“It’s not pathetic,” I tell her firmly, squeezing her hand. “It sounds like he didn’t appreciate you at all, so it makes sense you’d think that.”
“I just wanted to be good enough for him, but I wasn’t. And even now that it’s been seven months, I still catch myself thinking like that sometimes. Wondering what I could have done differently. I don’t love him anymore, but I’m clearly not over it.”
I don’t even know what to say to that. I’ve never been well-equipped for comfort or pep talks or anything like that. “Well,” I say. “I can promise you that when you see him next, he’s going to wish he hadn’t treated you like shit. He’s going to rue the day he decided to fuck around on you. I promise.”
She smiles at me, and that’s like the icing on the cake of a really good night.
Libby
I didn’t expect things with Ian to be so … easy.
Well. Maybe easy is the wrong word.
It’s not like I’ve been miraculously cured of my wariness when it comes to men and dating overnight, but there’s something about knowing it isn’t real that helps. At the end of the day, Ian can’t hurt me because he’s not mine. He can’t dump me because we’re not together. He can’t cheat on me because he doesn’t owe me anything. Our fake relationship is safe and simple because there are no stakes, and for the first time in a while, I actually find myself feeling good.
Lucien is still giving me the stink eye at work, but I don’t care. I have less than three weeks left in Paris, and once I’m gone he’ll be nothing more than a memory. A blip of momentary bad decision making.
He takes to flirting with anyone who’ll stand still long enough, and the receptionist can’t help but giggle whenever he leans over her desk and compliments her hair or her outfit or the color of her nails.
It’s all for show, I know that, and so I don’t react, not giving him the satisfaction. Whatever happened with us is so much less relevant than what happened with me and Chris forever ago, that it’s not even funny.
Being ignored doesn’t seem to sit well with Lucien, so he tries to go bigger and harder, bringing flowers for other female coworkers, asking around to find out people’s favorite pastry preferences and ‘forgetting’ to ask me.
It’s a little pathetic, if I’m honest.
We slept together twice before I ended things, and that was it. Throwing this big of a tantrum over something like that just seems excessive.
When I tell Ian about it, he agrees with me. He invites me to his place one night for dinner, and surprises me by cooking the whole meal while I sit at the island in his kitchen, sipping a glass of wine.
The little house he’s renting for the duration of his vacation is cute and stylish, filled with every modern convenience a person could want.
It looks lived in, too, which I like, and I’m tickled to learn that Ian brought his own kitchen knives with him because he didn’t trust the ones here.
“When did you learn to cook?” I ask him, one elbow braced on the granite countertop of the island.
“When I graduated from college,” he tells me. “I came out with a degree and not a lot else, honestly. I spent the whole time playing lacrosse and chasing women and studying, and then I got my own place and I had no idea what to do. I ate take out every night for three months, and one day I was trying to decide what to have delivered when I realized nothing sounded good. So I subscribed to one of those meal box things and started teaching myself how to make food.”
“Wow. That’s actually pretty impressive,” I say, smiling. “I didn’t know you were so determined.”
“I was motivated by hunger. And by saving my bank account. I didn’t have nearly as much disposable income back then.”
The food is delicious, of course, and when I compliment it, Ian actually looks pleased, like he wanted to impress me. I tease him about his plating like a judge on a cooking show, and he throws a roasted potato at me.
It’s comfortable and relaxed, and I don’t feel pressured to be funny or attractive or anything other than what I’m feeling at the moment, which is so nice, I can’t even explain it.
We’re good company, and Ian kisses me on my way out later that night, which has me feeling warm and a little buzzy all the way back to my apartment.
And it doesn’t have to mean anything. He kisses me because that’s what couples do, and we have to get those little mannerisms down. It’s the small details that can make or break this ruse, and I want to pull it off well.
The next day, I’m at my desk trying to fight my way through a tangle of numbers, considering eating a protein bar at my desk when I hear footsteps and look up. I’m fully expecting it to be Lucien, come to be an asshole to my face finally, or one of the managers come to ride my ass about review points, but it’s Ian, standing there looking like a dream in a sweater and some jeans, a grin on his face.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. “You forgot about lunch, didn’t you?”
I’m startled, and for a second, I can’t even answer because no one’s ever come to pick me up for lunch before. Not even when things were at their best with Chris and me.
But Ian’s there, casual as ever, and I can feel my coworkers looking at us. Lucien, included.
“Lunch?” he asks, piping up.
Ian’s eyes flash over to Lucien. “Yes. Lunch.”
I shake myself mentally and smile a little. “Sorry, babe,” I say, using the first pet name that springs to my mind. “I got wrapped up in this report. I can be ready in five minutes, I promise.”
Lucien’s voice hardens. “Babe?”
“I can wait,” Ian says, grinning at me and pushing his hands into his pockets. Completely ignoring Lucien, too. Which I hope he keeps up.
Even though Lucien keeps running his mouth.
“So, when did this happen?” he asks.
Ian grins. “Is that any of your business?”
“I believe it is, seeing as I have her best intentions in mind.”
