Best Fake Fiancé: A Single Dad Romance (Loveless Brothers Romance Book 2)
Best Fake Fiancé: Chapter 26

“I WOULD NEVER KILL a civilian in cold blood,” Silas is saying, beer in hand, legs stretched in front of him. “But if I did, they’d never even replace the body. That’s a promise. Never.”

There’s a slight pause around the table, as the other three of us sip our beers and contemplate this statement.

“But how do you really feel about Brett?” Eli drawls.

“He does sound dedicated,” Levi offers.

“Maybe he should come back with a herd of goats,” I say.

“I don’t actually believe in dowries, you assholes,” Silas says. “And besides, wouldn’t the goats go to our father? I wouldn’t get the goats.”

“You’d inherit them one day,” says Eli.

“Eventually, the goats would be yours,” adds Levi.

We’re all quiet again for a moment, sitting on the lawn outside the brewery in four wooden Adirondack chairs around a low table. It’s a gorgeous night out: warm, slightly humid, the stars all out. It’s nine-thirty on a Tuesday night, so the brewery is pretty quiet. Rusty’s asleep and my mom is home, so I’m here with my brothers. And Silas, who’s sort of a fourth-and-a-half brother.

“I could use a flock of goats,” Levi says, his feet up on the low table, his beer balanced on his armrest, held lightly in one hand. “The Forest Service has been looking into using them on hillsides as an alternative to mowing some portions of the Parkway. It’s apparently possible to rent hungry goats by the hour.”

“Or you could marry Brett,” Silas says. “He’s available. I know this because he played a boombox at my sister’s window.”

“I don’t think I’d trust Brett to choose his goats wisely,” Levi says.

“I don’t think I’d trust Brett to choose anything wisely,” Eli says.

“Except women, you mean,” Silas prompts.

Levi’s face goes carefully neutral, and he takes another sip of his beer.

“Right,” Eli agrees.

“Where did he get a boombox?” I ask, and everyone goes quiet again for a moment.

“That’s actually a good question,” Silas says. “I haven’t seen a boombox in years. God, that’s even more suspicious.”

“What was he playing?” Eli asks.

“Guess.”

“I’ll Be Watching You,” Levi says.

“No, but congrats on replaceing the one song that would have actually been creepier,” Silas says. It’s hard to tell in the low light, but I think Levi blushes slightly.

“I Will Always Love You,” I guess.

“Come on, y’all,” Silas says. “Really?”

“In Your Eyes,” Eli says, like it’s obvious. “You haven’t seen Say Anything?”

Levi and I just shake our heads, and Silas starts laughing.

“Brett didn’t come up with the boombox thing,” he says. “It’s from a movie.”

“That explains a lot, actually,” Levi mutters.

“And then when you got there, he tried to propose to you?” Eli says. “That’s not how the movie goes.”

“Something like that,” Silas says. “The asshole got down on one knee in my parents’ driveway and requested my permission to marry my sister. Meanwhile, now that I’m there, June’s come down and is loudly and firmly rejecting his offer of marriage, so I just told him that if I saw him anywhere near her again, he’d learn the meaning of the word no right quick, because apparently when she said it several dozen times he didn’t believe her.”

“Was the ring at least nice?” asks Eli.

“Hell if I know,” Silas says, taking another drink. “It was big. Probably cost a lot of his daddy’s money.”

He clears his throat.

“Speaking of rings, how’s your engagement with Charlie going?” Silas asks, raising one eyebrow at the word engagement.

“It’s going well,” I say, levelly, and narrow my eyes at Levi.

“How does that work?” Silas asks. “Are you two gonna stage a screaming match on Main Street in a few months so you can break up, or just tell people it wasn’t working?”

I’m still glaring at Levi. My oldest brother is usually excellent at keeping secrets.

Usually.

“You told Silas?” I ask.

“Hey,” Silas says.

Levi sighs.

“I couldn’t keep your web of lies straight,” he says.

“It’s not a web,” I tell him, even thought my stomach twists slightly. “There’s the one lie, Levi. It’s not hard.”

He crosses one ankle over a knee, then sticks one thumb out like he’s about to list something off.

“First, you’ve got your whole we’re completely platonic best friends situation going on for several years now,” Levi starts. “Which, frankly, I’d have been a fool to believe. Next,” he says, sticking out a forefinger, “You’ve got your we’re engaged for custody reasons but not really situation, which involves a fair amount of public canoodling—”

“Canoodling?” Eli and Silas say in unison.

Levi ignores them.

“—which you seem more than happy to do, and thirdly,” he says, sticking out another finger, “there’s the matter of where you were all last weekend while Rusty was with Crystal.”

There’s a brief silence.

“He was at Charlie’s, right?” Silas quietly asks Levi.

“Right,” Eli and Levi both confirm, and I shut my eyes briefly in consternation. I don’t bother asking how they know, because Sprucevale is tiny and everyone is nosy.

Just last year, Eli thought it was a huge secret that he was spending most of his nights at Violet’s house for a full month.

It wasn’t. Not even close.

