I’m going to be the best fake girlfriend ever.
Good thing I have so much experience being a real girlfriend.
He pulls up to the special authorized personnel only entrance at the ballpark, and he shoots me a look for the first time in the twenty or so minutes since we left his house. “What are you doing today?”
“Writing.” At least, that’s what I hope I’m doing. It’s been difficult to get in the mood the last month.
His green eyes scan me, landing on my hair, which I probably should’ve covered with a hat or a bandana, but then, he tried to drive here naked, so he can’t talk.
“Where?” he asks.
“At your house.”
Wow. His entire body just twitched.
I rub my hands down my thighs, because I can’t sit still. “Or at a coffee shop. Because it has running water. Do you have a good local coffee shop? I like to support local places. Not that chain places aren’t local—local people work there, right? But there’s something magical about finding a local coffee shop where there’s an awesome staff that knows your name and they have air conditioning and they’ll play seventies disco music because they know your vampire family loves it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and does the kind of deep breathing that my grandma tried to teach me after my third failed wedding.
I should probably shut up, but I can’t. It’s a thing. “Is this me, or is this because of your nonna?”
“Yes.”
“Can you explain the significance of the ziti to me?”
“No.”
“I can run to the store for the ingredients for—”
“No. And can you skip the part where you go back to my house before you find a coffee shop?”
“My computer’s at your house. But don’t worry. Grandparents love me. So do parents. I’m like, the parent whisperer. I still talk to all of my exes’ parents. And grandparents. And sometimes their cousins or aunts too. We trade Christmas cards. My second ex’s sister even asked me to be godmother to her baby. It was their sixth baby, and they were running out of options, but still. They asked, and I accepted. Want to see pictures?”
“No.”
“Right. You have a fake emergency meeting to get to. But you should look at the pictures anyway, because little details like this are what will make our fake relationship convincing. And by the way, I’m only okay with lying about that because I think it’s overbearing and underhanded of grandparents to use curses and threats of dying or disinheritance to make you marry someone you don’t love. I do believe in love. I just need to learn how to not fall in it.”
“You’re not staying at my house more than another day. As soon as Nonna’s gone, you’re gone too.”
I sigh. “Luca. Listen. I don’t want to be a burden, but I think you need me. Your Nonna looks intense, and if I leave, she’ll probably bring in a string of other women for you to date, and you don’t need that kind of distraction from your job. Not when you’re this close to the playoffs with a team that almost got disbanded last year. If you want me to go, I will, but…give me a chance, okay? I can be the buffer you need so you can concentrate on your game. You won’t even have to tell the lies. I’ll take care of it, and then I’ll pay the price of The Eye.”
He doesn’t answer, and instead, after a few seconds of staring at me, climbs out of my SUV, leaving me waving after him. “Bye, honey! Hit the ball good today!”
He shuts the door, takes three steps, stops, and turns and walks back to the car as I’m unbuckling to climb into the driver’s seat. I glance behind me, thinking he must’ve forgotten something, but instead, he taps on the window.
I hit the button to roll it down. “What’s up?”
“Thank you,” he says gruffly.
My heart melts in direct proportion to the soft smile I feel coming over my face.
He sighs once more, I remember The Plan, and I imagine a bucket of ice in my chest re-solidifying everything in there that needs to stay ice cold. I make myself take on a growly-bear frown too. “We all have to make sacrifices,” I say in as gravelly a voice as I can manage.
“Don’t talk to Nonna. She’s not a normal grandmother. This TikTok Nonna thing? It’s a trick. She’ll eat you alive.”
This time when he turns back around, he doesn’t stop until he’s inside the ballpark, and I can’t see through the door, so I don’t know if he stops then either.
But I know one thing.
I was definitely imagining him smiling at my stoicism.
I crank up my Trolls Soundtrack playlist, get back to his house with a bright smile, walk in the door, remember that I forgot to ask him if I can turn on his air conditioner or if he has a preferred plumber to call about fixing the faucet in the kitchen, and come face-to-face with his nonna right in the middle of the construction zone that is the living room, which smells like flaming cheese and sausage.
She has her legs spread wide in her rainbow leggings and her arms crossed over her honestly pretty fabulous rack. All she needs is a toolbelt, and she could be Builder Nonna.
Especially with the pile of carpet in the corner and the boards leaning against the wall. There’s not even furniture in here.
“How much is my grandson paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend?”
My eyebrows shoot up to the second floor and my hand flutters to my heart without conscious thought.
So this is the Nonna he warned me about. “He’s been breaking your heart for years, hasn’t he?”
She arches her own brow. “How long have you been dating?”
“Not long. I did just get out of a relationship.”
“Why are you here?”
“He was comforting me after that last relationship ended, and it stuck with me, so I came to thank him for his kindness. I would’ve been here sooner, but I didn’t want to trust that instant connection that happened after my—well, after my wedding didn’t happen, because I couldn’t trust myself. But I can’t stop thinking about him, and it turns out, I’ve been on his mind too.”
“Have you slept together?”
“There’s no right answer to that question, considering you’re his grandmother. Can I ask how you get your hair done? I’d love to do the unicorn rainbow thing, but with this mess…” I rattle my curls and smile harmlessly.
She doesn’t smile back. “Are you certain you’re in a relationship with my grandson?”
“Unless all those things he said last night were a lie…” Wow. I am earning this today. Dogzilla pokes a lazy head in from the kitchen, and I squat down and click my tongue at her. “Here, kitty kitty.”
She flops to her back and peers at me upside down. It’s Dogzilla-speak for if you want me, human, you can come to me, because I’m a lazy ass.
Possibly also for the demon can sense that you’re stalling.
Not that Luca’s Nonna is a demon.
But she’s also not as approachable in private as you’d think she’d be after watching her TikTok feed. Where’s the woman who used the green screen to make it look like she was bronco-riding a rhinoceros to that new rap song? And who read Goodnight Moon to a roomful of dressed-up mushrooms and substituted rhyming words for every item we say goodnight to?