18. CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 18

“Every breath I take is lucky when I share the air with you”

It’s You That Makes Me – Prince of Spain

Nathalie

“ N athalie, get up.” I groan as my body jostles, rudely interrupting my dream where I was the princess of Genovia. I wildly fling my hands around, attempting to shield myself from my attacker and return to my blissful slumber.

Sadly, my attacker continues his assault, gripping my ankle and yanking me from my dream. The crown jewels were so close…

“Stop that,” I grumble.

“I’m serious. You need to get up. Right now . We have two hours to hide your things and move the rest into my room.”

The panic in his voice shakes something inside of me, and I jolt upward. I flail, and my fist lands in Deon’s gut. He releases a deep groan. “ What? Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I woke the sleeping beast. I know the consequences.”

“ Beast ?”

Did he call me a beast? He can’t be serious. I sit up in bed, ready to defend nine a.m. as a respectable time to wake up on the weekend, but pause when Deon's eyes dart down to my chest, and then he rapidly spins away.

“I—uh, I can give you a second.” Deon blubbers out. I watch as he rubs at the back of his neck, shifting on his feet.

“Why are you acting like a madman?”

First, he barges into my room, spewing nonsense about moving, then he calls me a beast, and now he’s all flustered and unwilling to look at me. This is a new level of chaos for Deon.

“Your uh…your boob…is out.”

“What?!” I look down, where one of my breasts is soaking up the morning rays. My muumuu must have shifted while I slept, and now I’ve flashed Deon. I choke out a laugh. He has had a personal experience with my boobs. “Deon, you’ve seen my gals before.”

I re-adjust my muumuu, placing my boob back where it belongs. She can bask in the glory of the morning sun tomorrow when Deon doesn’t look like he’s one wrong move away from vomiting.

“That was different.”

“Different, how?”

“You agreed to that. You didn’t agree to it this morning.”

“Oh.” Oh.

What he told me last week has lingered in my mind, ever-present and so heartbreaking. I can’t forget the way his voice cracked when he asked for what he needed, like I would turn him down or tell him no.

When it comes to Deon Adams, it seems the one thing I can’t do is say no.

“Deon, will you look at me?” There’s a blush creeping on his cheeks when he faces me. “I trust you completely. I have no issue with you seeing me naked. But if I did, I would tell you, okay?”

He nods, fingers fidgeting with the things he collected from the floor. I rise from the bed, taking the clothes that hang loosely in his grip.

“Why are you freaking out?” I ask, registering the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“My mom and sister are coming.” The words tumble out of his mouth. “I forgot about Thanksgiving, and now they’re coming, but you’re in the guest room.”

My stomach plummets. He can’t be kicking me out, right?

“A-Are you kicking me out? My apartment won’t be ready until January,” I croak.

I can stay with my family, but I don’t want to move back into my childhood bedroom. I may not have told them my apartment flooded. Maybe. Who’s to say?

“What? No.” His nose crinkles in confusion, and my finger itches to reach out and boop it, but I gracefully fight the urge and keep my hands to myself. “I never told them it was fake, and my sister called this morning to tell me how excited she was to meet my girlfriend.”

His eyes frantically fly around the room, cataloging the disaster of space. Boxes are piled in the corner, my suitcases are half unpacked, and clothes are draped over every piece of furniture .

“Your stuff has to be in my room or hidden by the time they arrive or…” he gulps, “ Nathalie, they cannot find out we’re lying about this.”

His words sit sourly in my stomach. Lying . The way my chest bubbles with joy and warmth when he smiles at me doesn’t feel like lying. But ultimately, that’s what we’re doing: lying to the people we love.

I don’t like the realization one bit.

Deon begins to heave piles of clothing into my suitcase and, by accident, launches Gordie across the room, catapulting him into the air. Gordie screeches a harrowing scream, and Deon responds with his own.

“Shit. He’s going to curse me for that.”

His shoulders are tight with tension, and against rule number two, I slide a palm against his tricep, digging my fingers into the muscle. Deon releases a groan that sends a tingle straight to my toes. His head lulls as I massage his shoulders.

“Breathe. We were able to fake it with my family; I’m sure we can fake it with yours, too.”

