My Fake Fiancé

by R. R. Banks

  I let out a long breath and steel my nerves. I have to come clean with Mom. She deserves to know the truth. And if I can fix things with Sasha, and there's even a chance of us having a future together, my mom needs to know so she's not totally blindsided.

  “I need to tell you something, Mom,” I say. “A few somethings, actually.”

  “Oh, this sounds juicy,” she says. “We haven't had an intriguing midnight chat in years, Miles.”

  “Believe me, I know,” I say with a chuckle.

  I pick up my mug of cocoa and take a sip, reveling in its rich, frothy taste. It's every bit as good now as when I was younger. My mother takes a drink as well, eyeing me over the rim of her mug. I almost get the feeling that she's somehow read my mind and already knows what I'm about to tell her.

  Or maybe, I'm on edge and feeling– which is probably much more likely.

  “So? What is it?” she asks.

  I take in another breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my faltering heart. I don't know why confessing this to my mother has me feeling so uneasy. She's never been judgmental or condescending before. She's my mom. I can tell her anything and everything. For whatever reason, it feels like I’m suddenly treading on unsteady ground.

  “Well, the first thing I need to tell you is that the woman who was here over Thanksgiving was not actually Christopher's girlfriend,” I say. “Her name is actually Sasha Gates.”

  “I know, dear,” she replies, not missing a beat. “I mean, I didn't know her name, but I knew right away she wasn't Chris's girlfriend.”

  I cock my head and look at her. “You knew?”

  She nods. “Of course, I did,” she says and laughs, a sound almost as rich as the cocoa. “I knew about ten minutes after I met her.”

  “How in the hell did you know?” I ask. “It took me a little time – and a phone call from Chris – to figure it out.”

  “It was the way she spoke about your brother,” she says. “She had no idea who he was. To hear her speak about him was like listening to her describe a stranger. I just knew she wasn't Alice.”

  I sit back on the couch, stunned by my mother's revelation – and the demonstration of the fact that she's obviously a hell of a lot sharper than I am.

  “Why didn't you say anything?” I ask. “Why didn't you kick her out of here?”

  She shrugs. “She's a lovely girl, Miles,” she explains. “I enjoyed her company very much. She's honest and genuine –”

  “Honest?” I say and chuckle.

  My mom waves me off and laughs. “In every other way she's honest,” she says. “She's a wonderful young woman – that carries a pretty daunting emotional burden on her back. I got the idea that being here, away from whatever her situation was, helped her. I wanted her to experience a little peace in her soul for a while.”

  “It helped her. A lot,” I say. “Being around us for a few days helped ease her mind and her heart. At least, for a little while.”

  “You knew her situation, I take it?” she asks.

  “I didn't. Not at first,” I say. “Hell, I'm the one who picked her up from the airport thinking she was somebody she's not. But, her home life – it's not good. Her mom and younger sister live nearby, but they're mean to her. Cruel, even. They're not supportive of her, at all, and constantly run her down.”

  “It sounds like this was a nice respite from that,” she says.

  I nod. “Yeah, it seemed to do her a lot of good.”

  “By the way, how do you know what her home situation is like?” my mom asks. “And in such great detail?”

  A wry smile crosses my face and I look away from my mom for a moment. I have a feeling she knows what I'm going to say next, but she's having fun torturing me right now, just because she can. With a sigh, I finally find the nerve to look over at her.

  “Not long after she left here, she called me,” I say. “She begged me to help her pull one over on her mom and sister.”

  “She certainly seems to enjoy pulling one over on people,” she cracks.

  “Yeah, but it's not like that. She's not like that,” I say. “This was different. She wanted to get them off her back so she told them I was her boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, she asked me to come to dinner to meet them, so she could parade me around a bit, and get them to back off of her.”

  My mother laughs, clearly finding this hilarious – which, I guess with some distance and hindsight now, it kind of is.

