Faking It with the Frenemy

“Anyway, you do, absolutely, positively, have to know math.” Since Wyatt is being a substandard daddy, who forgets when his kid’s getting out of school, it looks like I need to step up and do what’s right.

She sighs, a monumental heave like the world is ending. “Fine.”

She drags her backpack over to the dining table to start her homework. While she’s busy, I check my email, but there’s nothing urgent. I browse Amazon to see if they have stuff I didn’t even realize I wanted.

Then I suddenly stop. Vi is a growing child. She probably wants a snack.

I get up and go to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” She looks up from her homework. “What do you have?”

I check the fridge. “Yogurt. Some fruit chunks. And spinach salad, but you probably don’t want that, huh?”

She wrinkles her nose adorably. “Eww, no. I’ll have the yogurt, please, as long as it isn’t plain.”

“Okay.” Relieved I have something the kid will eat, I take out a strawberry-and-banana-flavored tub and give it her with a spoon.

She starts eating. “Hey, Kim?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think people are proud of their children if they get straight As?”

“Well… Yeah, of course,” I say, unsure where this is going. But people are proud of their academically gifted children, right? My dad was when I brought home As. And my stepdad used to give me fifty bucks every time I got an A because he believed in “proper incentives and compensation.”

“So. If I don’t get straight As, are they ashamed?”

“Oh no. That’s not it at all.” I feel like I’ve fallen into a trap. I should’ve told her parents don’t care about grades at all. And honestly, this is the kind of thing Wyatt should be telling her. Or maybe not. He could be pressuring her to get good grades, and some kids just aren’t that into academics.

“But you said—”

“There’s a difference between pride and love,” I say hurriedly, trying to claw myself out of the hole. “Parents love their children no matter what.”

Vi looks skeptical…naturally, because her mom is a narcissistic psychopath and her dad can’t even remember when she’s getting out early. I suppress a sigh. The need to explain until Vi realizes I’m right is overwhelming, but I keep my mouth shut. This isn’t something she’s going to get from someone’s words. It’s something she has to feel for herself because her parents put her first, as I know from personal experience. My mom told me repeatedly I was her number one, but it wasn’t true; I was never the rich man she’d set her sights on. And my dad said he cared about me, but what he really meant was he cared about hiring a lot of people to take me off his hands because he had better things to do with his life.

“I wish I could meet Mom’s fiancé,” Vi says. “But I can’t until the wedding. She says he doesn’t like children.” There’s a pause. “Even if they get straight As.”

I squirm in my seat. This is waaay over my pay grade. I might as well try to navigate a minefield in nothing but Jo’s favorite Jimmy Choos.

Vi continues in a small voice, “He’s making my mom give me up. Dad and Princess, too. She must really love him to do that.”

Oh, Vi. My heart breaks as she looks down at the handout, her shoulders so narrow and fragile. I can’t believe Geneva managed to have a child this sweet and vulnerable. And I hate my former best friend for hurting her kid this way.

And Wyatt isn’t much better. Unless I misunderstood the wistfulness in Vi’s tone, he didn’t really want to end it with Geneva. So needing a hot date is probably his way of rubbing it in Geneva’s face. Which makes him a petty, shallow bastard, even if she does deserve it.

I give Vi some OJ because there isn’t any other way for me to comfort her. As for me…

I really need a drink.

Chapter Twenty

Wyatt

Unlike my previous dates, Miri is cultured, well mannered, and fun to talk to. Not offensive in the slightest.

There’s only one problem…

“To be honest, I’m really not into men,” she says from across the table at an elegant Italian restaurant.