Fake Marrying Her Dad's Best Friend Read online

  "So I can tell you what to name her, of course. I think Elia is a nice name."

  She just shakes her head at me before shredding ham to go into the quiche. "Keep dreaming."

  I smile, even though she can't see me. "I will, thanks."

  Jacky interrupts the conversation by pulling a small table over. He starts crying, not because he's hurt, but because he's more startled by the clatter of a lamp hitting the ground than we are. It's a metal lamp that has an enclosure for the bulb, which is fortunate.

  Camilla throws the quiche into the oven before going back into the living room and scooping Jacky up. "What did you do, little troublemaker?"

  Jacky points and cries harder.

  "Nothing is broken," Camilla coos at him soothingly. "You're okay."

  He nestles into her shoulder. I pick up the lamp and table and put them back where they were.

  "I swear, I feel like we should bolt everything to the wall." "Maybe you should," I say. I look at the time on the microwave. "I should go home."

  "You can stay for dinner," Camilla protests. "You've barely just gotten here."

  "Another time," I tell her. I kiss Jacky on his head and half-hug Camilla before walking out and going home.

  When I get home, my dad is on the treadmill. He is listening to some kind of audiobook on Stoicism. I don't disturb him and go straight upstairs.

  I shed my clothing like a snake shedding skin. I am naked on my bed now, alone. What a day. I have to get the ingredients for the anti-colic recipe tomorrow after I leave Jeff's house. I take one of my pillows and hug it to my chest. I'm full of stupid little girl dreams about a blue-eyed prince who'll just take me away. But I don't live in a Disney movie.

  Chapter 7

  Overtime

  Elia

  I wake up to knocking on the door.

  "Elia," my dad says. "Open up."

  "Coming," I say, looking for my discarded dress. I slip it on and open the door. "Yeah?"

  "You ate dinner, right?"

  "Yup." "Jeff and I have some business to talk about. I know that you're only scheduled to work during the day, but Danny needs someone. I promise, Jeff will be pay you extra."

  "Sure," I say. "I wasn't doing anything." Besides sleeping.

  "Great," my dad says. "I'll give you a minute. Just hop downstairs." My dad walks away and I close the door. I hunt for my bra, which has very mysteriously disappeared even though I was just wearing it. I look in my closet. I look on my chair. I even look on my door handle where, let's be honest, it ends up half the time.

  No bra.

  I yank open my top drawer to get out a new one and then immediately see my bra sitting on my bed. I can't even remember putting it there, but the sneaky little thing was sitting there all along.

  "Gotcha!" I say. I pull my dress up so that it's sitting on top of my shoulders. I pull on my bra and slid my arms through the straps before yanking my dress down. I make a face at myself in the mirror. I'm all sleep-rumpled and not particularly appealing, but I don't want to keep my dad waiting.

  When I go downstairs, I'm trying to get a hairband to stay in place with some bobby pins. My dad has his laptop in a bag, which is slung across his chest.

  "Ready?"

  "Yup."

  We walk into the cool night air. I shiver a little. My sundress wasn't meant for nighttime. But it's just next door, so I start sprinting over. I'm not even wearing shoes, so my feet are freezing. When I get to the porch, I ring the doorbell at the same moment that Jeff opens the door. We're very close to each other, just inches apart. I can smell his breath from here.

  He takes a step back. "Come on in, Elia."

  I blink because Danny is sitting in a playpen, shaking a teddy bear.

  "I'll take care of him. You two do whatever you need to do."

  My dad and Jeff head to Jeff's home office. Danny is yawning and battling his eyelids, but he doesn't seem to want to go to bed. He is still vigorously shaking the teddy bear for an unknown purpose. When he finally drops it, he turns to me and holds out his arms.

  "Out?" I ask. I crouch down to get him. I pull him into my arms and sit with him on the couch.

  "Did you have a nice dinner, Danny?" I ask.

  He puts his tiny head on my shoulder and lets his eyes half-shut. I begin gently rocking him the way my mother used to, humming a little to help put the baby to sleep. His little rosebud mouth opens with a huge yawn.

