I look at my father. His lips are set in a thin, grim line, and his eyebrows are drawn together. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, son,” he says. “I could tell you liked her.”
28
Naomi
“How’s Maxie doing these days?” My mom says as the nurse hooks her up to the IV. I sit back in my chair, glancing at my phone’s blank screen. I frown before putting it away. I haven’t heard from Max all day, which is unusual.
Typically he’d text me at least once during the day—even just a funny picture or a couple words about his day. I’ve sent him a message and he hasn’t replied yet.
Was he freaked out by the whole ‘I love you’ thing?
I know I am, kind of. It just blurted out of me, I couldn’t help it.
He’s probably just busy.
My mother is staring at me expectantly, so I force a smile on my face. “Call him Max, please, Mom,” I laugh. “Maxie sounds like maxi-pad.”
“I’ll call him whatever I want to call him,” she huffs as she watches the nurse hook her up to a bag of medication. “Thank you, Cheryl. You found a vein easily today, didn’t you?”
“You’re nice and veiny, Jackie,” the nurse laughs. “We all fight to be the ones to hook you up.” She gestures to the other nurses and my mother smiles proudly, smoothing her hands on her lap. She leans back in her chair, breathing deeply and looking at me.
“You never answered my question. How’s Max doing?”
“He’s good,” I say. “Busy with work, as usual. Him and his football buddies are going to go to the game on Sunday.”
“That will be nice,” she replies. I put my hand over hers, stroking it gently. Her skin is paper-thin, and I hate how sunken her cheeks are. At least she doesn’t have to drive for hours to get here anymore.
I sit with her until the treatment is over, and then I help her into the wheelchair.
“It’s so silly that I have to do this. I can walk!”
“Hospital policy,” I say. “Just enjoy the ride.” We walk in silence toward the exit. “I noticed you got some art supplies,” I say. “Have you been painting?”
“Yes, but you can’t peek at it,” my mom says, reaching up and squeezing my hand on the wheelchair. “It’s a wedding present for you and Maxie.”
A dagger slides into my heart.
It’s one thing for Max and I to be confused. It’s another thing entirely to be getting my Mom’s hopes up. A wedding present? I didn’t think she’d be happy with me getting married at all.
“You’ve always told me to never get married. What’s going on?”
“Maybe my brush with mortality is making me sentimental,” she says, and I can hear the grin in her voice. Then she sighs and turns her head to try to look at me as I push her down the stark white hospital hallways. “I’m happy for you, Naomi. Max is wonderful.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, nodding.
“Yeah,” I say. “He is.”
By the time my mom is back at my apartment, I check my phone for what feels like the thousandth time. Still nothing from Max. I dial his number on my way out and frown when it goes straight to voicemail.
This definitely isn’t normal.
Has something happened to him? I don’t have any of his friends’ phone numbers, and it would probably be a bit of an overreaction to call them when I haven’t heard from him in a couple hours.
Instead, I just get in my car and head toward his place. I’m sure he’ll be there, greeting me with a big hug and a kiss. Still, a niggling feeling at the base of my skull makes me uneasy. Something doesn’t feel right.
I check my phone again. I go into my social media applications, and see that he’s online. I send him a quick message.
He sees it, but doesn’t answer.
My heart thumps.
What’s going on?
Maybe saying the ‘L’ word really did freak him out this morning. Am I going to go home to a serious ‘talk’? What am I walking into?
I resist the urge to send another message. Is he mad at me?
My hands are shaking. I take a deep breath. My mind is going into a panic vortex, and I need to just stop worrying. Max is fine, we’re fine, I’ll go home and everything will be okay.
I dial Ariana’s number and put her on through the car’s hands-free setting.
“Well hello, stranger,” she says as she answers. “Long time no talk.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, no, I get it,” she laughs. “You’re all shacked up with a multi-billionaire, or whatever. You don’t have time for your friends anymore. If you didn’t work with Meg, you probably wouldn’t talk to her at all.”
“Stop it,” I laugh. “What’s new with you? Any new boyfriends?”
Ariana laughs. “Always.” She launches into a story about her newest beau, an investment banker who works on Wall Street.
“He booked a penthouse suite at the Ritz. It was insane. He wants to fly me out to Paris!”
“No,” I laugh. “Really?!”
“Romantic getaway,” she laughs.
“Are you going to do it?”
“Are you joking? Obviously!”
I laugh and the tightness in my chest eases. Ariana’s right, I’ve been neglecting my friends too much. Max could be busy, or cooking, or he could be doing a thousand things that stop him from answering my text. I shouldn’t freak out.
By the time I hang up the phone, I feel better.
I park under Max’s building and head toward the elevator, taking a deep breath and smiling. I’ll wrap my arms around Max, around my love, and I’ll kiss his gorgeous lips.
Life is good, and I shouldn’t freak myself out over nothing.
When I get to the door, I take a deep breath. I push it open, step through and call out as I walk in.
“Hello? I’m home!”
