Fake, page 24
“That makes three of us.” I sneer as I step back into my pants, tug the zipper up, and shove the button through the hole. “Everything about this was a mistake.”
“You won’t hear me fight you on that one.”
I snag my shirt off the floor and yank it over my head. Turn to Mina then realize there’s nothing I can say that will make this better. I trusted her with all of me, and she didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.
She’s been Blossoming me this whole time. Everything between us has been about Fallon fucking Mae and her blog.
The fact that I don’t quite believe it even though Fallon was here as proof enrages me.
“Tell me how much of this was contrived,” I demand, anger pulling me deeper into the room. “Was that text really an accident? The one that started everything? Or were you and your bitch friend plotting against me the entire time? Did you two dream this whole thing up to feed that cunt information for her stupid clickbait gossip bullshit?”
“Get out.” Mina stabs a finger at the door.
I step closer, tutting in disapproval. “Did you whore yourself out for clicks, HM?”
“Get out!” Her voice shakes. Her eyes flash. Her finger trembles as her jaws clench.
I take one last lingering look, savoring the taste of her rage while my chest clenches and my throat tightens.
“You better believe I’m out,” I say, shaking my head and reaching for the door.
“I don’t want to see you or your Prince of Darkness smirk again.”
I turn over my shoulder, smirking for her benefit, then about face and leave the Hot Mess Express in my rearview like I should have from the start.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Mina
Fury mixes with sorrow as Nathan marches out of my room. I stand, panting, chest heaving, brain whirling. I’ve been awake all of ten minutes and everything has changed. Everything.
Last night he told me he loved me.
This morning he called me a whore.
He thinks I used him for personal gain when he was the one who came to me about faking a relationship.
If I’m a whore, it’s because you made me one! I think, then scurry down the hallway, intent on hurling the statement his way. Instead, I watch through the window as Nathan lowers himself into his car, then clutch the wall for support as my knees go weak.
Tears gather and my fists clench and fuck him for making me feel like this. Fuck him for talking about love only to throw horrible words in my face. Fuck him for running away instead of sticking around for a hard conversation. Fuck him for giving me a glimpse of a dream come true, then slapping me in the face with reality.
And fuck me for being too much of a coward to be honest with him in the first place.
Dear God. What have I done? Regretfully, Mina Blake.
Shortly after Nathan leaves, I call the office and inform them I’ll be working from home, which is definitely an overstatement of what will be happening. The chances of me actually working are small. I can’t think clearly. My emotions are all over the place. I desperately need someone to talk to, but my support system is gone.
I can’t talk to Fallon; she’s part of the problem.
I’m not ready to talk to Nathan, and I’m gonna bet the feeling is mutual.
Mom has enough on her plate and isn’t strong enough to handle my emotional turmoil. Since that sums up my list of trusted confidants, it looks like I’m on my own for this one.
With a wry twist of my head, I pull on my sweats, go to the store to stock up on ice cream, and hunker down for the weekend.
The day fades and so does my anger, leaving a queasy trail of guilt in its wake.
This fiasco is on me.
I knew I needed to tell Nathan Fallon was my friend. And I knew it was going to be ugly when I did, which is why I kept putting it off. But instead of hearing it from me, he finds her in my bedroom first thing in the morning while wearing my underwear after discovering his cousin is missing.
That’s ugly stacked on ugly stacked on ugly, compliments of yours truly.
Nathan reacted badly, but who could blame him? Considering the circumstances, a saint wouldn’t have done better.
With a sigh, I swipe my phone off the table.
I’m so so so so so sorry. I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss you. I’d love to talk when you’re feeling up to it
Nathan
I’m not feeling up to it.
For what it’s worth, I haven’t been manipulating you
If that’s true, I’m sorry I called you a whore for clicks.
It is true.
And I just now realized you said you’re not feeling up to talking and I’m making you talk anyway.
When you’re ready, I’m here.
I wait for signs of a response that never come, then lock my phone with a sigh and head to the freezer for another pint of ice cream.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Nathan
I glare at my phone as the last text from Mina comes in.
Mina
When you’re ready, I’m here.
I’m not fucking ready to talk to her and I don’t know if I ever will be. She knew how I felt about Fallon. She knew! I should have been made aware of their friendship from the very beginning.
All those articles.
All those terrible things Fallon said about me.
And Mina just let it happen.
Or worse, she was in on the game.
How many times do I need to get my heart trampled before I fix this idealistic streak of mine? I’m a prime target for manipulators. First Blossom. Now Mina. I’m so ready to believe people are mostly good that all they have to do is pretend to be decent and I’m hooked. I even defended her to Dom when he was trying to keep me from making this very mistake.
Fuck!
I run my hands into my hair and pull.
I wish Nick were here…
The thought is a nuclear blast of anxiety. Nick’s lost. Maybe hurt or dying. Maybe already dead…
And here I am wishing he could make me feel better. How pathetic can you get?
