LIVE TO TELL: A Fake Fiancé Romance (Material Girls Book 2) Page 6

  Secrets. Lies. The kind of webs I never wanted to weave because of how many I’ve been caught in. In six months, my work permit will expire with no chance for renewal—and I will be deported to a country I have no family ties or loyalty to, simply because I tried to do the right thing when I found out my situation. At first, I was confused and mad as hell. But I applied for Deferred Action because I thought that was the right thing to do. Admitting that I knew and wanted to make things right. I wasn’t trying to hide or sneak around. I thought I was acting in good faith.

  “Aren’t you angry?”

  “Of course I am, Maddie. I’m reeling inside. I’m heartbroken. I’m appalled. I’m furious. I’m trying to figure out what to do. How to stay.” My fingers clench around my cup. I’ve already been through the stages of grief, and, for the most part, I’ve accepted that I’ll be required to leave the country when my work permit expires. Over the last few months, I’ve tried to keep my focus on what I can do to stay, and how to tie up any loose ends here if I am forced to leave.

  Still, talking about the situation gets me worked up.

  “How are you so calm?”

  Calm?

  My eyes fall to my crushed cup and I chuckle. “Because, despite all my fears and the fact that my entire life is falling apart, I have to focus on what I can control right now. And the only thing I can control is work. Money. A job. Taking care of my grandmother while I’m here and being able to pay for her care.”

  Maddie bites her lip and I immediately feel like a dickbag. I wasn’t trying to be mean or sound so snarky. I’m just stating the facts—my truth, as she calls it.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, slumping in my chair. “I just don’t know what will happen to her if I get deported. And it scares the shit out of me.”

  Though I know she’s getting the best care I can afford, the thought of leaving my grandmother is haunting my thoughts—even in my sleep. I have a few good friends from high school, who’ve told me they’d visit her every once in a while. As much as I love them, and know they’re stand-up guys, who would be true to their word, I don’t think it would last long. It’s easy to forget to visit when it’s not your loved one. And once people walk into a nursing home, the shabby decor, bleak rooms, and sour stench in the air are a complete assault on the senses and emotions. It’s not a place you’re rushing to get back to.

  Then there’s the other reason that leaving scares the shit out of me…the one I’m not ready to admit to Maddie yet. Leaving her here with Trent will scare the shit out of me too. I don’t know what else he’s done, but I know he’s hurt her. Now that we’ve formed a bond, I can’t stand the thought of not being around to protect her.

  “You won’t be deported,” Maddie says firmly.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I won’t let that happen. I’m not letting someone send you away to a country you haven’t been in since you were a baby.”

  “Well, it’s not someone, Maddie. It’s the Department of Homeland Security.”

  “I don’t care, Erik. I’m going to fight this. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Do you have a lawyer?”

  “My grandfather and I spoke to someone back when I applied for Deferred Action. That’s the agreement that’s keeping me here for the time being,” I say. “That’s what the lawyer advised me to do once I found out I wasn’t a citizen.”

  “Okay, so you did the right thing.”

  “Was it?” I ask. It’s a bit of a rhetorical question, since I’m throwing Maddie into a situation she has no knowledge of and no control over. “Signing up meant I admitted I was illegal. It means I’m on record. When it’s time, they can track me down and kick me out. Maybe I should have stayed under the radar and let them find me the hard way.”

  “You did what you thought was right at the time,” Maddie says. “I’m not letting you do this alone, Erik. We’re going to figure this out. If we have to get married, we get married.”

  She’s really serious about this. I should have realized that, once she had an idea in her head, she wouldn’t let it go. I just never thought I’d be directly involved in one of her crazy ideas.

  “I’m awed at how adamant you are about helping me.”

  “I care about you, Erik. I don’t want you to be forced to move to a country you’ve never really lived in. A place you have no ties to.”

  The silence between us is thick, heavy.

