Page 80 of My Favorite Holidate

I shouldn’t do this while he’s driving. I really shouldn’t. I’m not even sure if it’s the competition spurring me on or something else entirely. Something I’m just beginning to grapple with. But I do it anyway. I set my hand on his arm, giving a gentle rub of his shoulder. “How about that?”

“Real,” he mutters, his jaw tight.

I move my hand on the denim of his jeans, just above his knee. Like a girlfriend would. “Authentic?”

He takes a beat for a quarter-mile stretch of the road. Then, he says in a barren whisper, “Perfect.”

I’m tempted to leave my hand right here for the rest of the drive—for authenticity’s sake and all—but when his phone rings and the nameMomflashes across the screen, I rip my hand off him.

25

ONE OF THOSE NEWFANGLED SITUATIONSHIPS

Wilder

I’m wavering. I don’t usually waver.

But then again, my mom doesn’t usually call when my fake girlfriend is in the car. My fake girlfriend who’s feeling more real by the minute. My fake girlfriend who knows I don’t want to lie to my mother.

Still, my finger hovers by the answer button on the car’s dash.

Fable looks at me with concern, then says, “I can just be quiet. She doesn’t have to know I’m here.”

The thought sends my mind reeling. Reminds me of my father and his lies. The way he hid his whereabouts when he went out and gambled. How he’d call from quieter places to hide the fact that he was in a casino. My heart squeezes with a wave of emotion for Fable. For her willingness to make this easy for me. For her eagerness to help. But I won’t ask her to double lie by pretending she’s not even in the car.

I don’t waver as I say, “No.”

“Wilder,” she says, like she can convince me otherwise. She could probably convince me of a lot of things. But in this case, I’m not bending.

The phone rings again.

“I won’t pretend you’re not here,” I tell her, resolute, then hit answer.

“Hello, Mom,” I say.

“Hi, kiddo,” she says.

Fable whips her gaze to me, her warm eyes dancing with delight.“Kiddo,”she mouths.

“How’s everything going? Also, we’re not alone. Fable is in the car with me. She works for the team,” I say, then with barely a pause, I add, “we’re seeing each other. But she’s not my direct report.”

There. That last part will matter to my mother. Just like it mattered to Bibi and, well, to the employee handbook.

Fable waves to the dashboard screen though, of course, Mom can’t see her. “Hi! I can’t wait to meet you. Wilder has told me so much about you. How is London?”

Mom takes a second or two before she answers with, “London is lovely, but so is Evergreen Falls. And are you heading there too?”

“I am,” Fable says. “We’re in Wilder’s car right now. Also, did you know he can change the battery in a smoke detector, Ms.—” Fable turns to me, asking with her eyes for Mom’s last name.

“Hunter. Elizabeth Hunter,” I supply.

“Ms. Hunter. He also fixed my toaster. He’s a handyman! So thank you, since I can only assume this is your excellent work,” she says.

“As a matter of fact, I’m pretty handy. I did teach him all those things, but credit to him too. He was dead set on knowing how to do everything. So glad he’s put those skills to good use.” And just like that, Fable is charming my mother.

“Well, heisan Aries. They’re determined and independent,” she says.

My heart should not be beating faster. It should not be surging simply because Fable remembers details about my mother, like her passion for the signs of the zodiac. But it is. It fucking is.

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