Page 81 of My Favorite Holidate

As I drive and they chat, I fight off a fresh wave of feelings for Fable. Must focus on the road. Only the road. Not on the ease with which the woman I’m supposedly seeing is winning my mother’s heart.

When they’re done chatting, my mom clears her throat. “Wilder, I have a question about Mac’s gift. Can you send me a photo of Penguin’s tail?”

I laugh. “You think I have a photo of the cat’s tail?”

“Yes. I do,” she says. “I bet it’s on your camera roll. I bet you took one of her this morning.”

Fable’s jaw drops, like I’ve been busted. Then, more amused than she’s ever been, she jumps in, saying, “He did, Ms. Hunter. He did. He loves taking pictures of the cat.”

My mom sighs happily. “He takes them for Mac.”

“It’s so sweet,” Fable says.

“Yes, I’ll send you one when we stop,” I say to my mom.

“Well, stop soon! I’m finishing her gift—Penguin’s portrait—and I want to get the tail just right.”

“Yes, Mom,” I grumble.

Mom chuckles in response. “Now you can keep him in line, Fable.”

I wince, guilt slicing through me. Fable was right when she said it’d be hard to lie to my mother. My mother’s not like Bibi. She’s not constantly trying to set me up. She understands why I’m relationship-free. She’s the same. She knows romance isn’t a thing that works out for some of us, and she’s happy nonetheless.

She’d understand this fake-dating thing with Fable. Except, I don’t want to ruin anything for my pretend girlfriend, who leans closer to the phone to hit the mute button. Her voice is serious as she says, “I want to tell her the truth. We can’t lie to her. Please tell me you’re okay with it.”

The plea in her eyes. The vulnerability in her voice. The kindness of the gesture. Sometimes I wish she’d make it harder not to fall for her.

I hit the turn signal and say, “Yes.”

It’s easier than I thought it’d be, but that’s how it goes with her.

Fable unmutes the phone. “Ms. Hunter, can you keep a secret?”

“Oh, this sounds interesting. And of course,” my mom says as I turn onto the next exit ramp.

“Good. Because we’re going to need your help to pull this off,” she adds.

“Well, my day just got a lot more interesting.”

“This is vault level. The kind of vault that only a compassionate, balanced Libra who can see all sides can handle,” she adds.

“That’s me,” Mom says.

There’s a pause, a deep breath, then Fable jumps. “Wilder is not my real boyfriend.” Fable almost sounds disappointed.

There’s silence on my mother’s end of the line as I pull into the parking lot at a roadside store. Then she says, “Ah, this is one of those newfangled situationships?”

I appreciate her attempt to understand this, but it’s time to jump in. “Bibi is Bibi-ing, and Caroline is Caroline-ing, and you and I know it’s not going to happen. I needed a plus one for the wedding to ward them off, and Fable graciously agreed,” I say, quickly getting to brass tacks. “Her ex-boyfriend happens to be the world’s biggest prick and he’ll be at the wedding, so all the better that he sees she’s moved on.”

“To a better man,” Fable adds with an emphatic nod.

There’s a beat. Then, an “I see.” It’s like her Libra brain is weighing this new intel. “So it’s fake, but you’re actually going to the wedding together?”

“Yes,” I say.

“And traveling together?”

“Yes.”

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