  “Yeah, but then I made the mistake of trying to have some fun at her expense and upped the ante,” I say. “Just to get under Sasha's skin, I told them that I was her fiancé. That backfired a bit and made things become incredibly awkward over there.”

  “I can only imagine,” she says and laughs.

  I tell the rest of our story from there – excluding our recent fight, and the pregnancy news. Afterwards, we sit there together in comfortable silence, sipping on our cocoas. For a long time, the only sound in the room is the snapping and popping of wood in the fireplace.

  “You care about her a lot, don't you?” my mom finally asks, breaking the silence.

  I nod. “Yeah, I really do,” I say. “It might seem crazy, but I think I'm in love with her, Mom. It's beyond nuts, I know. I mean, it makes no sense.”

  “Love never makes sense dear,” she says. “When it does, it’s not really love. Emotions are messy, strange things. And your heart will always want what it wants.”

  “That it does,” I say. “And it wants Sasha.”

  “Then you need to fight for her.”

  “I don't even know where she is,” I grouse. “She left L.A. in a hurry a few days ago and I haven't heard from her since. She doesn't return my calls or text messages. She's gone silent on me.”

  I tell her everything that happened at my office and the fallout from it. My mother listens and I can't help but notice the amused smile on her face. When I'm done with my story, I look at her, completely stone-faced. She has the good graces to not laugh out loud, but it's clearly a struggle for her.

  “Really?” I ask. “You're going to laugh at me too?”

  She shrugs. “I'm sorry dear, but it is kind of funny,” she says. “And wow, does that girl have an attitude.”

  “Yeah, that she does.”

  “If you love her, you need to find her, Miles,” she says. “Maybe it works out, maybe it doesn't. I think this woman is good for you – like the real Alice and your brother. Sasha has loosened you up and is helping change your priorities. She's making you kinder and gentler. She's shown you that a true and genuine love can be the greatest thing in the world and make your life infinitely better.”

  I nod. “That's true. Very true,” I say. “I really like the changes I’ve seen in myself since Sasha came into my life.. I'm happier. Lighter, even.”

  “I know. I can see it in you, dear,” she says. “And it's a wonderful thing to see.”

  “There's more,” I say, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

  “What is it?”

  “She's pregnant, Mom,” I say.

  My mother's eyes widen and a look of absolute shock crosses her face – but only for a moment. The shock quickly gives way to a look of absolute joy. She jumps off her couch and runs over to me, throwing her arms around the back of my neck, and squeezing me tight.

  “I'm going to be a grandmother,” she cries.

  “Yeah, it looks like you are.”

  “I can't tell you how thrilled I am, Miles.”

  She stands in front of me, my hands in hers, beaming at me. I can't recall the last time I saw my mother this happy. It's crazy – one things I’ve already learned is that kids do crazy things to people.

  “Are you happy, Miles?” she asks. “How do you feel about being a father?”

  I give her a smile. “Honestly? I'm excited about it. Really excited,” I say. “I never thought I'd say those words, but I am. I'm in love and excited to be a father. I just – I don't know wh
at's going to happen with Sasha.”

  “If this is what you want, then you have to fight for it, Miles,” she says, her tone serious. “You need to show her what you’re willing to do to make her happy. This is on you now.”

  “Yeah, if I can ever find her.”

  “She's probably at home,” she says. “With her mother and sister.”

  “I doubt that,” I say. “That's probably the last place she'd go.”

  My mother holds my gaze. “We usually retreat to familiar surroundings, when troubled or hurting,” she says. “Didn't you come home?”

  I give her a rueful smile. “Yeah, I did,” I say. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to check out her mom's house tomorrow. I doubt she's there, but at least it's a place to start.”

  My mom nods. “Good for you, dear,” she says. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

  “I'll do my best to get her back, Mom,” I say. “I really will.”