I’m not faking anything anymore, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Are you ready?” Deon whispers, clutching my hand with a God-like strength.

“They can’t be any crazier than my family,” I joke, knocking my hip against his and pulling our intertwined hands up to display the friendship bracelets. “Team Adams-Morales is going to fake the shit out of this.”

His smile is tentative as he pulls the door open, and my jaw drops at how similar his mother and sister look alike.

I shift into the good host role, hauling their bags off the porch and ushering them inside like I imagine a girlfriend would do. Deon stands statue still.

My foot launches backward to shake him from his stupor. Instead, he blinks. So much for being a team. It looks like I’m faking this one solo since Deon’s decided to malfunction.

I’m only giving him grace because he handled my family well when I was ready to run far, far away.

“It’s so lovely to meet you both,” I say with a beaming smile. I want them to like me. “Deon has told me so much about you both.”

I don’t add how I learned all the information two hours prior when we chucked all my belongings onto Deon’s floor. His room is a nightmare. We moved my chaos from one side of the house to the other. My shoes in the mud room were a lost cause, so he slammed the door shut, and we’re hoping they don’t go in there.

His mother huffs a laugh, her green eyes full of questions.

“Did he?” Starting at my toes, she assesses me, and I fight back a squirm.

Deon stands mute right inside the entryway, leaving me high and dry while his mother determines if she finds me lacking.

“Mom, stop.” Deon’s sister reaches out a hand. “I’m Nyla. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Her smile is kind, and it loosens a bit of the anxiety in my chest.

“I’m Nathalie.”

“We know,” Deon’s mom responds. “You can call me Diane.” Her eyes shift to her son. He has yet to move, his skin pale and head darting between his family and me. “Has my son become a mute?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, plastering on a smile. “I could have sworn I replaced his batteries yesterday.” I poke Deon in the chest. “Maybe I need to reboot his system.”

Nyla cackles, and his mother releases a soft laugh, breaking the tension. Deon shakes from his trance and smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, pulling his mother in for a hug. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, baby.” Diane reaches up to pat Deon’s cheek, and he blushes. “I’ve missed you. You don’t call enough.”

“I’ll try to call more,” he says, grabbing her bag, then Nyla’s. “I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have to get to the stadium for the game, but I bought tickets so you could sit with Nathalie.”

My stomach plummets. He did what?!

I’m going to murder my fake boyfriend. I bite my lip, holding back a retort. When did he have time to buy those while trying to create an organization system for my clothing?

“I can drive us all to the game,” I offer, pretending I knew about this plan.

“Sounds great,” Nyla responds, and I leave them both to get settled, hot on Deon’s heels.

“Deon!” I hiss as he sprints into his bedroom, away from me. “Get back here, you crazy man.”

He’s halfway into the walk-in closet when I catapult my body, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry!” he yells, though the way his shoulders shake tells me he isn’t sorry at all. “I meant to tell you, but I got sidetracked moving all of your underwear.” He spins in my arms to face me. “ You have a lot of lacy ones,” he comments, his erection pressing against my lower abdomen.

My chest flutters as his eyes darken.

“Please, please, please forgive me,” he says, lower lip sticking outward. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I don’t know,” I say airily, glancing around the closet. Holy shit, it’s nice in here. So much space to store all my shoes. I should force my apartment to build a closet like this while they take the months needed to fix all the water damage and corroded pipes. “This doesn’t look good for our fake relationship. Miscommunication this early? We’re doomed.”

“I’ll buy you a dozen macarons.”

His bribe works perfectly. “Deal.”

Deon leans down but pauses midway, like he thought about kissing me, then changes his mind. I ignore the way my stomach knots and wave goodbye.

I wish he would have kissed me. Rule number two be damned.

“Deon didn’t tell you we were sitting with you, did he?” Nyla asks, a knowing look on her face.

“He did.” I lie through my teeth. My knee bobs up and down in the stadium seat as I wait for the players to take the field.

Diane laughs deeply.

“You’re loyal.” The smile she gives me settles something in my chest. “But we both watched as my son ran away, and you chased him.”

