Well Matched (Well Met #3)(63)

I turned alarmed eyes to her, but she was chuckling at her own joke, and while I tried to relax I was thinking too fast, too hard. Was that something a girlfriend would know? Especially a girlfriend who was volunteering alongside her boyfriend at the same Renaissance Faire? I’d been prepared the first time Mitch and I had done this. And when Mitch had returned the favor at graduation it had just been a quick thing to help me save face in front of my ex-husband. I wasn’t prepared to slide back into this role a third time.

Still, I managed to force a low-key laugh. “You know your grandson,” I said. “I don’t know half of the things he gets up to.”

Lulu snickered. “Yeah, that sounds like Mitch.”

Beside me, Nancy had finally caught wind of the conversation. “Are these Mitch’s grandparents?” She clasped her hands together, delighted. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to meet you! Mitch is such a darling boy. You should be so proud.” I tried to not snort. There were lots of adjectives to describe Mitch; “darling” wasn’t one of them as far as I was concerned.

But when I looked over at Grandma Malone, she was practically twinkling at the praise. There was nothing better to a grandma than to hear flattering things about her grandchildren. “Thank you,” she said, practically preening. “We’re all so very proud of him.”

My eyes flew to Lulu’s, and she met my wide-eyed gaze with a shrug. This was the opposite of the way his family had talked about him—to his face even!—when I’d seen them last, but whatever. They’d come to see him, and that was the important thing.

I ushered them toward the main gate, and Lulu grasped my arm in farewell. “So good to see you,” she said. “Maybe I’ll run into you again before we go?”

“Sure.” I shrugged with a smile. I wasn’t sure how that was going to happen, but it was better than saying “not likely,” right?

But as they went through the main gate and I returned to my spot at the ticket booth, Nancy turned to me with a wide smile. “You sneaky girl,” she said. “You never said a thing.”

All I could do was blink at her. I had roughly three working brain cells left at this point, and nothing made sense. “About what?”

“About that.” She nodded toward the main gate. “You and Mitch Malone? You’ve been more discreet than I would be if I were in your shoes, that’s for sure.” She fanned herself with a hand.

“Oh . . . that . . .” Oh no. Now what? Re-spin the elaborate lie of our make-believe relationship for the benefit of this whole goddamn Renaissance Faire? And for how long? Just because his family had shown up today?

My brain slammed shut on that last thought. His family was here. And Mitch didn’t know. I checked the time on my phone; I had an hour until I was done here and could warn him. But that would be too late. Surely they’d find him before then, and he’d be thrown into the same position that I’d just been in: having to think on my feet. It had shaken me up to the point that I was ready to lie down in a dark room for the rest of the day. Mitch had to perform an elaborate fight with swords and shit. He didn’t need this kind of distraction.

But I still had to deal with the more immediate problem, as Nancy was still looking at me speculatively. I stuck my phone in my pocket and gave her a weak smile. “I’m a private person. I don’t like to brag.”

Apparently that was the right thing to say, because Nancy practically doubled over in giggles, which . . . looked good on someone her age. “Go on.” She pushed lightly on my shoulder. “Go catch up with them, show them around. I can handle things till Michael gets here.”

“Are you sure?” The last thing I wanted to do was go anywhere near anyone named Malone right now. But the crowd here at the ticket booth had thinned to a trickle, something more than manageable to a pro like Nancy.

“Sure.” She pushed again. “I hereby release you for the day. Go have fun.”

I wanted to laugh at that. Hanging out with Mitch’s family, living this lie yet again, was hardly what I considered fun.

I almost chickened out. I made it all the way to my car, whipping off my volunteer T-shirt, which today I had knotted over a long sundress—much cooler than jeans—and tossing it into the passenger seat. I looked longingly at the steering wheel, imagining sliding behind it and getting the hell out of here. Then I looked back toward the Faire. Toward the faint music and laughter, the muffled calls of Huzzah! Mitch was about to be ambushed by his family. Nancy had looked so gleeful about the prospect of Mitch and me being together that I was sure word was already spreading across the Faire about us. He was going to be ambushed by that too. And he’d have to face all of it alone, while I fled for home like a chickenshit. He’d have to explain why his girlfriend had ditched them all instead of being social.

But going back there . . . I’d have to be his girlfriend. Again. And this wasn’t out of town, where I was with strangers and didn’t care what they thought. Or a quick performance so I’d look good in front of my ex. This was in my hometown. My sister was here. My daughter was here—oh God, my daughter. Plus, I had to volunteer with these people for two more weekends. They would all be talking about this. They might be talking about this with Caitlin. They’d be looking at me. Talking about me. It made me want to shrink down until I was nothing.

I blinked back panicked tears, gripping my keys so hard that they hurt, digging into the soft skin of my palm. I couldn’t do this.