Faking It (McCullough Mountain)

by Michaels, Lydia

“Okay.”

  He was so good like that, always understanding her quirky behaviors and never asking her to be anything other than herself. “Did you eat?”

  “I had a cup of soup.”

  His mouth pursed. “Those dreadful wax noodles that seem the staple of every college student’s diet are not food. Why don’t we order something? We can pick it up on the way back to my place.”

  “I want to stay here tonight.”

  He stilled, but didn’t appear disappointed. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just… miss my space.”

  “I see.” He shifted and glanced at the floor.

  “You could stay.”

  “Is that what you want or are you simply being polite?”

  He was so cute when his own insecurities showed. She smiled. “Stay. My apartment could use a good cleaning. I know how you love my decorating of dirty laundry and dishes turned science project.”

  He chuckled and stepped closer. When his arms wrapped around her hips he pinched her ass. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her. “You’re a slob.”

  “And you’re arrogant, so I’ll let you enlighten me by tidying up my place as I finish this letter and we wait for pizza to arrive. You can show me all the right ways to be tidy. I know you love pointing out how smart you are.”

  “Brat.”

  “You love me.”

  “I do.” His lips found hers and they both laughed as they kissed their way to the couch, tripping over shoes and whatever else littered the floor along the way.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sometimes I wonder if I can’t see the future because there isn’t one. Maybe I’ll die before I’m thirty. Or maybe I just can’t stand not knowing what will happen, as if knowing will somehow direct me to do the right thing. I need to stop searching for answers that aren’t there and start really considering what it is that I want, what will make me happy. I have no fucking clue what that might be and sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world struggling to unearth the obvious. For being a supposedly smart person, when it comes to myself I’m shockingly ignorant.

  That night they lay in her cramped bed as the TV flickered shadows across the wall. They’d made love quietly, doing their best not to disturb her prickly neighbor. Alec held her against his long body, his hand still massaging her breast as they whispered to each other in the dark.

  “Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”

  He stilled. “Perhaps.”

  What kind of answer was that? “Perhaps…what?”

  “It depends,” he said, his hand no longer playing with her.

  She turned and faced him. “What does it depend on, Alec? Give me real answers.”

  “Why are you asking, Sheilagh?” He didn’t look pleased with the topic.

  “Jeeze. Forget it.” She went to turn away and he gripped her shoulder, halting her escape.

  “Tell me why you’re asking.”

  No longer wanting to discuss the subject, she said, “I was just curious.”

  He let go of her shoulder and she rolled away from him. The room was suddenly too quiet. Where was the remote?

  “You’re very young.” She stilled at his quiet statement. “You’re very young and one day you’ll want a family.”

  A cold, heavy feeling filled her stomach. Dread. “Not everyone wants children.”

  “Do you?”

  Yes. No. “I don’t know.”

  “Sheilagh…”

  “What, Alec?” she snapped.

  “I love you, but I love you enough to want to see you happy.”

  She blinked at the television, her eyes burning. “And you know what makes me happy? Funny. Even I don’t know that. I have fucking professionals working around the clock trying to figure it out.”

  He kissed the back of her head and whispered, “Don’t be angry with me, love. We both know what the reality of our situation is.”

  She scoffed. “I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me, professor, since you seem to have us all figured out and can suddenly predict the future?”

  “I don’t want to be another person who holds you back.”

  “You aren’t holding me back!”

  “I can’t give you children. I won’t live as long as you—”

  “For fuck sake, Alec, stop acting like you’re seventy. You’re forty fucking years old.”

  “And you’re barely into your twenties!”

  She swung her head around and scowled at him. “Does this suddenly bother you?”

  “No, but it may someday bother you. I don’t ever want to be someone you resent.”

  “Then stop trying to decide for me. I’m an adult. Have the respect to treat me like one.”

  “Sheilagh, you’re twenty-four. When I was twenty-four I was nothing like I am today.”

  She stopped thinking. Moments from her session with Megan flitted through her mind, words about change and being the person she really was versus pretending to be something she wasn’t to satisfy others. “You make me happy,” she said quietly. “You’re the only person who’s truly done that for me in…a long time. Don’t take that away from me for stupid reasons, Alec.”

  His gaze turned scrutinizing. His lips twitched as if he were prepared to tell her what was best for her. After a while he sighed. “I’d marry you, Sheilagh. If that’s what you want I’d marry you in a heartbeat, but it isn’t something I require.”

  She stared at him for a minute. Neither of them said a word. Finally, she rolled her eyes and dropped her head to her pillow. “That was the shittiest proposal in the history of mankind. You need to work on your game.”

  He didn’t laugh. She’d turned away and wasn’t sure what his expression was. She was too afraid to look. Commercials played silently on the television and she waited for him to say something, but he never did.

  When she woke up in the morning, he was gone.

  Alec nodded toward a colleague as he headed back to his office after his first lecture of the day. As he shuffled his coffee and briefcase he found his door already open and nudged it the rest of the way. “Wes? What are you doing here? Don’t you have class?”

