Single Dad Fake Fiancé
Summer Brooks
Contents
1. Jessica
2. Arthur
3. Jessica
4. Arthur
5. Jessica
6. Arthur
7. Jessica
8. Arthur
9. Jessica
10. Arthur
11. Jessica
12. Arthur
13. Jessica
14. Arthur
15. Jessica
16. Arthur
17. Jessica
18. Arthur
19. Jessica
20. Arthur
21. Jessica
Epilogue: Arthur
Epilogue: Jessica
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1
Jessica
My skin tightened when I saw the couple bumping into each other on the train. The girl smiled when the boy slid his arms around her waist and gave her a lustful look.
Young love, I thought and got back to reading the Steve Jobs autobiography. The book seemed almost heavier than I was, and that was saying a lot because I wasn't tiny. I wondered how one could have so much to say about themselves and their lives, even if they were the founder of a global phenomenon. I'd been trying to finish this autobiography during my forty-minute commute to work each morning. It’d certainly felt like a more productive way to spend that time rather than staring at young couples who had no clue what they had coming their way. Sometimes I would feel jealous, then quickly remember that I was once like the girl who stood before me, unable to let her man keep his hands to himself. She wore skin tight and ripped shorts, even though we were now venturing into the chilly season. I was once like that too. Long blonde hair, toned thighs, and a smile as genuine as anyone else's.
Five years ago, I even had a man in my life who I thought was as irresistible and loyal as this one seemed to be. He made me feel loved, wanted, desired - and then I made the mistake of marrying him.
Tyler Higgins. My ex-husband, who I fell in love with a decade ago, would pop into my mind every now and then. I had nothing but hatred for him in my heart, though I was trying my hardest to change that. I wanted to be indifferent, to not care if he were standing before me and kissing another woman named Emily Whitworth.
I cleared my throat and sniffed when I remembered the skank's face. She, too, was a pretty blonde, who still had her body in shape because she didn't have any children. I imagined Tyler and Emily now living in the suburbs of New York as a happy duo and that thought alone made me cringe, just like the sight of this couple did. I shut my hardcover book aggressively and shoved it in my bag when the train stopped at my station. Knowing that I didn't want to barge into the exiting crowd, I waited until I was one of the last few people to leave the train. It'd been five years since I'd had my daughter Lily, and I hadn't been able to shed my baby weight since then. I wanted to. I desperately did. But life got in the way every single day. For now, my priority was to get my finances in order so I could be reunited with my daughter again.
That's right, my little five-year-old angel didn't live with me and that alone was causing my heart to die a slow death. I'd lived with my parents for two years, accepting their help with raising Lily until I moved to a new apartment, not wanting to burden them with my problems anymore, and ready to stand on my own two feet again. They'd already done a lot for me and it was time that I let them retire in peace without having to chase a toddler around their house. I had to continue working the same hours even after I'd moved out, but now the only difference was that I didn't have my parents babysitting Lily in my absence. Needless to say, I couldn't afford a full-time or even a part-time babysitter and had to make the difficult decision to send my daughter to a boarding school away from the city. I'd received a grant especially for single mothers who were struggling, which made the tuition affordable. I should be grateful for the opportunity - for her, and for me. The school was excellent, and she would be way ahead of the game by the time she hit middle school. Plus, I didn't have to worry about her well-being while I spent all of my time trying to provide for her. Still, it was hard not being able to tuck her in myself every night, and see her every day.
I'd appreciated everything my parents had done for me, especially for being my emotional support when I finally found the courage to leave Tyler. Even now, they would sometimes insist that I moved back with them, and though that was a tempting prospect, I didn't want to take them up on their offer. I knew how much it would really put them out, besides being a huge blow to my ego. I knew that Tyler was out there living his life and having fun, and I'd be damned if I was withering away back at mommy and daddy's house.
My sister, Heather, and I were all grown up now, but sometimes our parents would still worry about us like we were little girls. I knew I would probably be the same with Lily when she was an adult. At least Heather was happily engaged and had just delivered her second child. Their worries were mostly directed at me, and it made me feel guilty for not having a better handle on my adult life. I was their oldest daughter, who they expected to go far in the world, but instead my life looked like a train wreck from the outside. I could always see the pain in my mother's eyes when I said that I didn't want to trust another man again.
"But look at Bradley," she would say, talking of Heather's wonderful fiancé. "He is so wonderful. There are more men like him out there. Don't be so jaded."
Then she'd go on and on about how I had to give love a second chance, find the right man, one that was like my own father or soon-to-be brother in law. I would simply nod and listen to her, fighting the urge to ask her to keep her opinions to herself. I was happy for my baby sister, but the truth was that I wasn't sure how long her little fairytale was going to last.
