Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend 1)

“Kissing a guy might do that to a straight dude.”

Maddox bursts out laughing. “I don’t think it’s the kiss. It’s …” His eyes meet mine, and his laughter dies. “We should get down there—before Mom gets impatient.”

When we dress and go downstairs, Maddox’s parents have set out two more folding chairs opposite theirs and brought out extra blankets for us.

Maddox hands me a warm beer and then holds my free hand as we take our seats. I’m confused by the move. He’s freaking out about kissing me, but now his fingers are relaxed and warm, intertwined with mine. He could use the argument that we’re in front of his parents and it’s part of the act, but we haven’t shown much affection in front of them all weekend, so there’s no real need to do it now. Unless he wants to ease his mother’s mind, in which case, makes sense. But—

“You thinking deep thoughts over there?” Maddox asks quietly.

I shake my head and mumble, “Confusing thoughts.”

“Welcome to my world.” His smile is easy and his panic from earlier gone.

I wonder if he’s suffering some sort of PTKD—post-traumatic kissing disorder—and has blocked it out already.

The fire barely does anything to keep us warm in the late February cold, but the blanket draped over us is thick and does the job.

My lungs fill with fresh air and smoke. The sky looks as it should outside of the city. I grew up on Long Island, so I’m not used to seeing so many stars. I went camping upstate once when I was thirteen with my best friend, Eric, and his family. Staring up at the sky, I try to spot the constellation that looks like a dick. I couldn’t see it when I was a kid, and I guess I won’t find it now. Maybe Eric was messing with me. He’s a pro at that.

“Your aunt Cheri called while you were at the wedding,” Maddox’s mom says.

“How is crazy Aunt Cheri?” Maddox asks and then turns to me. “She’s seriously a nut. You know how people say they’re gonna run off and join the circus? Mom’s sister did it.”

“She does not travel with a circus,” Alana says, her tone exasperated. “She’s a psychic. She travels with others and does astrology readings and all that stuff.”

“Exactly. Circus,” Maddox says. “She dresses like a hippie and calls herself a free spirit.”

“You might not believe in all that mumbo jumbo, but how do you explain the fact she hasn’t called in months and calls tonight looking for you?” The light flickering across Alana’s face from the fire makes her look smug.

Maddox rolls his eyes. “Coincidence. Why was she looking for me?”

“She’s coming into town next month and she wants to see you. Talk to you about … some things.”

Maddox is too busy looking at his mom to notice his dad tense beside her. Guess he’s not a fan of his crazy sister-in-law.

“What things?” Maddox asks.

“I don’t know, Maddy, why don’t you come home and ask her yourself next month?”

He leans forward. “Can’t she come to New York?”

“Is it really that hard to come home again?” Alana’s words hold mother’s guilt—something my own mother has perfected over the years. A woman’s brain must change after giving birth, or their guilt gene kicks in, because mothers have it down to an art.

My mom pulled the guilt card last year when I ditched Stacy’s graduation ceremony to hang out with Eric. She didn’t understand I was in a bad place with him because of stupid, stupid shit that wasn’t worth losing a twenty-year friendship over, but I couldn’t come out and tell her that’s why I skipped out. And to think, if I had gone to Stacy’s graduation, I would’ve met Maddox then. Would’ve been better than what I ended up doing that night.

“I’ll try.” Maddox sips his beer.

Mother’s guilt wins again.

“It’s a shame Tommy had a home game this weekend,” Alana says. “If he was away, Jacie and the kids could’ve come to see you. He’s gone so much during the season; they need family time when he’s home.”

“Tommy?” I ask. Boston player named Tommy … Holy fucking shit. “Your brother-in-law is Tomik ‘Tommy’ Novak? No fucking way.” My eyes widen. “Sorry for swearing, Mr. and Mrs. O’Shay, but that is seriously cool.”

“We’re fucking Irish, we don’t care about swearing,” Colin says.

“How did you not know about Tommy?” his mom asks.

Oops.

“I didn’t tell him,” Maddox says. “Maybe I didn’t want Damon to use me to get to Tommy.”

Yet, he offered him up anyway. My meeting is with Tommy Novak? There’s no way he’d dump his agent for a newbie like me …

I let out an exasperated grunt when I work it out. Maddox never told me who it was because he knew I wouldn’t have accepted the terms. Meeting with Tommy would be a complete waste of time at this stage of my career. When Maddox said high profile, I thought he was overselling and possibly knew someone on the farm team for Boston. I didn’t realize he was underselling. He should’ve said hockey god.