Brunch was awkward. Not just normal awkward - the awkward you feel when meeting the mother of your boyfriend - but really awkward with prolonged moments of awkward silence and weird, awkward small-talk. Brandi was no stranger to awkward meals, but even this one was beyond her. Declan sat beside her seemingly unconcerned or even affected by the strange uncomfortable vibe around the table. Was this just normal for this family? Is that why Declan behaved as if nothing were amiss?

Brandi took a quick look around at the people sitting at the table. They were all looking at her as they ate. It was creepy. She felt like she was some exhibit in a weird curiosities circus. She had done everything in her power to fit the mould of who Declan’s girlfriend should be. She dressed in a conservative Donna Karan dress and wore sensible heels. Her makeup was minimal and her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail at the base of her neck. It didn’t matter, though, they knew who she was, who her family were, and they were not impressed. Well, she didn’t think they were impressed, they’d barely said two words to her, so…

“What is it you do, again?” Mrs. Mayfield asked with a slight curl of her upper lip like the very words tasted bitter as they crossed her tongue.

“She volunteers at the children’s hospital,” Declan answered for her. She shot him a look, wasn’t she supposed to speak?

“I think the girl can answer for herself,” Mrs. Mayfield said.

The others watched in fascination like this conversation was some sort of tennis match.

“Brandi is quite able to answer for herself,” Declan replied coolly, “but I know that the issue you have is with me and I will not let you attack her in order to get to me.”

Mrs. Mayfield chuckled. “I was simply asking the girl what she did, how is that attacking her?”

“The ‘girl’ is the young woman I am dating and she has a name. Brandi. Her name is Brandi.”

Mrs. Mayfield rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. She turned to Brandi. “What is it you do, Brandi?”

“I already told you she volunteers at the children’s hospital,” Declan said and the tension in his voice made Brandi shoot him a sidelong glance. Nothing ever seemed to upset Declan, but right now his body was taut and his jaw clenched. She laid a hand on his thigh under the table and smiled at him when he looked at her.

“I do volunteer at the children’s hospital,” she said looking at Mrs. Mayfield, but leaving her hand on Declan’s thigh. “I also work as a computer programmer for my family’s tech company and I run a small business.”

Mrs. Mayfield’s eyebrows popped up and buried themselves in her thick fringe.

“In my spare time,” Brandi continued, “I am on the board of several charities and am currently in the process of setting up a fund to support the parents of children with terminal illnesses.”

“You’re a busy girl,” Mrs. Mayfield murmured.

Brandi smiled her fake, nothing-bothers-me smile. “I like to keep busy and I like to help people in need. I have been blessed with both good health and financial security and I take great pleasure in easing the discomfort of others who are not as fortunate as I have been. Surely you, who are the chairwoman of many such charities, share my concern for those less fortunate than ourselves?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Mayfield said, taken aback.

Declan clasped her hand that still rested on his thigh and she turned to see him smiling at her like she was his hero.

“I believe you are on the board of one of the same charities as my mother. She always has such interesting things to say about you. I know this is only the second time we’ve met in person, but I feel like I already know you. And of course, Declan has told me stories of growing up in this family. It’s fascinating to say the least.”

Mrs. Mayfield’s eyebrows (they should have their own Twitter account) pinched together as she tried to work out whether or not Brandi was insulting her or complimenting her. Brandi smiled serenely and beside her Declan coughed into his napkin to hide his choked laughter. The fact was that Brandi was sick of being typecast. People looked at her and immediately made assumptions about who she was and most of the time it didn’t bother her… well, she told herself it didn’t bother her. But today, for some reason, it really got under her skin. Declan had treated her so differently than any other boyfriend ever had and she had come to this brunch with the full intention of trying to impress his mother, but the woman had already made up her mind. So Brandi had switched to plan B. Use all the tricks she had learned at the hands of her frenemies in high school. Mrs. Mayfield had placed her squarely in the blonde bimbo category and she was determined to prove to the woman that she was so much more than what she looked like on the outside.

“You run your own small business?” Mr. Mayfield asked.

Brandi nearly jumped in fright at hearing him speak. The man had not said two words the entire time she had been there.

“I do,” she said with a smile, “I’m a children’s entertainer.”

Mrs. Mayfield snorted delicately. “Like a magician?”

Brandi turned her insouciant smile on Mrs. Mayfield. “No, not a magician. I dress up as Disney princesses and attend children’s parties and play games with them. It is also what I do when I visit the children’s hospital.”

Mrs. Mayfield smiled as if she had won. “A children’s entertainer. That’s quite apt considering Declan isn’t much more than a child himself.”

She felt Declan’s leg stiffen at the insult, but she squeezed his hand to calm him.

“You underestimate your son,” Brandi said. “Declan is all man, I can assure you.” Mrs. Mayfield’s eyes went wide. Brandi looked at her non-existent watch on her wrist. “We need to be going. Thank you for an insightful… well, whatever this was. We have a prior engagement that we must hurry off to.”

Brandi stood and walked away without looking back.

