Chapter 12 Best Fake Boyfriend
Twelve
Best Fake Boyfriend
Nora
For the next week, I shove everything about Miles to the side and bury myself in OneDate.
The first thing I tackled was the download code issue.
Everyone who requested access is now neatly tucked into a waitlist, ready for onboarding when I roll out new invites.
There are still a few minor error codes to clean up, but the major bugs are fixed, and that alone is a small miracle.
I’m now sitting at my desk in yoga pants and a T-shirt that’s three sizes too big, my hair twisted into a messy bun that’s holding on purely out of loyalty and dry shampoo.
The string of code on the screen blurs together just as my phone buzzes beside me.
Miles
I was thinking of picking you up in about an hour. That should give us plenty of time to get to my sister’s house.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Dinner with his family. It completely slipped my mind. I’d be an asshole if I bailed now—especially since he’s already held up his end of the deal. I glance down at my two-day-old outfit and sigh.
Nora
Great. See you then.
Congratulations, Nora. You are about to test the limits of how fast a person can go from garbage gremlin to human.
Exactly sixty minutes later, there’s a knock at my door. I pull it open to find Miles standing there in a navy button-down and khakis. His hair is neatly styled, his glasses spotless, and his signature scent invades my nostrils.
His gaze drifts from my head to my shoes and back again. “You look… wow.”
A small laugh slips out of me.
“Words, Miles. Find your words,” he mutters to himself before looking back up. “You look radiant.”
I glance down at my stonewashed jeans, dark gray knit sweater, and ankle boots, then smile. “You know what? I’ll take it.” I step into the hallway and pull the door closed behind me.
“Um—did you remember to turn off your stove?”
“Huh?”
“The other night. You left my house—”
“Oh. Uh. Yeah. Stove was off.” My gaze drops to the floor. “Sorry about that. It was a long day.” Lies.
“No problem. I get like that when I have a lot going on.” He flashes me a small smile, and I can’t help but give him one in return.
“So, um…” His fingers tighten on the steering wheel once we’re in his SUV. “I was thinking we could walk in holding hands. Maybe share food? I’ve seen couples do that.”
“If you touch my food without asking,” I warn sweetly, “don’t be surprised if you find my fork lodged in your hand.”
His fingers readjust on the steering wheel. “Noted.”
“Stealing food off my plate is my biggest pet peeve. Growing up, we didn’t have much. And after my dad left, and with my mom’s medical bills…” I shrug. “Food was sacred.”
He nods.
“You’re overthinking this,” I add. “Your family already likes me. You don’t need to audition for Best Fake Boyfriend.”
His lips press into a thin line, but then he reaches over and rests his hand on mine. It’s smooth, exactly how I showed him, but my brain still short-circuits.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I lie. “Totally normal.”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Good.”
After parking in Melanie’s driveway, we stroll to the front door side by side.
Miles knocks twice before letting us in, and the scent of garlic and rosemary greets us instantly.
After kicking off our shoes, we head down a short hallway that opens into the kitchen.
The dining table resembles a Pinterest board come to life—linen napkins folded into perfect triangles, apple-scented candles, and a centerpiece screaming harvest vibes.
Before she even says hi to Miles, Melanie pulls me into a hug. “I’m so glad you could come. Miles has never brought a girlfriend to dinner.”
Miles clears his throat. “That’s not—”
“Honestly, I think she’s the first girlfriend he’s ever had,” Mallory says, handing me a glass of wine. “So. We’re thrilled.”
I wrap an arm around Miles’s waist and tug him into a quick hug, partly for show, partly because I know his sisters mean well, but that kind of pressure can rattle anyone. It’s the exact reason I built OneDate in the first place.
For the next thirty minutes, we mingle with Melanie, her husband, Ben, Mallory, and her husband, Randy while all the kids run around the house wanting to show us all their new toys.
Miles is completely natural with his family—soft laughs and polite interruptions.
He’s not the awkward guy he thinks he is.
When dinner’s ready, we gather around the table.
I take the seat beside Miles, and he immediately scoots his chair closer.
He leans in. “Is this good?”
“You’re doing great,” I whisper back.
As the kids race for the table, two of Miles’s nieces immediately start arguing over who gets the seat beside me.
