Fake Fiancé Next Door_A Small Town Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  I walked up to her as if in a dream, taking her in my arms. She didn’t resist. I kissed her, long and slow and sweet. It was the sweetest kiss of my life. She looked up at me, those huge green eyes raking over my face.

  “I’m still as mad as hell at you,” she said. “You are going to have to make it up to me.”

  “Anything,” I vowed. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Just tell me that we have a future together. I want you to be my wife, Gemma Fox. I want you by my side forever.”

  Her eyes widened. “Was that a proposal?”

  “Well, yes,” I said. I got down on one knee, taking her hand. “Will you marry me, Gemma?” I didn’t have a ring. It wasn’t how I had planned it.

  But it was perfect. Gemma, as I had always known her, in her parents’ yard. Those golden curls whipping around her face.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  I let out a whoop, grabbing her and twirling her around.

  She laughed, tossing her head back so the curls fell down her back.

  “So,” she said. Her eyes were shining. “This list. What else is on it?”

  I grinned. “A whole lot more. I reckon we could keep adding to it for the rest of our lives.” It was true.

  I wanted nothing more, but to keep discovering her, peeling back the layers of this amazing woman.

  THE END

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  Baby Score

  Raedene

  All it took was one eventful and memorable night and here I was, a mother with a four-year-old toddler who refused to speak like other children his age and who believed that he had another family. He compared everything I did to his imaginary mother; from the food I gave him to the clothes I dressed him in. He couldn’t get himself to even call me mom. But here, where Braden lay sleeping, he looked like a real angel. I just wish I knew why he was so different from other children. Everything went for a loop after his second birthday. Initially I assumed it was the terrible-two phase all experts refer to when it came to toddler behaviour, but two years later I wasn’t all that sure. He became progressively worse as he got older and I had no idea how to help him. Every day he would talk about his other mother, the one who died a horrible death after being attacked by white tigers, and his little sister who fell into the ice. And if I dared tell him that it’s his imagination he would throw the worst temper tantrums ever. He believed everything his mind conjured up, it was so real for him that he would spend hours crying about his dead mother and how he couldn’t help his little sister.

  “Is he sleeping?” Damien whispered from the doorway.

  If it wasn’t for my brother I would be so lost, but I had to start accepting the fact that Damien would soon move away to start his own family.

  “Yeah finally, I just wish I knew what triggered him to behave this way,” I said softly while I brushed the brown curls away from Braden’s forehead.

  “Maybe you should consider taking him to a paediatrician or a child psychologist,” Damien suggested.

  “And tell them that my child believes I’m not his mother?” I piped up and laughed softly, “I mean really, white tigers? Just today he told me how he used to walk in knee deep snow to go collect fire wood for his family, I honestly have no idea where all this comes from.”

  Damien came to stand next to me and placed his hand on my shoulder, “You’re going to have to get some expert advice Rae, otherwise you’ll never figure it out. This behaviour is not normal.”

  No shit Sherlock, of course it’s not normal, “I’ll make an appointment to get him assessed, but I’m just so scared they find something horribly wrong with him.”

  I swallowed at the lump in my throat, choking back the tears of defeat. What if my son was odd, what if he was diagnosed with some mental disorder that required permanent care that would eventually result in him never having a normal childhood? The questions were endless. I spent many nights researching all possibilities, from past life experiences to Autism and Schizophrenia, but all that resulted in, was me going more insane every day.

  “It will only help you Rae and once you know what’s going on, you will be better equipped to deal with these challenges. You should also consider getting in touch with Caleb; he has the right to know.”

  “Caleb? Why would I do that?” I asked shocked, I never told anyone that Caleb was Braden’s father.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday. You two were close, hell, you were almost inseparable. And when you came with the news about your pregnancy, I knew straight away.”

  Wow, and he kept quiet all this time? “Why did you never say anything?”

  “I figured you’ll talk when the time was right, which never happened. But still, you need to get in touch with him.”

  Maybe my brother was right, Caleb had the right to know, but how on earth was I going to find him? The last I heard he was in the military, who knows where he was now. And if I did find him what do I tell him? Oh by the way, you left and I was pregnant. Congratulations you’re a dad.

  “I wouldn’t even know where to find him Damien, it’s been five years. The day he left, he left for good,” I said and pushed myself up off the floor and walked out of Braden’s room pulling the door closed behind me.

  “I have his number; maybe you should just give him a call, test the waters and see how he is. In a week I’m leaving and if you ask me you are going to need all support you can get. Doing this on your own will be no easy task,” he said and hugged me tight.

  I was going to miss Damien once he was gone. Over the past few years, he had been my pillar of strength. He was the only one who understood me and even more so, he was the closest thing to a father Braden ever had. The idea of him leaving was almost too much to bear. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell Braden.

