by Lili Valente
“Brendan, please, it’s not—”
“I’ll get on my knees and beg if you want,” he says, cutting me off. “Seriously, I’m begging you, Laura. I know this is a shitty thing to ask, but there isn’t anyone else. If there were, I swear I would have asked her. You’re my only hope here.”
I swallow hard, willing myself not to glance down at his mouth, or think about all the things his full, sexy lips did to me while we were in bed together.
I fail, of course, because I am ridiculously weak when it comes to this man, and I’m experiencing some intense sensory recall involving his tongue and my nipple as I say in a husky voice, “It is a shitty thing to ask. And you know why.”
The skin around his eyes tightens. “I know. I wouldn’t have even considered it except that it’s obvious you care about Chloe. And Chloe and I are a team. She needs me as much as I need her. Getting taken away from the only parent she has left isn’t what’s best for her, no matter what Steve and Angie think.”
It’s not. It would kill her, ravage that sweet, artistic soul I love, and I can’t let that happen. Even if pretending to be her dad’s girlfriend is going to be like having my heart pecked out of my chest by a pack of those seagulls she hates so much.
“What are you going to tell her?” I ask, wanting to get that sorted out before I give him an answer. “I don’t want to confuse her or lie to her.”
“I don’t, either. But I want to lose her even less. I figure if we tell her that we’re special friends that should be okay. She already knows we’re close.”
“Special friends, huh?” I arch a brow, surprised by how stiff my skin feels.
I reach up to scratch my forehead and come away with a purple and black fingernail, remembering too late that I never got a look at what Chloe did to me.
I reach around Brendan, grabbing the mirror from my desk, only to screech and nearly drop it when I see a witch with purple eyebrows reaching up to her hairline staring back at me. “Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me I’m terrifying?”
Brendan’s lips curve. “I assumed you knew.”
“No, I didn’t know!” I swipe my box of makeup remover wipes from beside the mirror and pop it open. “That kid of yours has a future in special effects. I barely recognize myself.”
I realize that the entire time I’ve been thinking sexy thoughts about Brendan, I’ve looked like a witch and a goblin got together to spawn an ugly redheaded, purple-faced baby, and blush. “How could you have a serious conversation with me when I look like this?”
His smile softens. “You look like that because you were making my little girl happy.”
Well, shit…
And sigh…
There it is again—that loving, devoted daddy side of Brendan that makes my ovaries explode. I am helpless against it. Every ounce of my tough, take-no-prisoners, refuse-to-put-up-with-any-bullshit side melts into a puddle of aw every time I’m confronted with the clear evidence of how much he adores his daughter.
“Fine,” I mumble, rubbing a wet wipe against my cheek.
His eyes light up. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes. But you’re going to owe me.” I hold a warning hand up between us, wanting to make sure he understands this is a big fucking deal. “Seriously. My parents aren’t going to be happy about me canceling last minute, especially since this is our first holiday together as a family since Libby and Justin became more than friends. My sister probably isn’t going to be happy, either. Libby and I have pulled the wishbone every year since she was old enough to hold on to her side, and she’s very into honoring family traditions.”
Brendan’s lips part, but he apparently rethinks whatever he was going to say and simply nods. “Right. I understand. Anything you want. Thank you, Laura. I appreciate this. So much. You have no idea.”
He reaches for me, and for a second I think he’s going to pull me in for a hug, but instead, he wraps his fingers around my shoulders and squeezes for a second or two before letting me go and backing away. “I’ll text you tonight, and we can iron out the details. I should get Chloe before she finds the candy stash in the break room.”
“Oh, she found that weeks ago.” I pluck a fresh wipe from my box—my first one is already deep black and purple. “I’ve had to move it twice. But this time it’s hidden where not even a gummy bear bloodhound will be able to find it.”
Brendan smiles. “Thanks.”
“I only hid it because I’m selfish and don’t like to share my gummy bears,” I lie, pretending I don’t know damned well that he monitors Chloe’s sugar intake like a scientist tracking seismic vibrations on the San Andreas fault.
“I meant thanks for saying yes,” he says, his eyes doing the sexy sparkling thing they did that night on the beach. “You’re good people, Freckles.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, pretending my ribs aren’t squeezing my heart into a squishy, maudlin lump of longing in my chest. “Go get your kid. I’ll see you tomorrow. And bring coffee and donuts. I’m a shitty girlfriend—real or fake—if I’m not regularly fed and caffeinated.”
He brings two fingers to his temple in a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
And then he’s gone, and I’m left to wipe away the last of my witch face in peace, and wonder what the hell I’ve done.
Chapter Four
From the texts of Laura Collins and Libby Collins
Laura: Are you awake?
Libby: It’s only nine o’clock. Of course I’m awake.
Laura: Well, I can never tell anymore. Since you and Justin started getting domesticated, it seems like you’re asleep by eight-thirty every night.
Libby: In bed and sleeping are two very different things, big sister dear…
Laura: Ew. So gross.
