One Week Girlfriend part 1

from Marie Callender’s if I wanted that. Otherwise, I’m on my own.” Owen sounds disgusted and I don’t blame him. “I guess she went out of town with Larry. He has a daughter or something and they were going to have turkey dinner there.”
    Unbelievable, that Mom wouldn’t bother taking Owen with her. He’s her son. Guilt eats at me for not being with Owen, but what else is new? I’m starting to think all the money in the world isn’t worth this turmoil. My heart is in tatters, my brain is sluggish and my brother has been virtually abandoned on a holiday that our mother usually loves and goes overboard in celebrating.
    Even though it’s only been the three of us for so long, since my grandparents died within months of each other when I was eleven, my mom always makes a huge Thanksgiving dinner and invites everyone she can think of. Sometimes she’ll have her current boyfriend in attendance. Other times, friends from the bar where she likes to hang out, the lonely stragglers who have no family to spend the day with.
    My mom may have her faults—and she has a shit ton of them—but she always brings in the strays for the holidays. Doesn’t like to see someone hurt and lonely.
    Frowning, I shake my head. Yet she’ll abandon her son. Never contact her daughter. Sometimes I think she cares more about the people she drinks with than the people she created.
    “I wish I was there.” I lower my voice since I’m in the main house and who knew if there are spies lurking about. I wouldn’t doubt it if there are. “You shouldn’t have to spend the holiday alone.”
    “I’ll be all right.” His false bravado kills me. Owen tries to act so tough all the time. I wonder if it’s as exhausting for him as it is for me. “Wade’s mom invited me over. I think I’ll go to their house in an hour or so. Wade said they like to eat around three. Supposedly his mom makes a fucking awesome pumpkin pie.”
    “Don’t curse.” My heart lightens and I plan on sending a thank you card, gift, whatever I can muster to Wade’s mom when I get back home. “I’m so glad you have somewhere to go.”
    “Same here.” He pauses for a moment before he says in a small voice, “I miss you.”
    I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I miss you, too. But I’ll be home Saturday night, I promise. Let’s do something Sunday, okay? Maybe we could go to the movies.” We never go, it’s too damn expensive, even the matinee, but screw it. We need to infuse some fun in our lives. It’s too damn dreary in the Maguire household and we’ll both need the escape by the time I get home.
    “I’d like that, Fabes. I love you. Happy Thanksgiving.”
    “I love you, too. Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie.” I hit end on my phone and turn to find Adele standing not five feet away from me, her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted so high I’m afraid they’ll fly right off her too-pretty, too-smug face.
    “Well. Don’t you sound cozy, chirping into your phone how much you miss and love him?” She takes a step toward me and I back away, fear shivering down my spine, though I don’t know exactly why. I shouldn’t be scared of this woman, despite her menacing expression and those cold, calculating eyes. She means nothing to me.
    But I don’t want to make waves. It’s Thanksgiving for the love of God. Getting in some sort of stupid argument with his stepmom will only hurt and humiliate Drew and I don’t want to be that type of girlfriend, fake or not.
    “Isn’t it rude to spy on other people’s conversations?” I ask, because I can’t help myself. I’m pissed she’s listening in, even more so that she believes I’m talking to another boyfriend, lover, whatever. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. It’s none of her damn business.
    “Not when the conversations are happening inside my house, in my study. And when you just so happen to be the little tramp who’s fucking my Andrew.”
    I flinch at the venom in her words. At how easily she drops the f-bomb and possessively calls him ‘my Andrew’. “He’s not yours,” I whisper. He’s mine.
    I don’t have the guts to say it.
    Her smile is catty. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re temporary. A novelty. He brought you home to shock us, to horrify us into believing he might actually want to be with someone like you, but I know the truth.”
    Glancing about the cavernous room, I search for an escape, but the only way I’m leaving is if I walk past her, and I don’t want