Page 57 of The Fake Out

She pulled out her sketchbook and opened it to a page where she already had three hibiscus flowers sketched out in pencil. I loved her style, and it felt like the right decision to have her cover up my heartache by remembering my mom instead.

She held up the book against my chest and squinted at me. “Yeah, this will work, and then the greenery can bleed into your arm.”

“You’re so talented.”

She blushed. “You’ve only seen my sketches.”

I shook my head. “Nah. I follow the shop on social media, and I looked at your work. It’s good. How did both you and your brother get into it?”

She put her sketchbook into her tote bag, and I got out of bed to put on clothes.

“Family business. Dad had his own shop in the Northeast. I grew up in tattoo shops surrounded by art. I never thought of doing anything else.”

Hmm. That sounded familiar.

“He must be proud of both of you.”

Her face was a neutral mask. “He was.” Then she opened my bedroom door and walked into the hallway.

I quickly caught up behind her. “Stay for breakfast?” I asked.

“Okay.”

We walked into the kitchen together, where my dad and Michael sat drinking their coffee in silence. Dad smiled up at Veronica. “Hey, Veronica.”

She gave him a side hug and sat in the seat beside him.

I walked over to the coffee pot and poured coffee into two mugs for us. “Black, right, sweets?” I asked.

My brother stared at me like I had three heads while I grabbed coffee and brought it over to her. I handed her a yogurt I grabbed from the fridge, and she gave me a small smile in thanks.

“Um…” Michael started.

Veronica squinted at him. “Michael, right?”

He nodded.

“Oh, I got it right. I think I haven’t met Brendan and Maja. Right?” she asked, turning to me for confirmation.

I nodded, but Michael still looked confused. “Oh, this is my girlfriend, Veronica.”

“I like your hair,” he told her.

“Thanks,” she beamed. She checked her watch and finished her yogurt. “I better go. I have to do the books before the shop opens. I’ll see you later?”

She kissed me goodbye, and before I could say anything, she had already taken off.

Dad glared at me as soon as she left.

“What?” I growled.

“You better not hurt that girl. She deserves better,” he said icily.

Is that what his problem was? Was that why he wanted to talk to me at his bar about me dating her? Because he didn’t want me to hurt her? Like I ever would.

“I know, Dad. God, I’m not an asshole. You can’t say a woman’s off-limits. She’s her own person.”

“Dad’s soft on her,” Michael cut in.