  After Damien left, I flopped down on the sofa and finally broke down. This was the only time I could allow my own weaknesses to surface knowing that no-one was around to witness them. I had to stay strong, for Braden. Sometimes when I was caught up in my own thoughts, I felt like the protagonist in my own stage play with the world as the audience. But rather than cheering me on, they flung rotten tomatoes and lettuce at me.

  I reached for my phone and scrolled down the list of contacts, compared to how many friends I had back in college to the handful I had now, I was nothing short of being a recluse who avoided social media like the black plague and hid behind books and manuscripts to avoid meeting new people. I paused at Caleb’s name, Damien must have added him to my address book when I wasn’t looking, I realized and my thumb hovered over the message icon.

  “Mommy!” it was Braden’s hysterical cry that sounded from the bedroom and I immediately dropped my phone to run to his side.

  “Mommy’s here sweetheart,” I said trying to pull him into my arms.

  “No! Mommy, I want my mommy!”

  He was looking for his imaginary mom again and this was the third time in one day this episode repeated itself.

  “She’s not real Braden,” I said trying my best not to over react and show him that I’m upset.

  “Mommy!” he kept on as if he didn’t hear a word I just said.

  Okay, calm down Rae, just go with it, I told myself and closed my eyes then let Braden go. He flopped down on the bed and in one motion rolled onto the floor kicking and screaming. Tears stung my eyes as I tried to keep my wits about myself, but it wasn’t easy.

  All I was left to do was lie down on the bed and watch him eventually cry himself to sleep. As soon as he was asleep I got up and pulled a blanket over his small frame. Exhausted I decided to stay in his room and finally fell asleep on his bed.

  Caleb

  I was ready as ever, adrenalin pumping through my veins as sweat dripped down my face. All we needed was one d
rop kick over the posts and we would win this game and walk away as the undefeated champions to win the Inaugural Season. I glanced at the clock –seventy eight minutes and counting. The ball came flying my way and I caught it mid-air, and without a second thought I drop kicked the ball and sent it sailing right between the goal posts. The sound of the crowds as they cheered was one of the best feelings any rugby player could ever experience. It was a sense of achievement.

  The final whistle blew and the game was set with the Denver Stampede winning by 39 to 33 against the Ohio Aviators, it was a close one to say the least, but we did it.

  After the game, instead of joining the guys for a night out to celebrate our victory, I headed home. Despite the excitement that still flowed through my veins I felt irritable and the text from Damien did not help at all. That was a part of my life I laid to rest a long time ago. Why on earth did he think I wanted to touch base with Rae? The last time I saw her was the day I left to do my civil duty for my country and I never looked back again. Surely she finally settled down with someone who was able to give her what her heart desired.

  I gritted my teeth, fighting off the sudden ache that emitted from my chest, we had a good thing going, but we were still so young. And after my father decided that my mother wasn’t good enough for him and he hooked up with miss-priss, I realized then and there that love was nothing but a pain in the arse. It was an overrated emotion that just brought pain and disappointment. It was the one thing I would never forget. The look on my mother’s face when my dad arrived home with Leandra on his arm as if she was stuck to him like an appendage. If he could have his way he would have opted for a polygamous lifestyle, one where he could have multiple wives and father a multitude of children, but then again he didn’t care much for children. I knew that.

  I dropped my duffel bag on the ground and went straight for the bourbon; I needed something strong to calm the anger that raged deep in my soul. I’ll sleep off this sudden annoying feeling and wake up in top form, ready for the ride up-country. My ass and fingers itched to get on my bike and just be one with it and be free.

  I was about to settle down when my phone rang, it was Joanne a most welcome distraction at the best of times.

  “Hey babe,” I said answering the phone and just as I thought she wanted to hook up again. The convenience of being in the national rugby squad was that women, more specifically cheer leaders would throw themselves at you shamelessly without expecting the strings that usually come as part and parcel of any relationship.

  “I’m having an early night, but why don’t you come around over the weekend and we can head out to the club?”

  There was an evident disappointment that lingered in her tone, and as much as I needed a distraction, I wasn’t really in the mood for company.

  “Why don’t you send me a teaser, and I can keep it as a reminder of what to expect when I see you again,” I suggested with a smirk.

  I didn’t need to do any convincing on my part, she was more than willing to share the occasional sneak peek that most men could only dream of seeing, but even though I asked for it, I knew it would do nothing to any part of my anatomy.

  I finally killed the call after she tried again to convince me to see her and told her that I will only be back in town by the weekend.

  The morning arrived with promise and regardless of my bourbon induced hangover I knew that once I was on my motorbike it would disappear instantly. A long hard ride would also silence my conscience that kept nagging me to call Rae. The past was just that – past tense – it had no place in my future. Past experience taught me that valuable lesson. The moment you allow the past to command your future you may as well kiss your ass goodbye.