“Oh, really. Do you now? Because I’m pretty sure Libby here told me the two of you were nothing but a casual--.”
I glare at Ian, and it stops his words in their tracks before I turn to face Lucien.
“I’ve got the paperwork you need in your inbox. I’m going to finish up here, then I’m heading to lunch. If you need me, leave me a note and I’ll get it once I get back. Okay?”
Lucien’s temples throbbed. “Sure. Whatever.”
I look back over at Ian and the look on his face is one I haven’t seen before. He’s hovering over my desk with an almost possessive nature to his stance, and it catches me off-guard. I sit back down at my desk as Ian stands there, like my guard dog. While he doesn’t make himself obtrusive, I feel my heart rate skyrocketing anyone while he stands there. Lucien keeps looking over at us. And every time he does, Ian makes a move. He places his hand on my shoulder. Or, dips down to give me a soft kiss on the top of my head. He’s posturing, and I’d usually hate something like that.
But, not this particular time.
Honestly, and I’m surprised he even got into the office in the first place without a badge. Probably charmed someone into taking him up with him or pretended to be a client or something. The security here is nowhere near as tight as it is in the office back in the States.
When I reach a stopping point, I put my computer to sleep and grab my purse. He reaches for my hand automatically, and I let him take it as we walk out of the office.
I can feel eyes on my back, burning a hole through my nice blouse, but I don’t turn around. I know it’s Lucien. Or, one of the nosier members of the team. Ian’s grip is tight on me, and for some reason, I don’t hate it. Plus, no one’s ever come to get me like this for anything, so it’s good gossip.
I can’t shake the feeling that Ian’s jealous of Lucien, though.
Even though he has no reason to be.
Once we’re outside, he lets go of my hand and starts laughing. “You know,” he says. “I didn’t think that was going
to work as well as it did, but wow. Also, you work with some nosy people. I had to ask where your desk was, and got grilled about who I was.”
“Well, it’s not really common for people to just waltz in like that,” I tell him, following him to his car. “Are we actually getting lunch, or was that just for effect?”
“I’m going to feed you, don’t worry. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t? How does Thai sound?”
“Delicious,” I reply, making myself comfortable in his car.
He takes me to a nice little place I’ve never been to before, and we’re seated immediately. Everything sounds delicious, and Ian insists on paying, so I order more than I usually would.
“So,” he says. “We should work on our story, don’t you think? Like how we met and all that.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone already knows how we met,” I remind him.
“Well, yeah, but how we got together, I mean. We can keep it simple. A good lie is based in truth, after all. So like, we met again in Paris, you were on a shitty date—”
“It wasn’t a date,” I interrupt to clarify. “If anyone was on a shitty date, it was you.”
“Okay, fair. I was on a shitty date and then I saw you and realized I’d much rather be on a date with you.”
“And I saw you and thought, great it’s my brother’s dumb lacrosse friend.”
“Who got hot, though, right?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.
I can’t help but laugh as the waitress brings over our Thai iced teas and water.
“I mean, you were already hot back then, so. You stayed hot. Maybe got a little hotter.”
“I’ll take that. So then I wanted to see you again, but I had no idea how to find you until we happened to run into each other at Belle Pain one day.”
I sip my tea and nod along with his words. He’s weaving a believable story because it’s exactly what did happen. Which will make it very easy to remember. And on top of that, I’m grateful that our impromptu sex hasn’t changed his demeanor toward me, or our deal.
Of course, it didn’t. It was just sex, Libby.
He probably does that all the time. I bite down the blush and heat the memory brings back to me and focus on our conversation again.
“You bought me lunch, and we got to talking, and then you asked me out to dinner for that same night,” I suggest.
He nods. “I don’t like to let an opportunity go to waste,” he agrees. “You said yes, of course.”
“Of course?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “What, I was so helpless to resist your charms?”
“Naturally.” He grins and winks at me. “But I worked for that yes. And I showed you a good time. You called me for the next date.”
“And you enthusiastically agreed and thanked me for deigning to make room for you in my very busy schedule.”
He doesn’t stop grinning. “Oh sure,” he says. “I was very grateful you could make time for me. And the rest is history. I’m heading back to the States earlier than you are, but we live close enough to make it work.”
“You understand that I’m devoted to my career,” I add.
“And you understand the same thing about me,” he replies.
“And we’re just seeing where it goes.”
He nods. “We’re dating … exclusively?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t agree to something open. Not after … ” I trail off because I know he’ll get the point.
And of course he does. “Right, yeah. So we’re exclusive, and that’s perfectly fine with me because I’m not even interested in looking at other women when I have you to look forward to.”
I can’t help but snort at that. “Yeah, I feel like Darren will see right through that.”
“Hey, I haven’t seen Darren in years. For all he knows, I’ve changed.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t though,” I point out. “You still date women like they had expiration dates.”
His brow furrows at that. “When you put it that way, it sounds worse than it is. Everyone involved knows how things are going to go. It’s not like what happened with you and Chris. I don’t tell them one thing and then do another.”
