Pretend Boyfriend (Be My Boyfriend Book 4) Read online

  Pretend Boyfriend

  Be My Boyfriend Book 4

  Victoria Snow

  Copyright © 2019 by Victoria Snow

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Description

  Prologue: Gwen

  1. Gwen

  2. Link

  3. Gwen

  4. Gwen

  5. Link

  6. Gwen

  7. Link

  8. Gwen

  9. Gwen

  10. Link

  11. Gwen

  12. Link

  13. Gwen

  14. Link

  15. Gwen

  16. Link

  17. Gwen

  18. Link

  19. Gwen

  Epilogue: Gwen

  One Night Boyfriend (Excerpt)

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  Also by Victoria Snow

  Description

  My ex proposed a pretend boyfriend arrangement to help me out.

  An overjoyed me said ‘yes!’

  And now I’m staring at the two lines on a pee stick.

  My grandparents need to see me ‘settled.’

  I am disabled – I can’t see properly, my hearing is impaired.

  Hell…I can’t even walk properly.

  Just that I need the money badly,

  Which means I need to find a guy that they approve of.

  Lord, have mercy, how do I get a boyfriend now?

  Dr. Lincoln Gallagher may be my perfect solution.

  I know it’s not a good idea.

  •He’s a doctor at my hospital.

  •He’s my ex.

  •We can’t keep our hands (and mouths) off each other .

  •And …he’s the father of the child I’m carrying.

  Time to stop pretending, I guess!

  Prologue: Gwen

  It all started with an awkward press to my lips as we had sat on his bed in his room, doing our homework for my sophomore English class and his senior year advance chemistry class- a debate report on animal testing and why it was not an appropriate scientific measure to test things for humans. As I had sat there, discussing passionately my love for animals and how I couldn’t stand the senseless violence- there were other more effective methods for testing that didn’t require detriment to our furry friends- I had apparently struck a chord in him that I had never struck before. His movements were fast like a viper, leaving me little time to react, and upon I melted into his body as he held me close.His parents were out- which was a usual occurrence- country club parties with their rich friends had always been way more important than being home with him, but our adolescent hormones surging were definitely present. He and I had been friends since we were kids, though his parents weren’t exactly accepting of our friendship, and even more so unhappy about us dating. His mother had curled her lips into sneer when he happily mentioned me, her disgust almost written across her forehead with permanent marker.

  My family was not among the well to dos of the town that she and her husband schmoozed with, we were at the lower end of middle class, my father a hard-working laborer for the city- fixing potholes and culling ditches. My mother a journalist for the local paper, constantly mulling over three different horror novel she had been working on for fifteen or more years but no guts to send it out to prospective publishers. My parents didn’t like his parents, they felt they were neglectful shrews who would rather fill their son’s life with things rather than affection. There was many a night where he had come to our home to eat with us because they had skipped out of town, leaving him by himself at age twelve, sometimes for weeks at a time. They hired nannies and governesses, sure, but that wasn’t the same as coming home from a long day to school to people that loved him. Our young love wasn’t particularly Romeo and Juliet, but it was definitely a clash between two worlds, us unwittingly in the eye of the storm.That fateful night, his lips navigated mine in a way I had never experienced before, clumsily slipping his tongue into my mouth, his spit saturating my pursed lips as it sprang through. My eyes widened, unsure of what to do. I had seen many a chick flick in my young sophomore lifetime, but a million of them could never have prepared me for the real deal. I panicked, mimicking janky movements, sloppily massaging my tongue against his. Though it was quite a messy kiss, the roughness of our pink flesh brushing against each other was exhilarating. It was as if the planets had aligned and we were two different people, young wild animals driven by our instincts, our brains fixated on the moment at hand. I was incredibly nervous, my heart clamoring in my chest, pounding away like a jackhammer on a construction site. His hands awkwardly grasped at my bra hooks beneath my shirt, fumbling to try to undo them, shaking as heavily as his breath on my neck. We were like baby deer, struggling to find our bearings, hands groping helplessly and uncertain. But we were uncertain together, and that lent me a sort of bravery I didn’t think I would otherwise have.I reached back behind my back and helped him with the bra, my breasts tiny and insignificant in comparison to most of my classmates at the time, something I was very insecure about. He laid me down and as he went to pull off my shirt, I shook my head no, and he listened. He pulled back, kissing me silly, until his eyes flicked up to mine uncertainly. I could tell, even at my young age, that he was asking me a question.

  I hesitated a moment and he didn’t move a muscle. I knew, at that moment, that all I had to do was say a single word and he would instantly stop. He wouldn’t ever press me to do what I wasn’t ready for.