My cheeks flame. “That was—”

“My son forgot to tell you,” she finishes, and I sigh. He also forgot to tell me they were coming in general, but they don’t need to know that.

“Yeah,” I admit. “But I am really happy to spend time with you both,” I say genuinely.

The teams run onto the field, and as they play, Diane and Nyla share stories of Deon as a child, showing me photos of Deon with braces in high school. He was all limbs then.

“This one is my favorite,” Diane says mid-way through the third quarter. The Mavericks are winning by three touchdowns, and we’ve stopped watching to instead talk about Deon. He should have thought about this before he chose the seats.

Diane turns her phone, a photo of Deon with a long, gray beard hanging to his mid-stomach. The outfit is complete with robes and a staff.

A little Gandalf.

“Oh my god!” I squeal, and my chest heats at how adorably nerdy he looks. “Look at him! What a nerd,” I joke, and Nyla huffs.

“It’s not nerdy to like something,” she responds defensively. Her lips are pursed, and I jerk back, stunned.

“That’s not what I—”

“There is nothing wrong with him.”

Her pointed words burn my throat, and before I can stop myself, I respond.

“When did I say there was? ”

Nyla blinks, the only evidence I stunned her. I rip out my phone, pulling up the photo of Santi and me at Comic-Con dressed as Aragorn and Arwen.

I didn’t have a boyfriend to take, so I begged Santi to come with me. We spent the whole day having to explain we were siblings, and Santi refused my invitation when I asked him to go the following year.

“I can call him a nerd because I am just as crazy as he is.” Diane lifts a brow, and Nyla looks apologetic. “And I have never thought there was anything wrong with Deon, except that he thinks mint chocolate chip ice cream is the best. It’s glorified toothpaste.”

Diane and Nyla stare, slack-jawed, and my hands tremble with anger.

If I ever meet Savannah, I might punch her in the nose for the way she treated him.

“I’m sorry, I can get protective. His last girlfriend was…” She trails off.

“A horrible person and a fool. She never deserved him,” I declare, intense anger thrumming through my veins, and all my thoughts fall out of my mouth. “Who would get to know Deon and then treat him like that? I mean, sure, he has questionable ice cream taste and a scary relationship with a label maker, but he’s thoughtful and funny.”

I realize I’m blabbering, but it feels so good to get my feelings about Deon off my chest, and it only helps solidify the idea we’re a real couple.

“He buys me macarons,” I admit softly. I don’t know why the small gesture matters so much, but it does. It’s a luxury I rarely allow myself, but since I moved in with him, they’ve appeared in the fridge or on the counter when I have a long day at GameChangers. “She never deserved his kindness or gentle soul.”

Diane and Nyla sit silent as my declaration hangs in the air. Perhaps blabbing all my inner thoughts wasn’t the best thing to do, but I did call Savannah a horrible person ten seconds ago, so it’s better than that.

I start to spiral, anxiety building, when Diane reaches out to clasp my hand between hers.

“He told you about her?” I nod. I’m sure there are parts of that relationship I don’t know, but what I do know is he was not treated the way he deserved to be. “He only wants to offer someone the world.”

“He shouldn’t have to offer anything but himself. Deon alone is enough.”

The admission tumbles from my lips.

It’s the truth, though.

I didn’t notice at first, but he does small, nearly unnoticeable things to make my life easier. My shoes are lined up in the mudroom in the morning, so they’re easy to find. There’s always creamer and sugar for my coffee. The laundry I forget in the washer is magically dried and folded neatly in the basket.

I always believed I wanted a loud love full of outlandish declarations, but if the soft, quiet love is full of days on the couch watching dating shows and running to the store to buy tampons, then I think that might be the type of love I want.

I’m beginning to dream of a gentle, peaceful love with Deon, and that is a dangerous hope to harbor.

“I was afraid he would never date again after Savannah cheated on him,” Nyla admits. I fight back a grimace. If only they knew. “But I’m happy he found someone who loves him as much as you do.”

The blood drains from my face.

I—

A foreign feeling lodges itself between my ribs, and I clamp down on the panic rising in my chest.

Freak out about it later , I tell myself.

So, with the cheeriest smile I can muster, I respond, “I’m happy I found him, too.”