Page 60 of Fake it With Me

I wanted to say yes immediately. I would have loved to throw caution to the wind and just admit that our arrangement had become real for me too. I had been so tempted to tell him I was falling for him and his daughter.

But we both knew the right thing to focus on. The home evaluation had to come first. Everything depended on it going well so Darek could keep custody of Daisie. We couldn’t afford any distractions.

I already knew my answer to his question. But I would wait. I would let him think I needed to think about it.

I got out of bed and went through my morning routine on autopilot. For clothes, I went for something professional but casual, a nice blouse and slacks that said “stable girlfriend” without trying too hard. Makeup but not too much. Hair down but neat. I was trying to emulate the women I saw in the soap operas. They always looked ready to walk into a business office even when they were just kicking around their lavish mansions.

I looked at myself in the mirror and gave myself a pep talk. “You can do this. You like them. You guys mesh well. This is just showing someone what your life actually looks like. Easy.”

Except it wasn’t easy because everything riding on today felt enormous.

Darek was putting himself through hell in his fight to keep his daughter. Hiring me was a huge step. I couldn’t let him down. I needed to put on the performance of my life. I thought back, and the last time I did any acting was in the fifth grade at the school Christmas play. And I had sucked as a sugar plum fairy.

Not a comforting thought.

I went downstairs and found Darek already in the kitchen, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He was wearing gray sweats (thank you to whoever made those) and a T-shirt. His hair was a bit of a mess, and he looked like he’d slept even less than I had.

“Morning,” I said.

He jumped slightly, like he’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard me come in. “Morning. Coffee?”

“Please.”

He poured me a cup with shaking hands, and I realized he was barely holding it together. The man was terrified of a court-appointed evaluator. Because this wasn’t about business. This was about Daisie. About the thing that mattered most in his world.

Daisie came bouncing down the stairs a few minutes later, dressed in a cute outfit that had clearly been laid out the night before. She was excited but nervous, that combination of energy and anxiety that kids got when they knew something important was happening but didn’t fully understand what.

“Is the lady coming today?” she asked.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Darek said. “Remember, she just wants to talk to us and see our house. It’s nothing scary.”

“I know. You told me like a hundred times.” She climbed into her chair at the table. “Can we have pancakes?”

“We’re having eggs and toast,” Darek said, already moving toward the stove. “Quick breakfast today.”

We ate or tried to eat. Darek kept glancing at his watch, and I noticed he barely touched his food. Daisie ate normally, chattering about school and her friend’s birthday party. She was blissfully oblivious to the tension radiating from the adults.

As soon as we finished, Darek practically leaped up to clear the plates. “Let me just get these in the dishwasher. Daisie, you need to brush your teeth and your hair.”

“Darek, we have an hour and a half,” I pointed out.

“I know, but the kitchen should be clean when she gets here. First impressions matter.”

But he stopped with the kitchen cleanup and looked across the open and very expansive living space. I wasn’t sure what he saw, but he didn’t like it. He abandoned the dishes and moved to the living room. I watched him adjust the throw pillows. Then readjust them. Then adjust them again. The blanket that was neatly draped over the corner of one sofa was his next victim. He yanked it off, fluffed it up, and then replaced it.

The man was acting just a little neurotic. It wasn’t a good look.

I followed him and put my hand on his arm, stopping him mid-pillow-fluff. “She’s evaluating your parenting, not your throw pillows.”

He stared at me, then at the pillow in his hand, and let out a shaky laugh. “Right. You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re being nervous. Which is completely understandable. But the house looks great, Daisie is happy and well-adjusted, and you’re an amazing father. This is going to go fine.”

“What if⁠—”

“No what-ifs. We’re going to be calm and confident and show Ms. Ellison exactly what she needs to see. Daisie has a loving, stable home with a father who adores her.”

He took a deep breath, nodded. “Okay. You’re right. I just—I can’t lose her, Liza.”