  “I know you will, dear,” she says. “I know you will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I stumble into the kitchen around ten-thirty the next morning. My mother is sitting down at the table, surrounded by an array of medication for her non-existent conditions, and swallowing pills like they're going out of style. After spending most of the night talking and connecting with Sarah, I should be exhausted – especially after that long, sleepless drive – but, I feel strangely invigorated. There's even a little spring in my step.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Sarah chirps from the stove.

  “Mornin',” I reply.

  I walk over and give my mom a kiss on top of her head. She looks at me, her eyes wide, startled for a moment before a wide, warm smile spreads across her face.

  “Good morning, dear,” she says. “I'm so happy you're here. Why didn't you call to tell us you were coming?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I really don't want to get into this again. I would rather not tell my mom any of it, truth be told.

  “Oh, she did call,” Sarah interjects. “You were sleeping when she called, and I forgot to tell you. I'm sorry, Mom.”

  She smiles. “Oh, that's fine,” she says. “I'm just glad you're here, Sasha. After what happened at Thanksgiving, I wasn't –”

  “Let's just leave it in the past,” I say. “New starts for the holidays for all of us. Does that sound good to you?”

  My mother smiles and it almost looks like she's going to cry. “That sounds wonderful.”

  I give Sarah a grateful smile for intervening and covering for me and she gives me a nod in reply. I know she doesn’t like to lie, but that whopper came flying out of her mouth with ease. I have to say – I’m impressed.

  Sarah places a plate stacked with pancakes on the table while I grab the plate heaped with bacon and set it down before quickly laying out plates and silverware for all of us. My mother puts all of her medication bottles back into her little box and puts it on the floor beneath the table. I pour myself a cup of coffee and fix it before taking my place at the table.

  I look around, and for the first time in days, I feel a serene sense of calm. It might even be bordering on happiness. It's strange to me that I’m experiencing it at this table with my mother and sister of all people. I've rarely felt this calm or happy around the two of them – if ever. Maybe, this fresh start for Christmas thing is exactly what the three of us needed.

  Of course, there is a dark, brooding undercurrent to my mood –everything that’s going on with Miles. Talking it all out with Sarah last night really helped me out. I’m no closer to finding answers to anything, of course, but just hearing it out loud, outside of my head, is tremendously useful.

  What I know for certain is, no matter what, I'm going to be okay. I'll bounce back from this and land back on my own two feet soon enough. I'm a survivor. I've been through plenty of rough patches before – granted, I've never had a child on the way, and it won't be easy, but I'll manage to get through this. One way or another, I will handle this and be okay.

  Sarah dishes up pancakes for all of us and we all dig in. The atmosphere at the table is light and cheery, and with Christmas music playing on the stereo on the counter, it's even somewhat festive. And, for the first time I can remember in my adult life, I don't mind a little festivity.

  “So, Sasha,” my Mom starts, “is that handsome fiancé of yours in town? Is he coming by?”

  I swallow down the mouthful of pancake and it hits my stomach with what feels like the force of a rock. My belly churns and my heart flutters nervously in my chest. It's a question I knew was coming and thought I was prepared for, but, hearing those words and experiencing the heartbreak for the millionth time, sucks.

  Sarah and I exchange glances. We agreed last night to leave our mom in the dark about everything for as long as possible. There's no reason to upset her right now, so we thought it would be in her best interest to wait to announce that I've ended my “engagement” after the holidays.

  We also decided to wait to announce my pregnancy. I really don't want to answer ten thousand questions when I don't have answers for myself just yet.

  “Actually, he's not in town,” I say. “He's back in L.A. Working on some big case or something.”

  “Over the holidays?” she asks.

  I shrug. “Yeah, he's a little bit of a workaholic, that guy,” I say. “Said he wanted to get a jump on things, so he would be ready when it went to trial.”

  She nods, but frowns. “That's kind of sad,” she says. “Thinking about him down there all by himself, alone, over Christmas.”

  “Yeah, he's really dedicated to his job,” I say lamely.

