Page 22 of Fake Dating the Next-Door
"And Garrett's serious expression," my father adds with a chuckle.
"Poor kid," Garrett says, the easy smile that once seemed so rare now coming naturally.
I watch them—my family, all of them—and feel a contentment I never knew was possible. Garrett catches my eye over my mother's head, his gaze softening in that way reserved just forme, and I'm transported back to that night when everything changed.
"Hard to believe it all started with a fake boyfriend scheme," I say later, after my parents have settled into the guest room and Ethan is asleep in his crib. We're curled together on the porch swing, watching fireflies blink in the summer twilight.
Garrett's arm tightens around me. "Best decision you ever made, asking me to pretend."
"Second best," I correct him. "Best was asking you to stay that night."
He kisses the top of my head. "Remember how nervous you were before that first dinner? And now look at you… Successful business, husband, baby."
It's true. My freelance work has flourished into a small design agency. Garrett's furniture restoration business has a six-month waiting list. We've both found our footing, together.
"My parents were right about one thing," I admit. "I did need stability. They just didn't understand I needed to find it my own way."
"And I needed chaos," Garrett says, his voice warm with amusement. "The good kind. Your kind."
I tilt my face up for his kiss, still feeling the same spark that ignited between us that first night.
"Think they suspect?" I ask when we part. "That the whole boyfriend thing started as a ruse?"
Garrett laughs, the sound still my favorite in the world (well, second favorite now, after Ethan's giggles). "Your mother asked me directly last Christmas. Said she knew the minute we opened the door that we weren't really together yet."
"What? And you didn't tell me?"
"She swore me to secrecy. Said she was glad we 'finally got our act together' because she'd never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at me."
I shake my head, laughing. "Mothers always know, I guess."
"Speaking of knowing things," Garrett says, his hand finding mine, "do you know how much I love you?"
Even after all this time, his words make my heart race. "I have some idea," I reply, leaning into his solid warmth. "But feel free to remind me."
"Every day," he promises. "For the rest of our lives."
