Page 2 of Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

“Thanks.”

“You need to eat,” she says, her brow creasing. “You must have lost ten pounds since I saw you last.”

“I took up yoga,” I lie.

Dad gives me a look like he doesn’t believe a word of it, and Mom carries on plating food and telling me that I’ll waste away if I lose any more weight.

Actually, I’ve always wanted to take up yoga. I just never found the time. The truth is, I’ve been pretty stressed over the last couple of months, and Mom’s right; the pounds have fallen off. Not quite ten, but a few. It’s just more noticeable because of my already slender figure.

“It’s so good to have you home,” Mom continues. “We hardly get to see you now that you live so far away.”

“She comes to see us every three months, Bella,” Dad pipes up in my defense.

“Still,” Mom continues, “a day here or there isn’t quite the same.”

Dad pulls a comical face and rolls his eyes, and I have to cough to stop myself from laughing.

“So,” he says, digging a fork into his salami. “How long are you here for?”

“Gerry!” Mom gasps. “She’s only just arrived, and you already want to know when she’s leaving?”

Dad shakes his head patiently. “No, dear.” I can hear him trying to keep the sarcasm from his tone, which makes me want to laugh again. “I’m simply trying to gauge the situation. Tilly knows she can stay for as long as she likes.”

“Our daughter is not a situation to be gauged,” Mom huffs.

“Guys. It’s fine,” I say, jumping in before there’s a nuclear explosion over the salad. “The answer is, I don’t really know. I made a bit of a rash decision, and now, I’m in limbo.”

Mom gives me a sympathetic glance. “What happened, darlin’? We thought you were happy with Bryan.”

“I thought I was, too,” I sigh. “The thing is, we’ve grown apart. We want different things, and it’s just not working out.”

I refrain from telling Dad the whole truth and nothing but the truth for fear he’ll grab his ax and make his way to the city to give Bryan a new hair parting.

“But you were together for three years,” Mom says, as though that makes some difference. “We thought we were going to hear wedding bells soon.”

“You thought,” Dad corrects her.

“Well, whatever,” Mom says. “Did you guys have a fight?”

“Mom, we’ve had lots of fights.”

Dad peers at me from across the table.

“Nothing physical,” I say quickly. “But you know something is wrong when you’re fighting more than you’re laughing.”

Which is exactly how things have been for the last nine months or more. Neither of us are happy. We haven’t been for a long time. It’s just that Bryan doesn’t want to admit that.

That’s because he’s a control freak and doesn’t want to let you go.

Yes, I’m well aware.

“Your father and I fight all the time.”

“You do it because you’re bored and need to entertain yourselves,” I quip. “It’s not the same.”

Mom grins and looks at Dad, who half smiles and shrugs in agreement.

“Can’t you guys talk about it and maybe patch things up?” Mom continues.

---