Deke (Fake Boyfriend 3)

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, but fine. Hurry up before breakfast gets cold.”

Ma closes the door behind her, and Lennon stares over at me.

“When are you going to tell them the truth about me?” he whispers.

I shrug. “At our engagement party?”

Lennon shakes his head. “Don’t even.”

“Fine. The announcement of the birth of our first child.”

He’s still unimpressed.

“I’ll tell them when they need to know. Right now, they think I’m happy, and I’m fine with letting them think that.”

“The longer you leave it, the harder it’ll be. I’m okay with doing this for you, but I still think you should tell them.”

As I finish getting dressed, Lennon’s phone rings. I leave him to it and go out into my dining room and take a seat opposite my dad at the table. Ma’s already piled up the plates, and the empty seat next to me has a stack of food in front of it. No way in hell will Lennon eat all of that. Ma’s used to feeding athletes with insane metabolisms. Even Max, who’s the least sporty of us, is still ripped thanks to the twins giving him free personal training.

Lennon’s low murmurs drift through the apartment.

“Now that your season’s over, you’ll be able to make it home for Grandma’s eightieth,” Ma says.

I shovel food in my mouth. “I’ll probably come home for the off-season anyway.”

When I look up, Lennon’s standing in the doorway to my room, staring at his phone in his hand.

“What’s up?”

His gaze flits between me and his phone again, and he bites his bottom lip. “Looks like I’ll be joining you in Boston.” He lifts his phone. “That was work.”

He’s still following the playoffs? I try to hide my excitement, but I’m sure the wide smile on my face gives it away.

“Great. You two can stay with us,” Ma says, “and Clark can meet the rest of the fam at Grandma’s birthday party.”

Lennon’s eyes widen, and so do mine. He lifts his head and mouths “Tell them.”

All I can do is shake my head. “Thanks, Ma, but I think Clark’s work will put him up in a hotel.”

His shoulders slump. I can only assume from relief of dodging having to stay with my family.

“Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Strömberg, but I’m all set.”

“Well, you at least have to come meet everyone. The entire family will be excited to meet Ollie’s boyfriend. Trying to get any information out of him about you is like pulling teeth.”

I silently beg Lennon to do this one thing for me. It’s a big ask, and I know this is unfair to him. If he says no, I won’t push, but it’ll be one day. Just one. With my entire family.

Shit, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

He can either read my mind or sense my desperation because he smiles at my mother. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Chapter Fourteen

LENNON

While I pack my stuff, Jet bounces on my bed like an excited child. “I knew there was more to you and Ollie than y’all were letting on.”

He’s been in a fit of laughter ever since I told him my predicament. From meeting Ollie in a bathroom months ago to agreeing to keep up this ridiculous charade for Ollie’s family.

“Are you guys fucking now?”

I glare at him. “Your mouth’s seriously gonna get you in trouble one day.”

He finally stops bouncing and his face drops. “Why does everyone keep telling me that?”

“Because one day, when you’re big and famous, you’re gonna say the wrong thing to the wrong reporter, or celebrity, or random person, and then you’re gonna be in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons.”

“No such thing as bad publicity.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Do you think your brother would agree with that?”

Matt’s story going public got him kicked out of the NFL.

“Good point,” Jet says. “But probably won’t matter anyway. The whole fame thing probably isn’t gonna happen for me.”

My hands freeze, holding a balled-up shirt that I was about to throw into my suitcase. “Do you really believe that or are you fishing for a compliment?”

Jet looks away, a wave of shaggy brown hair falling across his forehead. “We have a meeting with a record label next week, but—”

“What?” I exclaim. “Jet, that’s awesome. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I don’t know if it’s a good fit for us. The guy who came to the club to meet with us said they’d need to change a lot for us to be marketable. They want to change my name, change the band’s name, change our image, pick one genre for the first album instead of the eclectic shit we play.”

“Who’s the record label?”

“Joystar Records. You heard of them?”

I shake my head. “Nah, but that doesn’t mean anything. And it sounds like they’re already invested if they’ve already made plans for you. This could be your big break.”