Page 13 of His Fake Fiancé

This was way more complicated than she thought it would be. She swallowed back a snort at such a stupid thought. There was no world where any of this would be easy. She and Jake were lying to the court, pretending to be something they weren’t. Because no matter how badly she wanted them to be a couple, they weren’t and they never had been. And, sure, they were doing it for a damn good reason, but that still didn’t mean it didn’t prick her with guilt and shame, as well as come with a huge set of complications.

“Ms. Morales? Mr. Callahan?”

A woman dressed in a tailored grey suit and carrying a blue file folder, stopped in between the two benches. She glanced between the two couples, her eyebrows raised.

Jake pushed to his feet. Claire scrambled to catch up. She wiped her free hand on her dress and then silently cursed. Sweat stains weren’t putting her best foot forward.

“This way,” the woman said, her voice even, very no nonsense. She turned around and walked through the door to the meeting room.

Claire and Jake were closest, and he led her over, guiding her into the room with a hand at the small of her back. The feeling of his palm sent a cascade of goosebumps down her spine.

She silently cursed again, this time her anger directed at her traitorous body, and its stupid reactions. Now was not the time or place for such foolishness.

The room was plain. Beige carpet, off white walls. A cheap, dark brown conference table, surrounded by chrome and white plastic chairs. The room was in the center of the building, so there were no windows, just overhead, fluorescent lights.

The evaluator moved to the head of the table. Jake led Claire over to one of the chairs on one side of the table, pulling it out for her. She sat, the plastic cold against her butt. The air smelled musty, like the room hadn’t been used in a while, and the door had been closed the whole time.

Gina and her probable boyfriend skirted around to the other side of the table and sat, so they were once again all facing each other. Jake sat in the seat next to Claire, putting himself between her and the evaluator. He clasped his hands in front of him, resting them on the table. Claire kept hers folded in her lap.

The evaluator placed the folder on the table and glanced between the two couples. “Hello, everyone,” she said, her voice still holding that no-nonsense edge. Claire both liked, and was terrified of her, all at the same time. “I’m Noelle Fletcher, and I am a specially trained psychologist and a Child Custody Evaluator. I am appointed by the courts, and have worked on many custody cases for the State. My role here is to evaluate the health, safety, welfare, and the best interest of the child, and to make a recommendation to the courts about a formal custody agreement and a parenting plan.”

Jake nodded, but his shoulders were tense, his jaw tight. Claire glanced across the table. Gina looked just as anxious, if the slope of her shoulders was any indication. It was understandable. Claire felt like her stomach was trying like hell to turn itself inside out. She was afraid to open her mouth in case she accidentally threw up.

This was the worst thing she’d ever let Jake talk her into, and that included the time that they decided to hitchhike into town to see a movie when they were nine. One of these days she was going to learn that when Jake asked for a favor, she needed to run in the opposite direction. As fast and as far as possible.

Jake had never been so tense in his entire life. His shoulders felt like they were trying to get to second base with his ears. Like the custody mediation session he and his lawyer, Trey, had attended last month, this one wasn’t going so well, either. Although it was civil—the meeting hadn’t devolved into a shouting match yet—the air had a frosty edge to it, one that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

The evaluator was a hard ass, but she seemed fair, which was good. It made Jake feel better about putting Olivia’s future in her hands.

This whole thing was ridiculous, honestly. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Gina to be in Olivia’s life. He totally did. He just didn’t think it was fair that, after she’d dumped their daughter on his doorstep—the daughter she’d never told him about—when she was only a few months old, that she could waltz back into town and start demanding things.

“I’m going to ask Ms. Morales and Mr. Davidson to step out into the hallway for a moment while I speak with Mr. Callahan and Ms. McKinney.”

Gina and her new boyfriend—at the last session he’d found out the dude was some architect she’d met when she was off not raising their daughter—stood and shuffled out of the room. But not before Gina threw him a look that could freeze lava. He understood her anger and frustration, but there was no way he was going to let it sway him. Not in this. Not with something as important as his daughter’s wellbeing.

Something that felt a bit like guilt slid through him, making him twitch. He shifted in the chair, trying to hide the unexpected movement. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Sure, he wasn’t the most hands-on father, but that was okay. Besides, Mama and Grace had everything under control, which was a good thing. Anytime he’d tried to do anything with Olivia, it had started in disaster and headed downhill quick, until someone swooped in and rescued him.

Like the very first night, when Olivia’s crying had woken him up. He’d jumped out of bed and raced into the nursery, his heart beating somewhere up in his throat. She sounded like a foghorn, her little face red, arms flailing.

He’d picked her up, feeling like a big, useless, idiot. Every time he touched her he was always afraid he was going to hurt her. She was so tiny and helpless.

“What’s the matter, baby girl?” He’d kept his voice low, bouncing her awkwardly, trying to get her to calm down. It didn’t work. She just cried harder. “Shh, shh. It’s okay.”

And then Mama had come in, wrapped in her robe. “Everything okay?”

He must have looked panicked or stressed or something, because she came over and scooped up the baby, holding her close and cooing at her. Olivia quieted almost instantly, as if she knew, unlike with him, she was in safe hands with her grandma.

The relief that had washed through him should have been disappointing, or at least humbling, but he couldn’t help but letting the small part of him that felt like it was for the best take over. This way he couldn’t screw stuff up royally, or do something stupid and hurt the baby.

Mama had been calm and efficient, changing the baby’s diaper and then wrapping her up in a blanket, and rocking her in the rocking chair until she went back to sleep. Jake had stood there, watching and waiting to help. But she didn’t need any, didn’t ask him for any. Eventually he’d shuffled back to his room and lay there, staring up at the dark ceiling.

When the baby cried again a few hours later, he staggered into the room to find Mama already there, taking charge. He was once again pushed to the sidelines, which was nothing new. Everyone underestimated him—even Mama, although with her it was to a lesser extent—and always had, so he’d leaned into it. And, sure, he didn’t try too hard to make his way back in the lineup when it came to dirty diapers and midnight feedings, but honestly, it was probably better that way. He was bound to screw it up anyway. Best to let someone else do it right from the beginning.

The door clicked shut behind Gina, and he snapped back to attention, trying to bury the weird feelings rushing through him. Why was he thinking about all this shit now? Thinking was not his strong suit. He turned back to the evaluator. Way to let your mind wander during something so important, dipshit. Get your head in the game.

Claire was as stiff as a statue next to him, her hands still clasped in her lap. She was staring at the table. He reached over and grabbed her hand. Her fingers were icy. He pulled her hand over, enveloped hers in both of his and rubbed, hoping to warm her up.

She gave him a quick glance, and then her gaze bounced to Noelle. Claire’s lips turned up in what had to be the phoniest smile in the history of facial expressions. He wasn’t very good at picking up on cues, and even he could tell.