact is definitely new though.
Somehow I manage to play it cool as a cucumber, but Travis, not quite so much.
And I can’t tell if his expression this time is because he’s worried about the touching in public, or if it’s something else.
Did he feel the electricity too?
“I’ve got to...” he starts, scratching at his facial hair.
“Dessert. Kitchen.”
“Right,” I say, letting him go.
Tonight will be interesting.