Page 61 of Fake it With Me

“You’re not going to lose her.”

The buzzer for the gate rang.

We all froze. Darek looked at his watch, confusion crossing his face. “It’s only eight thirty. She’s not supposed to be here until ten.”

He walked to the wall with a monitor that spoke to the guardhouse. There was a small camera facing the gate.

“Oh shit,” Darek muttered. “Oh shit, she’s early. I’m still in a t-shirt. Daisie’s hair⁠—”

“Go,” I said firmly. “Both of you. Upstairs. Get yourselves put together. I’ll answer the door and buy you some time.”

“But—”

“Darek, go. I’ve got this.”

He pushed the button to allow the woman entry and then grabbed Daisie’s hand and hurried upstairs.

“Showtime,” I murmured. “Time to earn my grocery money.”

I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and opened the front door. I stepped out and watched her ugly sedan pull to a stop. My smile was firmly in place. Then I realized I probably looked like a Stepford wife and relaxed it a little.

The woman that got out of the car was exactly what I expected from a court-appointed evaluator. Mid-fifties, sensible suit, sharp eyes that took in everything. She held a clipboard and wore an expression that gave away absolutely nothing.

“Good morning,” I said, extending my hand. “You must be Ms. Ellison. I’m Liza Jefferies.”

“Ms. Jefferies.” She shook my hand firmly. “I apologize for arriving early. My previous appointment cancelled, and I thought I’d take the opportunity to begin our evaluation.”

“Of course, no problem at all. Please, come in.” I stepped aside to let her enter. “Can I offer you some coffee? We just made a fresh pot.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

I led her to the kitchen, very aware of her eyes taking in every detail. The family photos on the walls. The organized-but-lived-in feel of the space. The art projects on the fridge that were clearly Daisie’s work.

“This is a beautiful home,” Ms. Ellison said, accepting the coffee I poured her.

“Thank you. Darek will be down in just a minute. He was helping Daisie get ready for school.” The lie came easily. “Please, have a seat.”

She sat at the kitchen table where Daisie’s plate was still sitting. I could feel her observing me. I delivered her coffee and picked up the plate, resisting the urge to apologize. People ate at the table. And she was ninety minutes early. If Darek was going to lose custody over evidence he had fed his child a hot breakfast, I would personally take the case to the Supreme Court.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t aware Mr. Sullivan was in a relationship,” she said in a way that told me she wasn’t exactly thrilled. “It wasn’t mentioned in any of the paperwork.”

Alarm bells went off in my head. This was it, the moment where our story either held up or fell apart.

“We’ve been together for a few months,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Darek’s been fairly private about his personal life, especially with everything going on with the custody case. But yes, we’re together, and I’ve been living here for a couple of weeks now.”

“And what do you do, Ms. Jefferies?”

“I’m a PhD candidate in marine biology. I’m working on my dissertation on whale migration patterns along the New England coast. The location here is perfect for my research.”

“How convenient.” There was something in her tone that I couldn’t quite read. Skepticism? Curiosity?

“It is,” I agreed. “Though I have to admit, I came for the whales and stayed for—” I stopped, smiled. “Well, for Darek and Daisie. They’re pretty special.”

Before she could ask another probing question, Darek appeared in the doorway. He had changed into black slacks and a blue button-down shirt. He looked all put-together and devastatingly handsome. Daisie was behind him, her hair now neatly brushed and pulled back with a headband, her face pink-cheeked and bright.

“Ms. Ellison,” Darek said, extending his hand. “I apologize for not meeting you when you arrived. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour and a half.”

“My fault entirely for arriving unannounced.” She shook his hand. “But it gives us a more authentic view of your daily life, doesn’t it?”