I don’t want to hear about you and Justin getting it on, Elizabeth.
I’ve known him since we were twelve. I watched him pick his nose and wipe it on his desk in sixth grade. He’s basically a disgusting, goober dork. And no amount of muscle, handsomeness, fame, skill, or two-hundred-dollar jeans can change that.
Libby: Well, we can’t all be perfect by age twelve.
And I’m pretty sure he uses tissues now.
Laura: Or so you think. You should set up a nanny cam to film him while he’s watching television alone. I bet he still does totally gross stuff.
Libby: I thought you were okay with Justin and I being together, La.
I thought you approved. Am I missing something?
Laura: No. I approve. I’m glad you’re in love and that he makes you happy.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop ripping on him. He seduced my baby sister without permission. He owes me three more major favors before he’ll be allowed back in my good graces.
Libby: Oh good! He thought he was on the hook for at least five or six more.
Laura: Nah. I’m going soft in my old age.
I’m probably also going crazy…
I just agreed to be Brendan’s fake girlfriend for the weekend to help get his former in-laws off his back.
Libby: What?!
Laura: Apparently they think he needs to start dating and have been making a big stink about him providing a “female influence” for Chloe.
So I agreed to help him out.
Are you okay with making my excuses to Mom and Dad?
I would call Mom myself, but she’ll keep me on the phone forever, and I have to pack for a long weekend with several nice dinners and skiing involved. Which means I basically have to pack my entire closet, plus extra long-johns and every pair of socks I own.
Libby: How about I tell them you’re not feeling well?
That way no one gets upset.
Laura: But then Mom will try to bring me turkey soup on Friday and freak out when I’m not home. Just tell them I’m doing a top secret, urgent favor for a friend and that I’ll explain everything next week, okay?
Libby: Okay, but is it really that urgent?
Couldn’t you meet Brendan on Friday,
instead? I miss you. I feel like we haven’t had a chance to get our gossip on lately.
Laura: And whose fault is that Miss In Bed Banging Her Boyfriend By Eight Thirty Every Night?
Libby: *blushing smiley face emoji*
Sorry, it’s like a new toy. A really exciting new toy…
Laura: It’s okay. I get it.
We’ll catch up in a month or two when the sex fog starts to clear.
Libby: Will it start to clear by then? God, I hope so.
I mean, I love being with Justin, don’t get me wrong, but it’s like all I can think about is sex. Sex in the shower, sex on the drive to school, sex while I’m grading papers and whipping up fresh batches of play dough and picking glue out of my hair. My mind is in the gutter pretty much twenty-four seven, Laura.
I’m beginning to think I have a problem…
Laura: But what a problem to have, right? *winking emoji*
Libby: LOL. Hmmm. Yes. Things could definitely be worse.
Have a Happy Thanksgiving, and don’t worry about Mom and Dad. I’ll keep them off your back until next week.
Laura: Thank you so much.
Night-night, nympho.
Libs: Night-night. *blushing smiley face emoji*
From the texts of Laura Collins
and Chloe Daniels
Chloe: Dad told me you’re coming with us for Thanksgiving at Gammy and Pop Pop’s house!!!!! I’m so excited!!!! We’re going to have so much fun!
I can show you all my toys! I have so many toys at their house!
Dad says they spoil me rotten!!!
Laura: LOL. You aren’t rotten, but you are a mess.
Thanks for the goblin witch makeover, by the way…
Chloe: HAHAHA!! You’re welcome!!
You were so scary!!!
Did you take a picture?
I forgot I wanted a picture to add to my art book!
Laura: No, I didn’t take a picture.
Chloe: Oh well, I can do it again. I remember what colors I used.
I can do your makeup in the car on the way to Gammy’s house and we can show her when we get there!!
Laura: How about we wait and do a redo next week?
I would kind of like to meet your grandparents looking like myself, you know?
Not a crazy monster person with eyebrows up to my hairline…
Chloe: HAHAHA!!
So scary!! I’m going to have nightmares about your face!!!
HAHAHAHA!!!
Laura: All right, crazy head. Get to bed, and I’ll see you tomorrow.
Can’t wait to eat pie for breakfast with you this weekend!
Chloe: Me, too!! *pie emoji* *heart emoji* *heart emoji*
From the texts of Brendan Daniels and
Laura Collins
Brendan: I saw Chloe texted you. As you can probably tell, she’s pretty excited. I think she’s finally asleep, but she was bouncing off the walls when I first told her you were coming with us.
Laura: Oh, good! I’m glad.
So she wasn’t weirded out by the “special friends” thing?
Brendan: Not at all. But kids are like that.
They ask a lot fewer questions than adults do.
Laura: Except when they’re asking all the questions.
Like about how many seconds there are in a year or why toilets flush backward in Australia or how armadillos can infect people with leprosy.
Brendan: Right. Kids are all about the hard-hitting questions.
Thanks for your help with the leprosy thing, by the way. Chloe finally took her stuffed armadillo out of quarantine in the guest bathroom.
