Page 5 of Fake it With Me

I told her about my ex Sasha. About how we’d met at a yacht club event eight years ago, how she’d been young and beautiful and charming, how I’d fallen hard and fast and married her within six months. How we had Daisie, and how everything had seemed perfect for a while.

And then how, three years ago, Sasha had walked out. Just left. Told me motherhood wasn’t what she expected and she needed to find herself. She said she couldn’t do it anymore. She disappeared to Europe to “work on herself,” leaving me with a four-year-old who kept asking when Mommy was coming home.

Liza’s expression transformed as I talked. The analytical look softened into something that might have been sympathy. Or pity. I couldn’t tell which, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“She abandoned you both,” Liza said quietly.

“For three years. Three years of birthday cards that arrived late, if at all. Three years of missed video calls because she was ‘too busy.’ Three years of me trying to explain to my daughter why her mother didn’t want to be around.” I took a deep breath to calm my irritation. “And now she’s back. Showed up two months ago saying she’s ready to be a mother again, that she wants joint custody.”

“And you said no.”

“I said we need to take it slow. Daisie can’t get hurt again. I won’t allow it.” I met Liza’s eyes. “I had to pick up the pieces of my little girl’s broken heart last time. Do you know what it’s like trying to explain to a four-year-old why her mother left her? Trying to convince her that she’s lovable and worthy when the woman who gave birth to her decided she’d rather be anywhere else?”

Liza shook her head slowly.

“It’s hell,” I said. “Pure hell. And I won’t put Daisie through that again. So I told Sasha we’d start with supervised visits, work our way up slowly, let Daisie set the pace. She didn’t like that answer.”

“Let me guess,” Liza said. “She lawyered up.”

“Immediately. Started fighting for joint custody. Fifty-fifty split. She wants to take Daisie back to wherever she’s been hiding for half the year, like none of the last three years happened. Like she has any right to just waltz back into our lives and demand equal say in how our daughter is raised.”

I pulled out my phone and showed Liza the photo that had started this entire nightmare. Grainy security camera footage from the yacht club, a single frame that made it look like Daisie was leaning over the edge of the dock, about to fall into choppy water, while I stood nearby looking at a boat instead of at my daughter.

“That’s the picture her lawyers are using to claim I’m negligent,” I said. “They claim I put Daisie in danger because I care more about my business than my daughter.”

She nodded. “Okay and what’s my role in this?”

“The family court has ordered a home evaluation. Someone is coming to my house next week to assess whether I’m fit to have custody of my own daughter.”

“Wow.”

“My lawyer says the evaluation should go fine. My house is good, Daisie’s happy and healthy, I’ve got a stable life.” I paused. “But he also suggested that it wouldn’t hurt to present a more… complete family picture. Someone to help show that Daisie has a warm, stable home environment.”

Understanding dawned in Liza’s eyes. “A girlfriend.”

“I thought about claiming a fiancée, but I didn’t want to confuse Daisie. Telling her I’m engaged and then breaking it off a month later felt cruel. But a girlfriend? Someone who’s around for a little while and then moves on when things don’t work out? That’s normal. That’s something a seven-year-old can understand.”

I watched her think, watched the wheels turning behind those bright blue eyes. She was smart. I could see it in the way she analyzed the situation, looking at it from different angles.

“It’s a little dishonest,” she said finally.

“It’s a lot dishonest,” I corrected. “But I’m willing to move heaven and earth to make sure my little girl never has to lose her mother again when Sasha inevitably leaves. Because she will leave. I know her. She’ll get bored or overwhelmed or decide this isn’t what she wants, and she’ll disappear again. And when she does, I need to have custody locked down so tight that she can never do this to Daisie again.”

Liza nodded slowly. “Okay. So what exactly would you need from me?”

I laid it out for her. The whole arrangement. “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars for one month of your time. You’d move into my house in Maine. I have plenty of space and you’d have your own suite. You need to attend some public events with me, yacht launches and charity functions, things where we’d be seen together. You’ll be around for family dinners, activities with Daisie, the kind of things that show we’re a real couple. And when the court’s representative comes for the home evaluation, you’d be there, presenting a united front.”

“For a month.”

“One month. Then the evaluation will be done, the custody hearing will be over, and you can go back to your life. Clean break, no complications.”

She seemed to think about it for a few seconds. “I’m happy to do all of that. But there can be nothing sexual. I need you to understand that. Nothing physical, nothing romantic. I’ll play the girlfriend in public, I’ll smile for photos, I’ll be nice to your daughter. But that’s where it ends.”

“Della said I needed to be very detailed about what I need,” I said. “There may be a kiss or two for the cameras.”

“No tongue.”

I almost laughed but kept it together. “Of course not. I’ll need to touch you now and then.”