Page 54 of For Fake's Sake and other stories

“You’ve set a precedent now. You’re on gift-buying duty forever.” He leans back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “Now, spill the tea on the date.”

“Nope, I know you, and it will be round the office in no time. But damn, he’s so my type. I’m done at my desk, so I’m out of here.”

I drive out to the site of a new development. It’s looking good. A large proportion of it is low-cost housing, offering affordable houses to first-time buyers. Something that is desperately needed all over the country. I’m only wasting time until I can get home, get ready, and spend the night with Noah. Dinner first, Everett. Don’t rush him.

I reach the closed doorway of MeXX with only a couple of minutes to spare. Jitters flood my stomach as I look up and down the pedestrian-only street, not knowing where Noah will come from.

Five minutes pass, and there’s no sign of him.

Another ten minutes pass, and still no Noah.

Thirty minutes pass, and I cancel the reservation and go home.

When I walk back to the cash desk, Jess and Chloe are practically vibrating, squealing and clapping.

“Oh. My. God, Noah. That’s the hottest man alive. Did you say yes? You’re so lucky,” Jess says, her pitch so high the street cats might start yowling.

“I said yes. We’re going for dinner tonight.” My stomach spins, churning with both excitement and fear. Why does a man so handsome want to spend time with me? I’m awkward, all skin and bones, and likely to trip over my own feet on a perfectly flat surface. He’s all broad shoulders and sexy scruff that’s going a little grey. The perfect older man, totally up my alley. I’ve always fancied older men. They know how to treat their boys. As he looked me up and down, his deep blue eyes caressed me as if they were his fingertips, like he wanted to strip me bare and cover me with his much larger and stronger body.

“That’s amazing. Did he say where he was going to take you?” Chloe joins the conversation after serving a customer.

“The rooftop restaurant.”

The oohs and aahs start again, and I want the day to be over so I can meet Everett. Such a cool name. One I haven’t heard much, but it suits him.

But as soon as I step inside my house, I know something is wrong. Usually, music welcomes me, but tonight the house isquiet, no sound coming from anywhere. That means it’s going to be impossible to leave tonight. My mum is having a bad day.

“Noah,” she calls out, “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” I hang my satchel on the end of the banister and walk into the living room. My mum is lying on the sofa, a blanket covering her legs up to her waist. Filo, our cat, sits on her lap. “You’ve had a rough day.”

It’s not a question. I can see straight away that the fatigue has hit her hard. Her MS has been getting so much more difficult for her to manage. Some days all she wants to do is sleep. She’s not always like this. In fact, she’s been really perky and capable for a month or so now, but a relapse can sneak up at any time. I hate to see her struggle, but I know this phase will pass. “Have you taken your meds?”

She shakes her head, and I scoop the daytime tablets out of the little ceramic bowl and give them to her, along with a glass of water. After she’s taken them, I sit on the edge of the sofa, down by her feet.

“How was your day?” She lies back on the cushions.

How can I tell her it was perfect, that I’ve met a man who wants to take me to dinner? I can’t, because I can’t leave her on her own now. I have to make sure she gets something to eat and gives herself the injection that has become essential. Three times a week without fail.

“It was okay. You know, the usual.” Only it wasn’t the usual day. It was an incredible, amazing, fantastic day, full of hope and excitement at having something to look forward to, something that will break this cycle of my monotonous life.

But Mum narrows her eyes. She can read me like a book and always knows when I’m holding something back. “What happened?”

“Um, someone asked me out for dinner tonight, but it’s okay. It doesn’t matter. Now, what do you want for dinner? There’s still some lasagne in the fridge. I can heat it up. It won’t take long.”

“Noah, stop this. I’m okay, resting. I don’t even think it’s turning into a relapse. I’m just tired today. Go out. Meet the man who made your eyes sparkle. I can get myself some food. I’m not completely incapable, you know.”

“I know that, Mum. But it’s fine. Making sure you’re okay is more important than a date. It was kind of impulsive of him, a spur-of-the-moment invitation because I helped him. I’m certain it was only a thank you for that.” I’m placating her because his eyes shone as excitedly as I felt.

She accepts my response, but sadness lingers in her gaze. I swallow down my disappointment and walk into the kitchen to sort out our dinner, refusing to look at the time. The evening passes quietly. After we’ve eaten, Mum has a bath and goes to bed. It’s only a quarter to nine when her bedroom door clicks shut. I close my eyes and hold back the tears. For just one night, I wanted her to be okay and well enough to wave me off and let me go and enjoy myself.

The next morning, I get out of the house without too much trouble. Mum’s feeling much better. I know she wants to tell me how much she appreciates all I do for her. But today I don’t want her apologies. I want to go to work and forget about the superhot guy. How would he have felt when I didn’t show up?

As soon as I step into the shop, the girls rush toward me, asking how the date went and if I’m going to see him again.

“Sorry, ladies, nothing to say. Don’t bring it up again, please.” It’s a shitty thing to make out that it was a bad date rather than a non-existent one.

They stay quiet but cast glances at each other. I get on with my work, and thankfully, that includes a new delivery of stock. I can lose myself in the mundane task of putting trousers and shiny tops on the shelves in the storage area. As an extra bonus, it means spending plenty of time off the shop floor.

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