Declan followed Brandi out of his childhood home and down the drive to the car in awe. No one had ever stood up to his mother before and no one had ever defended him to her either. This woman was a marvel and with every encounter he fell more and more under her spell.

“You've gone quiet,” she said looking at him with a worried frown.

“I don't know what to say,” he replied as the slid into the car and fastened their seat belts.

She sighed. “I'm sorry. I should have just kept my mouth shut.”

He turned to her in surprise. “No,” he said emphatically. “The reason I don't know what to say is that no one has ever been able to put my mother in her place before. It was kind of spectacular.”

Her cheeks pinked and she looked down at her lap. “You're not upset with me then?”

He reached over and took her hand in his bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss first the back of it and then the palm.

“I am blown away that you defended me. Most people don't challenge my mother…on anything, but you went toe to toe with her. It was really amazing and, well, hot.”

She laughed as she looked at him. “Hot?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said before leaning over to kiss her.

They had spent the night in each other’s arms. He had taken her in his bed and on the kitchen counter and against the wall in the living room and then again in the shower before they had left for brunch. It didn't matter how many times they came together, it was never enough.

She broke the kiss and grinned at him.

“You're going to have to wait,” she said. “I have a party to get to.”

“Can I come?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don't you have a golf game?”

He groaned. Fucking golf. He hated it, but that wasn't the only reason he didn't want to go. He'd have to face his friends after the benefit and he still hadn't spoken to Brooks about the way Harper treated Brandi that night. He really, really didn't want to go.

“I would much prefer to come with you. I could be your assistant.”

“I don't think The Little Mermaid had an assistant,” she said.

“Wasn't there a crab looking thing that was with her all the time?”

“You would dress up as a crab to avoid going to golf with your friends?”

He didn't answer, he just looked away, reaching down to start the car.

“Is this about Harper?” she asked.

“I didn't like the way she spoke to you the other night,” he said tightly as he left the driveway and headed back towards his house. “I’ve known her for a while now and I like her, a lot, but I've never seen her behave like that. It's not cool.”

Brandi reached over and laid a hand on his leg. “Don't let this come between you and your friends,” she said. “I don't know why Harper doesn't like me, but it's okay. Not everyone has to like me. I know that some women take an instant dislike to me and it usually has nothing to do with me and everything to do with someone else in their past. Don't let it upset you and don't let it ruin a friendship. I'm not worth it.”

He shot her a look. “You are worth it,” he said. “I have never heard you say a bad thing about anyone. Even when you stood up to my mum you were respectful and didn't lower yourself to calling her names or outright insulting her. Is it too much to expect that of others, especially people who are my friends?”

Brandi shrugged. “They know the truth. They know that this arrangement is only temporary and that we’re not really together. In their minds, it doesn't matter how they treat me because I will be out of your life within the week.”

Declan gritted his teeth and didn't say anything. He didn't want to think about what happened next with them. She had agreed to give him this weekend but they hadn't discussed anything beyond that. One thing he was sure of, he wasn't ready for her to disappear from his life. And surprisingly, it wasn't just about the sex either, although that was a nice perk of their arrangement… better than nice.

The fact was, Declan felt a connection to Brandi. No one had ever really seen past his outward bravado. People always took him at face value which, up until now, had been perfectly fine by him. Having someone see below the surface had had a strange effect on him. It made him wonder about things that he'd never considered before, like having a real relationship with a woman of his choosing. Maybe even falling in love with her.

He wasn't in love with Brandi. That's not what he was saying, just that maybe he could probably let himself nudge a little towards it in the right environment. It was a moot point anyway. There was no way his mother would allow it and there was no way Brandi would want to be a part of his family. But if…

No. He mentally shook himself. There was no use allowing himself to think about a future that could never be. He knew what the next fifty years of his life were going to look like and as much as he might like to think Brandi could be a part of them, the truth was that she wouldn't be. This weekend would be all they had. This weekend and nothing more.

Brandi could not believe that Peyton had booked this party. She was sure she told her not to let Courtney book with them, but here she was standing in the backyard of Courtney’s McMansion dressed as The Little Mermaid. The husbands of her ‘friends’ stood around holding bottles of beer and leering at her, well, at her breasts anyway, while the wives stood around shooting her death glares as if it was her fault that the men in their lives couldn’t keep their eyeballs in their heads! The costume she wore was in no way provocative but it did show a little skin, she was supposed to be a mermaid for fuck’s sake and it’s not like she chose the costume. The Little Mermaid had been requested by the birthday girl as was evidenced by all the mermaid paraphernalia that decorated the backyard.

It didn’t help that all these men had known her when she was a teenager. She may have had a reputation back then for being a little wild, but she wasn’t like that any longer and she resented the fact that they were allowed to move on and grow up and become respectable business men but she was supposed to stay the teenage wet dream that they all thought she was. She had been a young woman exploring her sexual side and now she was a grown woman who had a healthy sexual appetite but also knew that she wanted the fairytale. It was why she dressed up as Disney princesses, any psych major could have worked it out. She wanted the knight in shining armour, she wanted to be wooed and treated like the apple of a man’s eye. She wanted the house in the suburbs and the white picket fence and the two-point-five kids. Was that wrong? Was she to be denied her dream just because she looked the way she did? That didn’t seem fair. She didn’t ask to be born this way and it certainly didn’t give men the right to treat her like some disposable sex toy. Especially when one of those men was the father of the little girl whose birthday this was.