  “Well, I suppose that's a good thing,” she says. “At least he's not a shiftless deadbeat. Not like that one guy you dated back in high school. What was his name again?”

  I laugh. “Most of the guys I dated in high school were shiftless deadbeats, Mom,” I say. “Sarah's the one who always dated the overachievers.”

  “Hardly,” she says.

  “Are you dating?” I ask. “Any potential prospects?”

  Sarah shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no,” she says. “Guys just aren't into me, I guess.”

  “That’s just not true, dear,” Mom adds. “There's that one boy from the grocery store. What's his name? Kyle?”

  “Please, Mom, I'm eating,” she says. “He's gross and creepy. He's also like twice my age.”

  “Twice your age?” Mom asks.

  “At least,” Sarah says, then turns to me. “She's always trying to hook me up with this guy. He's got a creepy porn mustache and always wears shirts that show off his massive bush of chest hair. All he needs is a giant gold medallion to complete the look.”

  Our mother then proceeds to list off other guys Sarah should be interested in, all while Sarah gives me a rundown on why she wouldn't give a single one of them the time of day. Sarah and I laugh while our mother looks flabbergasted. Eventually, she also joins in the laughter. It's such a foreign sound within these walls – genuine laughter and merriment.

  It does my heart good to hear it. It reminds me of the time I spent over at Miles' place. This kind of unfettered joy seemed to be commonplace over there. His family seems to all get along with each other really well. They love to laugh and rib one another and seem to really enjoy life.

  That has never been the case in the Gates household. But, as I listen to us this morning, I have hope that, maybe, things can change. And that hope helps keep down the dark mood threatening to rise within me – along with other thoughts of Miles.

  The doorbell rings, interrupting our laughter. I start to get up to answer it, but Sarah flies to her feet, patting her hand on my shoulder.

  “I’ve got it,” she says.

  I'm feeling really good right now. It's amazing, given the depths of despair I was wallowing in before walking through that door last night. Reconnecting with my sister really helped heal my heart and soul. And although the road with my mom will be a little bit longer, for the f
irst time in a long time, I believe that we can get there.

  I get up to pour myself another cup of decaf, casually glancing out the window to the front. When I see a familiar black SUV parked at the curb, my blood runs cold and I nearly drop the mug in my hand. I set it down on the counter and turn to my mom, my head spinning and my heart slamming against my chest.

  Not wanting to give anything away, I give her a smile I hope doesn't look as fake as it feels. “I'll be right back,” I say. “I just want to get some socks. It's freezing today, huh?”

  That part isn't a lie. December in Seattle doesn’t exactly feel like a tropical paradise. But I want to get to the door before Sarah does. She was so fired up last night after I told her everything, I'm afraid of what she might say or do to him.

  I dash down the hallway, heading for the front of the house. Sarah has her hand on the knob and before I can call out to her, she starts to open it. I take a quick turn, ducking through the archway and into the living room. From where I'm standing, Sarah and I can see each other, but I can't be seen from the front door. Thank God.

  “Miles,” Sarah says. “What an unpleasant surprise.”

  I hear Miles laugh softly and motion to Sarah. She glances over, sees me standing there, but quickly turns back to him.

  “Look, I know we didn't start off on the best foot,” he says, “but, I was hoping –”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” she snaps. “You should probably just go now.”

  I hear him sigh and there's a pause in the conversation. I can tell he's upset. Part of me wishes that he’s confused by the fact that I disappeared and haven't returned his calls. Of course, a small vindictive part of me hopes his eyes are still stinging from that blast of pepper spray.

  I can't believe he's here. In hindsight, I probably should have realized he'd probably be in town for Christmas – although, the last time we talked, he hadn't committed one way or the other. I also should have taken his intelligence into consideration— he's definitely smart enough to check and see if I'm here or not. I'm reasonably sure he already dropped by the bar, the library, and my apartment looking for me. Miles is nothing if not persistent.