“We’re supposedly engaged,” I say. “If we were really engaged, isn’t that where I’d—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, none of us is stupid,” Eli says. “Jesus, Daniel, we’re all glad that you finally got with Charlie. It was about damn time.”

“So you really are engaged,” Silas asks.

“No,” I say.

“You’re sticking it to her, but you’re not engaged,” he says.

“Right,” I say, for simplicity’s sake.

“And most everyone thinks you’re really engaged for real, though some people think that you’re still just friends and faking the engagement, and some other people—” he spins his finger around in the air, indicating the four of us in the circle, “know the truth, which is that you’re getting freaky on the regular but aren’t actually going to get married.”

“Right,” I say again.

“I got bad news, brother,” Silas says. “That is a one hundred percent, grade A, bonafide web of lies right there.”

“You want to hear the rest?” I ask, draining my beer, in the mood to share my problems.

Eli and Levi both lean forward.

“Hell yeah,” Silas says.

“Crystal knows it’s fake,” I say.

Silas lets out a whistle.

“I think Rusty must have told her,” I say, leaning back in the chair, my head against cool wood, and close my eyes.

I’ve called Crystal a dozen times since she pulled out of my driveway on Sunday. I’ve left her at least four polite voicemails, requesting that we discuss this matter like adults.

It’s gotten me nowhere. I don’t know what she knows or what she thinks she knows. I don’t know if she somehow pulled the semi-truth out of her ass and is bluffing with it.

“You told Rusty?” Silas asks.

“Rusty wouldn’t tell,” Levi says, frowning.

“Rusty’s good at keeping secrets,” Eli confirms.

“You bring her wedding cake almost every weekend and think I don’t know about it,” I tell Eli, my eyes still closed.

The circle goes silent.

“How?” Eli asks, sounding genuinely baffled. I open my eyes, raise my head, and look at him.

“Because she’s seven,” I tell him. “Seven-year-olds aren’t very good at keeping secrets.”

“Yet you told her that you and Charlie were faking,” Eli says.

“What was my other option?” I ask. “Letting her think that Charlie was gonna be her stepmom? She’d have been over the moon, and then devastated a few months later when we told her it was off.”

“True,” Eli admits.

There’s another quiet moment. For the record, I don’t blame Rusty for spilling the beans. Like I said, she’s seven.

“When you think about it, an engagement is quite an ephemeral concept,” Levi says slowly. “What makes two people engaged? Someone asks, someone accepts, there’s a ring. Or there’s no ring. Or two people discuss the matter and mutually decide that they’ll marry.”

Eli looks over at me.

“He’s got a point,” he says. “There isn’t even an exchange of goats.”

“Truth be told, you and Charlie are just as engaged as anyone,” Levi goes on. “You asked. She accepted. There’s a ring.”

“Technically, I asked if she’d fake it,” I point out.

“There’s no proof of that,” Eli says. “Crystal can say whatever she wants, but unless she’s got some sort of proof, it’s nonsense.”

“Well, apparently everyone in town knows it’s not real,” I say, pointedly, to Levi.

“One person,” he says, huffily. “I told one person.”

“I know how to keep my mouth shut,” Silas says.

“She’s going to look like a lunatic in court with Charlie standing right there,” Levi says.

“Just canoodle in front of the judge,” Eli says, and Levi sighs.

“The burden of proof is going to be on her in this case,” Silas says. “You make a crazy accusation like that, you best back it up.”

“Family court is nothing but crazy accusations,” I say. “Half the time I’m pretty sure it comes down to what mood the judge is in that day. There’s hardly ever proof of anything, and I can keep track of what happened when to my heart’s delight, but all Crystal has to say is that’s not what happened and then our lawyers are going at it for twenty minutes.”

“Tell the court her belly’s fake,” Eli offers.

“That’s extremely provable.”

“They’ve got some really good fake pregnancy bellies these days,” Eli says. “There’s even one that’s got machinery inside that fakes the baby’s movement—”

“Why the fuck do you know this?” Silas interrupts.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I was watching one of those true crime shows,” Eli says. “There was an episode about a crazy woman who faked a pregnancy and then stole her best friend’s baby. It was nuts.”

“Shit,” Silas says.

“I don’t think I can convince the court of that,” I say. “No. Wait. I’m certain I can’t convince the court of that.”

“Daniel,” Levi says, sitting forward, his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together. “You and Charlie had most of the folks you know completely convinced for several years that you were secret lovers when you, apparently, were not. Show up, be yourselves, and your engagement will be the single most credible thing to ever occur in that courtroom.”

I thump my thumb on the wooden armrest of the chair I’m sitting in, thinking.

Crystal’s usually full of shit, and I’m tempted to think that this is more of the same. I want to think that the judge will dismiss her accusation out of hand, due to lack of evidence and also the fact that she’s a psychotic hosebeast.

But I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s got evidence. I don’t know what evidence she could possibly have — the texts we’ve sent each other? Recordings of private conversations between Charlie and me? Signed testimony from someone who knows the truth?

Meanwhile, all I’ve got is a girlfriend who’s wearing a ring.

Girlfriend.

The thought is weird as fuck, but I like it.

“He’s right,” Silas says, standing. “I gotta piss. Anyone want another beer?”