Fake Fiancée

Chapter 35: 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.