We will not fulfill any book request that does not come through the book request page or does not follow the rules of requesting books. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Comments are manually approved by us. Thus, if you don't see your comment immediately after leaving a comment, understand that it is held for moderation. There is no need to submit another comment. Even that will be put in the moderation queue.

Please avoid leaving disrespectful comments towards other users/readers. Those who use such cheap and derogatory language will have their comments deleted. Repeat offenders will be blocked from accessing this website (and its sister site). This instruction specifically applies to those who think they are too smart. Behave or be set aside!

Mother Faker: Chapter 8

Beckett

I check the address three times, then turn back to my driver. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

Liv’s got to be playing a joke on me. It’d serve me right, forcing her to play along with this stupid plan. I’m not even sure why I’m doing it. She’s right. I could have hired a woman and kids to do this and paid a lot less than I’ve promised her. Or I could have told my father to fuck off and figured out another PR strategy.

Actually, I do know why I’m doing this. Not that I’ll ever admit the truth.

“Charlie, do you really see Liv living here?”

His eyes bounce from me to the house situated at the end of the street.

The house beside it? Sure, I’d believe it. But this one? It’s just… No.

“Does seem suspicious,” Charlie agrees, frowning. “But it’s the address she sent you. I confirmed the details you texted.”

Right. I nod at the house as if I’m making an agreement with it. I won’t judge it if it doesn’t suck me inside and never lets me out. Sounds dramatic, I know. But here’s the thing. There are ghosts on the front porch, and a sign stuck to the window that says Happy len Day. There’s an Easter bunny stuck to the peeling front door. And so many dead plants. A sign that reads Be Thankful is propped up on one side of the door, and on the other side is a lopsided bush decorated with lights. It looks like the Mad Hatter’s house… or perhaps an insane asylum.

I just can’t quite put my finger on what’s going on here.

Liv must be pranking me.

That’s the only explanation.

With one last glance at Charlie, I march up the steps, and that’s when I hear the shrieking. Followed by screams. Dropping my head back, I look up to where the sounds are coming from. Before I have the opportunity to react, a projectile pelts me in the face, and a sound leaves my throat that I’m not proud to say sounds an awful lot like a high-pitched scream.

Throwing my arms over my head, I drop to the sidewalk and heave in a breath. “You okay?” I ask Charlie, though I don’t dare look up.

The sound of squeaky doors opening and closing and a riot of giggles have me lifting my head. All I can see from my vantage point is a pair of shiny black shoes.

Above me, Charlie taps my shoulder. “You’re okay, boss. It was a Nerf gun.”

Craning my neck, I spot Liv on the front steps of the demon house. A boy about her height with red hair and freckles stands beside her, openly laughing at me. On her other side is a little boy holding a Nerf gun. He’s wearing a pink tutu over army fatigues and a scowl.

Liv grabs the Nerf gun from his hands and squeezes her lips shut like she’s trying hard not to laugh. “Finn!” she finally scolds. “We don’t shoot guests.”

The red-haired kid holds out a fist to the little guy for a bump. “Nice job.”

Behind them, Liv’s crazy friend Dylan appears. I met her when Liv brought her and a couple other friends to my house in the Keys this past fall. I nicknamed this one Hippy Dippy because she’s a total nut job. She does some ventriloquist shit and creeped me the fuck out the whole time they were there, pretending to be the spirit of my dead grandmother when I thought I was alone.

Both of my grandmothers are alive, so it made no goddamn sense.

Her blond lawyer friend came too. She obviously hates men and threatened me every time I so much as looked at Liv. The only semi-normal one was her short friend with dark hair. Shayla, maybe. She was quiet, at least.

“What’s everybody doing out here?” Dylan asks. When she spots me on all fours on the sidewalk a breathy laugh leaves her throat. “Oh! It’s the moment he meets the kids! Come, help me set the table, Liam.” She squeezes the red-haired boy’s shoulder, and that’s when I see the resemblance.

“Ah, he’s the demon’s spawn. Makes sense.”

Liv rushes down the steps and grasps my arm, but before I’m humiliated further, I climb to my knees. Dammit, do I feel my age in this moment. I may workout, but when a forty-two-year-old man drops to the concrete, getting up ain’t easy.