  "Be careful, Danny! You could dislocate your jaw," I tease. I touch his tiny nose. His big eyes blink fully open before drifting downwards. He blinks a little more before he lets them stay closed. I carry him upstairs to pop him into his crib. Danny sleeps better in Jeff's room, I know, but my dad would go ballistic if he found me in there. I put him in a crib in his own room, but I drag a chair over so that I can keep my hand around his. He grabs at my thumb, totally asleep, and I watch his eyes move while they're still closed. I hope he's having a good dream.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and settle in with a good book. Year of the Griffin is one of my favorite books ever, and it seems perfect right now. I fall into a story about griffins, kings, wizards, and emperors. I'm so deep that when the door opens behind me, I jump a foot in the air. My phone goes flying and hits a metal lamp. It makes a sound so loud that Danny wakes up. He immediately starts screaming.

  "Danny," I say, pulling him into my arms and rocking him. "You're okay."

  "Let me have him," Jeff says. "Your dad is ready to go home."

  I whirl around, not eager to give him the baby. I notice the circles under Jeff's eyes.

  "I'm okay. I can stay until he goes to bed. It's not like Dad is giving me a ride, anyway. We live next door."

  "Okay," he says. He steps out of the room to yell down the stairs, "She says she'll go home after the baby goes to sleep."

  "Roger that," my dad says. I hear the front door close. Then it's just the three of us, Danny now quietly chewing on the end of my hair.

  "Don't chew on that," I tell Danny. He took advantage of a momentary distraction.

  When Jeff comes back into the room, Danny tries to wiggle out of my hold to get to his father. Jeff takes him and kisses Danny's hair.

  "You can go home, you know." "Is everything good? It's not normal for you and my dad to have a late-night meeting like this one."

  He rubs his eyes. "Your dad might need to go on a trip soon. Honestly, I need to go, too, but there's no way that I can leave Danny for that long." He hums a little bit and pats Danny's back. "And they won't come to the US."

  "Where is Dad going?"

  "China," he says. "We're having some problems with the quality standards at one of the factories that we've contracted production to. We want to be on the ground and see things for ourselves."

  "What's going on?"

  "There are some watchdog activists that are saying that there are major human rights violations going and trying to drum up negative press."

  "But it's not real, right?"

  "We don't know for sure, not until we audit them personally." "You should be there," I say.

  "Not without Danny, and there's no way that I'm subjecting him to a flight all the way to Beijing and Lord knows whatever else." He shakes his head. "But enough about business. You should go home. We all have to be up tomorrow morning."

  I walk over and kiss Danny's sweet little head. "Bye, little one." Kissing Danny's head puts me in very close proximity to Jeff's face. There's a tense, breathless moment, then I'm walking out. "Bye, Jeff."

  "Bye," he says as I walk down the stairs. My heart is hammering like a team of particularly enthusiastic contractors on a roof. I need to go home.

  When I get in the door, my dad is up a ladder.

  "What are you doing, Dad?"

  "Looking for a suitcase," he says. "A carry-on isn't going to cut it."

  He must have found what he was looking for, because he grunts with the effort and pulls a giant black suitcase out.

  "How long are you planning on being g
one? A year?"

  "No, a little less than that." My dad carefully comes down the ladder. I extend a hand to take the suitcase, but he carries it down, using only one hand to steady himself. "But there's no way that I'm leaving you alone in this house before you go to school." "Dad," I say. "I'm 19. One of my friends is married and has a baby."

  "Camilla is 20," he says. "And Lincoln is capable of providing for her and the baby."

  I stick out my lower lip.

  "You're living next door until I get back."

  My entire body flashes hot and then freezing cold. "What?"

  "You heard me. I'm not leaving a teenager alone in my house for an indeterminate amount of time. I have no clue how long I'll need to be over there. I know you're going to school, so you might as well get ahead of the packing and do a trial move next door. You can go home for anything you need. By the end of the summer, you'll have everything you actually need for school."

  "But I..."

