Page 25 of Date Knight (Roll for Romance #2)

We found a quieter corner after we finished, and I was left with Lauren whilst Chloe and Amy were in the loo.

It was strange, because the moment we started talking, she seemed perfectly normal.

She asked me about the D apparently, Chloe had withheld that tidbit.

We talked about all the costumes I’d been making, too; I told her about the chain mail I was crocheting for Grey, and she joked that she had a friend with a suit of armour if I didn’t manage to finish in time.

I’d been around Lauren plenty over the last year, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but Chloe either gushed about her to the point that I already knew every detail of her life, or made her completely off limits.

So it was nice to be reminded of the fact that she was just a normal, pleasant person when she and Chloe weren’t making each other crazy.

And they definitely made each other crazy.

We tried axe throwing next, and Lauren critiqued Chloe’s form every single time to the point that Chloe nearly threw the axe at her.

If Chloe wanted a vibe check, I’d need to make sure I told her what I thought when she didn’t have a sharp object in her hand.

I was surprisingly good at axe throwing, it turned out– I’d never been particularly sporty, so I’d assumed my hand-eye coordination would be shit, but I won the game by a country mile.

I looked over at Amy when I made one particularly impressive hit, the axe lodging in the target just half an inch north of a bullseye, and she was looking at me like I was the fittest person on the planet.

At least, that was how I chose to interpret the fact that she was literally biting her lip at me.

“Nice shot, big boy,” she whispered as I passed her, her hand on my bicep, and I knew she was joking, but I felt a shiver pass through me so strong it made my eyes roll back a bit.

Unfortunately, Chloe seemed to have heard Amy’s pet name, and she and Lauren proceeded to call me “big boy” for the rest of the round until it lost all suggestiveness.

After axe throwing, Amy and Lauren went together to brave the queue for another round, and Chloe and I gravitated towards the table tennis. I picked up a paddle and served gently to her, but she spiked it back so hard it had a dent in it when I went to retrieve it.

“What the hell?” I asked, grabbing a different ball and serving again. Her return was much gentler this time, though at great expense to her, I could tell.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s not going well.”

I sighed. “You want my opinion?”

“You know,” she said, “I genuinely don’t think I need it. It’s not good, is it. Unlike you and Amy, who are disgustingly cute of course. I’m surrounded by love, and it’s killing me. I swear it’s half the reason I keep crawling back.”

Amy and I hadn’t been particularly affectionate or flirty, I didn’t think. But I didn’t like that Chloe was feeling so isolated. I promised myself I’d find a way to spend more time together, though I had no idea when that would be, given my distinct lack of free time.

“But seriously,” Chloe said, “it’s such a mindfuck. We have buckets of chemistry, but we fight all the time.”

I shook my head. I’d yet to see those buckets of chemistry, to be honest. “I mean, you’re far from your best self around her. I’ve never seen you bend over backwards like that for anyone before.”

“Back at ya,” she said, sounding almost defensive. “I’ve never seen you with anyone the way you are with Amy.”

“Is it a bad thing?” I asked, suddenly panicked that everyone had been watching Amy and me date– or at least pretend to date– as if they’d been watching a car crash.

She shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. I’m a little worried it won’t end well.”

I rolled my eyes, prepared for a repeat of the warning she’d issued five years ago. That Amy had always had a thing for me, and that I needed to be careful, because I could really hurt her.

“It’s not like that anymore,” I said, focusing my gaze on the ball. “I know she had a thing for me growing up, but we’re both adults now.”

Instead of returning the volley, Chloe caught the ball the next time it came her way. “I know that,” she said. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“What then?”

She sighed. “It’s you, Phil. You’re the one that’s been obsessed with her for years. Sure, back then I was more worried about her. But if you think I can’t tell how into her you are, you’re crazy. And if it doesn’t work out, you’re the one I’m worried about.”

I pinched my lips together, staring her down. I refused to let myself get worked up to the backdrop of “Blue” by Eiffel 65.

“You’ve got too much to lose, Phil. Just be careful.”

I hated how much sense she was making. And she had no idea how right she was.

Had the relationship been real, I might have been able to brush off her concern.

But given that we weren’t actually together…

well, I was almost certainly on the path to getting my feelings hurt.

Especially since we’d yet to discuss our breakup strategy.

I nearly told Chloe everything right then and there, Eurodance soundtrack be damned. But Amy and I had agreed we couldn’t tell anyone, so I had no choice but to change the subject.

“Yeah, well, you’ve gotta be careful with these drinks,” I said, picking up the dented ball from earlier and lobbing it towards her empty cup. It bounced off the rim and away from us. “Even I need to switch to water now.”

“That’s because you’re a lightweight, big boy,” she said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, and I felt my face flush.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” I said firmly, squaring up to give her a taste of her own medicine, but Amy and Lauren returned to save me from taking the bait.

Lauren handed Chloe a cocktail identical to hers, complete with a bag of popping candy clipped to the side.

Amy handed me something clear and fizzy with a slice of lime in it.

“It’s fizzy water,” she said in my ear, and I could have picked her up and ravished her right there on the table tennis table for sparing my liver. Instead, I settled for snaking my arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head, right at her part.

I stiffened slightly when I realised what I’d done– this definitely didn’t count as necessary PDA, and we’d been pretty good at avoiding that so far– but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she was smiling up at me when I caught her eye.