When Charlie offers me his hand, I shake him off, haul myself to my feet, and wipe at the dirt covering my jacket and pants. So much for making a good impression on her kids.

“You okay?” Liv asks, though the smile hasn’t left her face. It’s a nice smile and one she rarely gives to me. Although I have to remind myself that she’s not smiling at me, she’s holding back a laugh at my expense.

Brushing at my elbows, I grunt. “What the hell is this place?”

“Home sweet home,” she sings, drawing her hand toward the house as if it’s a prize.

The little guy in the tutu runs up behind her and latches himself to her hip, his eyes wary as he takes me in. I recognize him immediately from the photo on Liv’s desk. His silky brown hair is long enough that it flops over his forehead, almost hiding his eyes, and the tutu he’s wearing blows in the breeze. I take a deep breath and crouch down so we’re eye to eye. “You got a nice shot.”

He blinks at me for a beat, his expression blank, before his grin breaks free. “I’m Finn.”

When he holds his hand out to me to shake, I smile. “I think I’ll call you Huckleberry.”

“Cool,” he whispers, his eyes lighting up. Finally I got something right.

I peer up at Liv, and she looks down at me, her brow creased, and for a couple of heartbeats, we stay like that.

She tilts her head toward the door. “Come on in. But remember: I warned you.” She looks up at Charlie. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner too.”

“No, thank you, Ms. Maxwell,” he says from behind me, obviously holding back a laugh. “I’ll be back when Beckett calls.”

“It’s Langfield.” I surprise even myself by correcting him. There’s a sharp edge to my voice I don’t think I’ve ever used with him.

Charlie doesn’t flinch, though. He only smiles at Liv. “Right. Mrs. Langfield, call me if you need me.” Then with a wink he’s gone.

I turn back to Liv, who’s already looking at me, eyes wide.

Mrs. Langfield.

A possessive streak runs through me as I finally get a good look at her—hair in a bun, black sweater and a black skirt that hugs those curves she’s always hiding, perfectly professional in the chaos of this moment—and the name runs on repeat in my head.

Fuck, that’s hot.

“Mrs. Langfield?” she mouths. I don’t miss how her eyes dance as she says the words.

“Oh, but it’s okay for you to call me Mr. Langfield?” I tease.

She licks her lips. “You told me I couldn’t.”

I place my hand on her back and angle in so my mouth is next to her ear. “I may have misjudged just how good it sounds, Mrs. Langfield.”

A shudder runs through her body, forcing me to grip her waist to steady us both, and my pinky slides beneath her shirt on accident. The feel of her soft, warm skin makes my dick hard in an instant.

“Mommy!” Finn says, yanking on her hand and pulling her toward the door.

The word Mommy alone is all it takes for me to release her. Damn it if there’s ever been a more effective cockblock. I drop my hand, realizing just how utterly stupid it is to touch my wife.

My wife.

Holy shit, she’s my goddamn wife.

Olivia Langfield. The name sounds too fucking good.

I grin, following her into the house, hypnotized by the sway of her hips.

I may have never wanted a wife, but I’ll enjoy the hell out of the time I get to call Olivia Langfield my one and only.


I don’t make it two steps into the house before I’m assaulted by an ear-piercing screech.

“It’s the kid hater!”

The accusation is followed by a swift kick to my shin.

“Motherfucker!” I yell, hopping on one leg.

“Beckett!” Liv hisses, whipping around and glowering.

I grimace and turn to the perpetrator. Before me in the somewhat dark foyer is a tiny blonde with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face, like she’s daring me to react. Beside her is her carbon copy. The second tiny blonde holds out her hand expectantly. “That’ll be one thousand dollars for the swear jar.”

“Excuse me?” I balk, crouching to rub my shin.

“Collette, Phoebe, please go play until dinner,” Liv says to the Shining Twins. They’re evil, I can feel it.

The one who demanded the money holds up a jar. Sure enough, there’s a label stuck to it with the words Swear Jar scribbled on it. Below it is a big number one, and then three much smaller zeros. “It’s the rules, Auntie Liv. We don’t make them, but we have to abide by them.”

Liv presses her lips together and looks at me. “You wanted to live here,” she says, her tone teasing.

