Page 80 of Fumbled Into Love

Deon begins to heave piles of clothing into my suitcase and, by accident, launches Gordie across the room, catapulting him into the air. Gordie screeches a harrowing scream, and Deon responds with his own.

“Shit. He’s going to curse me for that.”

His shoulders are tight with tension, and against rule number two, I slide a palm against his tricep, digging my fingers into the muscle. Deon releases a groan that sends a tingle straight to my toes. His head lulls as I massage his shoulders.

“Breathe. We were able to fake it with my family; I’m sure we can fake it with yours, too.”

I’m not faking anything anymore, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Are you ready?” Deon whispers, clutching my hand with a God-like strength.

“They can’t be any crazier than my family,” I joke, knocking my hip against his and pulling our intertwined hands up todisplay the friendship bracelets. “Team Adams-Morales is going to fake the shit out of this.”

His smile is tentative as he pulls the door open, and my jaw drops at how similar his mother and sister look alike.

I shift into the good host role, hauling their bags off the porch and ushering them inside like I imagine a girlfriend would do. Deon stands statue still.

My foot launches backward to shake him from his stupor. Instead, he blinks. So much for being a team. It looks like I’m faking this one solo since Deon’s decided to malfunction.

I’m only giving him grace because he handled my family well when I was ready to run far, far away.

“It’s so lovely to meet you both,” I say with a beaming smile. I want them to like me. “Deon has told me so much about you both.”

I don’t add how I learned all the information two hours prior when we chucked all my belongings onto Deon’s floor. His room is a nightmare. We moved my chaos from one side of the house to the other. My shoes in the mud room were a lost cause, so he slammed the door shut, and we’re hoping they don’t go in there.

His mother huffs a laugh, her green eyes full of questions.

“Did he?” Starting at my toes, she assesses me, and I fight back a squirm.

Deon stands mute right inside the entryway, leaving me high and dry while his mother determines if she finds me lacking.

“Mom, stop.” Deon’s sister reaches out a hand. “I’m Nyla. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Her smile is kind, and it loosens a bit of the anxiety in my chest.

“I’m Nathalie.”

“We know,” Deon’s mom responds. “You can call me Diane.” Her eyes shift to her son. He has yet to move, his skin pale and head darting between his family and me. “Has my son become a mute?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, plastering on a smile. “I could have sworn I replaced his batteries yesterday.” I poke Deon in the chest. “Maybe I need to reboot his system.”

Nyla cackles, and his mother releases a soft laugh, breaking the tension. Deon shakes from his trance and smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, pulling his mother in for a hug. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, baby.” Diane reaches up to pat Deon’s cheek, and he blushes. “I’ve missed you. You don’t call enough.”

“I’ll try to call more,” he says, grabbing her bag, then Nyla’s. “I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have to get to the stadium for the game, but I bought tickets so you could sit with Nathalie.”

My stomach plummets.He did what?!

I’m going to murder my fake boyfriend. I bite my lip, holding back a retort. When did he have time to buy those while trying to create an organization system for my clothing?

“I can drive us all to the game,” I offer, pretending I knew about this plan.

“Sounds great,” Nyla responds, and I leave them both to get settled, hot on Deon’s heels.

“Deon!” I hiss as he sprints into his bedroom, away from me. “Get back here, you crazy man.”

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