World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3)

by Carina Taylor

  Mom laid down the back two rows of her Suburban so that we could fill up the back. I knew the whole car would be full before we were finished shopping that night. My mom was the one who had started my love of all things design. She had never done any professional design, but her home was always a beautiful thing, and she was the woman whom all her friends went to for design advice.

  “Where to next?” Mom asked as we sat at an intersection.

  “Do you mind if we go to that lighting store close to the shopping center first? I need to see how long it will take them to get me the chandelier that I want for the dining room.”

  “Let’s go. I need to do some shopping there too.”

  “Really? What are you thinking of changing?”

  Mom looked at me with a guilty smile. “Well, I have some news.”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  “What? No! Heavens, I’m fifty-five.” The blood drained from her face at the thought. “Don’t even joke about something like that.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing. One of my mom’s best friends had had a surprise pregnancy—right after she had her first grandchild. My mom had been paranoid it would happen to her ever since. “Then, what is it?” I asked cautiously as I pulled out my paint chips from my purse. I had them tucked right next to the tile samples. I needed to match the accent wall with the right shade of curtains that wouldn’t detract from the backsplash I’d be putting up. I’d found the backsplash discounted at a going-out-of-business sale. Perfect for a budget kitchen.

  Mom cleared her throat and tapped her pale pink nails against the steering wheel as she slammed on her brakes to avoid rear-ending a slow-driving car in front of us. “Dad and I are building a small house on our property for your grandmother to live in.”

  I bent the navy paint chip in half. “What did you say?”

  Mom nodded and turned right, nearly taking out the biker who was minding his own business in his lane.

  “No.”

  Mom grimaced. “I know. But she’s getting slower in her old age. We’re worried about her.”

  “Slower? You mean she used to do more?” I shuddered to think of it. That woman was a menace. She’d left me a voicemail yesterday that she’d found four likely candidates as new employees. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want them.

  “She is my mother,” she admonished. “She needs me. I want to take care of her.”

  “But do you? What about Uncle Jim? Isn’t it his turn to pitch in?”

  “If it were up to Uncle Jim, she’d be in a nursing home.”

  “Yes, exactly.” I nodded, not sure what was wrong with Uncle Jim’s plan. Grandma made it her life goal to terrorize us.

  “Imagine locking her away in a nursing home.”

  I spent a minute fantasizing about just such an occasion…a grin threatening to burst forth.

  “Now think about all those poor people stuck there with her,” Mom prompted.

  I made a face. “You’re right. That wouldn’t be fair. Those poor people didn’t do anything to deserve her.”

  Mom parked the car in front of the lighting store. “And that is why we feel it’s necessary to build a small house for her. Plus, I think you’re being unfair to her. She loves us all in her own way. She’s just not very good at showing affection the regular way. Which is why I want a little cottage close by where I can keep an eye on her.”

  “Why not move her into one of the guest bedrooms?”

  “Because I’m not an idiot. I want two sturdy deadbolts between me and that woman.”

  We laughed as we walked into the store together.

  It didn’t take us long to place our orders with the promise that the items would be delivered within the week. Yeah, not if they were relying on my mailman to deliver them…

  We made our way to the shopping center where I then pulled out my handy little gift card and proceeded to pile my cart high. Full of things I didn’t need, but that I wanted. Things like another plush robe.

  Mom convinced me to put back the adorable dog bed.

  “You don’t have a dog,” she reminded me. “You’re scared of them.”

  “But I could get over that fear. I could have a dog,” I argued. I could just picture a well-behaved golden retriever laying in the bed next to my gas fireplace. Then I pictured it biting my face like that dog at the park that gave me that scar on my eyebrow when I was little. My fists clenched around the dog bed.

  Mom gently tugged the dog bed from me and set it back on the shelf. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I’d have to research what type of dog bed would be best before I talk about it. I’m not even sure what I would need to have to own a dog.” A dog bed. Padded football gear and a helmet to protect me from sharp teeth.

  She raised both eyebrows at me. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”

  Yes, I did know that. I’d texted her the next morning after I broke up with Fletcher. I’d needed her virtual GIF hug at that moment. I grasped the cart and enthusiastically pushed our way out of the pet section and straight for the electronics section.

  I picked up a new phone car charger, since Fletcher had stolen my other one to charge that pesky work phone of his.

  My mother’s eyes were like Superman eyes, boring into me, forcing me to speak. “I guess there’s not much to say, really. We just didn’t work out.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little nosy?”

  “Did you forget that you’re talking to your mom?”

  I grinned at that. “No, I could never forget that.”

  I tossed an extra-long charger cable into the cart. “Honestly, Mom, it really hurt to break up with him. It was like he literally checked out of the relationship. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

  “What do you mean by checked out?”

  “Work became more important to him.”

  “Didn’t you say he was starting up his own company?”

  “Yes,” I conceded. “But I don’t want to compete with a bunch of computers, or whatever it is he does. How hard is it to fix computers for a living? Or install security systems? But it seems like that’s all he has time for. And I don’t feel included in his work. I try to show interest, but he only gives me vague answers like he doesn’t have time to explain it to me.”