I don’t see Max until he appears from the bedroom door. I freeze. His eyes are sunken. They’re darker than I’ve ever seen them, as black as the ocean during a storm. His mouth is turned down, with lines carved across his forehead. His arms hang loosely by his side. He clenches and unclenches his fists.
I clutch my purse, frowning.
“Max,” I say. “What’s wrong?”
My pulse is thundering. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. His eyebrows draw together another fraction of an inch, and another line appears on his forehead. He lets out a sigh, shaking his head slowly.
“What?” I say. I take a step forward. “What’s going on? What happened? Is everything okay?”
“No,” he finally says. His voice is strangled. I hardly recognize it. There’s none of the warmth, none of the familiarity that I’m used to. His eyes flash and his mouth turns down. “No, everything is most definitely not ‘okay’.”
He spits out the last word, and my entire world crumbles around me.
29
Max
I close my fists to stop my hands from shaking. My whole body is stiff with tension. Naomi’s eyes are wide. Her eyebrows draw together as she takes a step toward me.
“Don’t—” I almost yell. I stick my hand out in front of me and Naomi stops. I take a deep, trembling breath. “Stay right there.”
“What’s going on, Max?”
“Oh, stop pretending,” I spit. “I know everything.” The burning in my chest hasn’t stopped since I read her file. The whole afternoon, I’ve gone over it, and over it, and over it, but I still can hardly believe that she’s lied to me like this.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stop playing dumb!” The words rip my throat apart. My nails dig in to my palms so hard that I wonder if they might bleed. I watch Naomi’s throat move as she swallows. She’s clutching her purse close to her body, her green eyes staring at me in shock.
I take a deep breath.
“My parents hired a private investigator.”
Her eyes widen some more. I d
on’t know if it’s genuine shock, or fear of being found out, or just another act on her part.
“Yeah,” I spit. “And he found out some very interesting things.”
“Like what?” Her voice is small, and her knuckles are white where they clutch her purse strap.
“Still not going to admit it, hey?”
“Max, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her voice is gentle, and her eyes fill with concern. “This morning—”
“This morning means nothing,” I say, turning my head away from her. It hurts to look at her, to hear her. I don’t want to get close enough to smell the sweet scent that clings to her. I lean my palms on the kitchen counter as I drag another long breath into my lungs.
When she says nothing, I turn to look at her. Her lip is trembling, and her eyes are filling with tears. My heart shatters, and black anger fills up the void where my heart used to be.
Still, still she denies it!
I scoff, shaking my head.
“I found out about your father, Naomi. The gig is up.”
Naomi’s jaw drops. A tear spills out of her eye and she takes a step forward before stopping herself. When she speaks, her voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
“My father? You found out—what did you find out?”
Her breath is short and her eyes are desperate. I laugh bitterly, shaking my head.
“Just stop, Naomi. Look, at least this gave us an excuse to end this stupid fake engagement. Right on time, too.”
She makes a strangled noise and takes a trembling breath.
“What did you find out?” She whispers. “Who is my father?”
Doubt pierces my chest at the desperation in her words. I thought she would deny everything, that she would say she hadn’t nothing to do with her father—but to deny knowing him entirely?
Tears are streaming down her face and she takes another step toward me.
“Please, Max.” Her voice is stronger. “Please. Who is he? Just give me a name.”
Doubt and love battle against the anger and betrayal that have filled my chest. Watching her crying makes my entire body ache. Knowing that she betrayed me, lied to me—is probably still lying to me—that’s a dagger straight through my heart.
I snarl. “Cut the bullshit, Naomi. You know your father was selling his company to mine, and he wanted to keep control of it, so he set you onto me. This whole thing—it was all an act. You were just a pawn in this business deal, and you know it.”
“‘Set me onto you’?” She says, laughing as she cries. “Are you fucking kidding me? This engagement was your idea.”
She shakes her head, moving her hand to her chest and opening her mouth. Her other hand flies to her lips, and she stares at the ground.
“I don’t know how you did it, but you did.”
Tears drop from her chin onto the carpet until she looks at me again.
“I never met my father. My mother is an artist. I am a physical therapist. I used the money you gave me to pay for her chemotherapy. If she needs to have a mastectomy, I’ll pay for that too. That’s where the rest of the money will go. If not, I’ll use it to pay off the sixty thousand dollars in student debt I have. Did your fucking private investigator find out about that?”
“Oh, don’t play the cancer card, Naomi.”
Her face twists. “The ‘cancer card’? Listen to yourself, Max.” She shakes her head. “Or maybe I should have known. I should have known that it was too good to be true. I should have known that the stories about you were based on fact. Maybe the tabloids were right about you.”
She stands up straighter, wiping her cheeks with her palms. Her lower lip is still trembling, but she shakes her head from side to side. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment and then staring at me with those sharp, green eyes that I thought I loved.
“What’s his name, Max? What’s my father’s name?”
“Get out of my house. Your stuff is in the bag,” I say, waving to the black garbage bag I filled with her things. It was the first thing I did when I got home, when the anger was fresh and raw. She glances at the bag and then back at me.