  His son pivoted in the chair behind the desk and faced him. “We need to talk.”

  Alec had been waiting for this. He dropped his briefcase on the chair and sipped his coffee as he shut the door for privacy. “I’m listening.”

  “Are you? I worry about your hearing, because I think you’re already blind.”

  He stiffened at his son’s snide tone. “I don’t want to argue—”

  “I’m not arguing with you, Dad. I’m giving you the facts. You and that girl are going to get caught. She’s going to get expelled and you’re going to lose your job. That may not mean much to you—I honestly don’t get what you see in her, but she’s sure got you under some sort of spell—nevertheless, when your life falls apart, so will mine.”

  “I’m not going to let that happen, Wes.”

  “What the hell are you gonna do to stop it, Dad? Stop thinking with your dick and use your head—”

  “Hey!” Grinding down his molars he drew in a slow breath. “Watch your mouth. If you think I would jeopardize your education—”

  “That’s exactly what you’re doing! When does it end? I heard you last night giggling. You’re acting like an irresponsible kid. I don’t get what you and that girl have in common. She’s awful!”

  “Her name is Sheilagh!” he hissed. “And, while I don’t expect your blessing, I do expect your respect, for my privacy, my preferences, and my woman.”

  Wes’s face contorted with disbelief. “Your woman?”

  “Yes. I love her, Wesley. It may not be who you’d choose for me, but if you can accept your mother loving another woman I’d expect you can get over this.”

  “And what about my privacy? Do you think it will be easy for me when my father’s ethics are drawn into question and his position is up for review.�
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  “My personal life has nothing to do with yours.”

  “Obviously, but the repercussions could ruin everything. I like Princeton, Dad. I don’t want to switch schools. I don’t want our family’s personal shit to turn into campus gossip. Can’t you try to see this from my point of view?”

  “And when will you try to see it from mine? Do you have any idea how lonely my life has become? You run off with your friends or back to your Mom’s whenever you’re bored. I’m left here twiddling my thumbs. Sheilagh makes me happy. For once in my life I’m actually happy. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  His son remained quiet. Disappointment seemed to swallow Alec whole.

  “No, I guess not.” Moving to his desk, he dropped his coffee cup in his wastebasket and grabbed the papers he had to return to his next class. “If you’ll excuse me, Wes. I have a class to teach.”

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. It wasn’t that Alec wasn’t worried about Wes’s role in all of this. He was. He just couldn’t see giving up Sheilagh on the chance that something could go wrong. They’d just have to be more circumspect and cautious.

  If anything jeopardized Wesley’s education, he’d never forgive himself. His son worked very hard to be here and he wanted to see him graduate from a university he loved. The same went for Sheilagh.

  Oddly, he was least concerned with his own security. He could teach anywhere, but his employment at the university was key to his son’s enrollment. This was the last thing he wanted to worry about today. His mind was already twisted over Sheilagh’s question last night.

  Of course he’d marry her. There was nothing in his life stopping him, aside from his opinions on the institution itself. He had no issue with marriage, but at this stage in his life didn’t see it as necessary to have a fundamental relationship. However, if Sheilagh did, he’d gladly vow his life to hers.

  It was Sheilagh that had him hesitating to wander down that road. She was young. Her life had barely started. He didn’t want her to have regrets years from now. She was still figuring herself out, and divorce, no matter how amicable, was messy.

  He loved her. He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone, including Wes’s mother. And loving her so much meant sacrificing his own desires to secure hers.

  Where had the topic of marriage even come from? They’d never discussed it before. His mind went to the facts. He hadn’t considered having more children until Sheilagh’s youth became so apparent, namely, when he saw her in her family home surrounded by so much family.

  It was then that he contemplated his inability to father more children and toyed with the possibility of having his vasectomy reversed, a costly procedure that gave no guarantee. It was the most he could offer a woman like herself—and it was barely a promise at that.

  He wasn’t even sure if he wanted more children. The son he had now wasn’t speaking to him. Parenting was difficult and he never had the relationship with his son he’d always hoped for.

  And what of when he was older? He didn’t want be pushing his babies as he leaned over his walker. Fucking mortality. When Sheilagh would be thirty-five he’d be fifty-one. He’d be seventy and she’d still be in the prime of her life at a mere fifty-four.

  He paused. Why was fifty-four the prime of her life, yet he had himself already dead and buried at forty? Was there really that big of a difference? He wasn’t making sense, even to himself.

  After finishing his last class of the day Alec headed to town, settling onto a stool at the local pub and ordering beer after beer without keeping count. When he paid his tab he was surprised by how much he’d actually drank.

  He left his car and decided to walk home. As he meandered along the dark sidewalks he passed a store window that was lit beautifully. Jewels and trinkets sparkled inside.

  Leaning his forehead on the glass he examined the display, his attention catching on a particularly beautiful setting. That ring would look lovely on Sheilagh.

  “Lost?”

  He turned, his forehead squeaking along the glass. Speak of the devil. “Hello.”

  She laughed. “You’re pissed.”

