Page 15 of The Fake Family Deal

“Okay,” he says, and despite his face telling me he’s unhappy, the softness with which he holds Lila and the unconscious way he starts bouncing her tells me the truth.

I think Ellis might be getting attached already.

As I stir up the formula, nothing in his actions proves me wrong, and for the very first time, I find myself thinking that this crazy scheme might just have legs after all.

CHAPTER 9

ELLIS

Idrum my fingers on the kitchen counter, then pace back into the living room.

Marina and Lila are supposed to be visiting again soon so Marina can give my place a final thumbs-up. Or thumbs-down, if she feels she needs to.

I’m pretty much deferring to her in terms of baby stuff. I’m not too above myself not to make use of the talents and knowledge of the people around me — and babies are definitely an area I know nothing about.

They’re supposed to be arriving any second, and I’m finding myself weirdly nervous for it. I don’t know why. Last time went so well; almost too well, even. Maybe Lila was just being good, but it was far less awful than I was expecting it to be.

I just hope that’s not the best it’s ever going to be, because I need this to be a success. I don’t care how much money Marina needs to do this properly —I’ll give heranythingfor this work.

The doorbell rings and I walk over to answer it as casually as I can manage. I don’t want to seem too desperate.

I open the door to find Marina and her stroller waiting for me. I nod in recognition. “Hello.”

“Hey,” she smiles. “Can we come in?”

I step aside, watching as Marina rolls the dirty wheels of the stroller into my apartment. I suppose I can’t complain that much because at least she isn’t dragging it over the carpets, but the idea of that much dirt being in my home makes me shiver.

“How are you?” I ask as she reaches into the stroller. Lila starts wailing almost immediately.

Marina frowns. “She barely slept last night. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going through her head but she just will not settle.”

“Give her here,” I say, surprising myself by holding my arms out to take the baby.

“Really?” Marina squints suspiciously at me, like she doesn’t quite believe I mean it.

“So you can take your shoes off,” I say quickly to absolve myself of any idea that I might be starting to care about them.

Marina reaches down to take off her shoes, and Lila starts wailing into my chest, drool and tears soaking my shirt. I should be bothered by it more than I am. Almost instinctively, I start bouncing her.

To everyone’s relief, Lila’s wailing slowly decreases in volume until all she’s doing is sniffling and making my shirt damp. “Okay, you’re kind of heavy. Can I put you down soon?” I say to her. She doesn’t respond. Of course she doesn’t. She’s not even one year old yet. I don’t know why I keep expecting this baby to have a full conversation with me.

I take the reduction in volume as a yes. Marina is giving me this really strange look as if to sayI didn’t think you had that in you. Unfortunately for her, I see everything as a challenge and I refuse to believe that there’sanythingI can’t do if I put my mind to it enough.

Anyway, I think the surprise that I’ve got for her is really going to please her. It’s not that I have any interest in pleasing her, but I’ll be astonished if she isn’t happy.

The more I think things like that, the more it sounds like I’m lying to myself. I don’t think I am. It’s not like I even really know Marina at all. It’s just the nature of the situation that means I’m going to have togetto know her.

I open the door for her with one hand, figuring out how to balance Lila at the same time, and Marina steps through. When she takes in the room, she gasps lightly. “When did you do all this? It’s only been a couple of days.”

“You’ll be amazed what money can buy you,” I say as I carefully deposit Lila on the floor. She rolls onto her bottom, then starts shuffling into the room with us.

The truth is, my interior decorators have been here almost nonstop for the last few days.

It’s been strange to adjust to it because it’s so different to anything I would ever want for myself. And I would never confess to this to a single human being, but I keep finding myselfsmiling. I’m almostlikingthe new colors and furniture that Jeanette — my decorator — has put in place.

She’s given the walls lovely, tasteful accents of pinks and purples and arranged some throw blankets and pillows on the sofa. She’s hung some bright, generic posters up on the walls and changedmy lightbulbs to make the room seem warmer, friendlier. And she’s put a box of toys near the window.

It’s exactly the kind of décor you would expect parents of a small child to have.

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