I check my phone in case I missed a call or text with news, then toss the thing onto my coffee table when there’s nothing to see, only to pick it right back up to call Micah.
“What?” my cousin barks, just before the call goes to voicemail.
I lean forward, grimacing. Micah doesn’t bark greetings. “Wow. Okay. Hello to you, too.”
“What do you want Nathan?” Again with the clipped tone. Something’s crawled up his butt and made itself comfortable.
“Why are you being such an ass?” I grumble when what I should have said is what’s wrong?
It’s like I’ve gone back in time and am everyone’s favorite villain again. If I’m not careful, I’ll start spouting the dreaded barbed wire speech again.
Micah scoffs and it’s like anger shoots through the phone to slap me in the face. “Maybe because I’m pissed with you? Your timing could be better, you know. Nick going missing is a lot to deal with. I haven’t slept since we found out. Now we find out you’ve been lying to us about falling in love, faking a relationship. And how did we find out about it? Because some stranger posted about it on the internet.”
“I wasn’t lying.” Even I hear how defensive I sound, so I take it down a notch. “I was genuinely falling in love with Mina.”
Micah sucks his teeth. “So the relationship wasn’t fake?”
This is not how I expected the conversation to go. For some reason, I thought I’d be able to fill Micah in on the story from my point of view. It never occurred to me that he might have already read it. Now, I have to battle his preconceived ideas about how it all went down. I stand and pace to the sliding glass doors. One hand on the glass. Gaze on the horizon.
“I’ll take your silence to mean it was a hundred percent fake.”
Fuck me…
No…
Fuck Fallon.
“It was at first but—"
“Shit, Nathan.” Micah lets out an angry growl. “You are the last person I expected to do something this dumb. I actually thought you’d found something good with Mina. I like her so much, I told Ivy I’d be stoked if you guys got married. And now, since everything was a lie, I’m not sure if I know the real her.”
“That makes two of us.” I press my forehead to the glass and close my eyes, then I’m pacing into the kitchen for no reason other than I can’t stay still.
“What’s that even supposed to mean?”
I explain Mina’s connection to Fallon. My words come out jumbled, one on top of the other as the story rushes forth. “I’m just…”
Lost.
Scared.
Alone.
Hurting.
Drowning.
I scrub my face. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Micah sighs. A long, sad thing that cuts me to the bone. “Man, look.” Another sigh. “I love you. You know I do. But I don’t have bandwidth for this right now. You pulling this kind of shit would be a lot all by itself, but with Nick gone? And no news for days? You got yourself into this mess. You’ve gotta be the one to get yourself out of it.”
The line goes dead and I stare at my phone, jaw dropped. There has never been a time when a Hutton wouldn’t step up for family. I consider calling Angela but pull up Dom’s contact info instead.
“Why didn’t you tell me the whole thing was fake?” he asks in lieu of hello. “I would have backed off with all the ‘she’s playing her role so you should play yours’ shit. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“It started fake but didn’t end that way. At least not on my part, but that’s because I think you were right the whole damn time.” I explain the whole story one more time. Dom huffs in indignation at every point along the way, feeding my righteous fury.
“That’s fucked up, brother,” he says when I tell him about finding myself face-to-face with Fallon fucking Mae in Mina’s bedroom.
“So fucked up.” I bob my head, thrilled to have someone take my side.
There’s the clicking of a keyboard on Dom’s end. “You doing okay?” he asks, mildly distracted.
“No. I’m not doing okay. I’m pissed. And I swore I’d take down Fallon and everyone who was connected with her and now that includes Mina and that is seriously fucking with my head.”
“I hate to say I told you so, but…no, actually I don’t. I love saying ‘I told you so.’’ It’s the best feeling ever.” Dom laughs. “People play their roles, Nathan. I’ll say it ‘til I’m blue in the face if that’s what it takes for you to hear me. Mina played hers. Now you should play yours.”
“Whatever that means…” I grip the counter, shaking my head, then push off and head for another lap around the living room.
“I’ve got something for you. You can thank me later.”
Dom ends the call before I can ask what the hell he’s talking about. A text comes in a second later.
Dom
Fallon Mae
22 Bay Breeze Dr
Don’t ask me how I got it
While I’m staring at the address, trying to decide what the hell I’m supposed to do with that information, one last text comes in.
Dom
Take her down, brother.
THIRTY-NINE
Mina
Monday morning hits like a freight train. Between the emotional roller coaster of the weekend, about four pounds of ice cream mixed with a Friends marathon, and crappy, broken sleep, I’m feeling like a character in a post-apocalyptic movie the day after the world ends. Not even a super sweet, super creamy coffee hand-delivered by my too hot to be real assistant gets me moving. If anything, it makes me sicker to my stomach than I already was.
I never did hear from Nathan and I’m trying to be okay with that. We all process things at our own pace. His pace might be a tad slower than I’d like, but that’s okay.