It wasn’t necessary, but maybe it wasn’t unwelcome either. At least, a man could hope.

* * *

Later that night, I was feeling smug about how well I was balancing everything.

I’d come home and felt more energised than usual, and I decided to take advantage of Ethel being asleep to cook myself a nice meal.

The arcade nachos hadn’t really done it for me, and I had some veg in the fridge that was on the verge of going bad.

Over the next couple of hours, I lost myself in the process of making the perfect vegetable and ricotta ravioli.

I made and rolled out the pasta by hand, pureed the veg into a fluffy paste, and cooked the little parcels to a perfect al dente, smothering them in a brown butter and thyme sauce.

I ate alone at the dining table, knowing the only thing that could have made it better was if I’d been sharing it with Amy.

I was just doing the washing up when I heard a thump from the direction of Ethel’s bedroom, and my heart stopped. I was racing down the hall before I even realised I’d reacted, and I flung open her door to find her in a pile on the floor.

“I’m fine,” she insisted as I bent to help her up, clamouring to fend off her shooing me away so I could wrap my arms around her torso.

“You sure?” I asked, getting her upright and then sitting her down on the bed, watching how she bent and where she placed her weight. She grimaced slightly as she sank into the mattress, but she didn’t seem to be compensating as far as I could tell.

“Yes,” she insisted, waving me off again. I took a couple of steps back so she wouldn’t get overwhelmed and flipped on the light.

“Maybe we should put some of these lights on sensors so they turn on when you get up,” I said, looking around. “The doctor told me shadows can mess with your depth perception.”

“I said I’m fine,” she said again, louder this time, and I could tell she was getting agitated.

She’d been moodier lately, and I knew it was a symptom, and she was feeling more and more lost in her own mind.

But it still felt frustrating, given everything I was doing.

How hard I worked to try to keep her safe.

I had to breathe deeply for a moment so I didn’t snap at her. She didn’t deserve that.

I took out my phone and made a note to mention this at her physio appointment on Tuesday. It was better safe than sorry, right?

“What were you getting up for?” I asked. “Can I help you?”

“I just needed some water,” she said, pointing at her bedside table where I always left her a glass.

I realised only then it had been knocked over, and the water had spilt all over the wood and carpet.

I rushed out for a towel, then knelt down to soak up as much as I could.

As I picked up the glass, I saw it now had a large chip in the rim.

I supposed I’d need to start giving her plastic instead of glass, though I already knew she’d complain that she didn’t like drinking out of it.

Maybe I could get her some of those cups made of the nicer, thicker, heavier plastic.

Once I’d found the chipped piece amidst the carpet piles, I went to get her another drink. I braced myself for her to complain about the plastic novelty cup I’d bought at the Ren Faire last year, but she just drank the water down greedily, not noticing what I’d served it in.

“Are we seeing that beautiful lady of yours tomorrow?” she asked as she finished.

“Yep, Amy’s going to pick us up around three in her big car, so you don’t have to ride in mine, and we’ll go back to hers for dinner.” I wondered if I should cancel, but I figured I could make that decision in the morning based on how she seemed.

Ethel frowned, and I thought maybe she didn’t like the Defender as much as I’d thought. But as I tucked her in, she looked up at me, and I could tell as I met her gaze that things weren’t quite right.

“Amy?” she asked. “I thought you were going out with Ellen?”

It felt like all the blood drained from my body at once. I’d known it was only a matter of time; everyone who’d known my dad told me how much I looked like him, and I’d known Ethel’s memory would only get worse. But it was the first time she’d ever mistaken us.

I tried to remember what the doctor had recommended for when this happened– I knew I wasn’t supposed to correct her, but I wasn’t supposed to pretend to be him, I didn’t think.

“We’re seeing Amy tomorrow,” I said, “but I can try to find some pictures of Ellen if you’d like.”

“No pictures,” she said. “Have her come by. I miss her.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said, blinking back the tears forming in my eyes. I didn’t want to upset her more. “Night, Ethel.”

“Goodnight, Michael.”

I left her light on and closed her door gently, pretty sure she was already asleep by the time I made it out of the room.

I walked past the mess I’d been tending to in the lounge and straight to the front door, where I opened it quietly and perched on the threshold, the metal cold against my bare feet.

I reached out and touch the greenery-covered branches of the hawthorn tree, the flowers long gone to the summer heat, and the tears finally tumbled down my cheeks and soaked into my beard.

“I can’t do this,” I said quietly to my parents. “I’m not meant to be doing this alone. Not now.”

It wasn’t fair. Surely I’d reached my quota for hardship when my parents had been taken from me.

But yet here I was, without them, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, unable to manage even a part-time job and a fake relationship around caring for my grandmother.

My whole life was about getting from one day to the next, despite knowing that things were only going to get worse.

And if what I’d built my life around deteriorated, if the person I orbited around stopped existing in the way she always had, what did that mean for me?

But I didn’t have a choice. I had to do it, precisely because I was alone. Because I was the last line of defence.

This was why I hadn’t let myself get serious with anyone since Ethel’s diagnosis.

I just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth; I wasn’t capable of holding it together.

It was like I could only do one thing well at a time, and if things were going well in my love life, fake or not, they weren’t going well with Ethel.

And Ethel was the only family I had left, so I had to put her first, no matter the cost. I knew that.

Except now I had something valuable I wasn’t so sure I was willing to part with.