Damn. The tone itself makes my cock twitch. Which is insane, because there are two little demonic people leering at us and my shin still hurts. That’s what this woman does to me. That’s how dangerous she is. Best I keep my distance, otherwise I’ll be handing over my fortune just to see her smile.

With a groan, I tug my wallet from my back pocket. “Do you take Amex?”

The twins simultaneously tilt their heads and give me matching bored expressions.

I take in a deep breath and pray for patience. “Can I write you a check?”

“Do we look like we’re fools? You could cancel it before we have a chance to take it to the bank,” the one who kicked me says. “Cash only.”

Blowing out a breath, I pull out one crisp one-hundred-dollar bill after another.

Eyeing my wad of cash, Liv scoffs. “That really is absurd, Beckett.”

I shrug and shoot her a grin. “Good thing I have it. Pretty sure one of them woulda tied me up if I didn’t.”

Her responding laugh is worth every single dollar I’m giving up. The sound is melodic and happy. When was the last time I saw Liv truly happy? I’d let the girls kick me in the shins over and over again if it meant seeing her like this.

When I hand the cash over to the Shining Twins, they run off screaming, “Look, Mom! We got a thousand dollars off the jackass!”

“Hey! That’s a thousand dollars!” I yell. “You can’t curse.”

The one who kicked me turns around with a smirk. “It’s not a curse when it’s your name, right, Mom?”

Behind her, Liv’s blond friend saunters up.

“Ha.” I let out a loud laugh. “Figures Medusa is your mom.”

Beckett,” Liv hisses, elbowing me in the arm.

“That one kicked me.” I point. “And that one scammed me out of a thousand dollars. Then they called me a name. How come you’re hissing at me?”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “You said you would be okay with kids.”

“Yeah, your kids. Surely they’re better behaved than the Shining Twins over there.” I thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the trio of blond she-devils.

Liv stares at me, her lip twitching and her eyes brighter than I think I’ve ever seen them. It only takes a second for her to give up the fight and let the laughter bubble loudly from her lips.

Her friend glowers at us, hands on her hips and her minis flanking her, wearing matching looks of disdain. “Olivia.”

Liv covers her mouth with one hand and waves the other. “I’m sorry, really. I’m trying not to laugh.”

“Try harder,” her friend reprimands. I can’t remember her name, but I know I don’t like her. I don’t like anyone who takes that tone with Liv.

Throwing her attitude back at her, I straighten to my full height and glare. She doesn’t back down, though, only shoots figurative daggers so sharp I swear I feel them puncturing my lungs. Then, without a word, she turns on her heel, ushering her two demons along with her.

A little boy in the corner catches my eye. He’s so quiet I don’t know how long he’s been watching. This isn’t Huckleberry, and if I remember correctly, Liv only has one son. So who’s this kid? Every time I turn around, I swear a new one pops up. I offer him a wave, but he doesn’t respond. He only watches me warily. I’ve already been kicked by one kid, so I squat low so I can introduce myself, hoping to avoid a repeat. “Hello, I’m Beckett Langfield.”

His eyes grow wide, and I swear a hint of a smile crosses his face. “Your family owns the Boston Bolts.”

I chuckle. I’ve never been so happy to be associated with the hockey team. I swear this is the first time in weeks I’ve been referred to by anything other than a kid hater. “Yes, we do.”

He squints, scrutinizing me with an intensity far too great for such a little guy. The kid is really sizing me up. “Do you really hate kids?” he asks in a quiet voice.

A soft chuckle escapes me and I shake my head. “No.”

“But Collette said⁠—”

I hold up my hand. Collette must be one of the Shining Twins. “She’s wrong. I happen to love kids.” I cringe and take in a breath, racking my brain for a way to rephrase the statement. I don’t like to lie. “Well, I don’t hate them, and you seem like an okay kid. Am I right about that?”

He nods quickly.

“Can you tell me your name?”

He looks past me, and I peer over my shoulder, following his gaze, noting that we have an audience.

Beside Liv, her dark-haired friend is watching me. I’m almost positive her name is Shayla.

The expression on Liv’s face is unreadable. She’s not smiling, but she doesn’t look pissed off, which is rare when her attention’s set on me. No, she looks thoughtful, like maybe she’s trying to figure me out.