  "Not negotiable," my dad says, his voice as hard as nails. I know when he's putting his foot down, and right now he's basically putting a hole in the floor with the force behind it.

  "Fine," I say. I turn and go up the stairs. Holy crap. I'm going to be living with Jeff. He has the space. I'm not worried about not getting my own room and bathroom, but what is it going to be like living with him?

  I guess I need to start doing some packing of my own. My dad sounds like he's not expecting to come home before I go to school, so it'll be another 3 months or so at least. What do I need?

  I start dumping all of my sundresses into a suitcase. Jeff keeps his house a little warmer than ours. I have a feeling that wearing Daisy Dukes around Jeff would result in a phone call with my dad. I pack some undergarments and some pairs of shoes. And I'm pretty much done. I go to my bathroom and pack all of my toiletries in a mesh beach bag. I only take the shampoo and conditioner that I use on a daily basis. After a few moments, I also take the only gel that makes my hair behave. Toothbrush and toothpaste, those are important, right? And cleanser.

  I stand in front of my makeup kit and debate bringing it over. On one hand, it's pretty easy to move. It's huge but really well organized. On the other hand, maybe I'd get tempted to be...inappropriate while living with Jeff.

  I agonize for a few more moments before I decide to take it. Maybe there'll be an occasion where I'll want to wear makeup beyond SPF 15 sunscreen and I'll need it. I ignore the voice in the back of my head saying that I can come home if that's the case.

  And then I'm pretty much packed. I can bring all of this over tomorrow morning when I go over to watch Danny.

  Chapter 8

  Temporary Move

  Elia

  The next morning, I'm feeling like a pack mule as I lug all of my stuff over there. It's not so far away that I need a car, and it's just long enough to make the handles of my bags dig into my hands. By the time I get to the porch, I'm disgruntled enough that I don't notice my big makeup kit knocking into one of the support beams of the porch. It makes an almighty sound. I hope none of the things inside with mirrors break.

  "Good morning," Jeff says, opening the door. My knees feel weak. He hasn't shaved yet today and his hair is in disarray. "Danny woke up and starting barfing," he says.

  Way to pour cold water on me. "Is he okay?"

  "I think it's just a tiny bug," he says. "I already called the pediatrician's office. They said to monitor his temperature and bring him in if it seemed dangerous."

  "Poor baby," I say.

  "Can I help you with anything?" he says, looking at my luggage.

  "My dad said last night that he wanted me to live with you while he was gone."

  "He's leaving today, then?"

  "Didn't you guys talk about this last night?"

  "Yeah, but it wasn't set in stone."

  "Dad is already gone. He went out on the first flight this morning," I tell Jeff.

  "Damn," he says. "What's wrong?"

  "With your dad in the air, today's going to be more hectic than usual. I'll probably go to the office."

  "It's going to be fine. Danny and I will be okay."

  There's a hint of worry in his eyes. I don't know if Danny has genuinely gotten sick before today. Colic, yeah, but that's not really a disease.

  "I'll call you if we need you. Where's the pediatrician's number?"

  "I'll write it on the big whiteboard." In his kitchen, there's a giant whiteboard with a ton of magnets. His dead wife must have put it there. It's utterly practical. He walks to it and writes down a phone number he must know by heart. It strikes me then how scary it would be to have my first child alone, something having a ton of money can't erase.

  "Get dressed and shave," I say firmly. "Danny will be fine."

  He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "I hope so." He walks away and up the stairs. I shove my stuff into the guest bedroom downstairs before going to see Danny. Danny's room smells like vomit, even though Jeff already cleaned up the evidence. Danny is restlessly moving around even though he's asleep. I'm prepared for him to throw up again. I go to the thermostat and turn it off. I open up the windows to let out the gross smell. I can hear the shower running as Jeff gets ready for work.

  I yank out my phone and start looking up what to do if a baby has a cold. Apparently fevers are okay as long as they are under 101 degrees. I tilt the mattress under the baby so that he's a little elevated. His little face is screwed up like he's about to start crying in his sleep.

  "Poor little guy," I say, pulling him into my arms.

