Temporary Boyfriend

by Shanora Williams

  She’s so happy to brag about him, so cheerful about a guy she thinks will be her future son-in-law. But he isn’t hers to brag about, and I hope she hasn’t told any of her friends because Matthew doesn’t deserve that either.

  She continues raving about him, complimenting every highlight and little thing he has done so far on this trip. I have never heard her talk about me like this. It’s almost as if—almost as if she wished I’d met him sooner. Someone to pick up my slack, make me into the wife and mother she wants me to be.

  “It’s a good thing you met him,” she says for like the hundredth time. “He is patient, compassionate, sweet, fun, and he doesn’t take things to heart like you always do. He’s your polar opposite, which happens to be a good thing because opposites tend to make the best couples. I guess I can see why he fell for you. You are a beautiful girl, but honey,” she groans, grabbing the hem of my shirt, “you have to give up on these kind of clothes. No one bothers with vintage apparel anymore.”

  All right.

  That’s it.

  I’m tired of her thinking that because I like vintage clothes, and write and edit more than I buy groceries, that I am not an ideal woman. I am so sick of this Christmas, and I’m tipsy and angry and I know I will regret this later, but right now I don’t care anymore.

  I just want to go home.

  Screw the holidays.

  They are never worth it.

  “He’s only putting on a show, Mom!” I snap.

  She frowns as she rounds the counter, confusion swimming deep in her eyes. “What do you mean, Pipey?”

  I look her straight in the eyes. “I mean Matthew isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend! I hired him to pretend to be my boyfriend and by the end of our deal he’ll be $7,000 richer!” I throw my hands in the air with a shrug, as if I’m exasperated. “We don’t like or love each other. We aren’t planning on getting married or having babies—hell, after this weekend we will never see each other again and you know what? I am more than okay with that because he’s not as great as everyone thinks he is. So there. I admit it. He’s not the perfect guy. He was just pretending to be one. So can we all just stop pretending we are so damn happy now?”

  Mom looks at me, too shocked to speak. Her fingers are curled around the edge of the counter, eyes wide, but then her eyes shift up, and she’s no longer looking at me, but behind me.

  A throat clears to my left, and that’s when I see the rest of the family standing there. My heart jumps to my throat, all of them staring at me incredulously, chins practically on the floor. My breathing quickens, and I know immediately that I’ve fucked up in stellar fashion.

  Oh. My. God.

  What is wrong with me?

  I feel even worse now and I didn’t even think that was possible. And no, not because of their appalled expressions, or the way Bailey narrows her eyes at me and folds her arms across her chest as if she knew all along something was off.

  No.

  It’s because out of all the faces, through all of their shocked stares, I can only focus on one of them. Matthew’s.

  When I look into Matthew’s eyes, I see nothing but raw emotion.

  Sadness.

  Anger.

  Disgust.

  No joy whatsoever.

  But worst of all, I see the betrayal.

  Heartbreaking, cruel betrayal.

  Just like that, it all crumbles.

  It feels like the universe is shouting at me right now and it is saying, “To the girl who created the biggest family fuck up of all time, Piper Madison! Merry Christmas you ungrateful, son-of-a-bitch!”

  Good Lord.

  What have I done?

  Chapter 16

  Piper

  It’s midnight, and I haven’t seen anyone since my little showdown in the kitchen.

  Now, as I sit on the porch and slowly gain back my sobriety, gliding lightly in the rocking chair, I regret it all.

  I wish I could take it back. I really do.

  My chest feels tight, too tight to even take a deep breath.

  Tears stream down my cheeks—not many, but when I think about the things I said and how I ruined the holiday for everyone, the tears thicken, landing on my lap.

  Here I am, bundled in a coat, with a jacket beneath, infinity scarves, a pair of thermal leggings and my favorite Vintage Company Molly boots, but still freezing my ass off. My tears seem to freeze on my face as the snow falls.

