Page 19 of Real Fake Husband

“You finally have your queen back,” I say, smiling. “I bet she’s talking your ear off, trying to catch you up on everything you’ve missed.”

I can just picture them, sitting in their favorite armchairs with tea, Gran going on and on about what she’s been up to since they last spoke. Gramps is probably nodding politely while trying to read his newspaper. The image makes me chuckle.

In the distance, I hear the roar of a motorcycle and glance toward the road. A lone figure rides around the corner, pulling their bike up alongside my car. They dismount and, after looking around, they start to head my way.

“How did you find me?” I ask when they approach.

Theo Hanson, my best buddy since childhood, runs his hand through his black hair and smiles, coming to stand by my side at his buff 220 pounds. “It wasn’t that big of a stretch to figure out where you’d be,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t want you to be alone right now.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can.”

We don’t speak for a time. I remain kneeling, my hand resting on the tombstone while Theo keeps his hand on my shoulder. I never wanted to come home when my parents were still alive. Theo and I were always riding bikes or hiking up the mountain or looking at Theo’s dad’s porn magazines. We were always causing a ruckus around the neighborhood, you know, throwing rocks at cars—never got caught.

I don’t want to be sad, don’t want to spend time saying my goodbyes through a haze of gray thoughts. I focus on the good memories. One in particular crosses my mind, and I chuckle to myself.

“Do you remember when we snuck out to take your dad’s bikejoyriding?” I ask, glancing up at Theo.

He laughs. “Ha! I totally forgot about that.”

Iwas seventeen and stupid. I mean, most teenagers were, since they were fueled by rebellion and hormones. But being a teen who’d just got their license and had never ridden a motorcycle before, I was a particular brand of dumb.

We snuck out as soon as Gran fell asleep.Thank God she’s so predictable. Exactly one hour of TV, then a cup of Earl Grey tea (which she swore knocked her out quicker than a bottle of sleeping pills), and straight to bed. Ten minutes after she turned in for the night, we were climbing down the fire escape and booking it to Theo’s place.

His dad was out of town on business and his mom was gallivanting around the world with her new boyfriend, doing who knows what. It was times like this when he came to stay with us. Gran, bless her heart, didn’t like leaving him home by himself. At that point, he was essentially living with us nonstop, and Gran had basically adopted him, treating him like her own son.

“Did you see the tits on you-know-who?” he asked on our way over. Both our haircuts were shoulder-length and we sported the unkempt look, because we thought it was way cool.

“Who?”

“Josie.”

“Who?”

“Josephine Graham, bro. She wasn’t wearing a bra today. They’ve got bigger.”

I shrugged. “Haven’t noticed.”

“You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“Pretty? Josephine Graham?Hellno.”

“Josie’s friend has a nice pair too. The one with the glasses. Dude, you need to pay attention to those things.”

In the parking garage, Theo yanked the tarp off the bike, and I let out a low whistle.

“Whoa, it’s even better than I remember,” I said, running my hands along the handlebars.

“Yeah, Dad’s been fixing it up,” Theo nodded proudly. “He says when he gets back, he’s going to teach me how to work on it.”

“Gimme the keys.”

Theo tossed them to me.

When the engine roared to life, my heart rate skyrocketed.

Oh, man.

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