  As expected, Danny begins to cry. The volume increases exponentially, but I'm used to it now.

  "I know you're sick, little buddy," I say, patting his back. "I wonder if your daddy has fed you yet?" "No," Jeff says.

  When I turn around, I have to swallow really hard.

  Jeff is only wearing a towel around his waist. He obviously didn't take time to dry off when he got out of the shower, because there's water dripping everywhere. He looks like a female fantasy come to life.

  "Danny is fine," I say. "You're getting the floor wet."

  He looks down at the wet imprints his feet have left on the carpet and walks away, giving my heart a little space to slow down. Holy shit. He looks fine as hell. He has a six pack that doesn't have an ounce of anything extra on it.

  "I'll tell you a secret, Danny." He's pulled a chunk of my hair into his mouth again to munch on it. I pull it away from him, but he immediately yanks it back. I give up. There are worse things than hair to put in his mouth.

  "I love you," I coo to him. "Even when you're cranky and sick. And that's between us."

  With Danny temporarily quieted by the tasty snack of my hair, I can feed him. I walk with him downstairs and into the kitchen. I get out some formula and make a bottle with Danny in my arms. When I attempt to put him into the bouncer, he screams like it's made of molten lava.

  "Okay, fine!" I tell him. I need to ask Jeff if he has a baby wrap or sling so that I can carry Danny and do other stuff. Somehow, I manage to give Danny a bottle, which he guzzles down as if he hasn't had anything to eat for a week. I guess his little stomach is empty after barfing. I kiss his forehead and keep a hand on the bottle. When he's eaten all of it, I put a burp cloth over my shoulder and pat his little back to help him burp. He lets out a truly disgusting belch and I can feel the wetness seep through the burp cloth.

  "Starting the day out right." I kiss his tiny ear. "It's okay." Babies barfed. It was part of the territory.

  "You're sure that you'll be okay? If you need me, I'll stick around." I wave Jeff away with a hand as I spin to face him. "Danny and I are going to be fine."

  "Then I better get in the car."

  He leaves without another word. I go to the living room and put Danny on a blanket on his stomach. He pushes himself up in the cobra position. I mimic him and his little eyes go big. He lifts one hand and overbalances. I comically over-exaggerate falling over, too. Danny giggles uncontrollably, beginni
ng to roll around on the blanket. He's so easy to please, so easy to love. I tickle his full tummy. I don't think that he's sick anymore. He seems happy enough.

  Chapter 9

  Thai Dinner

  Elia

  By the time that Jeff comes home at 7 PM, I'm pooped. I normally work during the more regular 8 to 5 hours, so today is the longest that I've ever been over here. I honestly don't understand how working mothers could possibly handle the double shift, coming home and cooking dinner and cleaning the house and checking homework after driving the kids around...I have a headache just thinking about it.

  The smell of food perks me up. "Is that dinner?"

  "Yeah. I picked something up on the way home. There's a Thai place that we...that I love."

  I feel like someone just clenched a hand around my heart. It's so thoughtful of him to bring dinner home, but I understand that it's a pattern of behavior that was established with her.

  "Well, it smells great."

  "I didn't know what you liked, so I thought that Pad Thai was pretty safe."

  "I love Pad Thai," I say. "Danny can't eat solids yet, right?"

  "Not yet. The doctor said to wait to introduce solids until we felt ready. He's fine as he is now."

  I pop Danny into the Pack n Play. He's occupied by brightly colored rings, which he stacks in the absolute wrong order. He's perplexed about why he can't fit other rings on top of the smallest one, which has settled at the top of the toy.

  Jeff takes plates out of the cabinet.

  "Fancy," I comment.

  "Food tastes better if you use real dishware and silverware." He yanks cloth napkins out of a drawer and there are utensils rolled inside.

  "This is like a restaurant," I exclaim.

  Jeff laughs a little. "I guess."

  "Maybe this is an everyday thing for you, but I didn't grow up with a mom. Thank you for setting the table."

  "No problem." He opens up the Pad Thai container and puts half on my plate and half on his. "Do you like Golden Purses?"