Page 87 of Pretend for Me

The day was absolutely perfect for us. Just friends, family, and love. We’d earned the chance to make nothing but happy memories for a change.

“Oh, by the way, Joy called. She's ordering us dinner and having it delivered. Parker insists on us trying this new pizza place on Main Street. It’s apparently the best in Jersey.” I snorted out a laugh, as if pizza places weren’t a dime a dozen in New Jersey or in the city for that matter. But I was just so thankful to have Joy and Parker as part of my makeshift family. They’d really stepped up in ways I never dreamed.

Once Parker was cleared of any wrongdoing, we spent more and more time getting to know each other better. They filled in as the stand-in parents we always needed. Parker was now taking a break from the business world. He and Joy were living off their savings until they came up with a better, healthier plan.

I had people who called to check on me and to talk to about house stuff I was concerned about, and I had a handy “dad” who already spotted a leak in the upstairs bathroom. Lost in my reverie of gratitude for this change in my life, I let out a sigh of relief before I turned to look at my husband.

“It’ll be a while until the pizza’s here. Do you know what else we could do besides wait for the furniture?” Matthew asked, with a Cheshire Cat smile.

“What?” I said, quirking an eyebrow in his direction.

“Christen the place!” Matthew laughed, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

I giggled at his antics, a flush creeping up over my face as I remembered how we had said goodbye to our old apartment. As newlyweds, we were insatiable for each other. I was working on my pregnancy/baby fear, but I’d finally agreed to get rid of the condoms and just use the pill for birth control. I was not ready to take any other leaps besides that at the moment. Dayby day, hour by hour, minute by minute was what our therapist suggested.

Marriage and a house were the right steps toward building a solid future with one another. We were still in therapy, consistently working through any bumps that came our way. Talk of babies in the future had come up, but we had agreed there was no rush—it didn’t mean we couldn’t have fun “practicing.” We also had the perfect fur baby in Rocky.

Besides, our time had been filled with other pursuits for strengthening this new life we were building together. Matthew had gone back to school to become certified as a guidance counselor. It was what he wanted to do from the start. Before his adopted parents had told him it wasn’t a good enough dream. Before he had lost sight of what mattered. Before everything.

Having his eyes opened to everything going on around him had helped him regain focus, to rediscover something he was passionate about. He wanted to help kids, kids like Charlie, like me, like himself. Matthew, of all people, knew how tough life could be. He knew how having just one person believe in you, to stand in your corner, could have a positive impact. Making a difference was important to him. He was focused on being that person for kids in need.

Everything else would wait for the right time. Much like our relationship. Right here, right now was all we could worry about. Time only ticked away.

Matthew followed me into the house. He looked around in awe. We were still in shock that we owned it.

“Not bad for two foster kids, right?” Matthew joked, patting my ass as I climbed the stairs.

“Not at all.” I chuckled, setting the box of art stuff in front of the guest bedroom door.

I had to get to work on some more pieces for an upcoming art show with Marcus. He wanted lots of new pieces fast.

Matthew took my hand in his, kissing my fingertips. “Did you ever think life would be like this?”

I looked into his green eyes that melted me every time. I nodded, suddenly feeling like an optimist. “Yes,” I whispered, pulling him down the hall and into our bedroom. I shook my hips a little bit, feeling his hardness press against me. I wiggled, causing a growl to erupt in Matthew’s chest. I stifled a laugh but rid myself of my top and started unbuttoning my jeans.

Next stop: the kitchen. We had a thing for kitchens.

Sonny'son 5th’s doors weren’t yet open for Sunday brunch, but Bridget had set up in the garden area for a luncheon reunion which was to double as Audrey’s surprise engagement luncheon. Since moving, we’d all gone our separate ways. Even though we had tried to keep in touch as much as possible, our friendships weren’t the same as they once were. We weren’t the same as we once were.

I pulled at the hem of my floral and cream dress. It felt too short and I was even more grateful I had drawn the line at wearing heels, opting for a pair of white tennis shoes instead. Bridget, being Bridget, insisted on me wearing a dress. She wasn’t even my boss anymore and she was still ordering me around

“Sit here,” I instructed Matty before taking off my white shawl and hanging in on the chair behind me.

“So how long have you been doing this?” Bridget interrogated from her spot at the table next to ours. “Give me one good reason why you deserve this?”

I looked on, captivated by the way the hands of the guy seated across from her shook slightly underneath the table and a beadof sweat ran down his forehead, as Bridget gave him her most intimidating glare.

Interviews often went this way. She’d put on her game face and scare them shitless. She embodied the expression: “if you can’t handle the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

“Mrs. McAlistar—errr–ma’am,” he stammered, wiping more sweat falling from his head. Her glare turned menacing as he called her ma’am. “I just want to take your daughter to prom.”

In this case, it wasn’t the kitchen the interviewees couldn’t handle but Bridget’s vetting process for Charlotte’s prospective dates. With her track record, who could blame Bridget for being hesitant, at best.

“Bee, his dad is a cop and this kid does community service for fun.” Holden spoke at last, finally being the voice of reason.

Bridget leaned back in her chair, eying him shrewdly.

Bridget and Holden were inching toward finalizing the adoption and working on a transition plan with Charlotte’s caseworker. I’d witnessed on several occasions how protective of Charlotte that Bridget was.

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