Good luck, wife. I’m trying to figure myself out too.

I never go out of my way for anyone, yet I find myself desperate to impress the people who matter to her.

Other than the Shining Twins and their mom. I recognize a hopeless case when I see it.

Shayla nods at him, and I turn back to face my new friend.

“I’m Kai,” he says softly.

“Well, Kai, it’s nice to meet you. Should we go help with dinner?”

When he nods in response, I haul myself back up and blow out a long breath in relief. There are a lot of people in this house, and I have yet to even meet two of Liv’s kids.

Shayla intercepts her son and grasps him gently by the shoulders. “Let’s go wash your hands first.”

Once they’re gone, I turn toward Liv. She’s studying me again, wearing that unreadable expression.

“Who’s next?” I ask.

Her brows knit together, her dark eyes clouded with confusion. “Huh?”

I try to hold back my heavy sigh, but it breaks free anyway. Running my hand through my hair, I assess her, then scan the dark entry, where we’re still standing. Fuck, I’m never nervous, but the need to impress her is screwing with my brain.

You’re not my type. Her words echo in my brain, taunting me, consuming me until I can think of nothing else but how to become her type.

“You didn’t have to rope all your friends into being here. I don’t bite.” I go for teasing to mask the hurt. She’s known me for over a decade, yet she doesn’t trust me to have dinner with her family without having her entourage here as backup. Yes, our predicament is an awkward one, but I’m not a monster—although I don’t blame her for not seeing that when all she’s seen is that man at work.

I’ve truly never cared what people thought of me at the office. I have a job to do, and I do it. I’m trying to turn the Revs into one of the best baseball teams in the country. If I coddled all my employees, shit would never get done.

She watches me, her lips twisting to one side. She opens her mouth like she’s ready to respond, but before she can, two more children appear. These two I recognize. Two little girls. Her oldest and her youngest. Finally, I’m going to meet all of her kids.

“You must be Bear,” I say, holding out my hand to her older daughter.

She darts a look at her mom but doesn’t respond.

Beside me, Liv laughs, and I swear it’s the most incredible sound I’ve ever heard. “It’s Winnie.”

I smile at her, then at her daughter. “Bear it is.”

Liv huffs, but there’s no heat behind it. “You can’t just change all their names.”

Turning back to her, I mutter, “But mine are better,” and grin at her youngest daughter. “And what’s your name, Little One?”

The toddler with pudgy thighs and a big smile throws her arms around my legs.

Damn, that one little move makes my heart soar. “I think she likes my name choice,” I tease Liv.

She snorts and waves toward an open doorway. “Winnie, go help Aunt Dylan with dinner.”

Winnie doesn’t move at first. She just lifts her chin and takes me in for a long moment. “I like Bear.”

The wide grin I direct at Liv has her rolling her eyes. “That’s Adeline. Although, at the rate we’re going, I’m guessing you’ll be renaming her as well?”

I actually quite like Adeline, but teasing Liv is fun. I never get to be like this with her, so I roll with it. “Yeah, Little One it is.” At my feet, the girl has her arms outstretched and she’s giving me grabby hands, so I scoop her up. As soon as she’s settled against my chest, she snuggles into me and lets out a soft little sigh.

“Wow,” Liv whispers.

“What?” I keep my eyes on the little girl with the pigtails. One’s higher than the other, so they look lopsided, which makes me like Liv even more. At work, she’s always perfectly put together, but this house and her children are making it clear that she’s anything but. It makes her more real, like I can almost hold her in my grasp. The aloof Olivia, the one above the fray, has always been attractive to me, but this woman is hypnotic. I could easily get lost in her if I don’t keep reminding myself that she only agreed to stay married to me because I’m paying her.

“The only other person she’s like that with is Liam.”

I rack my brain for an image of Liam, but I’ve got nothing. “Who?”

She folds her lips over to hold back her smile. “The one you called demon’s spawn.”

I chuckle. “See? You like my nicknames.”

She turns on her heels. “No, actually, I don’t. But I learned long ago that it’s your way or the highway. So we’ll roll with it. Come on, Mr. Langfield, meet the rest of your roommates.”

My way or the highway? That’s not⁠—

Wait, did she say roommates?


Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Options

not work with dark mode
Reset