  “You care about me?” I ask softly. My heart races as I scoot my chair over a little more, trying to get as close to her as I can in this clunky, old, dining chair with arms.

  “I always have.”

  “Tell me more about that.” I can’t keep the smile off my face. It’s probably smug, but deep down, I always knew she liked me.

  “Oh, come on! I’ve had a crush on you since we were kids. You had to have known that.” She leans back, as if she’s embarrassed. Her cheeks flush a deeper pink that makes my dick twitch. “I made sure I was always home after school on Tuesdays. No matter what was going on. Practices, things with friends or family. I had to be home after school on Tuesdays.”

  Damn! She had it all planned out. “I knew you had a crush on me, but I didn’t know you went to that extent.”

  “Oh totally. I was completely boy crazy—and you were the object of my affection.” She covers her face with her hand as if she’s embarrassed to reveal a silly teenage secret.

  “Affection or obsession?” I tease.

  “Oh, hush! I thought you were so hot. I couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse of you.”

  My gaze drops to her chest quickly, but I bring it back up just as fast. Hearing her admit she thinks I’m attractive and that she used to watch me turns me on. Every fantasy I’ve ever had about her pops into my head. That’s when I decide I’m going to have some fun with this fake relationship, even if it’s just getting to see her all hot and bothered.

  “Thought I was hot? Past tense?”

  Her chest heaves when she takes a deep breath. Her tongue flicks out to moisten her lips before she answers. “Present tense. You’re absolutely gorgeous, Erik.”

  I reach out, sliding my palm across her cheek and into her silky, blonde curls. Suddenly, loud commotion coming from the front of the bakery pulls me out of the moment. I peer over her head as people in line start calling out.

  “That was rude.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “What an ass.”

  Maddie is about to turn around when Trent barrels through, pushing his way past tables like an elephant in a coffee shop.

  “What the hell is going on?” he roars.

  Maddie and I both jump out of our chairs. I place my body in front of hers so Trent has to go through me before he can reach her. Several other people get out of their seats and move toward our table, as well, and I’m instantly grateful to have supportive strangers who are willing to help out.

  Trent isn’t a giant—on the contrary, he’s fairly short—but he’s a stocky dude with broad shoulders and a thick neck, like he goes hard at a CrossFit cult multiple times a week.

  His face is red with rage. A patch of light brown hair flops over his forehead, but it doesn’t cover his beady eyes darting from me to Maddie. “I knew it! I knew you were cheating on me,” he yells, pointing a fat finger at Maddie.

  Adrenaline charges through my veins. My fists curl at my sides, but I keep my composure. “Dude, you need to chill out,” I tell him through clenched teeth. Hopefully he doesn’t mistake my calm demeanor for being passive. I want to punch this guy so hard…

  His head snaps back to me. The menacing grimace looks natural, as if he gets this angry so often his face is used to morphing into the evil version of the incredible hulk.

  “You fucking whore!” he spits out.

  Fuck no. He’s not going to talk to Maddie like that. Not on my watch.

  I’m a split-second from punching him when an Amelia’s employee grabs his shoulder and pulls him backward. “You’ve gotta leave, man. Right now,” he
says, tightening his grip and spinning Trent around.

  Maddie grabs the back of my T-shirt and holds on tight. She’s shaking so much her knuckles knock against my back.

  Trent shuffles backward, staring at me, as if he’s memorizing my face. I smile.

  Take a long look, you piece of shit-motherfucker. Next time you pull something like this, I won’t be so civil.

  I swallow back the words I’m thinking. No need to aggravate the situation or make Maddie any more scared than she already is. Normally, I wouldn’t even think of doing something that would get me in trouble, but I’d take on an army of Trents for Maddie.

  “Thanks,” I say to the people around us who got up to help, as they slowly move back to their seats.

  “What a fucking psycho,” one of the guys whispers.