To a point, adds the snarky voice eager for a resolution, and I agree. After a while, he becomes the asshole for avoiding the situation.
But we aren’t there yet.
“Coffee not doing it for you?” asks Tad from my doorway. The man’s a genius when it comes to reading my moods, but I think even a stranger off the street could figure out I’m not doing great. My hair is brushed but not styled. My outfit is a basic black pant paired with a white blouse and flats. And no matter how much attention I paid to my makeup, it couldn’t hide the circles under my eyes.
“The fact I’m here at all is a miracle.” I slide the coffee out of reach and Tad gives me that sad smile reserved for people who look as bad as they feel.
“How can I be the best help to you today?” he asks. “Do you need to bury yourself in work? Or do you want me to tell everyone who calls that you’re in a meeting and buffer you from the world so you can take a catnap in that armchair over there?” Tad jerks his head toward the chair with a look that says he’ll hunt down a blanket and pillow if I so much as yawn.
And that right there is why I hired him. As much as I love to joke about it being because he’s so pretty, it really comes down to his kindness and his innate ability to read the room, not to mention he’s damn good at his job.
I sigh and shake my head. “Any chance you could go back in time a few months and give me some advice?”
“If only I had that power.” Tad holds up his hand in a silent hallelujah. “I’d make the world a better place one time jump at a time and wouldn’t even charge for the service. The good vibes would be payment enough.”
I nod knowingly, imagining the bliss of a world without regret. Why are we all so intent on making things harder than they need to be?
“I wouldn’t worry about that article, you know,” Tad says from his place in the doorway. “Nathan comes off worse than you do. He paid you to fake a relationship? That’s freakin’ dodgy, if you ask me, and fits a profile. The rich never miss a chance to take advantage of us little folks.”
Dear God. I’m willing to forget all previous unanswered prayers—this time is serious. Send in SEAL Team Six. Best, Mina Blake.
I reach for my coffee and stare balefully at the contents. “The only thing fake was that article. Nathan’s a good man and he wasn’t taking advantage of me. I wish everyone could know him like I do.”
“As long as he didn’t pay you to say that too.” Tad dips his chin as I fire up my rebuttal. “I’m sure he didn’t, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t put that out there. You know where to find me,” he finishes, then quietly closes the door.
I immediately consider calling Nathan. It’s been two days since we spoke. How much space can he possibly need? But one look at my calendar reminds me that life didn’t grind to a halt because I had a fight with my boyfriend. I have a meeting with a potential client in an hour, with Benjamin coming in after to hammer out the details on our business venture. I can’t control how Nathan handles his shit, but I can control how I handle mine.
Right now, I need to show up for me.
With a deep cleansing breath, I brush my hair back, chug my coffee and ask Tad to help me bury my feelings with work.
FORTY
Mina
Benjamin arrives just as the coffee wears off. My previous meeting went well, but this is the one that matters and I’m in a fatigue spiral.
Go figure.
His smile is bright, and his messenger bag bounces off a pair of beige pants that fit like they were designed for him. A dark blue button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows completes the outfit, reminding me of one of the reasons I had a crush on the man in the first place. He’s very, very pretty.
I force a smile and shake his hand, then do my best to focus as we discuss LLCs versus LLPs, contracts, payment structure, and marketing. Everything seems fair. Generous even, considering it’ll be his name that draws clients at first. I say as much, and Benjamin waves the statement away.
“What kind of partner would I be if I lock you into a contract that favors me just because in this moment, I’m farther along the career path?” Benjamin sits back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. “You’re every bit as talented, if not more so.”
I swallow a yawn and fight the urge to slap my cheeks. “Some might call you business savvy if you went that direction.”
“We need less people thinking that way, not more. I have my eyes on the future, Mina. If I leverage my name for bigger gains in the short term, I risk you resenting me in the long term. That’s not a great foundation for what I hope is a lasting relationship.”
Given how well the conversation is going, I should be giddy, but I can barely muster a hell yeah.
Benjamin frowns, studying me for a long moment before cocking his head and drawing his brows together. “Do you have reservations about us working together?”
“What? No! I’m incredibly excited.”
Damn this fatigue spiral! Surely, I can muster enough energy from somewhere to appear enthusiastic about one of the most important conversations in my life. I blink rapidly, hoping that might shake some liveliness loose.
“Excited is not the word I’d use to describe the person sitting across from me.” Benjamin sits back and crosses his ankle over his knee just as the sun dips behind a cloud, dimming the energy in my office even further. I can’t catch a break.
Dear God. Throw a girl a bone here! Yours, Mina Blake.
“I’m sorry. I had a difficult weekend and tried to caffeinate my way through the day and that clearly didn’t work as planned.”
Benjamin studies me for a long moment, then nods like he’s come to an understanding. “Your difficult weekend wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain article about a mutual friend, would it?”