  “I don’t blame you, dear. I’m just trying to understand when it was that you realized that you didn’t want to stay with him.”

  Thinking back, there were so many points I could bring up to tell her about, but ultimately, the final decision was made when he’d talked to that creepy man about me. When he didn’t claim me as something special. “You know, I realized he didn’t care for me the way I needed him too. He wasn’t invested in us. I’ve been listening to this podcast, and it has some really great advice—”

  Mom groaned. She hated when I relayed my podcast advice to her. I think it was because she’d never figured out how to listen to podcasts or saw the fascination with them. “Anyway, it was a great reminder that I don’t need to settle.”

  “And what was their advice?”

  “That if they aren’t focused on you one-hundred percent then they’re really not that interested in you. That they probably don’t want to spend the rest of their lives with you, and why would you want to spend time with someone who doesn’t think of you as a top priority?”

  Mom hummed as she picked out a new set of wine glasses. “So, you don’t think Fletcher was into you one-hundred percent?”

  “I was lucky if I got a solid ten percent out of him.” I snorted.

  “Honey, are you sure that’s what you think? And not what those podders think?”

  My hand stopped midair reaching for a new teapot. “Podders? What’s a podder?”

  Mom shrugged. “Oh, I thought that’s what you called someone who made a podcast.”

  I started laughing. “Well, Mom, whether it’s what I think, or what the ‘podders’ think, it was sound advice. I shouldn’t settle
for less. You’re my mother…I thought you’d support me in this.”

  She nodded and took over pushing the cart. It was a shame she didn’t have a horn attached to the handle that could quicken the pace of our shopping expedition, making other shoppers get out of our way. “I’ll support you in whatever decision you make, sweetie. You know that. I only want to make sure this is a choice you’ll be happy with.”

  “I promise you, I am.”

  She stopped in the middle of the men’s underwear section. “Promise to think about this one more thing.”

  I nodded, because I knew if I didn’t, we’d be standing in the store for the rest of our lives.

  “Remember that not everyone’s relationships look the same. And anytime you allow someone else’s opinions to dictate how you are in your relationship, it’s going to get messy. You don’t need three opinions on your relationship. You need to do what works best for you instead of making it a threesome.”

  “I don’t think that means what you think it means…” I muttered as a man stopped next to us, pretending to decide between a pair of cream or white boxers.

  “When there’s a threesome, there’s confusion. You don’t need someone else to interfere. You know what works best for you.”

  She turned around and grabbed a pack of underwear off the shelf before she blessedly got us away from our spectator. “Take Dad and me, for instance. I had a friend who kept telling me that he was worthless because he didn’t think to buy me a corsage for prom. Turns out, she was a horrible person, but that’s a story for another time. She kept telling me that if he really liked me, he would be bringing me flowers regularly.”

  I cleared my throat, unwilling to examine the similarities between my mother’s life and mine. “Well, did he?”

  “No. He never brought me a single flower.”

  “Not one?” That surprised me about Dad. He was so thoughtful with Mom and me.

  “No. It was the sweetest, most thoughtful thing. You see, he’d noticed that I had allergies during pollen season, and so he always made sure to avoid all flowers. If we went to a restaurant with real flowers, he’d make sure to avoid sitting close to them. So, what one person views as disinterest, could actually be something so caring and meaningful in your relationship.”

  I nodded. Although, I still wasn’t sure how this related to my breakup with Fletcher. There was so, so, so much more water under our bridge.

  “Thanks, Mom, I’ll remember that.”

  “I know you think he’s been neglectful of you, and he has. I’ve noticed him missing the last few weeks. But, honey, I also remember you telling me you couldn’t stand a man who hovered.”

  “Well, yes, that’s true. But I still want a man to pretend like I’m alive sometimes. And one who will remember to show up to our date nights.”

  “Fletcher was not a hoverer. You have to give him that much, at least,” she said with raised eyebrows.

  “I’ll think about everything you’ve said, Mom. Not that it will change the outcome, though. Now can we be done talking about Fletcher for the night?”

  Mom tilted her head to the side. “Maybe.”

  And that was the best I was going to get out of her that night.

  Chapter Nine

  Fletcher

  Sitting in Sullivan’s house always made me break into a nervous sweat. It didn’t matter that I was in a room by myself, or that the room was cool. It was as though anyone would jump out from behind me and yell ‘gotcha!’

  A steady rhythm of footsteps sounded outside the closed door in the hall.

  I thought the more time I spent undercover, the more I’d get used to it.

  Completely false. Now I was pretty sure I was going to suffer heart failure from the stress of trying to keep my cover.

  I shut the laptop and pulled the charger from the wall, quickly stashing both in my bag. The footsteps in the hall were getting louder. I knew Sullivan had a security feed into this room, which was why I made sure to arrange my seat in the blind spot. I zipped the bag and turned back to the computers on the desk.

  I tapped away quickly as the door opened. I kept my focus on the computer screen.

