The Fake Heartbreak (Searching for Love Book 3)

by Kelly Myers

  I take a deep breath as I head over to the beverage station. I smile at the rows of consultants still sharing desks. Yes, I was in their position just a year ago, but now I can lord my small and modest office over them. And someday, I’ll have that corner office. Someday.

  As I approach the baristas, I see Nick’s back. He’s tall so he stands out. I smile. Perfection. I love it when Plan A works out.

  Then Nick shifts, and I see who he is talking to. My heart sinks.

  Of course Michael Barnes has wormed his way over to Nick. He’s a total conniving snake. He is another contender for the Meyers and Blunt client, and he probably has been waiting by the baristas for Nick to come over so they can have some small bro talk.

  Never mind that I am more or less doing the same thing. I was at least going to be classy enough to tell Nick about finishing up with my last client so I can prove that I have actually accomplished something.

  Michael, on the other hand, is probably telling Nick about the crazy weekend he had once in college with the Phi Beta Kappa brothers, five handles of tequila, a labrador retriever, and a stripper.

  Probably. I wouldn’t know because I zone out whenever my co-workers launch into the frat talk.

  Michael Barnes is the quintessential frat bro. He’s tall and has chestnut brown hair with the kind of broad face and big smile that give a guy friendly-but-not-intimidating good looks.

  Some people find him funny too. I certainly don’t. But that might be because every time I see him I want to poke a pen through his eye.

  Today is no exception.

  Of course Michael is going for the new client. We joined the company at about the same time, and he’s been a thorn in my side for about four years.

  We don’t see each other often, and we barely talk. But somehow we end up competing for clients every few months, like clockwork. And we’re always evenly matched.

  Neck and neck, some might say.

  What he lacks in strategy and planning, I have in spades.

  I don’t like to think of myself as lacking in any way, but I suppose some might say that Michael has just a touch more charisma than I do. According to some people, that is.

  I find him about as charismatic as a rock.

  There’s no way I’m turning back now that he has his claws sunk into Nick. I put on my most casual of smiles and continue my walk to the beverage station.

  “Hello Nick,” I say. “Michael.”

  Michael flashes me his trademark devil-may-care smile. As if that will have any effect on me. The secretaries all swoon over him, but I have never even felt momentarily dazed by Michael’s smile.

  “Zoe, good afternoon!” Nick says. “Getting some tea, are you?”

  “You know me,” I say.

  “My wife keeps nagging me to quit coffee, but I can’t do it,” Nick says.

  “She’s a good woman,” I say.

  I’ve met Nick’s wife, and she is really nice. She adores Nick despite his receding hairline and bad jokes which is quite cute, to be honest.

  I order my mint tea and then turn to both Nick and Michael.

  “I actually meant to message you,” I say. “I just wrapped up with that client I was working with.”

  “Huh,” Nick says. “A few days early, isn’t it?”

  I shrug and give him a coy smile as I reach for my hot tea. He knows what I want. I know that he knows. But if I throw myself at his feet and beg for the Meyers and Blunt Group, there’s no way I’ll get it. I have to play the game. Just like Michael is playing the game with all his jokes and small talk.

  I glance over at Michael. He is also smiling, and I feel a small tingle in my stomach. It’s the game. I love it.

  “Well, send me a report before you head out,” Nick says. “And Mike, we’ll have to go to that brewery some time.”

  Nick gives us both a wink and walks back towards his office. It takes every ounce of willpower to not roll my eyes at Michael. And maybe stick out my tongue for good measure. A brewery? Could he be any more of a cliche White Male in his Twenties?

  “Oh, Zoe,” Michael says. “I should have known you’d be sniffing around like a bloodhound.”

  “A word of advice?” I say. “Don’t compare women to hounds, that could be why you’re never getting those second dates.”

  “So you’ve been following my dating life?” Michael asks.

  He’s leaning forward and arching his brow in this unbearable cocky manner. I want to punch him in the face, but I have to play it cool. It’s part of the delicate game. We all rib each other at work. If you can’t take the heat, you have to get out of the kitchen.

  “Hardly,” I say. “I’m just assuming it’s abysmal if you have time to go to breweries with Nick.”

  Michael laughs. That’s the worst thing about him. No matter what anyone does or says, he always just laughs it off.

  I can never laugh things off.

  So instead I give him a faint wave and head back to my office.

  As soon as my door is closed, the fake smile fades from my face. I set my tea down on my desk so hard that it sloshes over the side.

  I even kick my chair leg and stomp my foot. It’s childish, but I’m mad. I really want that client, and Michael just essentially declared all-out war on me.

  I take a deep breath. Ok. Plan B. Step 1: Call in Emotional Reinforcements.

  I grab my phone. At least it’s almost the end of the day. I text the group chat with my three best friends: Emergency meeting at the Other Place. 6pm SHARP.

  The Other Place is our go-to wine bar. It’s exactly equidistance from our four apartments, and over the years we’ve pretty much claimed one table in the back.

  One by one, my friends text back. Elena is first to say she’ll be there. Then Beatrice says she’ll do me one better and get there at 5:57. Last but not least Marianne says hell yes, she needs a drink too.

  I sit down in my chair and smile.