  I don’t want to go inside. After I heard everyone go to their rooms and the house became quiet, I snuck up from the basement and came out for some fresh air.

  I’m not sure where Matthew is, but I’m certain I’m the last person he wants to see right now.

  I sit back in my chair, staring ahead at the rainbow-lit pine trees in front of the cabin. It’s beautiful tonight. So beautiful I actually want to take part in it.

  Pushing out of the chair, I walk down the porch steps, the snow crunching beneath my boots as I stop in the yard. I look up at the velvety midnight sky. The stars twinkle, and I feel a slight warmth course through me, just watching the snow flurries fall. This…now this is peaceful.

  This is one of the very reasons I find it worth it to come spend my Christmas here. The snowfall. The night sky. The Christmas lights, and how they twinkle. Even the little bells that hang on the trees and jingle whenever the wind blows.

  Mom always hangs the bells up. She’d done it since we were children. We used to play a game of ‘find the jingle’. We had to listen and figure out which tree the jingle bells were in and whoever found it first would get extra marshmallows and fudge drizzle in their hot chocolate. Of course, even if we all lost, we still got extra goodies in our cocoa, but it was the competition that made it fun.

  I hear the sound of a door shutting behind me and I look back, spotting Matthew walking out the door with his suitcase in hand.

  When he comes to the edge of the porch, his lips press, and our eyes lock.

  “Hey,” he murmurs, revealing one dimple, half-smiling.

  I force a smile. “Hi.” My eyes drop to the suitcase. “I guess I should have seen this coming.”

  He glances down, nodding very briefly. “Yeah. I guess.” He sighs. “I…um…I wanted to wait until everyone was sleeping. I thought you would still be in the basement. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “You’re not disturbing me,” I say, with a step forward. His eyes run all over me. “How are you going to get there?”

  “I was going to walk to the nearest gas station, call a cab to take me to the airport.”

  “Oh.” I twist my lips. “You don’t have to do that. I can drop you off. There won’t be many cabs running tonight—that is, if you want me to.”

  His cheek quirks up to smile. “Only if you’re up for it.”

  “Sure. Let me go grab the keys.” He nods, and as I make my way to the house he makes way for the car. I hurry inside and grab the key off the key hook, rushing back outside and meeting him at the car.

  Matthew tosses his suitcase in the backseat as we climb in, and when the car is cranked, I turn up the heat, running my palms over my thighs to get them warm.

  “Cold,” I say, laughing a little, but he’s not even looking my way. He’s looking out of the window instead, and I see the sadness. It’s all over him. Seeing that he isn’t interested in joking around with me, I put the car in gear, going around the roundabout driveway and then taking the frosty road to town.

  We ride in silence the entire ride before finally reaching the airport. Yeah, I really did it this time. I’ve hurt him, cut him deep. I should apologize. What I said wasn’t right. He is a good guy and he could be the perfect guy for any woman, I’m sure.

  I park the car and Matthew opens the door and steps out without a word.

  “Should I walk you to the gates?” I ask, getting out of the car too.

  He shrugs carelessly. “If you want to.”

  I follow him to the entryway, glad it will allow me more time to build up
a good, memorable apology.

  “What time is your flight?” I ask.

  “Within the next hour.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Before he can get to the check-in line, he stops, and I wobble on the heels of my boots, avoiding his eyes. Turning to face me, he sets his suitcase down, and blows out a deep breath.

  “Before I go, can I tell you something?” His voice is calm and low.

  “Sure,” I nod. Anything.”

  He turns his head, looking at an empty bench. Picking up his suitcase and then grabbing my hand, he leads the way there, and we sit together.

  Confusion swims through me, but I don’t speak. He is probably going to shred me as calmly as possible for being a mega bitch to him.

  Dropping his line of sight to his lap, he folds his fingers and then clears his throat. “What you said to your Mom is all true and I’m not upset about it, Piper.”

  I blink quickly, but my mouth remains shut.