She had taken a quick break from the leering men and glaring women to escape to the bathroom where she leant on the vanity and hung her head. She’d had just about enough of judgmental arseholes today and her temper was on a short rein. Mrs. Mayfield had just about used up all her goodwill and Brandi had to dig deep to find a reason to go back out there and face those people. At least the kids were having fun and Courtney’s daughter was a sweet little girl.

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door. Courtney’s husband, Matthew, stood there, leaning casually against the wall opposite the bathroom door. Brandi stopped short.

“Oh, sorry. Did you need to use the bathroom?”

He smiled at her and she felt her skin crawl.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Oh?” Brandi said as she made a move to exit the bathroom, but Matthew stepped forward and blocked her exit.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Brandi grit her teeth as he breathed his disgusting beer-breath over her and reached up to take a red curl in his fingers.

“I like the red,” he said. “Do you keep it on when you fuck?”

Brandi took a step back into the bathroom and out of his reach. “I need to get back to the party,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Courtney has them doing the cake, so we have a few minutes.”

“Shouldn’t you be there to see your daughter blow out her candles?”

He sneered at her and stepped into the bathroom, backing her up against the vanity until it dug into her hip. “She’ll have more birthdays,” he growled as he grabbed for her wig again and tried to kiss her.

Brandi didn’t think, she just reacted. Her knee came up and connected with the soft spot between his legs. His eyes bulged as he doubled over and she pushed her way past him.

“Fucking bitch,” he wheezed. “You’re a fucking cocktease.”

She kept walking and slammed the door to the bathroom behind her as she hustled away from it and him. That was a first. The fathers weren’t usually in attendance at the parties she went to, but when they were, none of them had ever come onto her so blatantly. Maybe it was the fact that Matthew knew her, had known her. Maybe because they had dated once or twice in high school he thought that he still had some claim on her. But that was bullshit. He’d been like every other boy she’d dated back then, he just wanted to fuck and then tell everyone about it. She had a reputation back then that she didn’t entirely deserve. She didn’t sleep with every guy she dated, but every guy she dated told the world how he’d banged her in the back seat of his mummy’s station wagon. Matthew had been one of the ones that she hadn’t slept with and he seemed to still hold a grudge about the fact.

Brandi rubbed her arms as her skin prickled with disgust. Her stomach was clenched and she felt the shakes as the adrenaline hit her system. If she wasn’t careful she was going to have a panic attack. She just needed to calm down, take deep breaths and wrap this gig up as quickly as she could. She needed to get away from here and have a hot shower to scrub off any trace of Matthew’s hands on her.

She rounded the corner and found Miranda, the birthday girl, squatting on the floor holding her stomach.

She bent down next to her and smoothed her hair back from the little girl’s face. She was burning up.

“You okay sweetheart?” she asked.

Miranda opened her mouth to reply and then a horrified look crossed her face as she vomited all over Brandi and then vomited again. Brandi slumped to her backside and leant against the wall covered in multicoloured vomit from all the party food the little girl had eaten. She leant her head back as she tried to calm the little girl who was now crying. Could this day get any worse? Just at that moment, Courtney walked around the corner and saw the mess.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screamed.

“Miranda wasn’t feeling too well,” Brandi began.

“Miranda hey, come here to mummy,” Courtney cooed and then turned burning eyes on Brandi. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“This wasn’t my fault,” Brandi said, no longer caring about being polite and respectful. This woman and her husband were awful people and she wished she’d never come here.

“My daughter does not just throw up for no reason. It must have been something in those cupcakes you brought with you.”

Brandi always brought cupcakes to her parties. She didn’t cook them herself but got them from a local bakery. There was no way they were to blame for Miranda’s up-chuck.

“It wasn’t the cupcakes,” Brandi said tiredly as she stood to her feet. She couldn’t even go to the bathroom to clean herself up because she didn’t know if Matthew was still there. At least he wouldn’t try to touch her with kid-sick all over her.

“Just get out,” Courtney said in a low dangerous voice.

“Fine,” Brandi replied and headed towards the bedroom where she had dumped her stuff earlier. She took off her ruined costume and shoved it in a plastic bag, trying not to gag, and pulled on her jeans and t-shirt. Her mermaid tail was ruined, the aqua-blue lamé fabric would not survive the explosion of regurgitated party food. She should probably send Courtney a bill for the ruined outfit as well as the bill for the party. At least it might go some way toward making up for the trauma of the day.

Without a backward glance, Brandi left the tacky McMansion and instead of driving back to Declan’s place, she headed home. She needed the space and familiarity of her own things to soothe her jangled nerves. Sure, snuggling up to his warm body would go a long way to making her feel better, but she couldn’t start relying on him for that. They weren’t in a real relationship and he wasn’t her real boyfriend. The last thing he would want was to see her covered in vomit and feeling sorry for herself so she was calling it. The weekend was officially over.