Fake Fiancée - Season 1 - Episode 64

Episode 4 years ago

Fake Fiancée - Season 1 - Episode 64

E34

2 weeks later …

Royal blue or gingham yellow? A frown made its way onto my face as I surveyed the two pieces of curtain fabric in my hand. I had the feeling she would like the yellow one better so I climbed onto a stool and hung it up to decorate the rest of Weston and mom’s room. They had allowed me to have free reign of decorating the new house because they trusted in my interior designing abilities. Not only that, but I suspected they were pretty bad at that sort of thing, especially since they practically beamed with relief and exclaimed, “Go for it!” when I asked if I could help decorate the place.

“Careful there, Lainie.” I turned my head to see who the intruder was. “You might fall.”
“I’m fine.”

“Well make sure Hazel doesn’t blame me if you end up in hospital,” he joked.
I laughed. Weston is actually a really great person. The first few days after I had arrived home, I had been quiet around him, but I ended up loosening up after we bonded over singing along to ‘Uptown Girl’ by Billy Joel in an offbeat tone in the car. He liked to make jokes and was friendly, but was also protective of his loved ones. I was extra thankful for him, because he was the main reason in which my mother pushed herself to be a better person, and he also could keep her in check.

For example, the other day when we had been moving boxes from our old house into our current one, she had been complaining that the porcelain china set box were too heavy. I had rolled my eyes because they weren’t that heavy; you just needed to use a bit more strength than usual.

Weston had voiced what I had been thinking but in a nicer way – “Hazel, your daughter is carrying more than you!”

I had sighed and waited for her complaints, but instead, she just laughed with him, gripped the cardboard box tighter and made her way into our new kitchen to unpack them and put it into the cupboard. I had been struck speechless and never questioned Weston’s existence in our home again.

After I got off the stool, he spoke up again. “Your mother and I finished cooking dinner now.”

I nodded. “Ok. I’ll be right down!”
A huge part of me was relieved that I didn’t have to cook meals as much as before. Weston, mom and I had a routine in the kitchen now. I had volunteered to make dinner, but Weston had given me the job of making lunch. I had realised that on weekdays, they were usually away because they were working, so I only needed to cook for myself. He was a smart guy wasn’t he?
When I reached downstairs, I gasped. They had gone to more trouble than usual and cooked heaps of food – pieces of steak, along with baked potatoes, gravy and pumpkin purée, garlic prawns and gnocchi.

“What’s this all about?” I stood there with my jaw dropped, looking very much like an idiot.
“For making it into Yale, of course!” Mom beamed as she ushered me to sit down. “We were going to go out for Chinese but the restaurant was all booked,” she added sheepishly.

Yale.

Just the sound of the word made me shiver in excitement. I could not wait to start college, because for me, attending an Ivy League had been my life-long dream. Hopefully, I could do a master degree in architecture in Harvard someday and study in the very same place where my father had.

It had only been yesterday when I had received a few other quite impressive acceptances, but I ended up narrowing it down to Princeton verses Yale. Let me tell you something: that had been one of my hardest decisions in my entire life. I had been stuck in the same room with mom and Weston weighing the pros and cons of each college. It had driven me up the wall and I had exploded and told them all to ‘shut up’. I had immediately felt guilty, but they had just merely chuckled and decided to leave me be. Since they’ve been close friends for a few years, Weston and mom are like partners in crime. Anyway, about half an hour of researching the two colleges online, I had finally made my decision: Yale.

My living arrangements had been all sorted after that – I was going to be sleeping in the dorms until I found a flat nearby. Although I was going to make friends, I didn’t really want to live in the dorms. I’d rather live on my own.

I had told Steve the news and told him to pass it on to everyone else. My heart had tightened when I said that, because one obvious person who would catch wind of the news would be Henry.

“This is all too much though,” I protested weakly, referring to the extravagant meal sitting in front of me.

“Not it’s not!” Weston waved away my worry as if it were a mere fly. “We’ve made chocolate pudding for dessert too!”