  He continues. “I’m not upset because you’re right. I’m not the perfect guy and I am very good at pretending to be something I’m not. You shouldn’t blame Stanley at all because it’s a good thing he dug into my past. It made me realize how much I have hidden from it—how instead of accepting it and thanking my past for turning me into a better person—I have shied away and regretted so much of it.”

  “What’s so bad about your past?” I probe.

  He meets my eyes and they glisten from the Christmas lights hanging on the window above us. He drops his head again, and with a thick voice he says, “The reason I freaked out about Stanley knowing is because I have a criminal record. An aggravated battery, assault, and gun charges. I didn’t want you find out about it. Hell, I don’t want anyone finding out about that part of me.”

  That is the last thing I expected to hear. I sit back against the bench, trying to form words but all that comes out is, “Oh.”

  “I can explain though. Actually, I need to because I’m not just some criminal that goes around escorting women that need a man. I don’t want you thinking I prey on women like that. I got into this because it was a way for me to make good money and getting a decent job with a criminal offense is almost impossible. Someone introduced me to this lifestyle after I got out of jail. I did it to make a living. I’ve always been unsure about continuing it, but I have to tell you that after meeting you…I know now that I really should get out.”

  He looks me hard in the eyes, and I want to ask how he could say something like that after putting up with all of my bullshit, but I don’t. I stay quiet, but that doesn’t prevent a blush from creeping up from my neck to my cheeks after his confession.

  “I…um…I lost my parents the same year I was charged,” he goes on, deciding to switch the subject. His voice is thicker, sadder. “They ran a family-owned restaurant in Brooklyn. The best pizzeria that ever existed.” He smiles, showing all of his teeth, like he’s proud of that statement.

  “But one night, my parents decided to keep the restaurant open late to make a little extra money for the holidays. Unfortunately, it made them very vulnerable and we were in a pretty bad part of the Brook. They were held at gunpoint, robbed from the register and the safe in my father’s office, and then shot. Just like that”—he snaps his fingers—“gone.”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. “Matthew, I’m so sorry.”

  He nods his head but doesn’t say anything for a while.

  “That’s not the worst of it,” he continues, and I’m glad he breaks the tension and the silence. “The thing is…I was there when it all happened. I was in the basement, watching a baseball game. I heard some commotion but thought nothing of it, but when I heard the gunshots, that’s when I came up to see what was going on. And when I saw what had happened I was…devastated.

  “My—my parents’ bodies were in a puddle of blood, both of them lifeless on the floor. And I saw the guy—I saw him running so fast to reach the exit. I rushed after him, but he kept running and glancing back at me. He had a hood on, but I could make out his entire face. He had a full, red beard, beady eyes, and really dingy clothes. I knew when I saw him I would never forget that face. I stopped chasing him because that’s when it hit me. During the midst of the holidays, the day before my birthday, I lost the only people that mattered to me. I ran back in a panic and called the cops.

  “The cops came, but I didn’t tell them I saw his face. I didn’t want to because I wanted to handle it myself, somehow. I don’t know. I figured I would come across him one day and take out my revenge. After it all went down, I had to move in with my drunk of an uncle just to keep a roof over my head. Next of kin, all of that shit.

  “I got a job at a pawn shop, worked there during the nights to make some money, but it was never enough. I used all of my parents’ savings just so they could have a proper burial. I didn’t have any siblings or close friends. It was a small funeral. Just me, my uncle, and a few employees that worked for them.”

  “Oh my gosh. Why are you telling me all of this?” I whisper.

  “Because I want you to know why I am the way I am. Why I freaked out a little about the cupcake and can be a little closed off.”

  “But there’s nothing wrong with you,” I respond quickly. “You’re a great guy. You’re fine.”

  “You don’t know me, Piper. I almost—I almost killed that guy.”

  “What?” I gasp, eyes expanding.

  He breathes raggedly through his nostrils, focusing on his lap again. “The guy that killed my parents. I was going to kill him.”

  I watch him intently—watch as his jaw pulses and his eyes get misty.