  My plan isn’t complete yet, but one thing is for certain: Michael Barnes is getting that client over my dead body.

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  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  I smile down at my computer. It’s a good song. I only just put the finishing touches on it, but I know it’s good. The lyrics are super strong. And once it has been matched with a good melody and it gets a hook added in, I know it’s going to be a winner.

  I’ve only just started at the songwriting company based in Bucktown, but I love them. It’s a very small office, and everyone in it is creative and different. But it has structure. For so long, I thought that structure was the death of creativity but I was wrong. Having a set schedule to write, and deadlines has helped me as a songwriter so much. Plus, the office hours are flexible enough that I can still gig and perform as much as I want.

  In the past few months since I started at the office, I have missed Lucy’s. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I moved on from there. I didn’t want to be a barista forever. But I miss the little things, like the quiet walks through the early morning streets on the mornings I wasn’t hungover. I miss the smell of espresso beans in the air.

  It’s not a total tragedy though. Leo still goes to Lucy’s every morning before work, and sometimes
I join him if I’m up. Every morning, I try to get him to mix it up with his drink order, but every morning he insists on getting the dark roast with two splendas. Which I could easily make for him using the state of the art coffee machine he gifted me to celebrate getting the songwriting job.

  That’s one thing I’ve learned about Leo in the year we’ve been together: he’s generous. Every few weeks, he comes up with some excuse to shower me with gifts. Sometimes, it’s the most ridiculous reason, like I was especially funny at a dinner with a friend, so he’ll bring me home a necklace. I’ve told him over and over, he doesn’t have to give me things, I love just spending time with him, but I’ve come to realize, it’s his love language. It makes him happy. And I have to say, it makes birthdays and Christmas extra exciting.

  Another thing I’ve learned about Leo: he does love his routine. He is stubborn about it. He likes his clothes arranged a certain way, and he notices if I move the couch in his apartment to the left by one inch. That being said, he does know how to bend. For example, he will always order his dark roast in the morning on weekdays, but on the weekend, he is willing to try whatever crazy drink I suggest.

  Still thinking about Leo, I push away from my desk and smile as I check the time. It’s just after five, and Leo and I are meeting back at his place before heading out for drinks with my friends. Zoe just got a promotion, and we’re all celebrating.

  Zoe and Leo hit it off as soon as they met. They speak the same language when it comes to business, and Zoe easily forgave him for any wrongdoings he might have committed at the beginning. Elena was a little slower to trust him. She could never forget how bizarre it was that he wanted me to be his fake girlfriend. Beatrice was wary at first, but when she realized that Leo laughed at all her jokes, she warmed up to him.

  As for Leo’s friends, it’s been a bit more complicated. Obviously, some of Leo’s friends were toxic. He’s been happy to let them drift out of his life. But we wanted to come clean to Melanie and Jacob and a few others. Those were tough conversations, especially for Leo, but we got through them.

  Not to brag, but I’m pretty sure my high quality charm helped get all of Leo’s friends on board for our very real relationship.

  I hop on the bus home and check my phone as I find a seat. Leo texts that he got held up in the office for a bit, but he’ll be home as soon as he can.

  I text him it’s no problem.

  When I reach his apartment, I dig through my bag for the key. When he gave me the spare last fall, after only two months of us dating, I tried to give it back. I told him it was too soon. But Leo is always sure about things. He said he wanted me to have it. So I took it. I’m not a martyr after all, and I was spending most nights at his place by that point anyway.

  I push the key into the lock and enter the apartment.

  My bag falls to the floor as I see that the entire living room has been covered with bouquets of flowers. The scent of lilac wafts through the air.

  Leo is kneeling in the center of the room, a box in his hand.

  “Marianne Gellar,” Leo says.

  Right away, tears pop into my eyes, and start to stream down my face. Something about seeing him there, with so much love in his face, turns me into an emotional puddle.

  Leo lets out a nervous laugh. “Please don’t cry, not yet, I’ve rehearsed a speech.”

  “Ok, ok.” I take a breath. “Go on.”

  “I was going to sing a song for you,” Leo says. “But after a few rehearsals, I realized why you are the professional singer, and I’m the investment banker. So you’ll have to sing a song for me later, ok?”

  I nod, my hand clamped over my mouth.

  “I love you,” Leo says. “And I want to be with you and only you for the rest of my life. So will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, of course I will.”

  Then I run across the room and pull him to his feet so I can hug him.

  I cry a bit more, and then we kiss, and then he finally puts the most perfect sapphire ring on my finger.

  Then he takes my hand and leads me to the door.

  “There’s more,” he says.

  I can’t imagine what else there could be, but of course, Leo has it all planned.

  All our good friends are waiting at a bar around the corner to cheer and toast to our happiness.

  Zoe is at the front and in the center, as she was put in charge of corralling everyone to the bar, and Bea is loud and pouring champagne for everyone. Elena hugs me for a long time and doesn’t let go.

  Jacob and Melaine are present as well, and Melanie doesn’t miss the opportunity to joke that maybe we could use the same inn as a venue.

  I just laugh and squeeze Leo’s hand to remind myself that it’s real. It may have started out as fake, but now, I know without a shadow of a doubt, it’s all real.