Page 33 of Fake Dating the Prince

“Hit,” Brayden sighed, long-suffering. “You sunk it.”

“I hope you didn’t go easy on him,” Flip said as he closed the door behind himself.

Clara rolled to her feet and rushed him for a hug, half knocking the wind out of him. “Don’t worry. I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Brayden agreed. “That’s the third time she’s handed me my uh—” He stopped, his gaze darting to Flip’s parents and Ines. “Battle fleet.”

“Nice save,” Flip’s dad said without looking up from his knitting.

Clara rolled her eyes. “I know the wordass. In three languages.”

“Clara Elisabeth!”

“I mean, the wordbutt.”

Flip and Brayden caught eyes and very carefully did not grin.

“Brayden is an excellent loser,” said Irfan. “Even if his family doesn’t have any goats.”

“Irfan,” Flip’s mother laughed from her chair. “You need to get some new material.”

Irfan looked at Brayden. “I don’t think she understands how dad jokes work.”

“Are you and Brayden going to stay for dinner?” Clara wanted to know. “Mom said you might wantprivacy. But you’ve been alone all day. You should spend time with us.”

Now Irfan looked at Flip. “I don’t think she understands how privacy works.”

Flip’s mother threw her husband an exasperated look full of amusement and affection, but it was Ines who intervened. “Clara, you’ve monopolized Brayden all day. Sometimes adults need to spend time alone together. Remember we talked about this.”

Flip’s cheeks heated. Nothing like your aunt casually implying, in a room full of family members, that you might like to whisk your fake boyfriend away for sex.

Brayden had gone red too and was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, as though for want of something to do with his hands.

“Well they have to stay now,” Irfan said. “You killed the mood.”

Flip wanted to put his face in his hands, but Brayden just shot his father a wry look. “Ye of little faith. But I don’t mind staying for dinner if Flip’s up—I mean, if Flip wants to.”

Irfan looked delighted at the slip-up, but Flip stepped in before he could capitalize. “I do actually have a few updates on the diamond front for you,” he said, grateful Brayden had given him the opportunity to collect himself. “It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, but I’d rather do it now while it’s fresh. And then no work at the dinner table, I promise.”

Family dinners were one of the things Flip missed most when he was based in Toronto—his mother insisted on them whenever possible growing up, to instill in him a sense of normalcy in a world that often wasn’t. When Clara and Ines came around, the tone changed somewhat, but still, the rhythm of food and conversation and ribbing resonated with something deep inside him. With any subset of the five of them, it always felt like home.

Flip hadn’t expected it to feel the same with Brayden there. Certainly it never had with any of the real boyfriends he’d brought home over the years. But perhaps he’d been dating the wrong men, because Brayden fit as though he’d always been there, riffing with his father and then turning around to ask insightful questions of his mother.

By the time they placed their dishes on the cart to be returned to the kitchen, Flip was almost expecting it when his father took him aside and said, “You know the goat thing isn’t really a problem, right?”

He wasn’t making a joke.

Flip kept his eyes on Brayden, who was across the room cleaning up the board game with Clara. “Dad. It’s a little soon—”

“Sweetheart,” Flip’s mother broke in, touching her husband’s elbow. “Let me handle this one.”

Irfan kissed her cheek and went to help pick up the games, and Flip’s mother led him away from the living area to her private office, where she sat him on the love seat. The very first time she’d invited Flip in there, he was fifteen and suffering public heartache, debating whether he should return to boarding school.

Remembering those days didn’t do much for his composure now.

“Your father means well,” his mother told him. She took the seat next to him but angled her body toward him. “But you and I are wired differently from him. We’re quieter, less impulsive. More considered.”

Already Flip found himself nodding, relieved as the tension released from his body.

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