Mister Fake Fiance

I know…but I can’t imagine a better man to fall for, even if it’s only for three months.

Chapter Forty-One

David

The cookies come out better than I imagined was possible. But then, we made them together, and I tasted the dough to make sure nothing was missing or added.

We eat them until we feel a little queasy. It’s fun and relaxing, much more so than I expected. Not to mention the whole thing has a sort of homey vibe, like we’re a real couple, not fakers, sharing a moment.

Naturally, Mom calls to interrupt it.

“I have to cancel the visit! I’m so sorry, hon! I know you were looking forward to it, but your dad sprained his wrist and needs me around,” she says with a long-suffering sigh.

I can hear all the words she isn’t saying: Your father is such a baby! All men are! But it’s my job to do what I do best.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I say. “Tell Dad to take it easy.”

“Him? What about me? I’ll have to wait on him hand and foot.”

I just laugh. I know my mother. Even though she’s grumbling, if Dad didn’t act like he needed her, she’d be pouting and upset.

When I hang up, Erin looks up from her milk. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Dad sprained his wrist, so Mom can’t leave him to come out here.”

“A sprained wrist?” She frowns. “Is it serious?”

“No. It’s probably nothing major, not enough to make him give up the control over the barbecue grill at the party. But he wants to be babied, and Mom loves to indulge even though she pretends like she doesn’t.”

“So…she isn’t coming?”

“Nope.” I kiss her. “Just you and me this weekend. How will we find a way to spend the time?”

The next morning, we bring the cookies to share at work, since we still have over two dozen left.

“Do you think people will like them?” Erin asks, eyeing the Tupperware container, as we step out of the elevator together.

“Of course. Everyone loves free home-baked cookies.” And I made sure they came out perfect.

“I guess, but… I’ve never done this before,” she whispers. “I mean, bringing them to work.”

“You brought them for me,” I point out.

“Yeah, but you like them. Most people don’t.” Anxiety tightens her mouth.

What Fordham said pops into my head, and I want to give her a hug of reassurance. To most people, these would just be cookies. To her, it’s proof that she’s mentally okay because of what her mom said.

“Trust me. They’re fine.” You’re fine. I swallow the last part since I don’t want to bring up a painful memory. I know we should talk about it at some point, but this isn’t the right time. The best thing is to wait until she’s comfortable enough to want to share it with me.

She nods, although her blue eyes are full of worry. I pat her shoulder, then place a quick kiss on the crown of her head. If I could, I’d travel back in time and destroy all the things that hurt her, beat the crap out of all the people who made her doubt herself.

Bev walks up. “Hey, Erin. Hi, David.”

“Hi,” Erin says.

“Good morning,” I say. “You’re here early.”

“There was a meeting with the team in Virginia.” She sighs. “The time difference sucks.” Bev’s eyes zero in on the Tupperware. “Ooh, cookies! Can I have one?