Mister Fake Fiance

by Lee, Nadia

  But now my heart isn’t empty. It’s full of emotions—exasperation, admiration, humor, despair, surprise, joy—and some of them are unfamiliar in their intensity. But they all have one thing in common: Erin. She makes me laugh, she makes me horny and she makes me want to slay every dragon for her, whether she likes it or not.

  “Hey, man, you listening?” Wyatt says, waving a hand in front of me.

  “Of course. Just, um, go ahead and say what you just said again, because I want to make sure I heard you right.”

  He regards me with a sort of lazy exasperation. But he repeats what he said.

  And I decide I’m going to find a way to make the arrangement between me and Erin permanent before my grandmother’s birthday party.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  David

  “I feel like I forgot something,” Erin says again as we deplane with carry-ons after our red-eye. We both managed to nap in the first-class seats, and her eyes are still soft and hazy with sleep. It’s seriously adorable.

  “You’ve been saying that since we left L.A. What could you have possibly forgotten?”

  I’m the one who should be worrying about forgetting something. Well, technically I haven’t forgotten. But I haven’t had a chance to make the engagement more permanent, either. There was a crisis late last week when plans for one of our major campaigns fell through at the last minute and necessitated us working day and night…through the weekend and beyond. Every waking moment was spent in meetings and crisis management. This is the first time since Erin took cookies to work that we’ve had a break.

  But the birthday party’s tomorrow. I just need to find a way to smoothly tell her we should be in a relationship for real before that. Maybe tonight, after she sees everyone in the family and realizes that they’ll accept her the way she is, without any weird ulterior motives like that fucking Fordham. That would best.

  Or not. Maybe I should just do it as soon as possible once we’re settled in my parents’ house.

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be so bugged by it,” Erin says, interrupting my train of thought. “You know that vague feeling you get, like you’re missing something?”

  “Nope,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Even if you forgot something, who cares? We’re in Virginia, not some remote part of the Amazonian jungle. Mom has the newest Echo and Amazon Prime. I bet the latest firmware update for Echo comes with the brain-wave detection functionality, capable of reading your mind and delivering what you need before you even realize you need it.”

  Erin laughs. “I don’t think it’s quite that advanced.”

  “You never know. The second you enter my parents’ home, an Amazon drone might drop whatever you forgot in your lap.” I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss it. “Besides, the only thing my parents care about is that you’re here.”

  She nods. But no matter what I say, she’s going to be nervous, especially when she’s operating with a slight sleep deficit. Just getting this over with might be better. She’s convinced she’s going to commit a faux pas or two. She doesn’t understand that my parents won’t care. Mom’s probably already designing a nursery, and Dad’s happily assisting for the sake of marital harmony. He’s too smart to fight with her about this.

  I spot Mom by the luggage carousel and wave. Her face splits into a huge grin and she rushes over. As always, she’s full of energy and verve, her glossy black hair glinting under the fluorescent lights. She’s in a fitted shirt with cropped jeans and sneakers. She believes in being beautiful, functional and comfortable. She hugs me, and I hug her back. My mom hugs the best, with all the warmth and squeezy love that lets you know everything’s right with the world.

  She lets me go to hug Erin too. Erin stiffens for a moment, then hugs her back. Mom holds her a second longer than she held me, maybe to compensate for the flinching. And I thank my lucky stars my mother is so freakin’ awesome. This is my chance to show Erin what she gets by being with me for real, because my family comes with me. Even though we live far apart right now, we’re a package deal. Every Darling has the others’ backs.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!” Mom says. “Was the flight okay? Did you get any sleep? I hate transcontinental red-eyes. They’re never long enough for a decent night’s rest.”

  I laugh. “Mom, slow down and give us a chance to answer.”

  “Of course. So…?”

  “It was an excellent flight. We also napped a little,” Erin says, all polite and proper.

  I pat her hand, hoping the gesture soothes her anxiety. Hopefully, spending some time with my family will help her relax so she can enjoy herself for the rest of the weekend.