  When Maddie releases my shirt, I spin around and take her in my arms. Her heart pounds against my chest, and I feel it straight to my toes. Instinctively, I press my lips on the top of her head and squeeze her tighter. In this moment, I vow to do everything in my power to make sure she never feels this kind of fear again.

  I dip my head to her ear and ask, “You wanna get out of here?”

  As much as I love Amelia’s, we need a vibe change right now. My favorite brewery in town happens to be right across the street. Maybe she’s game to head over there for a minute. Give us both time to compose ourselves.

  Maddie stiffens in my arms. “He might be outside. He might be waiting.” Her voice is a wavering whisper.

  “It’s okay. We’ll wait a few minutes. And I’ll be right here with you. You’re not leaving me to fend for myself and I’m not doing that to you either. From now on, we’re joined at the hip, okay?”

  Maddie leans back, looking up to meet my gaze. Her blue eyes enchanted me the very first time I saw them, but this time is completely different. This isn’t the giggling teenager peering out at me from behind her parents’ front door. This time, she’s begging for trust, protection, commitment. Things I can give her—for the next six months, at least.

  “Promise?” she whispers.

  “Promise.” I intertwine my fingers with hers and squeeze her hand. “Finish your drink. I’ll be right back.”

  Before Maddie and I head out to the parking lot, I check with the employee who escorted Trent away from us. He assured me he watched Trent get in his car and drive off. Still, I’m extremely concerned that he’s out there somewhere, waiting, like Maddie said. My other concern is that he went straight to Maddie’s place. I don’t want to worry her—or make her paranoid, but I do know one thing—I’m not leaving her alone tonight.

  I can’t guarantee what will happen when I’m gone, but I will protect her while I’m here.

  Chapter Seven

  Maddie

  I’m shaken up.

  Completely, and quite literally. I haven’t stopped trembling since Trent showed up at Amelia’s. I met him at a restaurant down the road because I wanted to break up with him in public, somewhere I felt comfortable. He left before I did, but he must have waited and followed me.

  I feel like he’s watching me right now.

  And what he’s seeing is probably pissing him off. Erik and I walking across the parking lot, on our way to the brewery across the street. To be completely honest, I didn’t even realize there was a brewery across the street. But I don’t hang out in the NoDa neighborhood very often. The only reason I chose the restaurant down the road, as the spot to meet Trent, is because it’s not one of the normal places we go to, so there was less chance there would be someone there who knew us.

  Trent wasn’t going to be happy with me breaking up with him at all, let alone in a place where he could be embarrassed in front of colleagues or friends. Plus, I know the owner, so I felt comfortable in case Trent pulled anything shady, like he did at Amelia’s.

  When my heel catches in the rocks of Home on the Range Brewing’s parking lot, Erik immediately tightens his grip on me to keep me from falling.

  “Whoa! I got you.” Instead of letting me go right away, he holds onto me until I regain my balance. I appreciate that extra moment. The safety in stability. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Should’ve changed my shoes before we went off-roading,” I quip.

  Erik chuckles. “I should have warned you of the rough terrain.”

  We’ve never spent time together outside of my parents’ yard, and yet, it feels so easy being with him. Not that I expected any different, since we always got along, but it’s refreshing to be out with someone where I feel so comfortable and free to say anything. It’s easy to have surface relationships. I know thousands of people in a friendly, acquaintance way, but when Erik opened up to me, I knew I could do the same. He’s trusting me with the most important secret in his life. Having that level of trust, after years of not being able to talk about certain aspects of my life, is scary and a relief at the same time.

  Erik guides me up a few stairs to the entrance of the brewery. His touch is warm and comforting—and familiar. Like we’ve been intimate before.

  We never have. In all those years sitting together, with our backs against the huge black walnut in Mama and Daddy’s yard, we never did anything other than talk. Never even held hands. Now, with his hand on my back and the feeling zinging around in my core that his touch brings, I’m thinking it was a huge shame. All those lost opportunities. Erik could have been my first kiss. He could have been my first of a lot of things.

