Page 23 of Her Game Plan

“Is that—?” I point to the stove.

She whirls. “Shit! The macaroni and cheese!” I watch her, amusement dancing in my chest, as she scrambles to pull the boiling-over noodles off the stove.

“Aunt Charlotte said a bad word.”

I look down to find a small child looking up at me with an intrigued tilt to her head.

“That’s because Aunt Charlotte is a heathen,” Chris Langford says from next to me before he extends his hand. “Hey, Callan. Hope Marlee isn’t crashing date night. Charlotte’s really doing us a solid by keeping her overnight. I’m sure she told you, but I’m pretty sure we haven’t slept for three days straight.”

Charlotte flashes me another wide-eyed look, dangerously close to terror. I guess we’re diving headfirst into this whole fake-dating thing.

“Oh, yeah.” I run my hand through my hair. I can do this. Just be boyfriend-y. “She mentioned that. Sorry, man. I thought I’d come over and help for a bit.”

“You’re a better person than I am. If Kim had volunteered for babysitting duty when we were dating, I would’ve run out of there as fast as humanly possible.”

Charlotte scowls from beside the stove. “That’s because you’re a terrible person.”

Chris shrugs. “Or I was terrified of kids until I had my own. Now I’m terrified for my kid and of everyone else’s.” He offers a self-deprecating smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’m going to go home and try to sleep for the next twelve hours. If you need anything… Well, don’t need anything. Or call Grandma.”

“You playing with us?” the little girl asks, holding up her arms.

“I’m sure he has better things to do tonight, Marls,” Charlotte replies, giving me an out.

“Up, peas.”

Obviously not denying such an adorable request, I lift her into my arms. She reaches out, touching my cheek. “You Aunt Char’s boyfwiend.”

“I am,” I confirm. Or maybe I’m not to this small human, but until I’m clear on who gets to know the truth, I will be Charlotte Langford’s boyfriend to anyone and everyone. And I can feel everyone’s eyes on me.

“It looks like you’ve got everything handled,” Chris notes before giving Charlotte a quick hug, squeezing Marlee’s foot, and leaving before I can register what’s happening.

“What are you girls up to tonight?” I stare at Marlee as she inspects every inch of my face.

Her little fingers run over my stubble as she announces, “Watching scary movies and sweeping outside.”

Charlotte shakes her head. “No. We were pretending, remember? To tease your daddy.” Her gaze meets mine. “But I will let you watch something on the TV while you eat your macaroni and cheese if you let me talk to Callan. That work for you, peanut?”

“Okay.” Marlee taps my shoulder, telling me it’s time to put her back down. Truly amazing, the authority she wields with so few words.

I sit at one of the barstools at Charlotte’s island, as she dishes bright yellow noodles into an adult-sized bowl.

“Okay. Aunt Charlotte still hasn’t purchased any kids’ plates, so you’re going to have to use the grown-up ones, all right? Super careful. Two hands.”

“Yup,” Marlee replies, the bowl extra large between her small hands.

“Spoon!” I warn as it starts to tip out of the bowl.

Charlotte grabs it, holding on to the utensil as she follows Marlee to the couch. Two minutes later, Charlotte’s been out-negotiated and had to buy an entire season of some cartoon about a family of Australian dogs I’ve never heard of.

While Charlotte does her auntie duties, I pull up my shopping app, searching for kids’ dining sets. Turns out, I am woefully unprepared to decide between the millions of options, so I add the most expensive one to the cart, planning to order it once I find out where the fuck Charlotte thinks we’re going to be living once we move in together.

“Sorry,” Charlotte apologizes when she returns, remote still in hand. “That will probably earn us ten to twelve minutes.”

I glance behind me at Marlee, curled up on Charlotte’s suede sofa, a soft-looking blanket on her lap. “You’d think they’d make the shows longer.”

Charlotte chuckles. “They are longer. Well, it’s two shows per episode, so maybe they’re shorter, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have the attention span.”

“I understand the feeling,” I joke.