  “Hey!”

  I purposefully jumped in my seat and turned around in surprise as though I hadn’t heard the behemoth thundering down the hall. I pushed my blue light glasses back up the bridge of my nose. Those things gave me more headaches than they prevented.

  The man in the doorway was a much better option than Jenkins. West had told me the night before that Jenkins had found a loose end he wanted to tie up if Sullivan paid the right price. I was beginning to wonder—and worry—if I was the loose end.

  “Can’t you knock? No reason to scare me like that,” I muttered.

  The man, Carter, chuckled. “Sullivan wanted to know if you’re almost done. He also wants to know who’s in his driveway.”

  I pulled up the security camera footage. Sure enough, there was a car parked outside of the locked gate. A familiar car.

  Was liver failure something that stress caused? ’Cause I was pretty sure other organs were next on the list after heart failure.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting as Saidy stepped from the car and glanced around.

  “Must be one of his admirers,” I managed.

  Carter laughed. “He’s got lots of those. She looks lost. Can you get rid of her on your way out? Sullivan has some business he’s taking care of with Jenkins right now.”

  “Sure thing.” I shoved my glasses farther up my nose, exited out of the computer security system, then hefted my bag on my shoulder. “Let me know if there’s any more glitches. It might take an hour or two to be fully operational.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll call.”

  I brushed past him into the hall and made my way out of the house.

  When I reached my service van, I spotted her down the street. She’d moved to the back entrance and clearly looked lost. How in the world had she ended up here?

  A text chimed in on my personal phone. I glanced at it as I turned the key in the ignition.

  Glamma: Don’t you dare desert me to this unambitious family. I need a kindred spirit.

  I chuckled thinking about how disappointed Saidy’s grandmother would be when she found out I wasn’t actually trying to build a tech empire.

  I put the van in drive and pulled up alongside Saidy.

  Saidy turned toward me when I stopped the van and rolled the window down. Her rich, dark brown hair fell almost to the middle of her back. A few tendrils curled around her face, framing hazel eyes, full lips, and a tan complexion. I’d missed her. So damn much.

  It had been too long since I’d seen her face. Almost a full week. I even forgave her for the whole cut-up shirts incident. If I put myself in her shoes, I did look like a terrible boyfriend. I wished I could explain why. But not yet. Almost.

  “Are you lost?” I called good-naturedly with a smile, hoping she’d respond to my teasing. Anything but the cold shoulder. I couldn’t stand that.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked as she glanced left then right, then up, as though I were an angel fallen from the sky—at least she didn’t look down.

  “I was doing a little bit of maintenance here.”

  “Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

  “What are you doing here?” I tried to keep my tone casual, when really all I wanted to do was yell at her to run away from here as fast as she could.

  “I’m here to bid on an interior design job, and to talk over ideas.”

  Sullivan had hired Saidy. I couldn’t think of a worse situation. I rubbed a hand across my mouth, trying to rein in all the words I wanted to spit out. “Um, are you sure this is the right place?”

  “Yes, look right here.” She hurried toward the van and leaned through the window.

  She handed me a business card. “This is the address.”

  I looked at the name on the card and smiled. My lungs remembered their job and got back to work.
“You’re on SE Virginia Street. And you’re off by a number. You need to be on SW Virginia Street, which is actually on the other side of the highway.”

  “Really?” Her face crumpled. “That means I’m going to be late. My GPS took me here. Look.” She spun her phone around, as though that would make the directions any different.

  “You know, I have to swing by that neighborhood this afternoon anyway. Why don’t you follow me there?” That wasn’t exactly true. I didn’t need to go to that neighborhood. I needed to go to that exact address. I’d never noticed the similarities between the two addresses before.

  “Are you sure? You’re not just wanting something from me?” She looked at me skeptically.

  “Don’t worry, when I want something from you, you’ll know.” I smirked.

  She narrowed her eyes at me and shook her head.

  “Well, look who it is,” an all-too-familiar voice called.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and cursed under my breath. Sullivan was walking down the sidewalk, heading straight for Saidy with a big smile on his face.

  She looked surprised for a moment before she smiled widely. “Hello again!”

  Again? What did she mean, again? This couldn’t be right. I quickly unbuckled the seat belt and stepped out of the car, walking around to stand next to Saidy.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I live here. I’m so glad we met again.” His smooth voice made me want to punch him. “Fletcher here was updating my security system.”

  “And how did you meet?” I tried to ask, but Saidy spoke right over me.

  “I actually got lost and ended up at the wrong address.” She was smiling at him. She hadn’t smiled at me once over the last couple of weeks. Winning her back wasn’t going to be as easy as I hoped.

  She explained about the mix-up with the east and west directions.

  Sullivan smiled and leaned toward her. “Why don’t I take you over there? Make sure you don’t get lost?”

  “I’m already heading that way, she said she’d follow me there,” I butted in. There was no way I was letting Sullivan take my Saidy anywhere. The man was on track to spend the rest of his life in prison. He had a fixer on his payroll. People disappeared who didn’t do what he wanted.