Fake, page 14
“What’s gotten into you?” Mina hisses.
You. You got into me, and you weren’t supposed to.
Outrage dances in those baby blues and that feels so much safer than what I saw in them after the kiss.
It’s better if she doesn’t like me.
For both of us.
“Like I said, long night.” I turn my back, stomp down the steps, yank open the car door, then plop into the driver’s seat and wait. Mina pops her fists on her hips and shakes her head before following suit. Slowly, with her chin held high.
“Are you hungover?” she asks once the passenger door closes behind her.
“I was a perfect gentleman while we were together.”
“And after?”
“After is not in our contract.”
She frowns, then disappointment softens her outrage. “I guess that’s true. I just thought…” She’s quiet now. I’ve hurt her feelings.
Damn it. I don’t want to play the villain with her anymore.
“You know what?” she says. “It doesn’t matter.”
Her focus is out the window, her lip caught between her teeth and in that moment, I realize that somewhere along the way, she stopped hating me and I stopped hating her. Inexplicably, our fake relationship has blurred into something real, and I’ve been an absolute dick this morning…because I’m angry at myself for liking her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You just thought what?” I ask, trying to erase the bite in my voice.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mina replies, amping up the bite in hers.
“It does matter. Look, I’m being an asshole and I’m sorry. I’m grumpy and I don’t like knowing you live in this cheap apartment, and I like it even less knowing you’re surrounded by dick weasels who keep you up all night and that makes me uncomfortable because we aren’t, you and I, we’re not supposed…”
I’m not supposed to like you, but I do.
I’m not supposed to want you, but I do.
I shake my head and almost growl but refuse to give her the pleasure. “Can we start over?”
Mina stares like I’ve lost my mind.
I get out of the car, cross in front, open her door to take her elbow and pull her out with me.
“What are you doing?” she squawks as I drag her up the steps and stop in front of her door while a stunned Ms. Markowitz and her cat watch with enough interest to be Fallon fucking Mae drafting her next headline.
Wouldn’t that be a kick to the gut?
If Fallon Mae turned out to be Mina’s neighbor and she didn’t think that was something I should know?
“Unlock it.” I rattle the doorknob to make my point.
“What?” Mina steps back, eyeing me like I might be dangerous. “Why?”
“Please,” I add, as gently as possible. “Just unlock it.”
Frowning, Mina does as I ask. I open the door, tenderly shove her inside, then close it between us while she squeaks in dismay. With a deep sigh, I remove my sunglasses, scrub my face, and conjure a smile before smoothing my shirt, squaring my shoulders, and ringing the bell.
The door flies open to reveal a distraught Mina. “What the hell, Nathan?”
“Good morning, HM,” I say. “You look absolutely gorgeous as usual.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Arms crossed. Chin jutted. Brows furrowed. Eyes glittering.
I have a way to go to earn her forgiveness.
“Treating you the way you deserve to be treated.”
“Does that mean I get to treat you the way you deserve? Because I don’t know how much you’ll like that.” That ball-busting glee is back in her eyes, right where it belongs.
“You be you and all will be good.”
There’s a pause followed by a strange smile, Mina steps back outside and locks the door again. With my hand firmly on her lower back, I guide her to the passenger side, open the door, then close it gently once she’s safely inside.
“It was nice to meet you,” I say to Ms. Markowitz as I cross in front of the car for the fourteenth time. She nods, petting her cat and watching with curiosity.
After the last twenty-four hours I know one thing for sure:
I want to be a better man for Mina Blake.
TWENTY
Mina
I woke up this morning excited to see Nathan. Listening to the Dietzes scream about who is failing who all night long made me realize that feeling truly seen and understood by a partner is rare. As Mrs. Dietz hollered about video games and Mr. Dietz bellowed about the lack of sex and Mrs. Dietz retorted that she had to respect someone to be attracted to them, I kept flashing back to how I feel when I’m talking to Nathan. He listens. He cares. He doesn’t want to, but he does. And that kiss…
People write poems about kisses like that. Books make millions over kisses like that. And it just happened to me in a parking lot, with a man I’m supposed to hate, even though somewhere along the way, I think we both stopped faking whatever this is and missed the message.
Then I opened the door on a bridge troll dressed in Nathan’s clothes. Dread took the place of excitement and I realized I’d spent the whole night fooling myself. This is The Prince of Darkness, the man my best friend claims has started using his powers for evil, the guy who’d rather lie to his family than fix whatever’s broken in him.
After his whole ‘starting over’ display, the only thing I know for sure is that his bad mood is contagious. What he said and did was sweet, but can I trust it was genuine? There was an audience, after all.
Which version of Nathan is real? The bridge troll with a hangover dropping red flags like a mad man? Or the Romeo trying to be ‘what I deserve?’ Would he have said or done any of that if we were alone? Or did Ms. Markowitz and her cat watching have something to do with his change in attitude? I could ask him, but I’m not sure which answer I’m hoping for. I opt for silence instead and Nathan seems fine with that decision.
Which pisses me off.
