Faking It For Mr Right

So why me?

I shake away the thoughts. This is fake, that’s why, I remind myself. He hired me to play a part. So I need to do just that, and more convincingly than I have been.

“I’m just happy to be here, and to get to meet both of you,” I tell Patricia, which isn’t a lie. I always find it illuminating to get to know people’s families. It tells you so much about a person. Who they come from, who they grew up around. Who they’re still close with or not, and why. “So what do you do for a living? Xander didn’t mention.”

“Let me guess.” Patricia smirks. “All he told you is that Marco and I are both baby crazy, right?”

I laugh and sneak a glance over at Xander. He rolls his eyes in answer. “It’s not my fault that your kids are all either of you ever talk about,” he responds.

“Don’t lie, you love all the niece and nephew pics,” Patricia teases.

“Though obviously mine are cuter,” Marco interrupts.

“You both have infuriatingly cute families,” Xander speaks up. “But sometimes I wonder if either of you even know what’s going on at the company anymore.”

“You both work at the same company?” I glance back and forth between them, then tense, nervous, when Xander prods my thigh.

But if Patricia finds it strange that I didn’t know this, she doesn’t let on. She just lets out an even louder laugh. “You didn’t think Xan was the only brains in the family, did you?” She shakes her head, clucking her tongue. “He works on the finance side of things with our father. I run the HR group, and Marco does most of our B to B corporate outreach programs.”

“And the social planning,” Marco adds.

Patricia rolls her eyes. “Marco’s very proud of the biweekly networking socials he throws for our employees.”

“It’s a great way to get to know people from every area of the company!” Marco protests.

“And the perfect excuse to get drunk on the company dime,” Patricia counters.

“How else am I going to get Xander to stop accusing me of being a boring old settled down family man now?” Marco responds, and all three of them chuckle.

I smile too, relaxing as I watch the siblings rib one another. It’s good to see that Xander has such an easy repertoire with his siblings. It makes me think that maybe I won’t have to be so worried about this whole thing after all. Maybe convincing his father we’re a real couple won’t be as difficult as I’ve feared.

But then Patricia leans across the table toward us, as if reading my mind. “You know Dad’s dying to meet her, right?” Her eyes sparkle with suppressed mirth. “He’s called me just about every single hour on the hour since you told us about her, Xan, asking for more details.” She rolls her eyes a little here. “Like I’m supposed to be psychic or something. I told him what night we’d be meeting you both for dinner.”

Worry settles back into my veins.

Patricia must notice it, because she glances toward me with an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry,” she says. “Dad can come across a little intimidating at first, but I swear, his bark is far worse than his bite. And he means well. He just likes to look out for his family, that’s all. He’s very, ah… involved in our day to day lives. Ever since Mom passed.”

I look up at Xander, startled. I can’t help it. His mom passed away? He didn’t mention that. Not even when I told him about my mother and her cancer.

I wonder what happened to her. What caused it. But Xander turns away from me and leans toward Marco, replying to something his brother said, even though I know he must have heard what Patricia just said.

“Anyway,” Patricia rambles on, luckily failing to notice my confusion over their mother’s passing, or rather, my lack of knowledge about it. “Once you get over the initial introduction to Dad, he’ll calm down, I swear. We’re all just really excited and happy for Xan.” She reaches over to pat my hand again, and I suck in a deep breath, concentrating on the way her palm feels against the back of my hand.

Her fingers bump the ring, and I gently withdraw my hand from the tabletop, managing a weak smile in return. “Well, if your father is anything like you three, I’m sure we’ll get along great,” I say, even though my stomach is churning again.

Maybe it’s the food. I barely managed to eat more than a few bites, what with all the questions Patricia and Marco have been firing my direction. But I had enough that the seafood might be unsettling me. Or it could have been that single gulp of champagne, even though it wasn’t a very big sip. Maybe the bubbles were getting to me.