Realistically, I know that. Even more realistically, it doesn’t matter because this isn’t real. Ian can have all the side women he wants because he doesn’t owe me anything. It’s just old wounds, popping up and making things difficult.
Our food comes, slowing the conversation while we eat, and I apply myself to my food with gusto for a bit before glancing up. “Sorry,” I say. “That was out of line for me to say.”
He looks at me while he chews and then shakes his head. “Nah, it’s okay. I know what it looks like from the outside. But you know I’m not like him, right?”
“I know.”
“Okay, good. Because even if we’re not actually dating, I respect you too much to ever do something like that. You’re the only fake girlfriend I have, I swear.”
His teasing makes me laugh, and the rest of the tension bleeds out of the meal. We hash out more details of the story, like where we went on our dinner date and what things we like to do together. I fill him in on my favorite foods and desserts and the fact that I’m allergic to almonds which makes my life more difficult than it needs to be.
“Does that mean you can’t eat macarons?” he asks, eyes wide.
I nod, solemnly. “At least, I think it does. I’ve never had one, and I don’t know if there’s something about the almonds being ground up into flour that changes it enough so I can eat it. It doesn’t seem worth chancing it.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “A good macaron is worth a lot.”
“Not worth a trip to the hospital before I go into anaphylactic shock.”
“Okay, okay. Fair. Man. That’s a tough break, Lib.”
I shrug. “I’m used to it. So no almonds, but I’ll do anything for a good chocolate cake.”
“I’ll make a note of that,” he says. He tells me about his favorite foods and the fact that he has no allergies but has broken the same bone in his arm three times.
“Once falling out of a tree when I was seven, and twice more playing lacrosse.”
I add all that to my growing mental picture of him, finding that it’s pretty interesting to flesh it out more. He’s been in my brain as ‘older brother’s hot friend’ for years, and now he’s starting to take shape as a real person that I like spending time with.
Hopefully after all this is over and we’ve reached an amiable break up, we can stay friends.
I go back to work after lunch, and Lucien is waiting for me, which doesn’t surprise me at all. He leans against my desk, eyes narrowed. “So,” he says, going for a breezy tone that doesn’t fool me. “You changed your mind about dating someone who lives here, then?”
“No,” I reply coolly. “He doesn’t live here. He’s just visiting.”
“Convenient.”
“Isn’t it just? Is there something I can help you with?”
“No,” he says. “I was just wondering what the story was there. You didn’t strike me as the dating type.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and take my seat, ready to get back to work. “He’s worth making an exception for,” I say.
The thing is, he isn’t.
Well. That’s not fair.
Ian’s voice pipes up. “I really am.”
I whip around. “Babe. Everything okay?”
The look in Ian’s eye takes me aback. He’s practically glaring at Lucien, and the sight makes me both weak in the knees and wary in the gut. It isn’t until my eyes drop to Ian’s hand that I realize what he’s doing back inside the building.
“You dropped your cell phone, beautiful,” Ian says.
I sigh. “Thank you. I would’ve been lost without that tonight.”
Lucien snickers behind me, but doesn’t say anything. Ian’s eyes fall to mine as he wraps his arm around me, pulling me close against his body. I hold my breath. The heat of his touch catches me off-guard. I g
aze up into Ian’s eyes as his nose falls to mine, nuzzling mine softly.
While everyone, including Lucien, watches.
“How can I get in touch with my favorite woman if she doesn’t have her phone?” Ian asks lowly.
I shiver at his words. “I guess you could always come over.”
Lucien hisses. “Oh, bite me.”
I smile. “You’d never have the privilege.”
Ian winks. “There’s my girl.”
I think he’s going to kiss me. I’m almost sure of it. But, Ian opts for a kiss to my forehead. Which, in some respects, is much more sensual than I could have ever imagined with his lips being pressed against mine. As his warmth penetrates my bones, he releases me. He casts Lucien one last look before letting his arm fall away from me.
“I’ll see you soon, okay? Have a good rest of your day,” Ian says.
I nod mindlessly. “Thank you. You, too. I’ll—we’ll talk tonight?”
He winks. “I wouldn’t want to talk to anyone else.”
Lucien groans. “We get it, we get it.”
I cast a glare over my shoulder before I turn back around, watching Ian walk away. He peeks over his shoulder just as he gets to the staircase and tosses me one last wink. A wink that makes me weak in my knees. Ian’s absolutely wonderful, and I’m sure he’d make a great boyfriend to someone. But, Lucien isn’t wrong. I’m not the dating type. Not anymore.
Not after what Chris did.
It’s been seven months, almost eight, but some wounds take a while to heal. I want to get to a point where I don’t care anymore, and where I’m not always waiting for someone to screw me over, but it’s going to take time, I think.
Time or someone extraordinary.
Ian is a good friend.
A good friend you had sex with.
and I’m so grateful that he is doing this for me, but it’s just pretend. It’s just for the party.
Off Limits: A Brother's Best Friend Fake Relationship Romance (Fake It Book 1) Page 7