  “Good to hear. Now, let me see your ring.” She looks down at Erin’s finger, then gasps with both hands over her mouth. “Oh my goodness, it’s gorgeous! I love the color. Ruby is so chic, you know? Very fiery and unique. Diamonds are great, too, but you only get married once, so you might as well get the stone you really want.”

  Erin flushes, her shoulders relaxing some more. “Thank you.”

  And I give silent thanks as well, for my mom being so damn cool and putting Erin at ease.

  “I’m sorry Eddie isn’t here, but he had a teleconference he couldn’t miss. Work, you know?” Mom says with a long-suffering sigh. Dad works for the company too. “But he’s working from home this morning, then heading to the office later. He’s dying to see you now that you’re family,” Mom says. “Do we need to wait for luggage?” She gestures at the baggage claim.

  “No. We only have carry-ons,” I say.

  “Smart. Let’s go, then. And I’ll feed you my French toast with berries. I already have everything prepped, so it won’t take any time at all.” She looks at Erin. “I make a mean French toast. Once you go Sun Li Darling, you never go back.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Erin says with a small smile.

  I pat her hand again, wishing she could taste things, but also respecting her decision not to bring it up. Now that I know Erin better, I understand she might never bring it up. She knows that cooking and feeding the family is a big deal to my mom, and admitting that she can’t taste anything would be terribly upsetting and sad for Mom.

  “You’ll love it. I’ve been cooking for Jan every weekend, and I’ve perfected my previous perfection even more. That poor child is struggling to find anything that she can keep down.” Mom shakes her head. “I think she’s losing weight. A pregnant woman should be plump. But not too plump, because then it’s hard to lose the poundage after you have your baby. Anyway, you’ll get to see her and see what I mean. Poor Jan.”

  Mom has a special place in her heart for Jan. We all do. She lost her parents when she was little, and my parents and uncles and aunts all have done their best to fill the void left by that terrible loss.

  The drive home is short and quiet. Mom doesn’t say much, but she isn’t a big talker when she drives. She says she needs to concentrate on the road, especially these days when there are so many distracted “idiots” who can’t seem to pull their gazes off their phones long enough bother with something trivial like traffic safety.

  When we arrive home, I see Dad’s new Porsche in the garage. It’s the birthday present he bought himself this year. We get out of Mom’s Escalade. She tosses me the keys. “You can use this while you’re home.”

  “I thought you’d let me have the BMW,” I say, eyeing the sweet blue convertible. Dad bought it for her for the anniversary.

  “Haha. No. You know how much I dislike big cars.” She turns to Erin. “I only have this monster because I have three boys who eat like starving dinosaurs.”

  “We were never that bad,” I protest feebly, following her in.

  “Yes, you were. I had to hit Costco twice a day! Anyway, let me go and fry you up some food.”

  She slips into the kitchen. I shake my head, while Erin laughs quietly.

  “Starving dinosaurs, huh?” Erin says.

  “Hey, I was a teenager. What can you do?” I put a hand on the
small of her back and gently maneuver her further inside. The open floor plan hides nothing between the kitchen, dining and living rooms. Bread is already sizzling on a huge skillet, and I can smell bacon as well.

  “You’re making bacon too?” I say, shocked. Mom almost never bothers with bacon when she’s making French toast.

  “I thought Erin might like it.”

  “I love it,” Erin says with a smile.

  Mom raises both eyebrows. “See?”

  Just then, Dad comes down from upstairs. “Hey, David. Hello, Erin. So good to see you again.” Dad’s in a dress shirt and slacks, no tie. His gray eyes crinkling, he shakes hands with Erin, and slaps my shoulder. “You know we have a special guest when your mom does the bacon and French toast.” He smiles at Erin.

  That’s true. And when she makes bacon and French toast, she doesn’t try to force us to eat salad with it. Double win!

  Erin flushes, biting her lip. “She didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

  “Nah. She loves to pamper her family,” Dad says.

