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“What do you do, son?” her father asks conversationally. Abigail stiffens next to me like she’s afraid I’m going to tell them I run a sex club in the city.
“I have my fingers in a lot of pots. Mostly real estate investments and startup companies. I also just started a small nonprofit that helps find programs and therapy for victims of violent crimes.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Abigail whip her head toward me. Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment before she schools her features. Considering she’s supposed to be my girlfriend, this is something she would have known about. Yeah, I don’t tell many people about it, and Abigail had no idea. My mother helped me get in touch with the right people and has helped with the small fundraisers we’ve had. She was thrilled when I called her with the idea. Fundraising for a worthy cause has always been something she excelled at, and with my father out of politics, her plate hasn’t been as full these last few years.
“I remember something in the papers about your brother being involved in a shooting. Is that what made you decide to start it?” Marshall, or rather Mr. Barnes, asks. He didn’t offer for me to call him Marshall, and I’m certainly not going to take any liberties. I’m a thoughtful fake boyfriend.
“It was. A good friend of mine has been deeply affected by what happened to her. She was the one who was held captive. We were able to find the resources to help her deal with the aftermath, but not everyone is as fortunate or as financially capable. And unfortunately, getting back to ‘normal’ can be challenging to say the least. That’s where we come in. We find and fund the therapy and support groups to help people. In some cases, we pay for some type of job retraining if they’re unable to go back to their former line of work due to PTSD.”
When I finish my explanation, Abigail has a soft smile on her lips, and she squeezes my fingers. The job training was something Lindsey thought of. She still hasn’t resumed her career as a reporter and doubts she ever will. Abigail knows this but didn’t know anything about what I was doing since I asked Lindsey not to tell anyone. I’m not sure why, it just wasn’t something I wanted to draw personal attention to. My reputation isn’t exactly one of selflessness, and I didn’t want it tainting the good I’m hoping can come from this.
“What are your plans for dinner, Abigail? I’m sorry we can’t get together this evening, but I simply couldn’t reschedule our plans with the Allens.”
Abigail smiles amicably at her mother but the glint in her eyes tell me she’s about to go in for the kill. It’s a look I’ve had directed at me many times. “Ah yes, how are the Allens? Has their daughter found another rich man to fund her lifestyle that she became accustomed to during her marriage to my ex-boyfriend?” Abigail turns to me. “The Allens are Raelynn’s parents. My former best friend.”
I’m stunned. I can’t believe her parents still have a relationship with the girl’s family. The fact they have no loyalty to their daughter is once again driven home with the revelation.
“Really, Abigail? I can’t believe you’re still holding such a grudge.” Loretta shakes her head with disappointment at Abigail’s response. Her father sits quietly, checking something on his phone, completely checked out from the conversation.
“Sorry, Mother, but it’s not every day you walk in on your best friend sucking off the man you thought you were going to marry. I guess the scars run a little deeper than your loyalty to me.” Abigail offers a completely fake smile as she sips her tea, like what she just said is simply polite conversation.
“Abigail Barnes, I cannot believe you are using that language in front of your father,” Loretta exclaims. Marshall lifts his confused gaze from his phone as though being mentioned has clued him in that something is amiss. He isn’t outrightly rude, just disinterested in anything more than polite conversation. I have a feeling he’s not often afforded the luxury of having an opinion that differs from his wife’s.
I hold back a laugh at Loretta’s reaction. That’s offensive language? She doesn’t know the half of it. The number of times Abigail has threatened to castrate me in very colorful ways or commented on my lack of manhood would send her into an early grave. This woman has no idea who the ballbuster sitting in front of her really is. I love that I do.
“Let’s not argue on Abigail’s first day back, honey.” Marshall finally clues into the tense standoff the ladies are having. He rubs her shoulder while Loretta closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through her pursed lips. When she opens her green eyes again, she smiles as though the last couple of minutes didn’t happen. It’s a bit eerie how easily she slips her mask back on.
“Yes, well, I’m sure you and Jackson are tired from your trip, and I just have a million things to do today. You’ll be at the bridal luncheon tomorrow, yes?”
This woman’s one-hundred-eighty-degree change in demeanor is enough to make my head spin.
“Yes, Mother. I wouldn’t miss it,” Abigail replies stiffly as they both stand.
“Jackson,” Abigail’s father begins. “While the ladies are indisposed tomorrow afternoon, what do you say to a game of golf?” I have zero interest in playing golf tomorrow, in fact, I hate golf, but it’s what a boyfriend who’s trying to get to know his girlfriend’s family would do, and I did tell Abigail I would crush the whole fake boyfriend thing.
“That sounds great,” I say, standing along with Marshall before making my way to the front door.
Abigail and I say our goodbyes quickly before getting in the car. She blows out a breath, her entire body deflating once the doors are closed.
“Did you see the way she so easily dismissed what that bitch and my piece-of-shit ex did? It’s like the very idea of her having even the smallest amount of loyalty to her daughter is the most preposterous thing imaginable.” She shakes her head and looks at her parents’ house with disappointment shining in her gaze.
“Hey,” I say as I put my hand on her knee and squeeze to get her back here with me. “Let’s check into the hotel, and I’ll let you take me to dinner at your favorite restaurant in town, the only condition being that they have a full bar and look the other way when it comes to overserving sexy as hell redheads.”
I give her a charming smile, hoping to take her mind off the bullshit with her mom. Seeing her look defeated by the interaction with her parents is so out of character for her. It makes me want to do anything and everything to bring back the stubborn-ass, take-no-prisoners woman who I usually have the pleasure of dealing with.
Abigail throws her head back on the headrest and lowers her sunglasses to cover her eyes. “You read my mind.”
So, here’s the thing. When Abigail agreed to let me play her wonderful fake boyfriend for the week, I also offered to make the room accommodations. I knew this was going to be a stressful week for her and wanted to make sure she had a place she could unwind and maybe be pampered a little. I also wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to have her to myself in a hotel suite. That being said, I don’t feel bad about getting a suite with one bed, even if Abigail looks ready to smother me with a pillow in my sleep.
“Goddammit, Jackson. I knew I should have made the reservations. I specifically told you two beds.”
“I swear, I thought this one had two when I made the reservation,” I tell her, playing up the innocent angle. A little white lie never killed anyone, right?
“Maybe the hotel has another room available. I’m going to call the front desk and ask.” She grabs the phone to dial the reception desk. Too bad for her, I already anticipated her doing something like this and generously tipped the woman at the front desk to make sure Abigail knows they’re fully booked for the week. Regardless of whether or not they actually are. It might be an asshole move, but I never claimed to be anything else.
“Thank you for checking, I understand. Charleston is a great place for a Valentine’s vacation.” She hangs up the phone gently and shoots me an irritated glare.
“No luck?” I ask.
