Page 6 of Where She Belongs (A Different Kind of Love #3)

“You brought one,” I point out, shifting my gaze to Kitty and then back at Simon. “So why can’t I?”

Simon glares at us for a long time before his practiced smile slips back into place. “How long have you been seeing each other?”

I steal a glance at Gabe, wondering how far he’s willing to take this charade. Every word we speak is a gamble, a bet against Simon’s ability to call our bluff.

“Three months,” Gabe says, and I have to bite back a smile at how naturally he plays along. He doesn’t miss a beat.

I half-expect Simon to call us out, to say something that will dismantle the ruse and leave us standing there, exposed. Instead, he just stares, his hazel eyes flickering with a mix of doubt and something deeper, maybe even a grudging respect for our audacity.

“Three months, huh?” His eyes narrow at Gabe. “Interesting timing, considering you’ve been hanging around our family for years. Teaching Tristy soccer, showing up at holidays, always there for every crisis.”

Gabe’s arm tighten around me as he catches Simon’s meaning. “What exactly are you suggesting?” His voice is quiet but carries an edge I’ve never heard before.

“Just finding it interesting how close you’ve always been to my family.” Simon’s smile is razor-sharp. “Makes me wonder if maybe this... development isn’t so recent after all.”

Suddenly a high-pitched scream breaks through the tension. “OH MY GOD, Mom! Are you serious? You and Gabe? For real?”

As Tristy looks at both of us, I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Actually, yes, we are.”

Before I can continue, my daughter grabs me in a hug, laughing while Gabe and Tyler do their manly victory ritual of fist bumps and shoulder pats.

“I’m so happy for you both,” Tristy says as a flight announcement blares through the terminal, drowning out what she says next. I steal a glance at Gabe, hoping he’s okay with our new development, but he’s deep in conversation with Tyler, his expression unreadable but calm.

“I’m glad you’re okay with it,” I say as she steps back and studies me.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, all this time?—”

“I didn’t want to steal your wedding thunder,” I say. “Besides, it’s still new. Who knows what’ll happen?”

Her expression turns serious, more conflicted. “Did he at least wait until the divorce was final? I mean, you two have been friends forever.”

“Of course he waited.” My stomach does a weird flip at the lie, knowing that we’re layering deceit upon deceit. “Nothing happened until it was appropriate.”

“That’s so romantic,” she sighs, then grins. “You do know he’s, like, ten years younger than you, right?”

“Why? Is that a problem?” I almost tell her that her stepfather’s girlfriend is younger than her but I don’t. No sense in stating the obvious.

“No,” she says, cocking her head toward Simon and Kitty who are currently wrapped around each other like love-struck teenagers. “As long as you both are happy, I’m happy.”

“We’re taking it one day at a time,” I say, hoping to ease her mind. “And don’t worry, your mom can handle herself.”

Suddenly, Tristy’s face brightens and she whips out her phone and holds it out in front of her, her other hand pulling me to her side. “Quick family selfie for the socials before the luau.”

I smoothen my pants. “But?—”

“Smile!”

“Wait for us!” Simon calls as he and Kitty hurry over, but Tristy’s already snapped two shots.

“Stand by Tyler, Dad.” She positions her father and his girlfriend on Tyler’s other side before handing her phone to someone standing next to a man with a full camera rig. As I stare at him, I realize in my Simon-and-Kitty panic, I’d completely forgotten about the film crew.

Crap.

“We’ll need your release forms for the wedding special,” someone says as we head for the exit. In front of us, Simon and Kitty continue with their public display of affection, slowing down to a stop as he kisses her in the middle of the terminal.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but then Gabe’s hand finds mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles sending a shiver running down my spine.

“Focus on us. We’re a couple, remember?” he says with a playful wink as we make our way toward the waiting limos. Around us, some passengers have stopped to film the entourage with their phones.

“Gabe, there are cameras everywhere,” I say as he gestures for me to step inside the limo.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, my love. You look beautiful.”

“But that’s not why…” My voice trails as we settle into our seats, realizing he just said I looked beautiful. Me, in my wrinkled linen suit and panicked state. Me, the mother of the bride who just made up some lie that she’s dating her best friend.

As the passenger door closes, I look up at Gabe, allowing myself to get lost in his impossibly dark eyes the way his other conquests must have done.

Did he call them beautiful, too?

But it doesn’t matter. Ten years of friendship, and I’ve never looked at him like this before.

Never had to. He was always just Gabe—the passionate resident who grew into a trusted colleague, the friend who showed up with take-out from Frontier when I was drowning in grant applications, the surrogate big brother who taught Tristy how to perfect her soccer kick.

Only this time it’s different.

He’s my boyfriend. Has been for the last three months.

And for the next four days, that’s the story I’ll stick to.

The irony isn’t lost on me. For years I’ve prided myself on being direct, honest, unflinching in the face of difficult truths. Now here I am, constructing elaborate lies because my ex-husband’s mere presence threatened to crack my carefully maintained facade of being “fine” with everything.

Only there is nothing “fine” about the way I’m suddenly hyper-aware of every point where our bodies touch, every casual adjustment of his arm around my shoulders, every shared glance that needs to carry the weight of our lie.

When I catch Simon watching us with that familiar calculating look—the same one he wore when explaining why he “had” to work late at the office again—I lean further into Gabe’s embrace, savoring his warmth, his presence, and the feel of his lips pressed against my temple.

For a moment, I can almost believe this isn’t an act. That I’m not still that woman who discovered her husband’s betrayal in her own home, that I’m someone who could fearlessly start over, who could...

I shut that train of thought down before it can leave the station.

This is nothing more than a favor between friends—an incredibly generous one that I have no idea how to repay.

Playing boyfriend wasn’t exactly what Gabe signed up for when he agreed to be my plus-one, and now we’re in completely uncharted territory.

But as his thumb traces absent circles on my shoulder, somehow both comforting and unsettling, I realize I’ve never been more grateful for his friendship. I just hope four days of pretending to be in love won’t cost us the decade of trust we’ve built.

I’ll figure out how to make this up to him later. Right now, I need to focus on getting through this weekend with my dignity intact—and maybe, just maybe, proving to Simon that he didn’t break me after all.