  “If I don’t pamper my family, who will?” Mom calls out from the kitchen, repeating her lifelong mantra. She places plates on the eat-in counter with stools. “Eddie, can you grab the maple syrup and berries?”

  “Yep.” Dad brings out a bottle that says VERMONT in large red cursive letters and a bowl of blueberries, strawberries and raspberries. Then he places a huge bowl of powdered sugar on the counter. “Won’t be complete without this.”

  “You’re going to give yourself diabetes,” Mom says.

  “Diabetes? Look at me. Do I look like I have diabetes?” Dad gestures at himself. “What do you think, Erin?”

  “Hey, don’t drag my fiancée into your health debate,” I say good-naturedly. Mom complains every time Dad wants to douse his food with sugar. Erin just smiles.

  Soon the French toast is done and we start eating. Mom wasn’t kidding about perfecting the perfection. Sweet baby Jesus it’s good. “This is amazing, Mom,” I say, wondering what she put in here, because it’s about a hundred times better than I remember.

  “I know.” She smiles smugly. “You like it, Erin? If not, I can easily whip up some pancakes, or…”

  “No, it’s really good. Excellent texture. Thank you, Mrs. Darling.”

  “Oh, honey, you have to stop with the Mrs. Darling. Just Mom is fine. We’re going to be family soon,” Mom says, then bites into a strip of bacon.

  Erin freezes for a split second. “Uh…” She shoots me an uncertain look, waiting for my cue.

  Ah, shit. I mentally kick myself for not telling her that I want to make what we have more permanent. I can sense that she’s feeling squirmy about calling my parents Mom and Dad when the engagement isn’t real. No matter how busy and exhausted from work we were, I should’ve just said it.

  Mom picks up on the hesitation. “Haven’t you set a date yet?”

  “Not yet,” I say quickly, not wanting her to make Erin feel pressured.

  “Well, if you need help with a venue, let us know. I’m sure we can arrange for something,” Mom says, ever supportive.

  Erin flashes her a smile. I think it’s supposed to look grateful, but it comes across as awkward. “Sure.”

  “I want to make sure you and David are both happy. I was so surprised when I heard about the engagement. David isn’t an easy boss from what I understand, and I thought you’d want to strangle him rather than marry him, you know?”

  “I’m not that bad.” Mom doesn’t usually think this, except when I had Jan as my assistant because she thought I needed to go easier on my cousin. She’s undoubtedly put Erin under the same umbrella.

  Erin looks surprised. “Why would I? David demands the best from everyone, and that isn’t something to be upset about.”

  “Yeah, Mom.” I cut her off before she can ask more embarrassing questions. “If I were the type to settle, I wouldn’t have asked Erin to marry me. Now, why don’t you stop prying and get ready for tea and tennis?” Mom plays every Friday morning.

  “I can’t. Jade quit the club, and I haven’t found a new partner yet.”

  “What? Why?” I ask, stunned. Mrs. Morris has been a member since before my family moved to Virginia.

  “Oh, she says she’s too old to continue playing ‘something as exhausting as tennis’ anymore.” Mom sounds totally skeptical.

  And I agree. Mrs. Morris has always been quite active.

  Dad snorts. “Everyone knows she can’t afford it now.”

  “Can’t afford it? That’s news.” The Morrises might not be as rich as my family, but they do well enough.

  Mom takes one look at my face and smiles ruefully. “We were all shocked. Greg’s latest investments went bad, and things are…rather tense, shall we say. It’s never good to fight over money, although it can be a huge stress factor.”

  “It’s probably not Mr. Morris’s fault,” I say.

  Dad grunts, sprinkling more powdered sugar on his berries. “They aren’t blaming him. They’re blaming Shelly.”

  Erin tenses a bit. I put a hand on her arm, hoping the physical contact will soothe her. Now I wish I’d never brought up the tennis.