  And that knowledge was enough to bolster me. I nodded, and his hands made their way down my body. He tugged sheepishly at my leggings to which I nodded yes, biting my lip as he yanked them off with force. Exposed, I felt embarrassed, but in a flash, it was then my world was sent reeling…

  1

  Gwen

  In all my twenty-four years, I had never imagined to be on the doorstep of my mothers’ parents, let alone in the condition I was in. I had always imagined our eventual meeting to be a joyous one, full of laughter and apologies, going down the list of things they had missed in my life and I in theirs. My grandmother would bake cookies and make sweet tea, while my grandfather and I talked about fishing and life as we scarfed them down…but this was no destiny filled, fairy tale meeting.

  Not even close.

  As I looked up at the huge plantation like house, it’s door and pillars decorated with gold leafed carvings, I felt intimidated and unsettled. My mother had said that her parents had been well off, but I hadn’t imagined a mansion like home in the hills, a man-made pond camouflaged by cattails to the left. I had envisioned them as a couple of old folks, off in some wooden cabin somewhere, sipping umbrellaed drinks and fishing off a dock, their log cabin full of chintzy knick-knacks and the normal gaudy “cabin feel” décor, almost giving off and inherent feeling of comfort. The house in front of me, wasn’t anything like that. I had expected to see some echoes of her there. Signs that we had a shared history. But there was nothing. It was all cold and manicured and entirely not what I was used to.I swallowed hard as I eyed the polished, golden lion knocker on the door, wrapping my small hand around it. It’s hinges squeaky from age and wear, nothing a good spritz of oil wouldn’t fix. I glanced back at Frannie who gave me what looked like a thumbs up from the car, but the instinct to flee was almost overwhelming. These people hadn’t wanted to be in my life before, so why now? Had they got wind I ha
d been hurt? It was a little late on the delivery if that were it, being the accident had been a year and a half ago.

  Even with Frannie’s vote of confidence I felt too uncomfortable to stay. As I let go of the ornate knocker and turned to leave, I was met by the sound of the door behind me creaking open slow and loudly, like I was in some B movie horror film. The steady clicking of someone’s heels coming swiftly towards me followed soon after, causing my heart to leap in my chest.I spun around, half expecting to see a clown or masked murderer, only to for there to be a balding, tanned white man with dark freckles across his shiny dome. Standing next to him was an ivory skinned, redheaded woman, her hair clipped into a fancy updo from the looks of her outline. Their facial features were unclear to me even with my glasses on- just one of many things that fateful day last year had took from me. I rustled the glasses on my nose a bit and squinted, even though in the back of my head I knew the action would be fruitless. I was almost afraid to step towards them, the stories my mother told about how my father had been treated echoing in my ears. But I had to do this. Months of talking on the phone had led us to this day, and there was no point in fleeing now that they were staring me in the face. I channeled my mother’s strength as I stepped into the doorway, the two of them backing up to let me in.As I stepped closer to them, the redheaded blur became clear, my grandmother’s face setting my heart a flutter. It was like looking into the future that would never happen, her face identical to hers, even the freckles that doted her nose and cheeks. My emotions spilled over, tears flooding my cheeks, my hoodie sleeve unable to wipe them away fast enough.

  My grandmother stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me in, her perfume smelled of baby powder and fresh flowers. She wept into my frizzy black hair, cradling her head gently on my shoulder, pulling away momentarily to get another look at my face. I felt a hand on my back and looked up to see my grandfather there, giving an awkward smile- no doubt a feeble attempt at comfort by a man I knew to be a cold, callous monster. My mother had always been a free spirit, she had told me, and he had always tried to clip her wings. It must’ve been a hard to realization for them both that time can’t be taken back once it was gone… A lesson I had certainly learned, carved right into the very essence of my existence. I relived that day every night in my dreams, haunting me like a ghost with unfinished business, the screeching of metal against metal screaming in my head. Shaky and uncertain of my surroundings, I lifted my cane up, allowing them to guide me along, my legs barely able to function under the gravity of my own apprehension. They gently lowered me down on a couch in their lounge, my knee banging against a coffee table I hadn’t noticed. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, the pain shooting up into my hip, leaving my grandmother apologizing profusely as I rubbed it. “I am so sorry, Gwen.” She sniffled, sitting next to me, her face close to mine. “I’m not used to having to guide someone through the house, so I didn’t think about the coffee table.”

  “It’s okay, I am just not used to the house. Once I am, it’ll be like muscle memory!” I chirped at her with a forced smile, trying to sound at least a little excited about being here, mostly for her sake. She smiled back at me, seeming happy to hear that I could be back again, unlike the not so prodigal daughter she had lost.