  “I was working at the pawn shop one night and that bastard came in there with a watch. And not just any watch, it was my father’s watch. A family heirloom—one my dad promised he’d give to me someday. I don’t think he recognized me. Our story was all over the news but they didn’t really show my face, just mentioned that they had a teenage son. He came in with the watch, said he needed to pawn it for some quick cash, and when I saw it I just…I blanked out. I knew that face. I knew it right away. There was so much rage and frustration. But most of all…relief.”

  “Relief?” I frown. “Why relief?”

  “Because I’d finally found the man that killed my parents. And I swore to myself that if I ever saw him again, I would make him pay for destroying my life—my family. So, I pawned the watch for him, gave him the money, but I kept the watch. As soon as he left, I locked the place up as quickly as possible and followed him home. He lived in a worn-down apartment building, in a really bad part of Brooklyn, but I followed him anyway, and when I found out where he lived, I plotted out just how I would take him down.”

  “Did you…hurt him?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I waited for a month, but I didn’t do anything to him.”

  “Why not?” I ask, suddenly angry for him.

  “Trust me,” he says. “I wanted to. I wanted to break his fucking neck, snap his scrawny ass in half, but I didn’t. I broke into his place, barged in with the old handgun my father had, and pointed it at him. And I threatened that I’d shoot him, and he was so fucking scared of me. He kept saying, ‘I knew it. I knew that was you’, and I kept telling him to shut up. He wouldn’t shut up, so I hit him with the gun. And as he lay there, out cold, I held the barrel of the gun to his head and…I tried and tried, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger. Instead I… just broke down. I was so close, Piper. So damn close to killing him in cold blood. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t because I knew if my parents could tell me anything, they would tell me to let it go—that he wasn’t worth throwing my life away over. They wouldn’t have handled things the way I did.”

  He sighs, and the intensity makes my palms sweat. I face him fully, so speechless. Wow. I never would have suspected…

  “Yeah. So…I left. Just like that, I left,” he continues. “And a day later, I was found and charged with aggravated battery and assault, put on a restraining order by the ki
ller, and sent to jail.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them he was the man who killed your parents?” I exclaim.

  “I did and they looked into it, but they never found any proof. Most of what he stole was in cash and he kept it that way. Never put it on a card or anything. He was smart, I’ll give him that. He didn’t leave any prints or any trace of himself. He was in and out, and to this day that fucker roams the streets, doing God knows what.”

  “Wow…I—I’m so sorry.”

  He looks away, his throat bobbing. “This is why I don’t get attached. Because the people I loved were taken away from me—their lives stolen by someone who never even knew who we were. I don’t get attached because life can take it all away in an instant. I don’t like receiving gifts or celebrating my birthday because my birthday reminds me of the time I spent with my family, and also the day I lost them forever. Truth be told, I really dislike everything about this time of the year,” he chuckles dryly. He looks up, and I don’t believe it, but he’s shed a tear.

  “I have never, in my entire life, told anyone that, Piper. But I needed to tell you because I know why you lashed out. I pushed you away—told you we would never be, that it was all just pretend, but it wasn’t. I feel the connection too and feeling it scared the hell out of me because I’m not supposed to care. But I made a mistake by saying that to you and…I don’t know. I’ve thought a lot about this. I know that just like me, you are afraid of committing. Just like me, you don’t want to be hurt. Just like me, you don’t like to get too close to someone outside of family, especially when your heart is involved in all sorts of ways.” He leans closer, grabbing my right hand and squeezing it. “You think I don’t like you?” he whispers, eyes shimmering.

  “I don’t know,” I reply softly.

  “Piper…you shouldn’t doubt yourself so much. You are unique and funny and sweet and other than what happened in the kitchen a few hours ago, this has been the best Christmas I’ve had since my parents died. When I thought about it earlier—Stanley figuring me out and you growing on me—I freaked out. I got so worried because I felt at home. It felt too real. For the first time in a long time I felt connected.”