Page 18 of Fumbled Into Love

“Yes,” I croak, gaze fixed on the beautiful bouquet and macarons. “It was just a package.”

“Oh, good. Well, I have to warm up, but I’ll talk to you later?”

“Good luck tonight,” I distantly yell before the call ends.

I might be in shock.

Tears prick my eyes as I snap a few photos to hold the memory close. No one has ever sent me flowers before. Fake or not, it was a kind gesture, and I want Deon to know.

Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.

I’m searching for the perfect location to place the bouquet when he responds.

I want you to know that I appreciate what you’re doing. I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but thank you.

You’ve said it plenty. How did you know I liked macarons?

The question eats at the back of my mind. I didn’t put it in the questionnaire.

Lucky guess.

Well, thank you. I love them.

Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching.

Not in a creepy way.

Not in a creepy way, huh?

What kind of way did you mean it then?

In whatever way a fake girlfriend watches her fake boyfriend’s game.

I’m going to Maren’s for the game.

So you’ll be watching her scream at the referees for four quarters?

Yes. But you’ll be in the background tossing the ball around, so in a sense, I am watching her watch you.

That didn’t make it any less creepy, did it?

Nope.

Made me laugh, though.

I’m glad someone finds me funny. Have a good game.

Thanks, Nat.

Maren is yelling as I let myself in her front door. I wish I could say I’m surprised, but Maren is well…Maren.

“He used all the hot sauce. I’m going to kill him!” As I round the corner, Maren is digging through thepantry, her entire upper body cut off from view. Sawyer leans against the kitchen counter with a grin on her face. “Oh, wait, it’s right here.”

The shift in her demeanor pulls a laugh from my lips.

“Hot sauce was worth contemplating murdering your husband?” I ask, pulling the pasta salad I made out of my bag.

Maren’s made enough food to feed us with leftovers, but my father taught me you never show up empty-handed. So here I am, adding to the plethora of food. At least I know it will be eaten, either by Maren or her husband.

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