One Week Girlfriend - By Monica Murphy Page 0,10

was partly my fault. And Adele's. This is one of the many reasons why I don't want to be here.

"And it's right by the ocean." Fable sounds wistful. "I love the ocean. I rarely get to go."

"There's stairs right off our back deck that'll take you straight to the beach," I say, trying to give her something to look forward to.

The smile she flashes me eases me somewhat, but not much.

This isn't going to be a comfortable visit. I was fooling myself, thinking Fable would make it easy. Her presence will make it a little less stressful, but there's still tension and anger and sadness, too many emotions wrapped up in this place, this time of year. By the time we leave, she's probably going to think I'm completely crazy.

Will she tell anyone about me? I didn't even think of that. Proving once again I didn't think this plan through thoroughly enough. Everything's going to end up biting me in the ass in the end. I can feel it. I can't trust anyone.

No one. Definitely not this girl sitting next to me, chewing on her index finger as if she's going to gnaw it to the bone. She's nervous, but she's got nothing on me.

My palms are sweating and I feel like I'm going to throw up. It's one thing to see my parents when we go on vacation rather than face the realities of what happened inside our house. It's another thing entirely when I'm coming home and the last time I've been here is almost two years ago exactly.

"Are you okay?" Fable's voice breaks the silence and it's full of concern. "You're breathing funny."

Great. "I'm fine," I say on an exhale, desperate to keep my shit together.

I pull my truck in front of the closed garage and cut the engine, let the silence envelope me for a second. I can hear Fable's soft, even breathing, the quiet tick of the engine and the scent of her perfume, her shampoo, whatever it is, lingers in the air. It's light, a little sweet, like vanilla or chocolate, I can't tell, and it doesn't fit the tough girl persona she projects.

She's a contradiction and I want to figure her out.

"Listen. I don't know what's going on, but I have a feeling this is going to be difficult for you. Am I right?" She settles her hand over mine on the steering wheel, the tips of her tiny fingers smoothing along my knuckles. I flinch at her touch but she doesn't move. I'm shocked that she's actually reaching out and trying to reassure me.

Nodding, I swallow hard, try to muster up a few words, but nothing comes out.

"I have a fucked up family too." Her quiet voice reaches inside of me and instantly calms my nerves. Her easy acceptance is unexpected.

"Doesn't everyone?" I'm trying to joke, but most of the time I believe I'm alone with the madness. No one's family is as fucked up as mine.

"I don't think so. Shit, I don't know." She smiles and it eases over my heart as I stare at her. "Just...remember to breathe, okay? I know you're not going to tell me what's wrong with you, or why you hate your family so much, but I get it. I totally get it and if you need to get away from them, even for five minutes, I'll help you. We should have a code word or something."

I frown. "A code word?"

"Yeah." She nods and her eyes light up. Like she's really getting into this. "For example, your dad is being an asshole, asking you what you want to do with your life, and you can't take it any longer. Just say, marshmallow and I'll interrupt him and pull you out of there."

A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. "Marshmallow?"

"Totally random, right? It makes no sense. That's what makes it better." Her smile grows and so does mine.

"What if you're not around?" I have a feeling I'll never let her out of my sight, but I know that's impossible.

"Text me marshmallow. Wherever I'm at, I'll come running."

"You'd really do that for me?"

Her eyes meet mine, and they're glowing, they're so bright. And pretty. Fuck, she's really pretty. Why didn't I realize this before? I'm attracted to her and I'm attracted to no one. "I'm totally willing to do the job you paid me for."

The warm fuzzies are doused with a bucket of icy cold water at her words. A brutal reminder that what we're doing, this fake