Page 68 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

I nod. “You’re right.”

I walk over to Trey and Happy. “You’re monopolizing my man. May I cut in?”

Happy scowls but reluctantly pulls away. Trey happily takes me into his big arms. I wrap my arms around his neck and look up at him.

He smiles down at me. “Finally, the woman I want to dance with.”

“Happy might murder me in my sleep to get to you.”

He chuckles. “She kept grabbing my ass.”

“I bet she did.”

“She told me the funniest joke.”

“She’s full of them. What was it?”

“What did one saggy boob say to the other saggy boob?”

“What?”

“If we don’t get some support soon, people will think we’re nuts.”

I let out a laugh. “Typical Happy joke.”

I lift on my tippy toes and kiss his lips.

“What was that for?”

“Thank you for today. All of it. Your thoughtful gifts, the beautiful breakfast, and for being so good to my grandmother and her friends. You made this Christmas a special one.”

“I’d do anything for you, Gemma.”

How can a man look so sincere when I know he’s hiding something?

He expertly twirls me a few times and I giggle. “Why are you such a good dancer?”

“My parents forced Diana and me to take lessons for years. They said it would look good on our college applications.”

“But you didn’t go to college, did you?”

He shakes his head.

I didn’t mean to do it in this setting, but it slips out. “Because the Bombers drafted you right out of high school.”

He stops moving and his smile immediately fades away. He’squiet for a few long beats before asking, “How long have you known?”

“Since you tapped on my shoulder at the bar, and I turned around and saw you.”

He exhales a long breath, almost as if a burden has been lifted. “Can we go for a walk and talk about it?”

I nod.

I motion to my grandmother that we’re leaving, and we exit the pool area. Given the time of year, it already gets dark before five o’clock. We walk away from the bright lights of the party into the twilight.

He takes my hand in his and I let him. “Well, you haven’t kicked me in the balls or thrown me out, so I suppose that’s a good sign. I don’t want to have a third-act breakup.”

I roll my eyes. “This isn’t a romance novel, Trey. I’m not interested in throwing a dramatic tantrum about betrayal and storming off where we both wallow in misery for weeks or months. I want an honest conversation. It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. I need to understand why. Why have you been lying to me for two months? You can’t tell me you love me and then also lie to my face every single day. The two things simply don’t go hand in hand.”

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