Page 12 of The Guy Who Fake Dated Me

“And you’ll be in the wedding party?” Natalie asked with hope shining on her face.

“Of course,” I said again. I pictured Logan in a tuxedo, and before I knew it, I said, “And put me down for a plus one.”

“Oh yeah?” Kyle asked, leaning forward.

Where had that come from? My mind wailed at me to stop, because I didn’t actually have anyone to bring, but I didn’t want Kyle to worry about me. So, I straightened in my chair and smiled. “Yeah.”

Chapter 4

-Logan-

I opened the door to my parents’ house and winced at the tone of my mom’s voice from the kitchen.

“I prefer the lobster to the crab.”

Sky, who padded in beside me, let out a little whine.

“She’s all bark, buddy.” I scratched his ears.

I could hear the scowl in my dad’s reply as I made my way toward the voices.

“Crab is half the price.”

“This is our fortieth anniversary.”

I arrived just in time to see Mom cross her arms over her stomach and glare at my dad.

“People are going to eat whatever we put in front of them,” Dad said.

My parents sat across from each other at a long wood table. Crystal, my sister, lounged at the far end. She caught my attention as I entered and gave me an eye roll.

If I had to guess, I’d say that our parents had been bickering over the menu for their big anniversary party for at least twenty minutes.

“Sorry I’m late.” I let Sky out into the backyard, giving him a warning look that said he should stay away from any wild animals, then settled in next to my mom. Like always, there was a bowl of pistachios on the table.

“I want something memorable,” my mom said.

“Peanut butter sandwiches would be memorable,” Dad offered.

Mom perched on the edge of her chair, sitting ramrod straight, her long blond hair pulled into a bun, wearing a dark blue pantsuit that made her look like a corporate executive. I was pretty sure she’d worn it to try to intimidate my dad.

On the other hand, Dad sat back in his chair, fingers drumming on the table, wearing his oldest pair of green sweats and his favorite holey shirt.

This was the game they played. Mom would be all business, making demands, tossing out logic, and in general, fighting tooth and nail to get her way. Dad stayed relaxed, goaded my mom until he got bored, then he’d propose a compromise that my mom would love, and they’d go to their bedroom to kiss and make up.

It had taken me until high school to figure out they weren’t fighting; they were flirting. I could tell my dad was indeed getting bored and figured this would be wrapped up in the next ten minutes.

When my mom met my gaze with a serious expression on her face, I frowned. Were they actually fighting?

“We have a problem,” she said.

Crystal’s head lolled back, and she stared at the ceiling. She was a carbon copy of my mom with the same light skin and blond hair, only she hadn’t changed out of her short-shorts and tank top from sleeping.

“The menu?” I pointed at my dad. “I’m totally down with peanut butter.”

Mom let out a long breath, as if she’d been dealing with fifteen-year-old me for the past hour. “Your Aunt Angela wants to come to the party, but she’s in China until Thanksgiving.”

“Sounds like she’s going to miss it.” I grabbed a couple of pistachios and cracked one open.

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