“Hanna, you can sit next to me.” Miles pulls out the chair on his other side.
“But I want to sit by Nora,” she whines.
“You can sit next to Nora next time.” Mallory points to the empty chair beside Miles. “Take that one.”
Hanna pouts but eventually plops down next to Miles, arms crossed in dramatic defeat.
Plates of food are passed around the table family style. Conversation flows easily. Miles constantly checks in with me.
At one point, Mallory nudges Melanie and mouths, “They’re so cute together.”
Miles doesn’t notice, but I do. And I can’t help the butterflies that flutter in my belly.
After dinner, Melanie disappears into the hallway and returns carrying a box. “Okay,” she announces, dropping it on the coffee table. “Ben and I played this at a dinner party last week, and apparently, we’re idiots, but we had a blast.”
Mallory gasps. “Is that Trivial Pursuit?”
“Yes!” Melanie lifts the top off the box. “Teams will be me and Ben, Mallory and Randy, and Miles and Nora.”
After the game board is set up and the rules explained, we start the game. Miles and I start strong when we land on science.
Melanie picks up a card and reads, “What is the chemical symbol for tungsten?”
“W,” he says instantly.
“Ugh.” Melanie sighs. “This isn’t even fair.”
“It’s from wolfram,” he explains, like that clears everything up.
“You don’t get extra points for adding a description,” Mallory teases.
On our next turn, we land on the pink pop culture wedge.
“Who played Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games?” Melanie asks.
“Jennifer Lawrence,” I say, spinning the little pie piece with a flourish.
Ben groans. “I’m starting to think it was a bad idea to put those two on the same team.”
Miles smiles at me. As the game continues, we keep trading wins—him on geography, history, and science, me on entertainment, art, and literature, and we are half and half on sports and leisure. The family gets increasingly competitive, but in a fun way. On our next turn, Miles lands on science.
Melanie draws the top card. “Miles can’t answer this one. The rest of us need to catch up somehow. What’s the name for the upward force that keeps airplanes in the air?”
He opens his mouth—and pauses.
I jump from my seat. “Lift!”
He smiles at me. “You got it.”
“You told me,” I whisper. “When we went drone flying.”
The tips of his ears turn a light shade of red.
Later, Miles absolutely demolishes a history question, explaining something about maritime trade routes in the 1700s. I nod like I understand, but I absolutely do not.
When we land on pop culture, Melanie takes the card and reads it out loud. “What was the name of the coffee shop in Friends?”
“Central Perk,” I say instantly.
Melanie throws her hands up. “We’re losing to the pop culture queen and a science king.”
Miles beams at me, and I lean over holding my hand up in a high five. On cue, he smacks his palm against mine. It’s fun, playful, and slightly flirty when his knee brushes mine and doesn’t move.
By the end, we win. Barely. Mallory and Randy were matching us question for question. Melanie sighs happily, stacking cards. “We need to do this more often.”
Mallory nods enthusiastically. “Family dinners and games.” She looks pointedly at Miles. “Especially now that you have a girlfriend.”
I freeze. Miles freezes.
Melanie claps. “Yes! Next month for the Freezer Feast. We can pick a new game to play. Nora, you have to come.”
All eyes are on me, waiting for an answer. “Um. Sure. But what’s the Freezer Feast?”
Miles turns to me. “It’s a family tradition that started after Melanie and Ben got married. They wanted to clean out their freezer, so they invited everyone over and made all the random food they had.”
“And every year,” Melanie adds, “the weekend before Thanksgiving, we invite everyone over and have them bring something from their freezer. Usually, it’s a lot of pizza, frozen vegetables, soups, and ice cream.”
“That sounds fun,” I say, and I mean it.
They drift back into conversation, talking over one another and laughing.
I lean back and let it wash over me. Watching Miles with his sisters is…
strange, in the best way. I grew up in a quiet house and hospital waiting areas, where laughter felt inappropriate and joy always came with a side of guilt.
His family is loud, ridiculous, and affectionate.
They argue over games, hug in kitchens, invent traditions on the fly, and they pull me right into the middle of it.
A part of me aches for that, but a bigger part is terrified by how much I want to stay.