Fake Fiancée(56)

Keeping my voice low and making sure my face stayed impassive, I said, “I’m here right now for the photo op, so they can see a father and son together.” I waved my hand around at the people in the restaurant. “But it’s all a goddam lie.”

Seconds ticked by as we stared at each other. His phone on the table pinged, and he flicked his eyes down at it. Mine followed, seeing it was his current girlfriend, some ex-supermodel. And it just hammered it home.

“You can’t fix something that you never cared about in the first place.” I nudged my head at the phone. “Go on, answer it.”

“Can I interest you in any dessert?” the server said as he reached our table, oblivious to the tension.

“Sunny, do you want anything?” I asked.

“No,” she said quietly.

I read disappointment on her face before she quickly covered it.

I exhaled heavily, feeling the exhaustion from the day catching up to me.

What did she want from me?

I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t let anything get to me right now—not when there was only one regular season game left. Tonight I’d nearly screwed up everything when I’d thrown that interception.

“We’ll take the check,” my father added, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

Good.

I was ready to get the hell out of here.





Sunny

WE WENT BACK TO MAX’S after dinner with his dad. He made love to me as if on autopilot.

This is a photo op. We’re a goddam lie.

My heart dipped at the memory of those words he’d uttered to his father.

Doubts crept in. Did he mean that about us too?

On Sunday morning, I left his bed while he still slept and went to my place. After showering, I headed to the kitchen to make a chocolate pecan pie to take to Mimi’s later for our early Thanksgiving celebration we were having since Ash and Isabella would be out of the state for the holiday.

My phone pinged with a text, and after I’d poured the mixture into a pie shell and popped it in the oven, I picked it up.

The text was from an unknown number.

Watch your back.

I set it down on the counter. Don’t engage.

Even though I didn’t want to worry Max before a game, I forwarded it to him. I couldn’t lie to him, and he’d be upset if he found out after the fact.

Someone knocked at my door and I jumped.

This whole thing was making me antsy. I checked the window and saw Isabella’s white SUV.

I headed to the den and opened the door. Isabella and Ash stood there, each of them holding a dish to take to Mimi’s. “Happy Friendsgiving,” they both cried in unison.

I grinned and got them settled while I headed to my bedroom to get dressed.

Max burst through my bedroom door as I was putting on mascara. “I just saw your text. Where’s your phone?” he said sharply. “I want to see the number.”

I nudged my head at where it sat on the vanity table amid all my makeup. “It’s an unknown number, probably a burner.”

He picked it up and glared at it as if expecting the phone to speak to him. His finger did a flurry of movements, and I craned my neck to see what he was doing. He’d taken a screenshot of it and then sent it to himself. “I’m going to forward this to the campus police. They need to be aware of what’s going on.”

“Thanks.” I turned my back on him, smoothing out an eyebrow.

He paused, his eyes searching mine in the mirror. “Everything okay? You left without saying anything this morning.”

“I’m fine.”

He smirked. “Fine is never fine when it comes to females.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, giving me a nice view of his biceps.

My lips tightened at being reminded of his other conquests.

I applied another coat of lipstick to keep my hands busy. He watched, making me jittery.

“Can you give me some space, please? I can’t finish with you staring.”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You’ve been weird lately.”

I set down my eye shadow on the vanity top. “Some of the things you said last night—it got me to thinking. I mean, we’re having sex, but is that all we are?”

His brows knitted. “No.”

“Then what are we? Define it.” I hated the insecurity I heard in my voice—but I just needed him to tell me how he felt.

A muscle clenched in his jaw, his face hardening. Distance grew in his gaze. “I can’t do this a few days before a game—”

I held my hand up. “Fine. Then let me finish getting dressed.”

He stood there as if he wanted to say something, his shoulders tense, but then pivoted and left, neatly shutting the door behind him.

Once at Mimi’s, things went well. Her apartment was comfortable and before long, we’d all eaten and the guys had disappeared to do chores for Mimi—which mostly consisted of getting down her Christmas decorations from the small attic she had.

Mimi watched Max drape green garland around the mantel in the living room as Frank Sinatra holiday music filled the air. He pulled a snow globe from one of her boxes and set it on the coffee table. “Such big hands around that globe.”

My lips twitched. “Stop having sex fantasies about Max, Mimi. It’s weird.”