Page 36 of Pucking Fake

"Oh," Lauren whispers, her gaze darting between the two of us.

I feel the heat climbing up my cheeks as she clocks the way he's looking at me. It's not subtle at all. I doubt that word is even in his vocabulary. "Stop calling me that," I mutter, glowering at him. "I already told you that you can't call me that. Don't call me angel, either."

"Why the fuck not? You're mine."

Lauren's eyes practically bug out of her head at his declaration. "Oh my gosh. You two are dating? I thought she worked for you?"

"We are…" I bite my tongue before the denial forms. If I tell her that we aren't dating, Logan is going to have a whole lot of explaining to do when the news of our fake relationship breaks. It's not my place to force him into telling her about Montaque when he asked for time to make sure she's protected. "We are dating," I sigh. "And now I work for him too. Somehow."

"You sound so thrilled about it, baby," Logan says, his tone light.

"You definitely owe her a raise then," Lauren mutters. "No woman should have to work for youanddate you without being paid ungodly amounts of money, Logan. That's cruel and unusual."

His face blanches, and I throw my head back, laughing. I bet she gives him hell every day just because she can. I already like her. I can also already see why he's so protective of her. Their bond is obvious.

It's also obvious that she adores the little boy in her arms. Every time he moves, she glances down at him, checking on him. Her expression softens with wonder, like she can't quite believe that he's real. Love practically flows from her. I barely know her, and I can already tell that she's an amazing mother. It would destroy her to lose her baby. And I'm guessing it scares the crap out of her to consider that there may come a day when she isn't able to care for him because of her illness.

In the group homes, there were a lot of kids who struggled with mental health issues. It was always devastating to watch kids who were thriving one day slowly fall apart as their meds stopped working. I can imagine it's even worse to be the one slowly unraveling, not knowing how to stop it. To be a prisoner in your own mind, held hostage by a disease no one fully understands, has to be terrifying.

And to be judged and labeled for it? To be treated like you've done something wrong just because you were born the way you were? Well, that's always been one of the biggest problems with people, hasn't it? We fear what we don't understand. We avoid what makes us uncomfortable. If it isn't perfect, it's broken.

This world isn't kind to the people it sees as broken. Even now, the stigma around mental health hasn't gone away. People talk about depression and anxiety. But the more complex stuff like schizophrenia? Those still scare the hell out of us, so much so that we've convinced ourselves that they only happen to broken people. It's more palatable that way, less terrifying. We aren't at risk if the big, scary diseases only happen to people who are fundamentally broken.

We live in a bubble of comforting lies because the truth is overwhelming. And people like Lauren pay for our ignorance.

I may not know what it's like to be in her shoes. But I do know what it's like to suffer because people prefer the comforting lie over the hard truth. Been there, done that. It's why people likemy father stay in power despite their sins and excesses. The lie is easier.

"Ninety thousand," Logan says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Think that's fair or should we push for more?" Lauren asks me.

I turn wide eyes on Logan. "Ninety thousand?"

"One hundred thousand?" He scratches his chin. "Name your price, angel."

"Are you… Have you…" I gape at him, spluttering. Is he seriously offering to pay me whatever I want?

"One hundred and fifty thousand," Lauren hurries to say.

"Done." Logan doesn't even bat a lash. He doesn't blanch or squirm. He just freaking agrees like it makes no difference to him, his eyes locked on my face. We might as well be discussing the weather or the state of the frigging union for all the concern he shows.

"And she gets health insurance, a 401K, and all the fancy stuff."

"Obviously," he says dryly.

"Perfect." Lauren beams at her brother. "Then my job here is done." She bends, scooping up a bag from the floor. "I need to run. Roland will be home soon."

"Here," Logan murmurs, sliding his nephew out of her arms. The baby whines before nuzzling up against his chest with a soft grunt. Logan cradles his head carefully before tugging the diaper bag out of Lauren's hands. "I'll carry him out for you."

"Fine," Lauren grumbles. "But only because he's going to wake up and go into ninja mode as soon as I try to put him in the car seat. He can bite you for once instead of me." She turns to me, smiling. "It was really great to meet you, Peyton. I can't wait to get to know you better. Please harass Logan as often as possible."

"I'll do that," I promise. "It was great to meet you too."

"I'll be right back, baby," Logan murmurs, reaching out to stroke my arm as he and Lauren stride past me out the door.

I watch them go and then stumble into the living room, sinking onto the sofa. For a long moment, I just stare blankly at the wall across from me. Is he seriously going to pay me that much money just to organize his life? How much help could he possibly need?

I feel him standing behind me a few minutes later, watching me.

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