Page 20 of His Fake Fiancé

“Please do this for me, Claire.” He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. Her stomach squeezed right along with it. “For me and for Olivia.”

And there was the most unexpected jab, like he’d slipped a knife between her ribs and hit the center of her. She knew he didn’t do it on purpose because he wasn’t that type of person. But he’d struck the bullseye all the same.

She found herself nodding, even as her brain screamed that this was the biggest mistake she was ever going to make.

Chapter 7

Claire stabbed at her green beans with her fork, her stomach too bouncy for her to even think about eating. She tried her best to not be too weird, but she could tell she wasn’t doing a very good job.

Her dad and Jax were oblivious, which wasn’t surprising. They were very much alike, in that only-focused-on-what-was-in-front-of-them kind of way. Brock and his wife, Jamie, had their own stuff going on. Recently, their relationship had gone from tense to strained. Claire didn’t know what was happening with them—Brock was even less of a sharer than their dad, and that was saying something—but she hoped that, whatever it was, they could work it out. Whatever that meant to them.

She loved her brother and her sister-in-law, but if she was honest, they didn’t really work as a couple. They wanted different things in life, and neither of them was happy. They just hadn’t realized it yet.

Why in the hell was she so attuned to other people’s relationships, and yet, couldn’t let go of her infatuation with Jake? It was so stupid. And she knew she should just let it all go, but it was so difficult because what she felt was built on years of understanding, of acceptance, of trust. Years when she was growing and changing, becoming herself. Sometimes it felt like it was part of her, anchored inside the person she’d grown into. What a depressing thought.

“Everything okay?”

She glanced over at Linc, who’d spent the last hour watching her out of the corner of his eye. He thought he was being sneaky and she wouldn’t notice, but she did. And, since he was the observant one in the family, she knew better than to act weird in front of him. And she’d tried, she really had, but he’d obviously noticed something was off with her.

“Yeah,” she said, glancing up with a smile. Her cheeks felt tight and she knew she wasn’t fooling him. “Everything’s good.” It would probably be more convincing if she didn’t sound like her dog had just died.

She’d never imagined how difficult this was going to be. Which was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, who could make her own life decisions. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to move out.

Then why was this so bloody hard?

She just needed to say it. Say the words. Everyone, I’m moving out. Going to move into the Callahan guest house with Jake. Don’t wait up.

She opened her mouth, but the words got caught in somewhere in her chest, and all that came out was a sound that was part gasp and part breath.

Everyone at the table looked at her. Her cheeks prickled, and there was no doubt she was flushed from her chin to her forehead.

“Everything okay, Claire?” Brock’s blond eyebrows drew down with his fierce frown. He really was extremely intimidating when he looked like that.

She nodded. “Everything’s fine.” Her voice came out weak and a little shaky, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I just have an announcement to make.” There that was better. Not forceful, or even normal, but at least it wasn’t weak.

“What sort of announcement?” Her dad had put his papers aside, which meant he was serious. Somehow, she’d managed to keep her “engagement” from him, which was a miracle in and of itself, what with her nosey brothers and all. She didn’t even think Brock knew what was going on. Maybe Linc and Jax had decided to respect her privacy. Yeah, and maybe hell was the next host of the Winter Olympics. They were both biding their time, she just knew it. Jerks.

Her pulse thrummed like a Spanish guitar beat. Why was she so nervous? She just needed to do this, quick and painless…

Do not use the band-aid analogy again, Claire.

Right, not like that. Like an adult, having an adult conversation.

“I’m moving out.” She was proud of how even and calm her voice sounded. Her insides were vibrating hard enough to cause a spike on the Richter scale.

“Don’t be stupid.” Jax scoffed, like it was the most ridiculous things he’d ever heard. He tossed his napkin on his plate, pushed the plate away, and then sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

Brock’s eyebrows slammed together so fast, she practically heard them clank. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight. She could see the words forming behind his lips, but like usual, he held them back. Unlike Jax, who was an act-now-ask-questions-never type, Brock was an overthinker, a weigh-everything-until-you’re-carrying-the-entire-weight-of-the-world-on-your-broad-shoulders type.

She looked at Linc. He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. He glanced at her left hand. She slid her hand under the table, even though she wasn’t wearing the engagement ring. After that first night, she’d decided it was best that, when she was home, she took it off. Mostly because she was hoping if it was out of sight, her brothers wouldn’t remember and end up giving her the third degree. But also, because she didn’t want to get too attached to it. Her tender insides were already bruised enough.

A chair scraped against the floor. She looked over. Her dad stood and pulled off his glasses, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt. Without looking at her, he turned and strode out of the dining room.

Her heart gave one last strum and then deflated, sinking like a helium balloon the day after your birthday. She shouldn’t be surprised. Her dad was a man of few words—Brock got it from somewhere—and even fewer when it came to her. She knew he loved her, but their relationship wasn’t a close one.

“This have something to do with Jake Callahan?” Linc picked up his fork and dug into the lemon meringue pie they had for dessert. One of the bonuses of have two attractive eligible bachelors living in the house. The ladies around here took the old the-way-to-a-man’s-heart-is-through-his-stomach adage seriously. Food was constantly being dropped off at the house, usually accompanied by notes.

Claire had learned long ago not to read the notes. It was one thing to abstractly know the female population found your brothers hot. It was another to actually see it right there in black and white—and sometimes in incredible detail.