She hadn't had the best luck with love either. We called it the "Clayton Sister Curse" and though I didn't dare to express my skepticism to her face, I knew in my heart that I was counting the days until she told me that her and Brad had broken up.
I shook the negative thought away when I walked through the revolving door into the lobby of Go Dot, the firm that paid for my miserable life. I was a copywriter, not a fancy one by a long stretch, but I could manage to write a decent sales letter and please our clients. My job was like any one of the other mundane jobs in the city. I would get to work around eight in the morning and often leave after nine at night, working tirelessly at trying to impress my superiors, and most importantly my boss who I hoped would promote me to a senior level position once he saw how hard I was working. None of that seemed like a possibility in the near future, but I kept my fingers crossed and nose buried deep into my words. There was almost never anything exciting that happened to me at work, and the best part of my day was spent chatting with my friends and co-workers, Deborah and David.
I waved at Deb, expecting her to wave back at me and resume whatever it was that she was doing behind her screen. Instead, she pushed back her seat and left her cubicle to sprint toward me.
She wrapped her fingers around my arm and took me to the side with the biggest grin on her face that I'd ever seen on her.
"What?" I asked, startled.
"You will not believe this." She held up both hands and moved her shoulders one at a time. "The sales copy you wrote last week has already made the clients three-hundred thousand dollars."
Laying my hand over my heart, I gasped.
"And get this," she continued. "Henry wants to see you in his office in an hour."
"Do you think he wants to promote me?"
I was holding her by the shoulders, tightening my grip while waiting for an answer, but all she said was that she wasn't sure.
"Maybe, maybe not."<
br />
I shrugged. "Well, the fact that he's asked to see me is good news in itself, right?"
Her cheeks became rounder and she flipped her frizzy dark brown hair over her shoulder.
"I'm the one who brought it to his attention, so you're welcome, by the way."
I held her again, this time to pull her in for a hug. She was shorter than I was and way daintier, but her thin frame made her look taller than she actually was.
"I've got to get back to work," she said. "Sadly, I'm not the one who's potentially getting promoted."
I grinned, clasping my hands together and swinging from side to side.
When I got to my desk, I immediately checked my email, confirming that Henry had indeed requested a meeting with me this morning. I rocked in my seat for the next hour, repeatedly fingering my necklace and waiting for the wall clock to hit nine.
I stood up once it did and marched straight into Henry's office while trying my best to act normal and contain the obnoxious smile on my face. If I were to get promoted to a senior level copywriter, that would not only lessen my work hours since I would delegate a lot of tasks to interns, but it would also increase my salary by twenty percent. I needed this.
I cleared my throat and knocked. "Come on in!" I heard from the other side of the door.
"Sir," I said, still smiling like I had won the lottery. Getting this promotion would basically be the same thing.
"Jessica, hello, good morning."
If only the man could hear my heart race like a horse at a polo match, he probably wouldn't be taking his sweet time twisting a lid over his coffee cup and groaning when it got stuck.
"Let me help you with that," I offered, walking toward his desk.
He nodded and left it alone, then pulled his seat back and settled into it. I held the cup and ignored the heat eating at my palm.
"You wanted to see me?"
"I did."
My gaze wandered in anticipation. Seriously, was he a sadist? Couldn't he just be out with it already?
"Deborah told me about the success of my sales letter, is that what this is about?"
"Oh, yes!" His face broke into a smile. "It did very well. I wanted to congratulate you and thank you for your efforts."
From the look of it, Henry Bridge had forgotten why he'd asked me to come into his office. I'd noticed that he hadn't been himself for a few months. He was distracted, like his mind was elsewhere and not at the billion-dollar firm he singlehandedly ran. He seemed way too careless for a successful entrepreneur, too easygoing and nothing like Steve Jobs. Sometimes, I would feel like he didn't deserve to be sitting on that high leather seat that probably cost him as much as my parents' car.
I raised my brows, tilting my head to one side. Surely, he would have something more to say. The word 'promotion' was starting to eat at me now, and I waited patiently to hear the word escape his lips.
Instead, he picked up one of the business magazines laying on the edge of the wide glass desk, and started to flip through the pages.
"That's it. You can get back to work now."
With a corded neck, I clenched my jaw and then turned around. I marched straight toward Deb's cubicle where I saw that David was hanging out already.
Their smiles disappeared when they saw me, probably guessing what had just happened.
"Oh no!" Deb frowned. "I'm so sorry, honey."
David simply pursed his lips and patted my back.
I shrugged a shoulder and leaned against the space between the two white cubicles.
"What were you guys talking about?" I wanted to know because I'd watched them giggle before they started to look like they'd seen a bull marching out of Henry's office.
With his arms still crossed, David leaned in and whispered in my ear. "He's retiring.”
