One Week Girlfriend

by Monica Murphy

  I flinch at the venom in her words. At how easily she drops the f-bomb and possessively calls him ‘my Andrew’. “He’s not yours,” I whisper. He’s mine.

  I don’t have the guts to say it.

  Her smile is catty. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re temporary. A novelty. He brought you home to shock us, to horrify us into believing he might actually want to be with someone like you, but I know the truth.”

  Glancing about the cavernous room, I search for an escape, but the only way I’m leaving is if I walk past her, and I don’t want to. She knows it. The bitch has me trapped. “Shouldn’t you be basting a turkey or something?”

  Adele laughs but the sound is brittle. And there’s no humor in it whatsoever. “Trying to distract me? It won’t work.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “This holiday, it’s a very difficult time for my family, you know. The two year anniversary of my daughter’s death is this Saturday.”

  Shock courses through me at her words. I’m literally stunned. I can’t believe Drew never told me he had a sister and that she died. Maybe his problems stem from her death? But that makes no sense, not from what I’ve witnessed in his behavior.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say automatically and I mean it. The death of a family member is awful and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even this rude witch of a woman. I was traumatized when I lost my grandparents. They were the one steady constant in my world when I was young, since I couldn’t count on my mother, then or now.

  “Vanessa would be five now. Going to kindergarten, drawing turkeys she traced around her hand on a piece of paper.” Adele’s voice grows distant, as does her gaze. The sadness emanating from her is palpable and I feel sorry for her despite how terribly she treated me only moments ago. “She was beautiful. Looked just like her father.”

  Drew’s sister died when she was three—how? What happened? And right after Thanksgiving? No wonder he didn’t want to come back here for the holiday. It’s probably a painful memory he’d rather forget. And there’s such an age difference between them. He would’ve been what, sixteen, seventeen when she was born? I wonder what took his dad and Adele so long to decide to finally have a child together? “I’m sure she was gorgeous. Your husband is a very handsome man.” I don’t know what else to say and it sounds so incredibly trite I immediately regret it. Especially when she shoots me such an odd look.

  “My husband…” Adele’s voice trails off and she shakes her head. “You’re right. Andy is very handsome. As is Andrew.”

  She always calls him Andrew. And last night, when I called him Andrew, he didn’t like it. At all. He flipped the hell out, actually.

  Was that the trigger? Is she the trigger?

  “The Thanksgiving meal will be served in thirty minutes,” she says crisply, all signs of mourning and sadness gone. “Afterwards, I suggest you go back to the guesthouse and pack your bags. I’ll have a taxi come pick you up and take you to the bus station later this evening.”

  My mouth drops open in shock. She can’t be serious.

  “Oh yes, I have plans, little Fable. Plans that don’t include you since they involve a private family matter and you’re nothing but an intruder. It’s best that you leave. I already spoke to Andrew and he’s in complete agreement with me.” Without another word, she turns on her very thin, very high heel and walks out of the room, leaving me to slump backwards into an overstuffed chair as if my legs can’t hold me up any longer.

  She spoke with Drew already and he agrees that I should leave tonight? This makes absolutely no sense. I don’t understand what’s going on and my mind is awhirl with all the information Adele just gave me.

  He has a dead, only three-years-old sister. What happened? How did she die? Was it a sickness, a disease that took her, or did an accident happen? I can’t be so completely insensitive to just point blank ask, so I guess I’ll never know unless he tells me.

  And since he hasn’t told me so far, I’m not counting on ever knowing.

  Stupid to admit, but it hurts that Drew never told me about his sister. That’s a major traumatic experience and he withheld it from me. Of course, he withholds a lot of things. He’s so full of secrets, I still don’t feel like I know him. Not really.

  Earlier this morning he was out of the house by the time I finally came out of my bedroom, but I planned it that way. Locking myself up in my room, trying like crazy to get a hold of my mom though she never returned my calls—what else is new. Then I tried calling and texting Owen, but I figured he was sleeping in and I’d been right.

  In fact, I still haven’t seen Drew. Is he mad at me for not coming back to his bed? Probably. It’s for the best, though. Whatever this is between us, it’s not happening. Not really.

  No matter how badly I want it to.

  Drew

  “There’s another man in your supposed girlfriend’s life.”

  I turn at the sound of Adele’s voice and discover she’s followed me out to the garden that’s connected to the backyard to talk with me. And we’re all alone.

  Uneasiness washes over me and I tense my shoulders, prepared to do battle. “What are you talking about?”

  Adele shrugs, the look on her face unreadable. “I heard a phone conversation she was having. She told whomever she was talking to that she missed him, she wished that she were spending Thanksgiving with him and she’s planning a movie date for the two of them when she returns home.” She’s totally getting off on giving me this bad news, and I’m trying my best, pretending everything’s fine. That her vicious, shitty words don’t affect me.

  But they do. Fable withdrew from me so completely last night after what happened between us. The tables were turned and I didn’t like it. She never came back to my bed. She jerked me off and left me there, adrenaline still buzzing in my veins and amping me up, making me eager to explore her body just as thoroughly as she explored mine.