I try to talk myself out of anger while he quietly navigates us away from the rundown neighborhood surrounding my apartment. With each click of the turn signal, the price tags on the homes gain a few more zeroes and that doesn’t help my mood. I’m a good person—mostly—and my mom is a freaking angel. Why do we struggle while others have luck and abundance raining down on them?
The game is rigged.
Or I never got the rule book.
Or…something.
“Wanna explain the hangover?” I cross my arms and twist in my seat to glare at the man who has everything but still can’t be happy.
Maddeningly, an unreadable smile lifts his lips. “Not particularly.”
“How about why you were so rude this morning? Feel like explaining that?” I bite into the words and it feels so damn good, I lift my chin in righteous fury.
Anger is safer than everything else I’m feeling. I’ll hide here for a while.
“I thought we already covered the fact that I’m hungover.” His voice is calm, his face composed.
I roll my lips together before shooting back, “And didn’t you just say I deserve better?”
“You’re right. You do.” Nathan runs his hand through his hair. “I just don’t know if I have better in me.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. You spent a lifetime being better until whatever happened to make you bitter instead.”
His eyes narrow. “You don’t know me well enough to say things like that.”
“That’s bullshit too. We’ve been hanging out long enough for me to know you’re not the guy who showed up this morning. You’re just not. I see you, Nathan West. You’re the guy who carries his niece on his back. Who drops everything to help a troubled student. You’re the guy whose family knows will drop everything to save the world. That’s you. Not this guy. This guy is an asshole.”
I give my attention back to the road before I say something I regret. The sky is blue and the ocean peeks out between the houses, glittering in the morning sun. Palms bend in a gentle breeze. Given the atmosphere in the car, I’d expect arctic winds and rumbling thunder, but the world doesn’t care about petty dramas like ours.
Nathan clears his throat, then risks a quick glance my way. “Kissing you bothered me.”
His voice is low, almost tortured. I tear my gaze off the idyllic landscape and focus on the storm-ravaged man beside me. The muscle in his jaw clenches and he looks ashamed.
Here I was, daydreaming about million-dollar kisses and he was what? Grossed out?
“Okay. Wow. I’m…” I fling my hand around, looking for something to say. “I’m sorry it was so awful for you.”
Dear God. Looking for a lightning bolt here. Yours, Mina Blake.
There’s a dreadful moment of silence where I consider telling him to turn around and take me home. How can I get through another day of charming Nathan when this is the reality?
But then, “It bothered me because I liked it.”
His words send my heart into overdrive. My confusion trips over itself, oh so helpfully offering ten different reasons it might bother him that he liked kissing me.
He’s secretly gay.
He’s in love with someone else.
He’s embarrassed to be seen with me.
I have terrible breath.
His family prefers arranged marriages.
Nathan glances over, brows furrowed, and I realize that now I’m the one letting horrible silences linger.
I tuck my hair behind my ear. Suck in my lips. Glance at him and start to apologize, but I have no idea why. Finally, I murmur, “I liked it too.”
“I liked it so much I went home and jerked off, thinking of you.” His eyes burn with the admission. My core throbs and I lick my lips as my nipples pebble. I picture him, dick in hand, eyes closed, head back, lips parted…
All because of me.
“And I know I shouldn’t have done it,” he continues, “and I definitely shouldn’t have told you, but that’s why I’m hungover. Whiskey was the only thing stronger than you.”
“I…” What am I supposed to say? I’m flattered? I want you too? I wish you’d do it again and let me watch?
But Nathan isn’t waiting for a response. He’s a man at confession, head bowed, tortured by his sins.
“And all of that bothered me because of this.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a folded check. He hands it to me, and that dreadful silence descends again. I take the money, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger like I’m afraid to touch it. This complicates everything, but I can’t not take it.
“Nathan, I…” I swallow hard, ready to tell him about my mom so he understands why I have to take the money, but he flips on his turn signal and pulls into a driveway filled with his cousins and their spouses.
He stops the car and stares for a long moment. His lips part and he takes a breath and the look on his face is a warning. What he just said changes everything, but what he’s about to say scares him even more.
“That check is for the design work. Not the dates. Not the kiss. Not our time together. Those are mine.” Nathan’s gaze is intense as his cousin Angela pulls open his car door.
“There you are! I do miss the days when you were always on time instead of constantly running late.” She leans in and waves.
I’ve never been so disappointed to see a friendly face.
TWENTY-ONE
Nathan
Garrett’s boat glides through the water. Mina leans on the rail, watching the horizon. A warm breeze lifts her hair off her shoulders, and she turns to catch me staring. The sky matches her eyes, bright and blue and clear. The corners of her lips twitch upwards and she drops her gaze before giving her attention back to Angela and Micah’s wife, Ivy.
What the hell was I thinking?
Not the dates. Not the kiss. Not our time together. Those are mine.
Who says something like that? Worse, who says something like that right after admitting he jerked off and right before it becomes impossible to talk about either thing?
What a stupid, stupid move.
What’s Mina thinking?
What happens next?
Where do we go from here?
There’s no undo. No going back. No claiming my actions were for show or that she misunderstood or I was caught up in the moment. By admitting how I’m feeling, I irrevocably changed things between us. For better or worse, that’s yet to be seen.
