Faked Love

Chapter 3

Natalie

When I opened the door of my apartment with a sigh, I already expected that there would be no peace at home. I never thought it would be so bad, though. When I arrived in the hallway, I heard the voices of my two men, but it didn't sound like a nice conversation, but rather like a serious argument.

So I quickly hung up my jacket on the rake and put my sports bag on the shelf. I'd probably have to do that later. If I didn't clarify this now, my son and my husband would not talk to each other for the next few days and try to get their stubborn head through. The two shared this quality, which was undeniable.

Following their voices, I entered the living room and saw the whole family gathered there. My husband Sebastian and my son Zac both stood and discussed wildly gesticulating with each other. Surprisingly, my daughter Quinn had also arrived. She sat on the sofa and seemed to follow the situation with interest, which didn't really suit her, as she usually did the mediation when I wasn't there. The fact that she did not intervene therefore makes it clear to me that for her it must have been an interesting or justified dispute.

"Guys", my voice was authoritarian and serious, but not loud or angry. Because that was enough to attract the attention of all three. "Honey, you're home," Sebastian greeted me, but I didn't try to go into that first. Zac, on the other hand, said nothing at all and stood there with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Mom? What is that on your T-shirt?" Quinn referred to my shirt on which a large green spot had spread.

"Oh, that was an accident," I let Quinn's question distract me for a moment, but then looked back over to Zac, because I knew that my husband would play everything down if I asked him and thought that nothing had happened: "Zac, what's going on here?

Surprisingly, Zac just answered with an incomprehensible hum and looked out the window. I pulled up an eyebrow and then looked at my husband: "Sebastian? "It's about his future girlfriend," he crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked seriously at his son again, who just ignored that look.

"Oh," was the only thing I could say at first. In the last few days it had been a constant topic for us and I could have imagined that it was about that again. Zac, on the other hand, was vehement, while my husband still wouldn't let me talk to him. Of course I had been in favour of it, but I could understand Zac as well. However, I still had the feeling that he needed someone to ground him a little and help him make more positive headlines again.

With a sympathetic look I went over to Zac and laid my hands on his shoulders: "You have to understand us too, Zac. We're in the public eye, and so automatically are you. That's why we can't afford to see you permanently negative in the tabloid press. That neither throws a good light on you, nor on the family. Furthermore, you lose your respect for yourself and you will have problems finding good jobs in this industry later on. That's why we want to make this measure something positive. Understand that, honey. It's not real, it's just a show for the press." "Leave it alone, Mom," he hissed angrily and shoved my hands off his shoulders. Then he stormed out of the room without another word.

Sighing, I stopped on the spot. If an adult ran after him now, this would only cheer his anger on. "Mom?" Quinn asked carefully: "Should I...?" Before she could even finish the sentence, I nodded and asked her to go after her brother. Fortunately the two had always had a relatively good relationship, even if they teased each other.

As soon as my second child had disappeared, I turned to my husband. "Did it have to be that way again, Sebastian?" I looked at him reproachfully as I approached the open kitchen and took a cool glass of Coke. I could really use that now after the sport. "But he did start," my husband tried to talk his way out, but I shook his head: "You're still the adult and shouldn't have gone for it instead of fighting like a little child.

For a moment he looked at me with his eyes closed and I felt an uncomfortable tension build up between us. But then he sighed and the tension between us evaporated from one second to the next: "You are right. He came up to me and put his hands on my shoulders from behind and kissed me affectionately on the cheek: "Next time I'll try not to go into it, okay? "Okay", I reply immediately and look over his shoulder with a slight smile. Although we argued now and then, I still loved Sebastian like on the first day and I knew with one hundred percent certainty that we would overcome this little crisis together with our son again. This thought calmed me down and finally let me take a deep breath and come to rest.

"And what exactly is this spot all about now," he broached a new topic. I looked down at myself and could no longer spread an amused grin: "A girl was lost in thought and ran against me and spilled her drink all over me.

"And that's funny, because ...?" he asked further when he noticed my grin. "She really insisted on paying the bill for the cleaning and gave me her number," I explained to him. Somehow I liked the way she reacted. She seemed to be a person who stood up for his actions and did not try to avoid her responsibility. That was becoming rarer and rarer.

"How did you react," he continued, wrapping some of my blond strands around his finger while listening to me. "I told her that it was all right and that she didn't have to do it, but she insisted," I continued. "You really have what it takes to stay so calm in these situations," although I didn't see him, I could already imagine his grin. "I know," I said smiling as well, and took another sip: "Otherwise you'd probably be able to drive me into the white heat, honey."

"Are you really going to tell me that I'm exhausting?" he asked in a slightly offended tone and sulked a little, but I knew him well enough to know that it was only acting and that he wasn't really angry. "No, not me,' I teased him a little with the sarcasm in my voice.

"But now a serious question", suddenly he sounded normal again and when I looked over his shoulder, I noticed his serious look: "You don't have the number, do you?" My facial expression became questioning: "Of course, why?" "Where is he?" he went on: "I have an idea."

I looked at him inquiring, since his ideas were not always necessarily good, but then I gave in: "In my trouser pocket. "Thank you", he drove his fingers into one of the pockets of my sports pants and pulled out the chequered note on which the girl had written her number. "What are you going to do", I wanted to know, but he broke away from me and went back into the living room: "You'll see, darling. Just have a little patience.