  She left me high and dry instead. I finally fell asleep when I realized she wasn’t coming back and I still haven’t seen her or talked to her this morning.

  It’s like she’s hiding away from me.

  “Fable doesn’t have anyone else in her life. Only me,” I mumble, starting for the open doorway that leads back into the house.

  Adele dodges left, grabbing hold of my arm before I can escape, her fingers digging into my flesh. “You don’t know that for sure, you idiot. I’m positive that whore is out spreading her legs for anyone who asks.”

  I almost slap Adele across her bitchy face, I’m so angry. “Don’t ever call her that,” I say through clenched teeth. “Ever.”

  “I heard her. She called him sweetie. She told him she loved him before she hung up. Face facts, Andrew. She’s cheating on you with another man.” Adele mock frowns at me, batting her eyelashes. “What’s wrong? Do you not keep her satisfied enough? I know you like to control all of those animal urges of yours to the best of your ability but sometimes, a girl likes it when you unleash all over her.”

  “Fuck you. Leave me the fuck alone and stop talking shit about my girlfriend.” I jerk out of Adele’s hold and push past her, hurrying into the house. I need to find Fable. I need confirmation once and for all that she’s not talking to some other guy while she’s here with me.

  I know I don’t have exclusive rights to her. But the least she can do is take calls from other guys out of earshot of anyone. I mean, come on. She’s making me look like a jackass and giving Adele way too much ammunition.

  And the idea Fable might really be with another guy on the side while she spends time here with me? Fuck, I can’t stand it.

  My blood boiling and jealousy eating at me so hard and fast I’m turning into a complete dick, I stride through the house, ignoring Dad when he calls my name, ignoring Adele when she finally bursts into the house and makes a grab for me yet again. I can’t find Fable anywhere inside, and when I finally do spot her standing in the front yard puffing away on a cigarette I instantly see red.

  Instant, I want to kick so
me ass, bloody as hell red.

  Opening the front door, I stalk outside, heading straight for her. Our gazes clash and I see the fear, the wariness, the…matching anger in her eyes as well. She takes a long drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke directly in my face when I stop in front of her and I’m furious. With her. With Adele. With my dad.

  With myself for thinking I could have something with this girl who clearly doesn’t give a shit about me.

  “You’re with someone else,” I say, not bothering to hold back.

  She purses her lips, the cigarette dangling from her fingers. “Talking to your stepmom, I see.”

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “How is it any of your business?” She flicks the cigarette onto the grass and grinds the heel of her boot to put it out, digging a hole in my parents’ otherwise pristine lawn. My dad is going to shit a brick when he sees that.

  “I’ve paid you a fuck ton of money to pretend to be my girlfriend this week. I think that makes it my business.” I grab her arm and haul her in close, staring directly into her blazing green eyes. I want to see if she’s lying to me. If everything we shared yesterday was nothing but a bunch of meaningless bullshit for her.

  That hurts. More than I care to admit.

  “So we’re back to that, huh? All those sweet words and yesterday’s romance evaporates after I get you off. Now we’re at square one and the paid girlfriend bit.”

  She’s mad. But I’m madder. “Tell me the truth. Is there another guy?”

  “Only if you tell me how your sister died,” she throws back at me.

  Surprise renders me silent and I let go of her, back up a few steps. Fuck. I hadn’t counted on that. Figured I still had a little bit of time before I had to confess about Vanessa. “There’s nothing to tell,” I murmur, not about to go into the details, ignoring the guilt that has a death squeeze on my chest.

  “Right, you just so happen to forget to mention you have a dead three year old sister who died here almost two years ago to the day. I mean, no wonder you don’t want to come back to this place, Drew. I wouldn’t want to either. I’m sure your house is chock full of horrendous memories you don’t want to face.”

  “You’re damn right.” She’s distracting me and I’m getting angrier because of it. We are not going to discuss my sister any further. “Who’s the guy, Fable?”

  She shakes her head. “No one.”

  “Who’s. The. Guy?” I bite each word out, so freaking tired of her bullshit.

  “What? Are you jealous?”

  “Fuck yes, I am!” I roar, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “After everything we’ve shared, especially after yesterday, you have the nerve to ask if I’m jealous? Of course, I am. This isn’t a game to me, Fable. This is my life. And I want you to be a part of it. But if you’d rather fuck around with other guys, then I can’t deal with that. I want you and you only. I’m not sharing you with anyone else.”

  My breathing’s ragged by the time I’m finished with my speech and I can’t believe what I just said to her. She’s staring at me like I’m crazy and maybe I am, but I can’t hold back with her. For whatever reason, she makes me want to confess everything.

  Every fucking thing, the good and the bad.

  “Me and you, we’re pretending,” she whispers. There are tears in her eyes and one slips down her cheek. I want to stop it with my thumb, I want to kiss the tear away, but I don’t. I can’t, not after what she’s said. “This isn’t real. You’re getting caught up in nothing.”

  “That’s not true,” I start but she shuts me up, pressing her fingers against my mouth for the briefest moment before she drops her hand.