Micah claims the seat beside me, shit-eating grin fully engaged, elbows on knees, already half laughing at whatever he’s about to say.
“What?” I growl with a shake of my head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s nothing.” His grin intensifies.
“It’s something or you wouldn’t look so proud of yourself.”
“I can’t believe you’re the same asshole who bailed on my wedding. That’s all.”
“He did what?” Mina turns to us, surprise dancing across her face. Turns out she is not a vintage bathing suit kind of gal and favors red and skimpy instead. Something I should have expected, considering the dress she wore to my birthday party.
“Micah’s making it sound worse than it was,” I say quickly. “I didn’t bail. I was there for the wedding and most of the reception.”
“Most.” Micah runs a hand over his head, then gives his attention right back to Mina. “He claims to have seen us cut the cake and stayed for our first dance, but I didn’t see him. He was too heartbroken to stick around.”
He’s got me there. I had just discovered Blossom was cheating. I was drinking a lot. Wallowing more than that. I wanted what Micah had with Ivy and felt too broken to ever find it. I was going downhill fast, until I had the idea to expand the foundation. Throwing myself into work saved me.
But spending time with Mina saved me more. Our eyes meet, her blues as soothing as cool water on a summer day. I smile despite myself before giving my attention back to Micah with a snort.
“You were too enamored with your new wife to care if I was there or not.”
“She’s easy to be enamored with. No doubt.” Micah holds out his hands to Ivy. When she takes them, he pulls her into his lap and nuzzles her hair and rubs his hands over a barely there baby bump while she squeals in delight.
Mina leans her back on the rail, hair dancing in the breeze, her focus on me and me alone. “Why were you heartbroken at his wedding?”
Her eyes hold mine. They’re soft. Concerned and questioning. There’s so much we don’t know about each other. Something I want to remedy.
My God, do I want to remedy it. I want to know her. To explore her. To understand her.
I swore never to be involved again and the first woman I meet changes my tune. I’m either an idiot or extremely lucky.
I lift a hand to dismiss Mina’s question, but Micah surfaces from kissing his wife to open his big fat mouth. “Because of Blossom. He’d just found out she was cheating…” He bites his lip then turns to me with a frown. “Am I saying too much? I assumed she knew. I mean, it seems like something you guys would have covered by now.”
Does it? At what stage does one disclose the “I’m a moron who fully supported a manipulating narcissist and her daughters for two years” story?
Well, hell.
If Micah thinks Mina should know, then I’ll roll with it and hope she’s ready to roll with it too.
“You remember,” I say, my eyes locked on hers like I can beam the information into her brain. “I’d just found out Blossom was cheating, and she’d said all that awful stuff about only being with me for my money, which was super clear retrospectively because I’d been supporting her and her daughters for two years…”
Mina’s brows lift with surprise which she quickly hides by sucking in her lips and bobbing her head. “Oh, right. Yeah. Of course. She was cheating on you. After using you for your money.” Thoughts tick across her face, like she found the missing piece to a puzzle and she’s fitting it into place. “Which was really hard for someone who dedicated his life to making the world a better place.”
She softens even farther.
Uncomfortable, I shrug off the observation. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I’d go that far,” Ivy replies with a gentle smile. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to apologize for being born into a wealthy family and only doubled down on that after the whole Blossom thing.”
“There was talk you were trying to work yourself into an early grave.” Garrett leans back in his seat. “Not that I think that’s actually possible.”
“Between the long days at the foundation and the late nights with all the ‘dazzling and spectacular’ women, it wasn’t looking good for our boy Nathan.” Micah shakes his head and sighs dramatically.
How many times do I have to defend myself on this?
“As I’ve said many times before, the women were for Dom. I tagged along to secure donations from their wealthy relatives.”
“Speaking of donations!” Angela claps her hands under her chin, grinning widely. “Mina should totally take part in the auction for the gala! I’m assuming she’ll be there. Why wouldn’t she when she makes you look like that?”
“Like what?” I shoot my cousin a glance, warning her to tread carefully. She shoots one back, informing me she’ll do what she wants.
“It’s the way I look at Garrett and it’s the way he looks at Ivy” –Angela points to Micah— “and now it’s the way you look at Mina and it makes my heart glad.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one that sees it.” Micah chortles. “It’s a relief, after you went around swearing off love and relationships and doing the cold and bitter thing. You’re just not that guy, Nathan.”
I meet Mina’s gaze. A blush works its way up her chest and throat, then pinks her cheeks. Her eyes are filled with questions.
There is too much left unsaid between us, too much up in the air, for what Angela and Micah are insinuating.
I want to murder my cousins.
“Anyway,” Angela continues, before I get the chance, “every year, we auction off dates at ROF’s charity gala. It’s no big deal, just an evening out with the winner, and there’s a contract to protect us from any funny business, which you really don’t have to worry about because usually the people with enough money to throw away on something like this are older and just looking for some conversation and a break in routine. The proceeds go to ROF and it’s a lot of fun. The whole family gets involved and I think it’d be awesome if you did too.”