  As enticing as it sounds now, I also appreciate how innocent it was. I didn’t need to move any faster than I did. And honestly, I don’t need the sweet memory of our time together tainted by hormones and forbidden love. I can only imagine what kind of torment I would have gone through if any of my friends found out I’d kissed the lawn boy.

  And yet, here I am. And all I can think about is kissing the lawn guy right now.

  Erik is more of a friend than just the “help.” But still. That’s what Erik meant when he said there would be backlash.

  Someone in my group of friends, someone I work with, or someone my parents know is going to comment. And when those comments come, they won’t be very nice. To my face, it’ll be a fake smile or a tone of pity. The claws will come out behind my back—I know because I’ve been on that side.

  I’ve been the girl who judges someone for who they’re dating or what they’re wearing. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not going to deny it. Erik saved my life, and it’s my duty to help him if I can. It’s up to me to figure out how I’m going to handle the snark.

  Honestly, it doesn’t bother me as much now as it would have back when I was a teenager. I put too much stock in what people thought about me then. I wanted—no, needed—their acceptance. I needed their approval. I’d take any criticism straight to heart and make changes, as needed, to get back in their good graces.

  Thankfully, I was one of the leaders in my group of friends, so it wouldn’t take much to smooth things over. I’ve always been loud, outgoing, willing to put myself out there. The one who would make mistakes and ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

  Erik puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me up a set of stairs to a large brick building. The front has a long patio with multiple metal picnic tables. We enter through a large rolled-up garage-type door. After passing a roped-off section, where several huge brewing tanks stand, we arrive at the corner of a long U-shaped bar. I love how open and airy the space is. It’s got a clean, rustic, modern vibe. Behind the bar, the words, “Let your taste buds roam,” fashioned from black mosaic tiles, scroll over a white-tile backsplash. Below the phrase, there’s a row of wooden taps.

  “Hey, Paul!” Erik nods to the guy behind the bar. Paul smiles and waves. Then he says something to the patron he was talking to and raps his knuckles against the bar before coming to greet us.

  “Erik! How’s it going, man?” They fist bump across the bar.

  “It’s hotter than two squirrels fucking in a wool sock out there, but busine
ss is steady, so I can’t complain.”

  Paul shakes his head and laughs. “I have never heard that one before.”

  “One of my clients said it yesterday. Thought I’d try it out.”

  “Was that Mr. Farthington?” I ask.

  “It was.”

  “That man is something else. He doesn’t have a lick of sense, but he’s funny as all get-out,” I say without taking my eyes off the huge chalk board on the wall behind the bar that lists the beers on tap.

  Erik puts his hand on my back. “Paul, this is Maddie.”

  “Hi, Maddie. First time here?” Paul asks.

  “Is it that obvious?” I ask, shifting my eyes to the bartender.

  “You have that deer-in-the-headlights look that a lot of people have when they’ve never been here before. Take a look at the list, and let me know if there’s something you want to try. I’ll pour you a sample.”

  “Aren’t you the sweetest thing! Thanks, Paul.”

  “I am the sweetest thing, but I don’t think Erik likes hearing that.” Paul winks. “Let me grab a pint for Rob. I’ll be right back.”

  He leaves us to pour a goblet of something beautiful and amber for another patron. I scan the descriptions under each beer name, wondering which one it is.

  I set my hand on Erik’s arm. “Which one is your favorite?”

  He leans into me slightly. “Their options change quite a bit. I think the one that’s always here is the top one, the pilsner. My favorite right now is the brown ale. There’s a hint of coffee, but it’s also a bit chocolatey. It’s a dark beer, but it’s not heavy.”

  “I think I’ll try that.”

  “Do you like beer? I’m sorry, Maddie. I didn’t even ask before we came here.”

  “I like one every now and then. I prefer bourbon, but I’ve never turned down a nice, cold beer with a handsome gentleman.”