Page 33 of Her Game Plan

I stop in front of the doors, my heart halting completely before restarting at an unhealthy pace. Taking a deep breath, I try to convince my body to act normally, and not like one of the most physically attractive people I’ve ever met just confessed to wanting to be in one of those relationships. The kind I’ve never been interested in but now seems remarkably appealing. But, nope. This is fake. Remember: this is fake. “Wow. I’m not sure whether you’re joking or not, but I’m all in. My parents are like that with each other, and they’ll eat it up.” And also, that sounds… nice.

Still struggling to get my body back under control because we’re not doing that, I knock and then push into the house before waiting for a reply. My heels click on the wood floors as I call out, “We’re here!”

“Hi, honey,” my mom greets us, gracefully descending the rounded staircase from the upper floor, her dark pants perfectly matching the accent line on her light sweater. “Callan. We’re so glad you could make it.” She presses onto her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Mrs. Langford, it’s great to see you again. I appreciate the invitation to your lovely home,” Callan replies, his face lit up in genuine warmth. And there goes my heart rate again. I should really consider an appointment with a cardiologist.

“Oh, please.” Mom is in full hostess mode. “Call me Winnie. You’re practically family now!”

“Mom!” I chastise as Callan sends me a smug smirk.

Mom’s hazel eyes—the ones I inherited from her—meet mine, mirth dancing in them. “Oh, come on, Charlotte. You’re living together! You’ve never been this serious with someone before. Of course he can call me Winnie.”

Nothing like telling all my secrets to the man I’m fake dating. “Let us take things at our pace, huh?”

“Okay, dear.” It’s Mom’s response when she’s definitely not going to be doing that, but doesn’t want to argue about it.

“Well, come in, you two.” She’s about to pull us into the dining room when the door behind us opens again, my favorite three-year-old bounding into the house in a rainbow unicorn dress.

“Auntie Char!” Marlee shrieks, wrapping my legs up in a hug.

“How’s my favorite niece?” I drop into a crouch, a move that more people should be impressed with, considering the dress and heels I’m wearing, and pull the small girl into a hug.

“You brought your boyfriend?” she whispers into my ear.

I catch Callan watching us, trying his best not to smile, as my mom says hello to Chris and Kim. “He begged me to let him come play with you,” I fake whisper back.

Marlee drops her arms from around me and turns to Callan. Sticking her arms up, she proclaims, “You can play with me.”

Callan, taking the gesture as the command it was, pulls her into his arms.

“Marlee,” Kim chides, “I told you no more getting carried today.”

My niece tightens her arms around Callan’s neck, like she’s afraid her mom might try to physically remove her. “Peas?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Callan interjects. “I’m happy to hang out with Marlee again.”

“Again?” Mom asks, her voice smug.

I can’t contain the eye roll. “God, Mom. Can we not? He stopped by the other night when I had Marlee for a sleepover.”

“There you all are.” My father’s voice is louder here than it ever is at the office, all the wood in the house amplifying his low tenor. “Are we hanging out in the foyer these days?”

Mom kisses his cheek. “Of course not, honey. We were just deciding who had the distinct pleasure of carrying Marlee back.”

Dad chuckles, full of nothing but amusement for his only grandchild. “And it looks like you picked the right choice.” He holds out his hand to Callan, who has to rearrange the barnacle previously known as Marlee before he can return the handshake. “How are you, Callan?”

“Well, sir.” It’s the first time Callan has seemed remotely unsure since he agreed to this fake-dating thing. Maybe he’s realizing that he’s lying to the man who owns the team he plays for. Or maybe he’s intimidated by my dad. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to be.

“Oh, we don’t need any of that. You’re practically family now. Call me Steve.”

I look at my mother. “Did you two rehearse how to best embarrass me?”

The woman has the gall to wink at me. “No rehearsal necessary. We’ve been successfully doing it for over thirty years now. It’s practically instinctual.”

I look to the heavens and sigh dramatically.

“Come on, Charlotte.” Kim nods toward the dining room. “Let’s go see what appetizers Chef left for us.” After a few steps, she whispers, “And you can sneak me a few sips of your drink while you tell me how you ended up dating Callan Devine.” Kim likes to pretend she’s too good for the no-drinking-while-pregnant rule, but I guarantee you she doesn’t have more than one sip.