Page 8 of Fake As Puck
There’s a moment of silence as I wash the girls’ hair.
“Unless...” Tessa says, and there’s something in her voice that makes my stomach drop.
“Unless what?” West asks.
“Unless you find someone to pretend to be your girlfriend.”
My shoulders stiffen as I wipe Emma’s face with the dry washcloth. Imagining her brother fake dating someone just sends a bullet through me. Someone like him shouldn’t have trouble keeping a girlfriend, finding a date, or anything along those lines. He’s funny, clean, sweet, and a fucking professional hockey player for crying out loud. Do not tell me that this man cannot get a date or keep a girl around.
Tessa looks at me with that expression she gets when she’s about to suggest something terrible. Like the time she convinced me to dye my hair with Kool-Aid in eighth grade, or when she thoughtit would be fun to crash her ex-boyfriend’s wedding in our early twenties.
“You need a fake girlfriend,” she says slowly. “Liv needs money.”
“What?” I gasp.
No, she did not suggest me in trade for money. I point at myself with soapy fingers. Water drips all over my clothes.
“Me?”
Tessa nods. “Yeah. It’s a good idea.”
I whisper, “I can’t go to Seattle. Are you insane?”
Tessa shakes her head. “I’ll find a new sitter for the time being.”
“Tess, no.”
“This is perfect!” she continues, completely ignoring my protests. “You already know the family, you can handle West’s ego, and you’re both emotionally unavailable enough to pull this off without it getting weird.”
“It’s already weird,” I point out.
“Um,” West’s voice cuts through our argument. “Can I just say that this is the most insulting way anyone’s ever tried to help me?”
“How is this insulting?” Tessa asks. “I’m trying to help.”
“‘Emotionally unavailable enough to pull this off’? What does that even mean?”
“It means you both have commitment issues who communicate primarily through sarcasm,” Tessa explains cheerfully. “It’s perfect.”
“I don’t have commitment issues,” I protest.
“You broke up with your last boyfriend because he wanted to meet your parents.”
“That’s different. My parents are terrible.”
“And you,” she continues, turning her attention to the phone, “haven’t had a relationship last longer than three months since college.”
“Bea lasted… three months. Shit,” West says.
“See.”
“This is insulting to both of us,” I say.
“But is it wrong?” Tessa asks.
We’re quiet for a moment. Charlie’s standing and ready to pour more water on her sister. Emma is sucking on her wet hand.
Because I don’t want to hear this conversation anymore, I say, “Can you help me get them out?”
