Page 21 of The Fake Family Deal

“Hey, Ellis, do you want to help?” asks Marina, sounding more than a little like an exhausted wife whose husband never helps with anything. It’s not exactly the love and affection that we were hoping for.

“Okay,” I say, and she blinks in surprise like she was expecting me to sit here grumpily the whole time. And I had been planning on it, but the fact is, the longer we take to film, the longer it’ll be before everyone gets out of my house.

And I really want them gone. So, we have to give them a show.

“Give me the yellow,” I say, holding out my hand.

Marina passes it over, and Lila watches it fly over her head. As I squeeze a little paint from the tube, Marina squares up the canvas — a big rectangle of paper that already has sticky handprints on it.

“Lila, let’s paint,” grins Marina, holding out her hands to encourage the baby to come back to her. Lila babbles something that I can only assume is her replying, as if to echo the word “paint” before she can even speak.

Clearly, this is a pretty common activity for Marina and Lila, because Lila settles in her mother’s lap and stares expectantly, waiting to get her tiny fingers messy. “How do you feel aboutblue?” Marina says, holding up a swatch of paint for her to sample.

Lila claps her hands excitedly. “I think yellow is better,” I say as if it’s a competition. I hold out the yellow to Lila, and her eyes sparkle.

Without a care in the world, she wiggles out of Marina’s grip and crawls over to me, completely ignoring her mother. She doesn’t hesitate when she reaches me and sticks her hands straight into the paint. “Good job,” I say. It seems like as good a thing to say as any.

Lila nods like she agrees, then turns to the paper to drag wobbly handprints over the page. “Excellent,” I say.

Nothing about it is excellent, but Lila turns to grin and me, and, dammit, her tiny little smile is kind of cute.

I can feel Marina watching us both, but I don’t dare look over. If I do, the illusion will shatter.

“Very good. Now, how about green?”

“There isn’t a green,” says Marina, frowning.

I shake my head. Has she never designed anything before? “Watch this,” I say to Lila, waving at her to get her attention. “Look. We have yellow here, yes? And over there is some blue.”

Marina huffs in confusion when I reach over to snatch the blue away from her. I keep my eyes averted, not wanting to lose Lila’s focus. “Let’s mix these up,” I say, squeezing some blue paint onto the yellow. “What do you think we’re going to get?”

I place the tray down and make a circular motion to her, indicating to her that she should use her hands to stir ourconcoction. But she just stares blankly at me, almost like her grasp of language is minimal at best.

I had hoped not to have to do this, but it doesn’t look like there’s any other way to make Lila understand. Tentatively, I stick my finger in the paint and start mixing it up. Lila stares at me like she doesn’t know what’s about to happen. Did Marina never do basic color mixing with her? If they really paint as much as she claims, surely Lila understands that something will happen.

Suddenly, she claps her yellow hands together and sticks them both in the paint. I nod approvingly. “You see, it’s going to turn green, because that’s what happens when you mix yellow and blue. This is called color theory.”

Marina laughs at that, her smile the most genuine it’s been in days. Okay, so color theory might be a bit beyond a nine-month-old baby, but it’s never too early to start their education. If it were up to me, we’d be going to art galleries and plays and symphonies. I might be in the business world, and I might not be the most artistically inclined person, but the arts are important to a well-rounded education.

For a second, I almost forget she’s not really mine.

I glance over at Marina, taking in the way she’s glowing, and hope she can’t see the faint blush that’s rising hot on my cheeks. She nods, encouraging us to keep going. It’s a wonder that she trusts me with her child.

For a while, I watch Lila play with the muddy green mix she’s making, then remember that I’m allowed to interact with her more than this. Tentatively, I reach out to take her hands, guiding her around the page as we create two elegant curves.

“There,” I say, presenting the brownish love heart to Marina. “This is for your mommy.”

Marina gasps faintly, and I realize plastered across my face is the most genuine smile I’ve given in a long time. She gawps at me like this is something else she didn’t believe I was capable of, and my smile fades a little.

Still, it almost feels true in this second. That we are more than strangers, and that Lila could be ours. That caring about her isn’t just an act.

For so long, all I’ve cared about is myself, my career, my life. I never stopped to consider anyone else before, not the way I should.

But watching Lila here, giggling and rolling around, and Marina looking at her with all the love in the world… it’s making me contemplate that there might be more to life after all. There might be something more worthwhile than the numbers in my bank account.

When the end of the day rolls round, Simon flashes us a rare smile. “Keep this up, and we might even finish inside the three weeks we have planned. More like today, all right? That’s what we need.”

The camera crew starts packing up, and as they do, Marina comes up to me. “Ellis, you’re really good with her, you know.”

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