Page 28 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

“Wonderful. I’ll text Gemma the details. I’m thrilled that Gemmafinallyhas a boyfriend.”

“Mom, he’s not my—”

Before Gemma can correct her again, her mom hangs up. She blows out a breath. “I’m so sorry about that. I’ll make up an excuse as to why you can’t come. I can’t imagine going to her boyfriend’s house is at the top of your to-do list.”

I shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I’m happy to go. I have nothing else going on that day.”

An idea occurs to me. “Maybe I can practice my book-boyfriend moves on you. You can tell me if I’m doing them right and give me some…on-the-job training. It will be like a trial run.”

She runs her bottom lip through her teeth.

Smelly locker rooms. Smelly locker rooms.

“I suppose that could work, and I wouldn’t mind the familiar face. I want to prepare you. My mom is kind of a snob, and her life’s mission is for me to get married and have kids. She’ll probably have an officiant at her boyfriend’s house to marry us.”

I let out a laugh. “My mom too. It’s fine.”

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

“I’m guessing this is a newer boyfriend since you haven’t met his daughter yet?”

She nods. “Yes. I’ve only met him once, and my mother is a handful. She and I don’t always see eye to eye on things.”

“You mentioned a grandmother who helped you through the divorce. Is she still with us?”

She smiles. “Yes. She lives down on the west coast of Florida. I talk to her at least once a week. I’ll be down there for Christmas. I know it’s strange, but I love spending time with her and her friends. They’re a riot. It gives me a little perspective. If that makes sense.”

“It does. My niece does the same for me. I don’t see her asmuch as I’d like with my crazy schedule, but spending time with her, or even a phone call from her, is my happy place.”

“Remind me, how old is she?”

“Four.”

“Right. Where does your sister live?”

“In Greenwich, Connecticut. It’s a great area.”

Just then, a football lands at our feet and Gemma picks it up. We see kids down the block waving for us to throw it to them.

I hold out my hand. “It’s a far throw. Do you want me to do it?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “No, Trey, I don’t. I told you that I played football.”

I can’t help but smile at her indignation and decide to poke the bear a little more. “Weren’t you a kicker? Are you going to kick it across the street?”

She hands me her coffee cup. “Hold my beer, big shot.”

She rears back and rifles a perfect spiral right into the chest of a shocked teenage boy. If I wasn’t in love already, I would be now.

I lift the corner of my mouth. “Well, I don’t think I could have thrown it that well, quarterback princess.”

She gives me a strong nod. “Damn right, you couldn’t. That was Vance McCaffrey good.”

I chuckle at her reference to the quarterback of Philadelphia’s professional football team. “Do you watch football too?”

“Hell yes. I’m a football girl through and through. I bleed Philly green. I watch every game with my two best friends. What about you?”

I don’t actually care for Philly football, but I don’t think she’ll like that answer. I keep it vague. “I love watching football. I go to some games now and then.”

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