“I appreciate that, ma’am. Lily is a wonderful woman and I know you’re very important to her. I’m honoured to have the chance to get to know you.”
If I didn’t know better, I would swear this is real. That’s how convincing Jude is with just one simple statement layered with more emotion than I expected.
Nana waves her hand in dismissal. “Enough of that ‘ma’am’ business. I refuse to be that stuffy, call me Margaret or call me Nana. Your choice.”
Jude inclines his head in acknowledgment, stretching his arm over the back of my chair at the same time. His fingertips drift over my shoulder, lighting every place he touches on fire. It’s simply not fair that my body responds like this when I can’t do anything about it.
But there’s no denying the physical chemistry between Jude and me. That’s probably the biggest reason why I believe we can pull this off. You can’t fake attraction, and that’s the one true thing we’ve got. But I’ve learned my lesson; chemistry and attraction only take you so far.
The pattern in all of my relationships is clear. I’m the fuck buddy, the one they have some fun with before settling down. The guy I lost my virginity to in high school messed around with me a few times before asking someone else to prom and ended up dating her for years. My college experiences were much the same — short-lived and barely existing outside of a bed. The one man I dated when I first went to Vancouver for my degree lasted a month before dumping me. Last I heard, the woman he went out with next has been his wife for five years and counting.
I’ve done okay at ignoring how much it hurts being cast aside so many times, and for the most part, I embrace my inner sex goddess. But the pain is there. And despite her having the best of intentions, Nana always brings it to the surface with her unending desire to see me settle down.
And that right there is why Jude is sitting next to me, pretending to be interested in me when I know darn well he isn’t.
He couldn’t be.
All of the women I’ve seen him with in the news and online have been gorgeous, modelesque, perfectly dressed, with flawless hair and makeup. They certainly aren’t the black sheep of their family, more comfortable in leggings than dresses, with an obsession for colourful earrings. They probably sip chardonnay, not shoot tequila or chug beer the way I prefer.
No, there’s not a chance of anything real ever happening between me and Jude. Whatever that was the morning after the wedding, it meant nothing.
Nothing.
Pushing my chair back, I stand up, needing a little bit of space from the overwhelming swell of confusion rising in me. Because I see right through my own lie. It wasn’tnothing, waking up in Jude’s arms.
It was wonderful.
“I’m going to order food,” I say brightly. “The usual, Nana?”
“Yes dear, thank you.”
I turn to Jude. “Sandwich? Wrap? Soup?”
His eyes are penetrating me, like he sees that I’m out of sorts right now. I give a tiny shake of my head, hoping he lets it go. To my relief, he does, simply replying, “Club sandwich, thanks.”
I dart over to the counter and place our order. Thank God Kat isn’t working here today or this would be even harder. Nana’s scrutiny combined with my own turmoil is enough.
Once I’ve ordered and paid, I make my way back to the table. Nana is smiling, and Jude is, well, not smiling. But he looks okay.
“What did I miss?” I say breezily, dropping back down into my chair. Jude’s hand instantly lands back on my shoulder, and to my surprise, the weight of it grounds me. It’s a reminder that I’m not in this madness alone. He gets something out of us pretending, as well. He gets his family off his back, so he can have space to breathe and heal from the anger and grief bubbling inside of him.
And if I can help him heal, physically and maybe even emotionally, then maybe I’ll feel like it’s a fair trade.
I just have to remember it’s all pretend…
Chapter seventeen
Jude
I don’t know what I expected when I agreed to pretend to date Lily. But it doesn’t feel like much has changed. Aside from the lunch with her grandmother, we’ve gone out for dinner twice, and she’s dragged me out for a walk on her days off. Nothing has happened beyond holding hands or the limited touches in public. At the clinic, we have to be extra careful, walking a fine line between wanting to be convincing but not inappropriate, given she’s still my therapist.
The problem is, the more time I spend with her, the more time Iwantto spend with her. And the more I touch her, the more Iwantto touch her. She’s a beautiful woman, but more than that, she’s the most warm, genuine, authentically good person I know outside of my own family. And to top it off, I can’t forget how fucking good it felt waking up with her in my arms and kissing her.
I really want to kiss her again.
But I can’t tell if she wants that or if she wants to steer clear of anything physical. Which is giving me some fucking blue as hell balls.
The only silver lining is that the worried expressions on my mom’s and sister’s faces have faded when they look at me. Of course, the flip side is having to deal with their not so subtle attempts at interrogating me on how and when things started with Lily. I’ve deflected so far, but Mom is insisting Lily come to a family dinner, and soon. That should be interesting.