  “I’m not angry. Ah… you mean drunk. Yes. Quite.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “In a spot, down there somewhere.”

  She laughed. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to it and drive it to your house.”

  He caught her wrist and she stilled. “Do you want to marry me, Sheilagh?” he whispered and her smile trembled. “I’ll give you anything you want, love, but you have to be sure you know what you’re asking for.”

  She pulled her wrist out of his grip and stepped back. “People are looking, Alec. Come on. Let’s go home.”

  He turned and noticed there were still pedestrians on the sidewalk besides them. He didn’t care, but he had to—had to for Wes’s sake and Sheilagh’s. Getting ahold of himself he stood a little straighter. “I’d marry you. If I believed that was what you honestly wanted, I’d marry you in a second. You’re brilliant. You make me happy. Our sex is incredible.”

  “Alec.”

  “Just let me know when you figure out what you really want,” he said, talking over her. “If it’s me, you have me. All of me. I’m yours.”

  “I’m taking you home.”

  She turned and he followed. They maintained an appropriate distance as they made their way back to his car, which wasn’t exactly where he remembered leaving it. He handed her his keys and she adjusted the mirrors as he slouched in the passenger seat admiring her beauty.

  “Wes isn’t speaking to me,” he announced as she pulled onto the road. “He’s mostly yelling at me. He’s worried about his enrollment and what will happen if we’re caught.”

  “I can understand that,” she said, not taking her eyes from the road.

  “Does that worry you? Are you afraid you’ll get expelled?”

  “No.”

  He laughed. “Who are you, Sheilagh McCullough? You worry about issues of little consequence, because they might change people’s opinions of you, but real penalties don’t scare you at all.”

  “What does it matter what school I go to? I could go to any school and get the same degree. There’s only one of you.”

  “I love you.”

  She smiled. “How much did you drink?”

  “Sixty-two dollars’ worth.”

  “What were you drinking?”

  “I started with beer and then moved onto whatever tickled my fancy.”

  She laughed. “I love it when you use manly terms like tickle my fancy.”

  They pulled into his driveway and she turned off the car. “I have a dilemma,” he confessed.

  “If you’re going to puke, open the door.”

  “I love it when you speak with such feminine eloquence.”

  “Touché. What’s your dilemma?”

  “Since you’ve mentioned marriage I find myself wanting to marry you.”

  Her smile fell. “What?”

  “I not only love you, I like you. I like you more than I like most people. We’re very different from each other, but I like that about us. I like us. I would be honored to say you’re my wife. I think you’d show me what it really is to be someone’s husband, more so than anyone else ever has.”

  “Again, with the top notch proposal. You really have to work on your game.”

  She said the words sarcastically, but there was no laughter in her expression. He laced his fingers in hers. “Do you want to be my wife?”

  “Alec.” She frowned. “I have no doubt you’d be a wonderful husband, but I’m the farthest thing from the perfect wife.”

  “I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

  She pulled her hand away. “You’re drunk. The other night I was just curious where you stood on the subject. It’s a big decision, one neither of us should rush into.”

  She was right, of course. “I’ll ask you another time, perhaps.” He was a putz. Even drunk he could see how ridiculous he was acting. />
  “Perhaps.”

  When they made it inside she made him a sandwich, which helped sober him up. He was ravenous, because he hadn’t eaten all day. She fed him and he adored her for it. Once his belly was full they went to bed.

  Sheilagh showered and he fell asleep before she returned. The next morning he woke up with a pounding headache that was his due for being such an ass. He considered what he’d said about marrying her and actually found himself still agreeing with his stance. He did want to marry her. It was something he hadn’t realized until she suggested it. The problem was, she hadn’t really suggested it at all. She merely mentioned it and he clung to the word like a drowning man to a life raft.

  Basically, he was fucked.

  Sheilagh avoided Alec for the next few days. He was well aware of what she was doing. He texted her often and called her right out using words like avoidance and communication. If he was going to be so predictably Alec, she decided to be predictably Sheilagh. Her replies were snarky and immature, taking zero accountability and excelling in sarcasm.

  She got away with three whole days of hiding until he came to her apartment. Surprisingly, he wasn’t angry. “Are you done with your tantrum?” he asked as she opened the door to let him in.

  “Maybe. Are you done making a spectacle of yourself?”

  “I make a spectacular spectacle, I find.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You can only come in if you promise not to use the words marriage, wife, marry, spouse, husband, bride, or wedding.”

  “Fine.” She let him in and shut the door. “I would make a rather dashing groom, though, don’t you think?”

  She laughed. “I hate you.”

  He caught her wrist and pulled her to his chest. “You love me.”

  “Only on holidays and Tuesdays and days that start with S. The rest of the time it’s touch and go.”

  His lips pressed to hers as he smiled. “I want to touch you.”

  “Mmm, Dr. Devereux, you haven’t touched me in days.” His fingers found the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the floor. “I’ll ask that you not make a mess of my apartment.”

  He laughed. “You’re right. I’ll only end up picking it up again. Lord knows you can’t clean.”