Page 96 of Fake It 'til You Make It

Is he a fantastic bluffer or does he really feel the connection between us that I can feel with every part of me?

Will it matter in a fewdays’ time?

As my sister asks about his injury and when he’ll be back playing for the Giants, I remember that none of this is real and it can’t be real. He has a complete mess going on with his girlfriend or ex-girlfriend and his team mate that he hasn’t fully resolved.

I try to push all of this from my mind and remember how great today has been – one of the best days of my life – and it’s not so hard to do as the wine and conversation flow around the table.

My sister and Shernette are on top form. My fake boyfriend isbeing as funny as I’ve known him. My dad is full of joy. And Mom seems genuinely happy.

Time flies as we work through Mom’s lasagna and, much to Mike’s amusement, the peanut butter and chocolate fudge cake she has made especially for me.

Without the pressure of letting people down, I could really miss home.

Everything is going swimmingly until Dee asks, ‘So what do you think about Andrew telling Abbey he’s still in love with her yesterday, Mike?’

If my eyes could leap from my head, they would have.

Mike lets go of my hand he was holding beneath the table. ‘You saw Andrew?’

I clear my throat and feel all eyes around the table on me. ‘I bumped into him. He was coming to pick up his mom.’

Mike’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t speak; he only looks at me, reading me, searching for truth, I think. I’ve lied to him again.

I remember my reaction when I got home from lunch yesterday. My tears, screaming into my pillow. I’d be willing to bet he thinks that was all down to Andrew.

What does he make of it? I don’t find out because he twists on a smile – he has gotten so good at faking it. Picking up his dirty plate, he says, ‘I’ll help you clean up, Mrs Mitchell.’

We all pitch in with the clean-up and retire to the lounge for coffees – Mike joining Dad with an Irish coffee and talking business, whilst the rest of us drink decaf and look at the old photographs Mom has dug out.

I keep trying to get Mike on his own and explain that I told Andrew there was no chance of us getting back together but he’s avoiding me, I’m sure of it.

I wonder what he’s thinking. How he’s feeling.

I wonder if the only person who has fallen for our hoax is me.

‘I’m pooped,’ Dee says, yawning.

‘Yes, and we’ve got an early start tomorrow, girls. Shernette, you’ll get ready with us in the morning, won’t you?’ Mom asks.

‘I wouldn’t miss it, Mrs M.’

‘Right then, gents,’ Mom says, rising from the sofa, putting the last of the photographs back in the box they came from and tucking them away in an ottoman footstool. ‘We’ll let you talk business and sport whilst we ladies get some beauty sleep.’

She heads over to Dad and gives him a quick kiss. ‘Goodnight, my darling. Don’t jilt me at the altar, will you?’

‘I never did first time,’ Dad says, which is typically him. A closet romantic.

Then Mom turns to Mike, places a gentle hand on his shoulder and says, ‘Sleep well, Michael. I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.’

It’s far from an expression of love but it’s also a near 180 on their first meeting.

‘I’m looking forward to it, Mrs Mitchell.’

‘Would you call me Anna?’

Mike smiles outwardly but his eyes don’t dazzle the way I know they do when he’s genuinely happy. ‘Anna.’

I’m disappointed today is done. I’m even more disappointed by the way it has ended, and that I’m sharing a bed with Dee tonight.

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