Page 16 of The Fake Family Deal

She’s completely redone my spare room to turn it into a nursery too, painting the walls a warm yellow, and hanging lights and decorations throughout. She’s also installed fanciest crib I’ve ever seen. I have no idea how much Lila is going to appreciate it, but at least Marina will.

According to Jeanette, it’s going to be easy enough to put things back when all this is over. I hope she’s right. Tasteful and appropriate as all this is, I can’t live this way; I need my space to be clean and modern and look like an adult lives here.

“It looks great,” says Marina, looking around open-mouthed as she absorbs it all. “I wish I could get someone to come and decorate my apartment like this.”

I just grunt in acknowledgement. I feel like that’s better than putting my foot in it and sayingwell, why don’t you?

Lila seems to have a magnetic sense for the toys because she immediately starts crawling over to the window, her tiny hands tapping on the box when she gets there. She babbles something incomprehensible, and I say, “Okay, I’ll come and open it for you.”

Again, I notice Marina giving that strange smile that she kept giving the other day, biting at her lower lip as if she’s trying not to smile and failing because she’s so amused by me and her baby.

We all go to sit on the sofa, and it’s not until we’ve settled in that I notice Marina’s eyes watering. “What’s wrong?” I ask, perhaps a little too harshly.

She shakes her head. “No, nothing. I’m so sorry. I just… this is all so wonderful, Ellis. I never expected my daughter to be able to have anything like this. It’s just overwhelming, that’s all.”

I frown slightly, figuring that looking kind of solemn is the best response because I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to say next. People don’t usually cry in front of me so I’ve never understood what I’m meant to do. I’ve never really had time for things like girlfriends or relationships — I’ve had them, but I just found it so boring having to pretend to care.

I guess I’ve never really had an interest in people at all. I suppose that’s one of the main problems I’m having with all this — I’ve got no idea how I’m supposed to act as a married man.

Having no role models for that doesn’t help, either. I wonder how Lila is going to feel, having an adoring mother for the rest of her life. It must be nice to have parents who dote on you, instead of giving you the family fortune as a teenager and vanishing from your life altogether.

“It was nothing,” I say. “It’s just for the TV.”

“Of course.” Marina sniffles, trying to pull herself together. “I just appreciate it, that’s all.”

“I can get my designer to come to your apartment if you want?” I offer weakly. It’s a stupid thing to say, and I wince at myself as Marina scrunches her face in confusion. Quickly, I add, “Or anything like that — my decorator or cleaner. They’re good at what they do. And you’ll be able to afford it soon enough.”

Somehow, that doesn’t stop Marina’s tears, and her crying increases, tears rolling down her face properly now, in a way she can’t stop. Now Ireallydon’t know what to do.

Lila breaks the tension, shuffling back over to us like she can sense her mother’s distress. She sits at Marina’s feet and claps her hands and tugs on Marina’s pants, wanting to be lifted onto her mother’s lap. Marina reaches down and helps her up, scrubbing at her eyes again.

I open my mouth but can’t think of a single thing to say.

What a great start our fake marriage is getting off to.

Marina pulls Lila into a hug, kissing her daughter’s head and wrapping her arms around her. “I’m okay,” she says eventually. “I promise. I’m just tired. Lila hasn’t slept and I haven’t slept and it’s just a lot. All of this is just a lot.”

“Yeah,” I say, scrambling to fill the conversation. “Well… I hope you sleep better tonight.”

What a stupid thing to say. I can’t believe I’m being such an idiot. I have a beautiful woman crying in my house and all I could think to say isI hope you sleep better tonight. I might not have had any long-term relationships, but I’m not a fool. I’ve been known to charm women before.

It’s something I’m going to do again.

“Let me get you a drink,” I say, trying to recover whatever’s left of my dignity.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she says, shaking her head firmly. “I have to drive home anyway.”

“Right,” I say forgetting that normal people don’t have drivers to take them everywhere. “At least stay for dinner, then. I’ll have my chef come and cook us something.”

“You have achef,” she says, a statement rather than a question, her voice thick with emotion.

I shrug. “He was cheap. I used to have a Michelin-Star chef coming, but he was expensive and took an age to make anything. So, I fired him. He threw a fit, too, stormed right out and left the stove on.”

“Right…” says Marina, and I feel a huge gulf opening up between us again.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. Maybe I should have tried to find someone equally as wealthy as me.

Marina might have the looks and the baby, but at this rate, we’re never going to be able to pass as a couple. We’re just too different.

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