Page 38 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

“Clichéically isn’t a word,” Bryan interjects.

Beans woofs from under the table. My brother reluctantly goes back to petting him with a sigh. “Your dog’s butthole is way too warm. I think he should see a doctor for that.”

“How warm?” I can’t help myself. I’m rising to it. “I think they’re supposed to be pretty hot. That’s where they take their temperature, you know.”

“Ears,” my brother throws back at me with a shudder. “They take it in the ears.”

I pour the mixed-up eggs into the hot pan and listen to them sizzling. Speaking of hot things, I think I got the perfect temperature. “I think they do sometimes stick it…uh…where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Well, I think it’s hot. You should get it checked,” Bryan says stubbornly.

“Fair enough. But tell me more about this plot. I mean plan.”

At last, my brother perks back up. “It’s a plan to save you from the evil butt crack butthole-faced cousins.”

“You’ve never seen them,” I protest, just to be fair. “You don’t know what they look like.”

“Well, they act like buttholes.”

“Fair enough.” Dad’s using his serious tone, and he’s getting his game face on. His business game face. Hisno one messes with my family and survives to tell the tale, especially not butthole cousinsgame face on. Suddenly, I’m blinking back tears. I’ve never been prouder of my family or felt more loved. They’re here because we need them. They’re here without even being asked. Heck, they don’t even like Sterling, yet they still showed up in the biggest way. “This is how I think we could do it…”

Chapter nineteen

Weland

“How did your dad get so smart?” Sterling asks.

I toss a whole handful of spaghetti into the pot of boiling water. The frying pan is sizzling again, this time because we’re making dinner, so I dump a quarter of a bag of frozen meatballs. Don’t judge. We can’t all be masters of the kitchen, and besides, they’re good.

My parents and my brother left for the day right after breakfast. I could barely focus on anything while thinking about the plans Sterling was going to have to make. He spent most of the day in the basement with his laptop and phone, making calls. I had students come and go in the afternoon, and he needed the time and space to make a bunch of calls to lawyers and other people. I know the first one he placed was to Smitty, which makes sense because Smitty isn’t just his lawyer. I’m pretty sure he’s a wizard from another dimension.

“He reads books.” Sterling pulls a face at me like I’m trying to give him a token answer. I’m actually not trying to be funny foronce. “No, really. He reads tons. But he’s also reading all these books on how to succeed in this or that,” I say.

“Self-help?”

“I guess that would be it, but he reads everything in that genre. Not just how to help yourself mentally or emotionally but how to help in business and every other venture. His social media feeds are full of bullet point lists that other people have highlighted from books.”

“So he gives you lots of that bullet-pointed wisdom?” Sterling quirks a brow.

“He does. That and tons that don’t sound like they’re from bullet points.”

“Like respect all life forms, even the kinds you’re scared of because they all have a job to do, so don’t you dare squash a spider or step on an ant?”

“He’s never told me that in those words, but it makes sense. Every lifeform has value. Although, when it comes to mosquitoes and yellowjacket wasps, it’s hard to see the value in those,” I say with a light chuckle.

Sterling nods. “I agree.”

I wait a few minutes and then fork the spaghetti apart to keep it from fusing into one huge mass. We were supposed to be putting on a show at dinner for the triptych of camping out evil, but now they don’t seem so powerful, menacing, or nebulous. I’m dying to ask Sterling how it’s going, and I have been ever since he emerged from the basement looking like he’s been living in a cave without seeing the sunlight for months, blinking and raking his hands through his hair wildly, but I haven’t asked since I don’t think it’s what he needs.

“Did he ever tell you not to eat yellow snow?” Sterling wonders.

“All the time. This is Detroit. Winters are long, and there’s lots of snow.”

I get out a separate smaller pan for the sauce. It also comes from a jar, and yes, it’s also excellent.

“I think his wisdom is more translatable, like today. It’s rubbed off on all of us over the years. He doesn’t just walk around spewing quotes or making lists. There aren’t quotes up on the wall, and there sure aren’t posters anywhere. He’s just very patient and easy to talk to. If we’re ever stuck, he’ll tell us things like, ‘Silence is a lovely thing because there’s space in silence to create loveliness.’ He’d say, ‘We don’t have to be worried about working to achieve all the things in life all the time because the best part of life is not being worried about working to achieve things. It’s just letting them come.’ Stuff like that.”

Sterling thinks about that. He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, which sends a rocket of heat rushing through me. We got derailed this morning, so we haven’t talked about last night. Or repeated it. I’d rather be eating him than this dinner I’m preparing. Just saying.

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