  Tears still welled in her wrinkly eyes as she took the time to look over my face, seeming to study it like I was some priceless masterpiece, one that she might never gaze upon again. She took her olive-spotted hands in mine, the color of my tan skin clashing against her alabaster hue, raising my hands to her face and closing her eyes. I looked up and my grandfather stood close, eyeing me from the other side of the coffee table, his ice blues freezing me in place. He was obviously not only suspicious of me, but uncomfortable I was even there, shifting side to side with his arms crossed as my grandmother doted on me. After a few minutes, he seemed to settle down a bit, taking refuge in his obvious safe spot of the room- the typical patriarch armchair. As he lowered himself into the seat across the room with a groan, he pulled a sherlock like pipe from his breast pocket, the sweet aroma of unlit tobacco swirling strongly in the air. “Please,” I muttered quietly, “Don’t light that. The smoke makes me choke.” I could see even in the blur his expression went from muted to surprised, taking his pipe out of his mouth and promptly stuffing it back in his pocket. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water from a glass off the small side table beside his recliner, the silence in the room much like strangers sitting uncomfortably on a city bus. I never know where to sit, what to say or if I should say anything at all. I shifted nervously in my seat on the couch, letting go of my grandmothers’ hand and leaning cautiously towards the arm. It was then my grandmother’s rich southern voice broke the silence.

  “We are so very happy to have you here,” she began, continuing to look me over as if she had seen a ghost herself. “We are very sorry that we haven’t been around…your mother was a social butterfly, and she didn’t like to be tied down.” She looked away from me and down at her feet, shame in her eyes. I glanced up to catch a glimpse of my grandfather at the tail end of an eyeroll, before taking another sip of his water. “When she took off with that man…”“Alphonso,” I spoke up, meeting her eyes. “He was my father, and his name was Alphonso Feirnays.”“Alphonso,” she smiled weakly, correcting herself. “She just left us. Cut off all ties, didn’t give us the chance to say anything or apologize.” A tear dripped from her eye, looking back up at me, sniffling. It was apparent that my grandmothers’ heart was broken, she had lost her only baby, not once but twice. I could feel my heart ache for her as she sat there, seeming ready to start weeping at any second. I couldn’t imagine having a child and losing her because of your husband’s bullshit, and then her dying without you making amends. She must be living with so much pain and regret. I felt the need in that moment to comfort her, laying my hand on hers. She finally raised her watery eyes to meet mine and smiled, using her other hand to wipe a tear. “There wasn’t anything that needed apologizing for! She was stubborn,” my grandfather boomed from across the room. I had expected his voice to be deep, but not that deep, his drawl thick as molasses in January. “That boy had no future. He was a nobody and he had no ambition! He was-” He stopped short, as if his words had suddenly caught up to him. Or maybe it was my piercing stare. Even as damaged as I was, I knew I could give a real mean glare when I wanted to.

  And boy did I want to. I knew exactly what had been about to come out of his mouth. My mother had been quite frank about her father’s beliefs.

  “Oh what? What were you going to say,” I interrupted him, waiting for the racist drivel my mother had warned me of to spill forth past his white twitching mustache. She had explained long ago once I was old enough, that my grandmother was a strong and kind woman, who had genuinely only wanted the best for her babies. However, my grandfather was old south through and through, and the thought of his daughter marrying a foreigner- or anyone not of the white persuasion- had caused him to throw such a temper tantrum, they had never spoke again. My mother had said he and my father had come nose to nose, his racist tirade almost coming to blows.

  “Alfred!” My grandmother squawked, rage filling her eyes. “Don’t you fucking start! Do you hear me?!” A shockwave of surprise shook me down to the core, listening to my grandmother chastise my grandfather like he was a child. He glared at her, unfolding what appeared to be a newspaper, angrily opening it like a wall between him and us, muttering quietly to himself.

  I lifted a hand and hid my smile, stifling the snort that escaped my nose. “I’m sorry, Gwen. Some people have old habits that die hard, and mouths that don’t know when to shut.” I didn’t look up, but I heard my grandfather scoff from across the room, the sound of paper rustling suddenly hit my ears. We sat there in uncomfortable silence, my hands digging into my thighs in fists for a minute before Alfred broke the silence. “Anyway,” He continued, thumbing through his newspaper as if nothing had just happened, “We brought you here to offer you
some assistance, you are our kin folk after all.” I could hear the half sincere, half venom filled words drip from his mouth. My grandmothers’ lip was stuck in a snarl, seeming to be ready to pounce on him at the next hint of a misstep. “A stipend of sorts. I know you lost the house with your mother due to your accident and her…” I could hear a hard swallow from behind the newspaper, accompanied by a stifled snuffle. “I know you can’t work very much, due to your… conditions and all. And being your grandparents, it wouldn’t feel right letting you carry on struggling.” My annoyance and fury clashed with my nerves in that moment, the thought of help in any sense of the word seemed like a fantasy. The gesture hit me like a ton of bricks, my breath catching in my throat. I was still fighting with disability for any sort of help, though I was able to get food stamps and Medicaid thankfully for my health issues, otherwise I didn’t know how I would’ve survived day to day. Even with food stamp help, which almost two hundred a month wasn’t much, I had been relying on food banks for over half of my food. My diet usually consisted of whatever the pantry had that week and convenience foods like microwaveable items that were easy for me to prepare. Sometimes I ate the same things for weeks and weeks. I was working on my third week of pulled pork, and though I was grateful for having food in my belly, the thought of another meal of it made me want to vomit.