Faking It (Losing It, #2)

I was in trouble. She laced her hand with mine and squeezed a little harder than was comfortable.

“Oh, you know, sweetie. I told your mom how upset you were that you overslept because you wanted to look nice for them. We talked about how nice it would be to have pictures to commemorate our first holiday together.” Mrs. Miller snapped another picture while I was talking to her daughter. “Mrs. M, don’t mind Max. Maybe we should just save the pictures until after dinner.”

“Of course, and for the last time, Cade. Please call me Betty. Or Mom.”

Max smiled widely at me, but I had a feeling it was more like those predators on the Animal Channel, baring their teeth in a show of aggression. She leaned up, smiling all the while, and said quietly, “If you call my mother ‘Mom,’ I’m going to replace that turkey in the oven with your head, okay?”

I smiled back, and curled a hand around her cheek. “I’m calling your bluff, Angry Girl.” Max was glaring at me, but I could tell she was glad to be back in normal territory. Normal, of course, being our attempts to piss each other off. I called to her mother in the kitchen, “Mrs. Miller—I mean Mom—your daughter says the sweetest things sometimes. I think it would shock you how romantic she can be.”

Max laughed low in her throat. Her eyes glinted. She placed her hand over the one on my cheek and said, “It’s on now, Golden Boy. You’re going to be sorry.”

“I can take it.”

And if this is what made her feel better, less vulnerable, then I could.

There was a feast on Max’s table, and her living room was looking decidedly more lived in. Max waited until we were seated at the table to launch her first attack.

“Oh, Dad, I know you usually say grace, but do you think we could let Cade? He’s very religious, and I know he would be so happy to do it.”

I smiled and shook my head. She was going to have to try a lot harder than that to throw me off.

“Mick, I would be happy to say the prayer, but I would never want to change your holiday traditions.”

Max’s dad waved a hand. “Nonsense. Pray away, son.”

I smiled at Max and took her hand. I pressed a chaste kiss on the back and then reached for her mother’s hand on my other side.

“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for allowing us to be together today. Thank you for guiding Mick and Betty safely here to Philadelphia that we might join together as a family to eat and give thanks. More than anything, I thank you for bringing Max and I together. It feels like only yesterday we met, but she has changed my life in so many interesting ways. Sometimes, I feel like our relationship is too good to be real. I pray that you will continue to bless us all and may our day be filled with food and fun and fellowship. It is in your holy name we pray, Amen.”

As soon as the prayer was over, Max tugged her hand from mine. Max’s parents held hands a little longer, glancing at us, and then sharing a knowing look. While they watched I leaned over, and placed a kiss on Max’s cheek. There was no harm in taking a few liberties with my role, especially since this gig only lasted through the end of the day. I whispered, “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Angry Girl.”

She waited until her parents weren’t looking to flip me off, but we were both smiling.

I said, “Why don’t we make a toast?” The Millers were against alcohol, but I figured the sweet tea would work. I held up my glass and said, “To new beginnings, new family, and a promising future.”

Max looked queasy, but she took a drink when the rest of us did. Mrs. Miller placed a hand over her heart and said, “Cade, I’m sure Mackenzie has made it no secret that we haven’t approved of some of her boyfriends.” Max snorted, and I took that to mean that some meant all. “But I have to say, you are one of the most pleasant, put-together young men that I’ve ever met.”

Mick paused in carving the turkey to say, “Yep. Looks like our Max is finally learning how to pick ’em.”

I saw Max’s spine straighten out of the corner of her eye. She was looking at her father in shock, no doubt because he’d finally used her nickname. I’d only known them a day, and even I knew how big a deal that was. As I watched Max, the shock gave way to confusion and then finally anger. Her eyebrows pulled together, and those full lips flattened into a line. She did one of those long, slow inhales, and I couldn’t blame her.

We should have stopped it all then, put an end to the charade. I thought of standing up, faking an important phone call or an illness. But then Max decided to take her anger out on me. And because I cared about her, I let her.

“He is pretty wonderful, isn’t he?” Her tone was sugary on the surface with poison laced beneath. “Especially when you consider where he was just a year ago.”

Uh-oh. I didn’t like the sound of that.

“A year ago?” her dad asked.

“Oh yes. A year ago he was in a really bad place. Weren’t you, honey?”

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