“Can You Pretend to Be My Boyfriend for a Day”—She Asked the Mechanic, Not Knowing He Was a CEO
The Morrison Family Reunion
Oliver should say no. He had work to do. This was bizarre and complicated.
But something in her eyes stopped him—a vulnerability he recognized.
He had spent years being judged for his success, having people see his money before they saw him.
Lily was being judged for the opposite reason, but the hurt was the same.
“What do I need to know?” Oliver asked.
Lily’s eyes widened.
“You’ll do it?”
“2 hours. I’ll play the devoted boyfriend, but you owe me the truth about why you’re really divorced.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Deal.”
They spent the next 30 minutes in his office while he cleaned up. Lily briefed him on her family.
Her mother, Patricia, meant well but worried too much. Her father, Robert, was quiet and kind.
Her sister, Emma, was happily married with two kids. Cousin Bethany was sweet but spoiled.
“What do I do for a living?” Oliver asked.
“What do you want to do?”
“I fix cars,” Oliver said with a slight smile.
“Perfect. Honest work. They’ll respect that.”
Oliver changed into clean jeans and a gray t-shirt. When he emerged, Lily’s expression shifted slightly.
She had been expecting someone rough around the edges. Instead, she got someone who looked comfortable in his own skin.
They walked to the park together. Oliver noticed how she kept checking her reflection in shop windows.
She adjusted her dress and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“You look lovely,” he said quietly.
“I look tired.”
“You look real,” Oliver corrected.
“That’s better than lovely.”
Lily glanced at him, surprised.
The park was filled with people and tables laden with food. Children were running under a banner that read: “Morrison Family Reunion.”
A woman spotted them and waved.
“Lily! You made it!”
“That’s my mother,” Lily whispered.
Then louder: “Hi, Mom.”
Patricia Morrison hurried over, a kind-faced woman in her 60s. Her eyes immediately went to Oliver.
“And who is this?”
“Mom, this is Oliver,” Lily said.
Oliver felt her hand slip into his, trembling slightly.
“Oliver, this is my mother, Patricia.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Oliver said, shaking Patricia’s hand warmly.
“Lily didn’t mention she was bringing someone,” Patricia said, her voice bright with curiosity and hope.
“It’s still new,” Lily said quickly.
“We didn’t want to make a big deal.”
“How did you meet?” Patricia asked.
“She came into my shop,” Oliver said smoothly.
“Her car was making a noise like a dying whale. Most specific diagnosis I’ve ever heard.”
Patricia laughed.
“That sounds like Lily. Come, both of you, meet everyone.”
The next 2 hours were surprisingly easy. Oliver met the whole family.
He complimented the food and played catch with Emma’s kids.
He listened to Robert talk about vintage cars with genuine interest.
He watched Lily relax. She stopped checking her phone and stopped fidgeting.
When Bethany showed off her engagement ring, Lily congratulated her warmly.
Oliver stood behind her with a supportive hand on her back.
“Your boyfriend seems wonderful,” Bethany said.
“How long have you been together?”
“3 months,” Lily said.
“He looks at you like you hung the moon,” Bethany whispered.
“I’m actually jealous.”
Oliver heard that. Something warm settled in his chest.
But then Patricia pulled him aside while Lily was getting lemonade.
“Can I be honest with you, Oliver?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Lily’s been through a lot. Her ex-husband was cruel. Not physically, but emotionally. He made her feel small, worthless.”
“When she finally left him, she was broke and broken.”
Patricia’s eyes filled with tears.
“I worry about her constantly. She works so hard and never complains, but I see how tired she is.”
Oliver’s jaw tightened.
“She deserves better than that.”
“Yes, she does,” Patricia said.
“And watching you with her today, seeing her smile like she used to—it gives me hope. Please don’t hurt her. She’s more fragile than she lets on.”
The weight of what he was doing hit Oliver hard. This wasn’t just a favor.
This woman’s mother was trusting him with her daughter’s heart.
“Mrs. Morrison,” Oliver began.
“Call me Patricia.”
“Patricia, I need to tell you something…”