My eyes bulged, and I even got a little giddy. I had nothing against Henry Bridge. He was a normal boss who didn't demand much from me, but then he also never appreciated the extra effort that I put in, either. Today, I'd thought that I had succeeded in making him realize that I existed, and that I was one of his most dedicated employees, but I’d only been half right. Now he knew that my name was Jessica Clayton and that I worked for him, but that was about it.
"You look awfully happy. Don't get too excited, though. He wants to hand over this firm to his younger cousin," Deb commented. This was the first time I was hearing of this ‘younger cousin’ but I was too disheartened to ask them any follow-up questions.
"Maybe this other guy will feel like rewarding me for all the work I do."
I regretted my words when I garnered sympathetic looks from my two friends.
"Oh, honey," Deb said again, and I waved it off.
"Think I'll take the day off. I doubt that he'll even notice, right?"
David slightly nodded, and I found the answer in his silence.
"Maybe drive down to see Lily today?" Deb’s face lit up.
"No," I sighed. "I met her this past weekend and her teachers frown upon the parents visiting their kids during the week, and especially if they have just seen their kids. She's finally settling in and I can't make the transition harder for her than it already is."
David rubbed the side of my arm and I broke the sympathetic silence when I pointed at the elevator. "Okay, so I'm out of here for the day. See you guys tomorrow."
Deb fake smiled and waved me goodbye. I kept my attention at my phone screen, trying to distract myself while I suppressed the lump in my throat. It wasn't until I let the fresh air hit my face that I finally felt like I could breathe again. That was also when I decided to call my mother who'd been trying to reach me since last evening but by the time, I'd gotten home last night, I'd assumed that it was too late to call her.
"Jessica," she squealed. "You're on loudspeaker, sweetie. Your father wants to talk to you too."
Lynette and Joseph Clayton were the perfect parents. The way that they were devoted to their children and grandchildren was inspirational. Sometimes, I wondered if they never broke their marriage because of how it would have impacted me and Heather. That was painful to think about, because I knew all about living parallel lives with your partner, knowing that something was majorly off.
The only thing that made me narrow my eyes at my parents was that they got too worked up over us. Heather and I would sneer at them for being helicopter parents while we were growing up. However, now we just let their interference and worries slide under the rug. After having children of our own, my sister and I understood the meaning of true fear that stems from ensuring that our kids are always protected and happy. We could no longer blame our parents for feeling this way once we found ourselves on the same boat. The only difference was that our parents decided to showcase their emotions, unable to conceal their constant jabbering about how Heather and I should strive for healthier and happier living. For now, their focus was on cleverly insinuating that I needed a man in my life. So, after about a minute of discussing my father's issues with the new desktop computer that he'd bought, the conversation shifted to what they really wanted to talk about.
"Oh honey," my mother said. "I almost forgot to ask you. Did you ever check out the Meetme thing I sent your way?"
Right, I thought. She forgot about it.
I wanted to shut down and not respond to her question about that stupid app that she'd been pressing for me to try out.
"You can find a ton of friends through the app," she continued. "Your dad and I met..."
I stared at the restaurant across the street while she went on and on about a couple that they became friends with through the app.
"I have plenty of friends," I said sharply.
"Then you can make online buddies," Dad chimed in. "You can never have too many friends."
Apparently, you could start off with talking to people online, then choose to meet them if you end up clicking. That, to me, was a smart way of warming up to the idea of seeing a stranger in person instead of just showing up to a blind date. Regardless, I wasn't in
terested.
"How's the new car, Dad?"
A few seconds of silence later, he responded and told me that he was having issues with his car too. I was glad that the conversation shifted to something else and I commended myself for not letting it get ugly.
"Okay, I need to hop on the train now."
I stuck out my tongue and bit it, grimacing at my choice of words. I knew telling them I was getting on a train in the middle of the morning would spark a lot of questions.
"Are you not at work, honey?" I heard Mom say.
"Not right now, I'll explain later, I got to go before I miss it... Sorry."
I pressed 'End Call' and let out an exhale.
2
Arthur
I patted Megan's back, trying to comfort her when she bumped her head while crawling under the table. I could never get tired of rubbing my hand over her soft head. It was strangely therapeutic. My ex-wife, Sophie, who was going to be at my place at any moment to pick Megan up, insisted that I clapped every time Megan accidentally hurt herself. She had read about it in some parenting forum, and supposedly it was what all the modern, educated parents did to keep their kids from crying. Sophie was able to do that wonderfully, but I always struggled with it. It seemed odd and even a little creepy to me. I saw the effectiveness in the technique, though. Megan would burst out laughing if we clapped, even if she was in pain, but the protective father in me just couldn’t ignore that she was in pain and let it go. I just had to hold on to her and try to make it better in some way or another, even though it would usually result in a long session of crying.
Single Dad Fake Fiancé Page 1