“Please, Max. Tell me.” Her face crumples again and it feels like the a twist of a dagger in my heart. Alarm bells ring in my head. It seems so real. She really wants to know his name.
But if I answer, if I tell her his name, isn’t that admitting that I believe her? She already knows her father’s name! She’s been acting at her father’s request all this time!
The only reason that Naomi and I are in this mess is because somehow—I’m not sure how, but somehow, she and her father planned it. He knew that once my parents acquired his company, he would lose everything he worked for. He found out that I’d be the director of the new division, and he didn’t want to let it go.
The acquisition isn’t as amicable as it seemed at the golf center. I can still remember the way Jerry’s eyes flashed when he shook my hand. I thought the chill that went down my spine was just because my father was forcing me to get married.
Naomi is still staring at me, and a thought enters my head uninvited: maybe I’m remembering things wrong. Maybe I’m making up that whole chill down my spine. Maybe her father knew I’d be in charge, and he was just sizing me up. Like all my father’s business associates do.
I’m frozen. I’m stuck. If I agree with Naomi, I admit that I was wrong.
I’m not ready to do that. I don’t trust her—it’s too confusing. It’s too much of a coincidence.
But if I don’t agree with her, then she leaves forever. Whatever we had together is done.
My lips press together and I turn away from her. What we had wasn’t real. It was all fake. It was all some ploy to play me and my father, and I don’t owe anything to her. I walk toward the big glass wall at the other end of the apartment, turning my back on Naomi. I cross my arms over my chest and grind my teeth together.
She sniffles, and then a plastic bag rustles. It’s not until I hear the door close that I glance over my shoulder.
She’s gone.
I sink down onto the couch and rub my hands over my face.
It’s over.
30
Naomi
I slide into my car and put the bag of clothes on the passenger’s seat beside me. I close the door and put the keys in the ignition, but I don’t turn the car on. I just sit there, with my hands on the steering wheel as I stare out into nothing.
What just happened?
Did we just break up?
He knows who my father is!
He knows who my father is and he wouldn’t tell me. My chest feels like there’s a huge hand squeezing it tight. It’s hard to breathe. My lungs just can’t get enough air. I put a hand to my heart, closing my eyes to try to take a deep breath.
I replay everything that just happened over and over to try to make sense of it.
But I can’t.
None of it makes sense.
How could he think that I planned this? Does he think my mother’s illness is fake? Does he think that I somehow convinced him to convince me to marry him? This whole thing is crazy! How could he think that? It makes no sense!
Another question needles at my brain. It’s the same question that’s plagued me my entire life.
Who is my father?
Max knows, and he refuses to tell me. I saw the vindictive curl of his lip when I asked. He turned away from me. He wouldn’t even say the name. I’ve lost Max, lost whatever we had, and I can’t even find out who Max thinks is behind it all.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I rest my forehead against them. I squeeze my eyes shut, clenching my jaw and taking long, slow breaths in and out of my nose.
Through all the confusion, and all the questions, one emotion underpins everything: pure, unblemished heartbreak. I told him I loved him this morning, and it was true. I was starting to think that being engaged to him was a good idea. I was starting to think that maybe this could work.
; How stupid could I be?
Of course this whole thing was going to blow up in my face.
I knew it would, and I still went through with it. I still convinced myself that developing feelings for Max wasn’t a problem.
Loving him was the fuel that made this whole thing detonate.
The hand squeezing my chest tightens, and I sit up straighter. I lean my head against the headrest, sucking air in through my nose and trying to stop the tears from falling down my face.
I’m sick of crying.
What did I expect? That we would live happily ever after? That he would decide to get rid of the contract and marry me for me?
Stupid, stupid girl.
A sob shudders through me, and I keep my eyes closed as tears spill out of them. My knuckles are white as I clutch the steering wheel. When I take one off and reach into my purse, I can hardly stop myself from shaking. I dial my mom’s phone number, and then hang up right away.
I stare at the blank screen, seeing my tear-stained reflection in it.
I can’t call my mother. She’s just had a brutal chemotherapy appointment. She’s probably asleep by now, or too nauseous to deal with my sorry, heartbroken ass.
What would I tell her? Sorry mom, I lied. I’m not engaged, but I accidentally fell in love with the man I was pretending to be in love with and he broke my heart.
Maybe I deserve it for being so fucking stupid.
Instead, I dial Meg’s number. As soon as she answers, I sob incoherently.
“Whoa, whoa, Naomi, is everything okay?”
“No,” I wail. “It’s not okay. Max broke up with me and he thinks that I set the whole thing up but I didn’t, I don’t even know who my dad is!” I snort, my breath shaking as I cry into the phone.
“Okay, slow down Naomi, come on. Are you safe right now? Do you need me to come get you?”
“No,” I cry. “Can I sleep at your place?”
“Of course,” she says. “I’ll boil some water for tea.”
“You got anything stronger?”
Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series Page 13