“We should have gone for the coffee cake,” mom said with a sigh.

Weston turned to look at her, disbelieving. I think he had a thing for chocolate. “What? Why?!”
Mom rolled her eyes at him as if he was stupid. “You know chocolate is fattening and I prefer to keep my figure.”

“Oh Hazel, you’d never get ugly!”

I watched as her cheeks heated up and Weston grinned, as if he was proud that he could have that effect on her. Personally, I found this scene unfolding before me totally weird, but at the same time, I thought it was a definite ‘aw’ moment.

For the rest of dinner, we talked about random topics and laughed at ridiculous stories Weston had read about in the newspaper, and while Weston and I washed the dishes, mom headed off to the attic to find a photo album of their wedding.

Honestly, I was scared to see them, because I was so used to the image of my father and mother together. I still remember around my tenth birthday, they had gone through their wedding album with me and I had thought that they were the most beautiful couple in the world, and that they would be together forever. I guess I was a bit naïve back then.

Once we finished the dishes, mom came into the room with a gold album in her hands. I forced myself to smile so they wouldn’t know how uncomfortable I was.

“We didn’t have a big wedding,” mom explained as she placed the album carefully on the kitchen island. “We got married in the local chapel and then had a reception in Weston’s parent’s backyard.”

I was quite surprised to know that my mother (who liked glamorous), had opted for a quiet and modest wedding. Maybe this was more proof that she was changing back to her normal state.
“Only family and a few friends were invited to celebrate,” Weston added.

My body suddenly tinged with anger and hurt. Family? I was family, wasn’t I? I was the bride’s daughter and Steve was her younger brother!

“Really?” I questioned, looking directly at my mom. “What about me? What about uncle Steve?”

“I did invite both of you!” Mom claimed. “But Steve said that you both couldn’t make it because you were both busy!”

I blinked in surprise. Steve had told her that we were busy? I guess we had been – visiting Arianne in Newport, Henry had a new film project … but that still doesn’t mean that Steve should have said that. I was beginning to think that there were two sides to my uncle. I loved him and I know he loved me too, but he sure could be a bit selfish.

The tension was gone after that, and mom started to comment on the various photographs in the album. I was actually surprised to find that Weston and mom made a good-looking couple. Although I wasn’t used to it, they complimented each other. With the bride looking like a Grecian goddess in that chiffon white gown which flowed down her body like a waterfall and the groom looking quite preppy in his light grey suit and baby pink bow tie, you could clearly see that opposites attract.

Mom and Weston was recounting the story of how Weston’s great-aunt Gertrude had been majorly drunk and ended up knocking into the tiered stand of apple and cinnamon cupcakes, when suddenly, the phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Hazel my new stepfather exclaimed at the same time. It turned out that my mom beat him to the phone, and after a few seconds, she came back into the room holding the phone with her hand covered over the speaker.

“Lainie, it’s for you!” she half-yelled, half-whispered.

I frowned. Who would be calling me? Nobody I knew except Steve knew our home phone number, and mom would have mentioned that it was him if he had called. I pushed myself out of my seat and walked over to take the phone out of mom’s hand. As I headed towards the stool in the kitchen, I pressed my ear to the phone. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“Lainie? This is Mr Ramsey.”

A shock went through me. Mr Ramsey had been my graphics design teacher for senior year and we had gotten along really well. I had shown him some of my sketches and he had been very impressed. I was proud to say that I had been one of his favourite pupils.

“Oh, hello! What can I help you with?”

There was a pause from the other end of the line. “Well Lainie, I have news.”
“News?” I gulped. I prayed that it was good news. “What type?”

“The type of news where I’ve scored you a job with a semi-famous architect as his intern …” he sang proudly. “What do you say? It’s really good for experience, Lainie. He’s expecting you next Monday.”

My eyes widened. I was speechless, totally dumfounded, but I finally managed to squeak out the single word, ‘yes’.

“Great! I’ll fax you the details tomorrow!” Mr Ramsey then hung up, leaving me standing there in shock. Could things get any better than this?!