  “It is. You don’t want me, not really. I’m not who you think I am. And you’re definitely not who I think you are. There are so many secrets and problems between us, I think our life would be one fucked up mess after another if we were to really try and be together. And that’s never going to happen, you know this.”

  I can’t say anything. I know she’s right, no matter how badly I don’t want her to be. I’m wishing on nothing right now. And my heart is breaking for it.

  “Two more days, Drew.” She pauses, chewing on her lower lip. “Unless you want me to leave tonight like Adele said. She has something planned, about the anniversary of your sister’s death. And clearly I’m not invited.”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” I say automatically. “Two more days, I need that from you.”

  “Fine.” She nods once, her lips thin, her eyes imploring.

  She wants to say something more, I can tell, but Adele throws open the front door, announcing, “Dinner’s ready!” all cheery-like and it’s such bullshit I throw her a hard stare over my shoulder, earning a slammed door for my efforts.

  “We should go in,” Fable says, wrapping her arms around herself as she starts for the front door.

  I follow her, only realizing later I never found out if there really was another guy or not.

  ~* Chapter Eleven *~

  Day 6 (Black Friday), 8:00 a.m.

  What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Drew

  Yesterday’s Thanksgiving dinner was a disaster, not that I expected it to be anything less. Dad invited a few business associates, and while they talked Wall Street and the state of the economy at one end of the table, we were pretty much silent at the other end. Fable sat across from me, stubbornly quiet as she picked at her plate full of catered food.

  Adele doesn’t cook and she sure as hell wasn’t going to prepare a Thanksgiving meal. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a home cooked turkey since the last time we spent the holidays with my grandparents in New York, and that was years ago.

  The hostility in the house had been off the charts. Adele tried her damnedest to talk to me and I refused. The taxi had shown up to cart Fable away just as promised later that evening and I sent the guy away, shoving two twenties in his hand as payment for his trouble.

  Not once did Fable speak to me. The moment she could make her escape, she was gone, heading back to the guesthouse without a goodbye to anyone and locking herself away in her room. She didn’t come out for the rest of the night.

  So I did the same, pissed at myself that I let her get under my skin. I didn’t sleep much, hadn’t really slept much the night before either, and now I’m lurking outside Fable’s closed door, tempted to bust in there and make her talk to me.

  This is definitely not like me. I’m not confrontational. I hate facing my feelings. But damn it, that fight between us yesterday left me raw and hurting. I feel like a pussy for even thinking this, but I thought what we had was turning into something special.

  Guess I was wrong.

  But see, this is where my stubbornness kicks in for once in my personal life. I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t think I am wrong. For whatever reason, she’s running scared. I can’t blame her. I do the same damn thing, day in and day out. The only time I feel completely in control of my life is out on the football field. Being trapped here for the last few days, I’m jonesing to get back to it. Get my head out of the bullshit and back into the game.

  Go back into unfeeling robot mode and forget everything else.

  Irritated with myself, I knock on her door and turn the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. I don’t bother giving her even a second, I stride into her dark room, stopping at the foot of the bed to find her a sleeping, dead to the world lump in the center of the mattress.

  Her blonde hair is strewn about the pillow in tangled waves, her face soft with sleep. Rosebud lips parted, the covers are pushed down to her waist and she’s wearing a skimpy pale blue tank top with no bra, her nipples clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of her top.

  The thin top, her hard nipples beneath, I’m captivated, salivating really. It’s cold as hell in the room and I go to her, grabbing the edge of the comforter so I can pull it up over her body. My knuckles brush ag
ainst her chest, I did it on purpose, I’m not going to lie and her eyes fly open at first contact. She sits up so fast she nearly nails me in the jaw with her forehead, and I take a quick step back, saving myself from massive injury.

  “What are you doing?” She pulls the covers up to her chin, covering up all that pretty exposed skin and disappointment crashes into me. “Sneaking around my room?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Lame as hell answer, but it’s all I got.

  “What time is it?” She leans over and grabs her phone off the bedside table, checking the clock with an aggravated groan. “Why would you think something’s wrong with me this early in the morning?”

  “You locked yourself up in here over twelve hours ago. For all I know you could be unconscious. How was I supposed to know?” I feel defensive. Her reaction makes me defensive, and I don’t know how we skipped backwards and ended up hostile towards each other again. I fucking hate it.

  I want the new Fable back. I want the new us back.

  There was never any us you asshole.

  Clamping my lips shut, I sit on the edge of the bed, sad when she skitters away from me as if she needs the space. I’ve had this idea lurking in the back of my mind since about three this morning and I hope it’s going to heal what damage has been done to our tentative relationship. If she doesn’t agree…

  I don’t know what else to do.

  “Well, I’m fine,” she retorts, setting her phone down, her gaze locked on her bent knees in front of her. “You can leave now.”

  “I was hoping I could ask you to go with me somewhere.”

  She flicks her head in an I-don’t-give-a-shit way. “I don’t know if we should hang out together anymore, Drew. I know we’re supposed to be pretending we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but this week is almost over and I don’t think we need to make a big show of it.”

  Fuck, what did I do? I have no idea, and she’s not going to tell me unless I drag it out of her. “I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery. I need to visit my sister’s grave.”