  I clicked the remote and the garage door slowly rolled open. There it stood in all its glory, my Harley Davidson, chrome polished frame and its complimentary blue and diamond ice finish. It was nothing short of a majestic piece of machinery that made me crave the open road. My leathers crunched against the leather seat and as I started her up she became an extension of my own body.

  I finally hit the open road and opened the throttle, and as the wind whipped past me I could sense the different aromas as they passed me by. It was never the same, each time I rode my bike it was new smells and sounds that kept me alert. But unlike other times where it was just me and my bike, Rae’s face kept flashing in my mind’s eye.

  That last day before I left for the military, there was a sadness in her eyes, it was as if she knew I was never coming back and although I didn’t explicitly tell her or break up with her, she sensed it. When I was out on detail, I received two letters from her and I never responded to either one. For days after her first letter to me, I contemplated the future, trying to figure out where she fitted into my life. By the time I got the second letter, I was elbow deep in desert sand fighting for a cause bigger than my own and time simply won. It was the time to let go, let go of the past so that I could work on my own uncertain future. I never intended on looking back, until now.

  Raedene

  I hated doctors’ rooms like I hate creamed spinach, the smell of disinfectant always reminded me of death, but I had no choice. Damien insisted I seek help to try and figure out what was wrong with Braden. Scattered magazines lay across the table in the waiting room; next to us was an old man whose face mapped the years of hardship he must have endured in his life time. I couldn’t help but wonder what brought him here today.

  “Miss Callaway, you can come through,” the receptionist said, standing with our file in her hand.

  I reached out to take Braden’s hand, but as usual he pulled away and my heart sank. This was going to be interesting.

  We spent close on an hour with the psychologist, who made Braden draw pictures of his family. It was no surprise when he drew his imaginary family, a mother with long brown hair, a dad he had never mentioned before and a little sister, all standing next to what looked to be a wooden house covered in snow. I didn’t even feature. After all the tests were done, Braden was left to play in the play room while I waited for the conclusion to this madness.

  “Miss Callaway, does Braden have a father?” he asked and I cringed.

  “Well, it’s complicated, I only found out I was pregnant after his dad was out of the picture, so he doesn’t know his dad.”

  “Have you ever told him about his dad?”

  “No, he never asks about him, he has also never mentioned his imaginary dad,” I said, watching him jot down notes.

  Why did I suddenly feel like I was under scrutiny?

  “Look, it’s very early to tell, and there are other tests I can run, but from what I am able to determine, it looks like Braden is experiencing some sort of past life regression, are you familiar with that term?”

  Off course I am, I wasn’t born under a rock, “Yes I am, but as far as I know that’s a lot of speculation with no real facts to prove that it actually exist.”

  “Yes, it is. The idea of past life regression is unfortunately unchartered territory, but some great progress has been made to determine the science behind it,” he slid a brochure over to me and then smiled, “Children eventually grow out of it. With the right approach, they soon learn that the past life they tend to cling to is something of the past and they soon start to adopt their new life with much enthusiasm.”

  “Okay, so what am I supposed to do now? I mean, he hardly talks and putting him in a day care makes it even worse, because other kids make fun of him.”

  “It’s no easy task, but I would like to help you through the process,” he said and rode back in his chair.

  “I don’t want him on any medication,” I objected, that was the last thing I wanted. Nowadays everyone seems to want to shove pills down kids’ throats for the simplest of conditions. If the kid is too active its ADHD, when all it is, is the fact that the child has no way of expending the pent-up energy that gathers from spending too much time behind the television or playing computer games.

  “No pills. Your first
step is to stop rejecting his other family, you need to embrace them. Ask him to tell you about them. You need to show him that you are interested in his life, and that you care for his other family.”

  What he said made perfect sense; I was just not so sure if I could cope with the jealousy factor. Braden compared me to his mom with everything I did.

  “Another thing I might suggest is to get in touch with his biological father if you can. Giving him that closure might just trigger him, the fact that he has never mentioned that to you means that he is afraid to approach the subject with you.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, it’s no easy task to get in touch with his father, but I’ll try.”

  That was it, settled. I left the rooms with an information overload and a threatening migraine; at least it wasn’t anything serious like Autism, which was a relief. Now all I needed to do was figure out how I was going to reach out to my little champ.

  Much later that day after taking pain killers and while Braden was taking his afternoon nap, I picked up the pamphlet the doctor gave me. Lamarckism - a condition whereby an organism passes on acquired characteristics to offspring, which may include past memories of the parents or grandparents. The more I read the more I realized that going to the psychologist wasn’t such a bad idea after all. There were still a lot of questions that remained unanswered and the condition itself was still being studied in-depth, but at least I had some direction now.

  Get in touch with his biological father – my conscience reminded me very inaptly. Caleb had no idea that Braden existed, how was I ever going to tell him after all these years?

  Caleb

  I shoved the empty glass over to the bar tender and around me the bar was buzzing with bikers from all over taking advantage of happy hour. Above me the television blared out loud, as always baseball or football, never rugby.