Laura: My pleasure. It was a fascinating afternoon of Internet research.
I now know more about armadillos and leprosy than I ever imagined possible.
Brendan: Speaking of imagining things…
I’ve been thinking about how this weekend is going to play out…
Laura: Yes?
Brendan: I mean, I don’t think there’s any reason to overdo it, since Chloe’s going to be underfoot and Steve and Angie are my former in-laws…
But if we’re not at least a little…affectionate they aren’t going to buy that we’re more than friends.
Laura: Okay…
So, what does that mean?
Brendan: Kissing. Holding hands, maybe.
And sleeping in the same room. In the same bed.
Steve and Angie aren’t old-fashioned people. Steve is a former biologist and Angie taught teen health and sex ed for thirty years, so…
What do you think? Is that all right with you?
Laura: Of course. It’s no big deal.
I mean, it’s not like we haven’t kissed before…
Brendan: Right. About that…
I’m sorry I was so abrupt the morning I left the hotel. I’ve felt bad about it ever since, I just haven’t known how to apologize for something like that.
Laura: Ground rule number one, and only for this weekend: we don’t talk about last summer.
It’s over, and we’ve been doing great with the friends thing. It’s fine. There’s no need to rehash it all and make things weird. We’ll pull off a few sweet kisses in front of your former in-laws, sleep platonically in the same bed, and then come home and get back to friendship as usual.
Done. Easy. No stress.
Brendan: Okay. Sounds good. Thank you.
So, we’ll pick you up at 7 a.m.? With coffee and donuts?
Laura: Perfect. Good night.
Brendan: Good night. And I really do appreciate this so much, Laura.
I’m glad it’s not going to be weird.
Laura: Ditto
From Laura’s journal
Tomorrow I’m leaving to spend four days pretending to be Brendan’s girlfriend.
AND IT’S GOING TO BE SO FUCKING WEIRD! ARGH! WHY DID I EVER SAY YES TO THIS STUPID, WEIRD PLAN? IT’S SO STUPID! AND WEIRD!
Note to self: Stop saying yes to stupid, weird plans. Stop saying yes to anything, in fact, until you get your head on straight and stop doing dumb things like crushing on a man who is never going to be more than a friend.
Ugh. Stupid. Weird. Blah…
See you on Monday, journal. Keep it tight.
Chapter Five
Brendan
So weird.
This is going to be so fucking weird, but I don’t have a choice. I just need to forget that I memorized the exact sweet, salty flavor of Laura’s skin, and the way she moves when she’s pinned to the sheets beneath me, and the sexy sounds she makes when she’s about to come on my fingers.
Or my mouth.
Or my cock, with her long legs wrapped around my waist and her fingers digging into my shoulders and her body so hot and tight it feels like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
I swallow hard, gritting my teeth as I turn onto her street.
Hell. I’m going to be in hell, and it’s my own damned fault. I should never have slept with Laura in the first place. I’m a grown man, for God’s sake. I know better than to start something with someone I work with, someone I’ll be forced to run into every day when things don’t work out.
Like you gave it a chance to work out.
You thought you were being so smart, heading heartache off at the pass. But all you did was screw yourself and ensure Laura thinks you’re a jackass.
I curse beneath my breath, and Chloe pipes up from the backseat, “I heard that! You have to put a dollar in the swear jar when we get home.”
I’m tempted to curse again—if this isn’t a morning for swearing like a damned sailor, I don’t know what is—but instead, I offer a terse, “Got it. Sorry, honey,” and reach over to turn up the radio.
I’m never going to convince my seven-year-old to stop pushing her swearing boundaries if I can’t get control of my own mouth. And the last thing I need is for Chloe to start exercising her locker room vocabulary in front of Angie and Steve. I need to prove that I’m a fit parent with my shit together, not further the impression t
hat I’m getting by on a wing and prayer and more help from my friends than any thirty-two-year-old man with six figures in his savings account should need.
But money can’t buy everything, and lately that’s included reliable childcare.
Portland is experiencing a serious nanny and babysitter shortage. If Justin and Laura hadn’t stepped in to help me out half a dozen times each, I don’t know what I would have done. In Justin’s case, I don’t feel too bad—I’ve done my share of favors for Jus in the years we’ve been friends—but with Laura…
Well, with Laura I feel like a bastard.
A seriously shitty excuse for a human being who made love to her like it was my mission on Earth for three days, told her I wasn’t interested in feelings because I needed stability for my daughter, and then proceeded to take advantage of her generosity and hit her up for childcare assistance in my time of need. And now I’ve put her in an even worse spot with the fake-girlfriend shit, when all of this could have been avoided if I hadn’t been so damned convinced that she was secretly in love with my best friend.
In my defense, Justin and Laura have one of those weirdly close friendships that look a lot like repressed attraction. They party all summer on his boat, have movie nights every other week, laugh way too loud when they’re together, and hug good-bye with an intensity that makes it clear that they love each other.
