But the idea of going back there with my mom trying to get ahold of me makes me want to puke. She hasn’t tried to call me in a long time.
“You really want to spend the few days we have to chill, dealing with all of that?” I lean against my desk, not sure how to word what I want to say.
“It’s for my grandfather.” He lifts his shoulders, side-eying me like he needs reassurance. “Fake dating me isn’t so bad, is it?”
“It’s never bad pretending to love you.” I don’t know where the words came from, but my chest is warm, and I break eye contact. “But doyoureally want to spend those days pretending?”
He smiles, and I catch just a hint of it out of the corner of my gaze. “It’s better than spending three days explaining why the guy I’m newly seeing didn’t come when he always came as my friend before.”
Does he not want to pretend?
“You could just stay here. We could make some excuse?” I throw out like a life raft.
Would it be so bad to just be together? I want the downtime to get back to us. I miss us.
“Mom’s already anticipating that and told me this might be my grandfather’s last Christmas, and I really need to be there.”
“How? She’s a damn mind reader.” I don’t like my ideas being thwarted before they’ve barely formed.
“She can just sense it. She knows I try to avoid drama, so she’s planned for this. She also will always side with Steph.” He pulls at a thread on my comforter.
“So why let her do it?”
“It’s just a couple of days.” Archangel is committed to the idea of family in a way I’ve never connected with considering how they treat him. “And I do miss my grandfather.”
I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “Do you want me to fight Mark in front of your grandfather?”
He shoves off the bed to stand in front of me, twisting a strand of blond hair around his finger. “Please.”
He’s impossible to say no to. I love making him happy.
I look at the ceiling because if I look at him for another minute, I’m going to lose my mind. “You know we’ll have to pretend to be together.”
“Haven’t we been?”
I drop my gaze to give him a flat look. “You know it’s different when we are there.”
He shuffles closer. “Does that bother you?”
Annoyance bubbles up in my chest. He’s got to be fucking kidding, right?
I barely keep it contained. “You’re the one who got weird the last time we were there.”
“I didn’t make it weird.” He releases an exasperated sound.
I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “Is this what gaslighting feels like?”
He sets his mouth in a line and glares. “What are you talking about?”
“Bitch are you kidding?” I know I’m channeling my inner cunt here, but I cannot believe him. “You switched fucking rooms for trips and avoided me. It’s only been better for a couple of weeks. That qualifies as acting weird.”
“Are you really still mad about that?” He drops his head back, groaning.
“Maybe I’m mad about everything.” I’m being a bitch, and I don’t care. Not when he’s playing it off.
“It’s not that big a deal.” He puts his hand on my chest.
I lift my chin, looking over his shoulder. “It is to me. I’ve not touched a single other person?—”