  Mom adds, “She’s the one who said certain pharmaceutical firms were good and insisted the family put in a huge portion of their money. Apparently, she had a ‘connection.’ You know…” She lowers her voice. “Inside information.” She clears her throat. “But I think she’s been trying to fix it.”

  So that’s why Shelly showed up in L.A. It had nothing to do with her realizing she should’ve never left me the way she did. I was supposed to be the solution to her family’s money problems!

  “Well, she’s young and pretty. She can find herself a rich husband somewhere,” Dad says. He puts another forkful of berries into his mouth. They’re covered with so much powdered sugar that it looks like he’s feeding himself cocaine.

  Mom looks torn between Dad’s honesty and the need to defend her friend’s child. “You’re such a cynic, dear,” she says finally. “Shelly’s a smart girl. A Harvard graduate.”

  Erin’s chewing more slowly, her eyes downcast. Great. I should’ve never brought up the damned tennis. It would’ve been better to have Mom grill us about our wedding plans.

  Dad snorts. “A diploma is just a piece of paper until you use what you learned to make something of yourself. I’ve never understood people who make snap judgments about someone over where they matriculated from.”

  God, they’re making everything worse by going on and on. “So,” I say, giving my mother a meaningful look. “If you’re not going to play tennis, how are you going to fill your Friday mornings?”

  “Oh, I’ll find someone to volley with,” Mom says, eyeing Erin. Guess she finally realized that my ex’s family trouble isn’t something Erin really wants to hear about. And I’ll bet she knows Erin didn’t go to college. Much as I love her, Mom’s nosy. There’s no way she hasn’t taken a look at Erin’s HR files, even if it is against the rules. “Anyway, there’s a family dinner tonight. Everyone’s dying to meet you, Erin—or see you again, depending. And you can have whatever room you want upstairs except for the master bedroom, of course.”

  Erin finally looks up with a small, but unconvincing smile. “Thank you.”

  “Do you need anything? Eddie and I are hitting the market to grab some stuff we forgot for tonight,” Mom says.

  “I’m fine,” Erin says.

  “We’re good,” I say. “I’ll get us settled in while you’re gone.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Erin

  After the French toast and bacon, David carries our suitcases up the stairs. His parents’ home is huge and beautiful. There’s lots of wood, tile and color, and a gorgeous garden. But it isn’t a giant mansion like I imagined. It’s a home more fit for an upper-middle-class family than a billionaire family.

  Regardless, I feel slightly unsettled, especially after the gossip about David’s ex. It isn’t because I think David’s mom wants
him to be with her again. It’s just… It’s obvious that Mrs. Darling not only knows Shelly and her family very well, but that she’s close to them. She defended Shelly against what her husband said probably because she doesn’t know why David and Shelly really broke up. I wonder if she’d be as kind if she knew.

  Would she be this kind to me if she knew about my mental health situation?

  I also wonder what Mr. Darling would say. He thought a Harvard degree was nothing unless you make something of yourself. He’d probably say something similar—Who cares about the engagement if she won’t be able to make anything of herself and ends up like her mom?

  David takes me to one of the rooms. When he opens the door, I’m surprised at how empty it looks. Doesn’t he have any trophies or albums or photos from his school years? The walls are pale sage green with a few framed art prints. There’s a king-sized bed with cream sheets and lots of pillows on top. Definitely not a typical guy space.

  “Your room is”—I struggle for a word—“minimalist.” I just never pictured him throwing everything out when he moved into his own place. And I don’t think he took his old trophies with him, because I haven’t seen them in L.A.

  He laughs. “It’s not my room. I mean, it was. But Mom converted it to a guest bedroom. She said she wasn’t keeping teenage boy rooms when she didn’t have actual teenage boys under her roof anymore.”

  “What if you want to move back home or something?”

  David shudders. “She’d disown us.” He does a surprisingly accurate imitation of his mother’s voice: “Your father and I didn’t send you to Harvard to have you leech off us.” He places the suitcases by the bed and plops down on the ivory leather love seat. “She said if we move back, she’s charging us room and board.”