Fake Love Rich Boss Series

by Peterson , Sloane

  “I’m sure,” I nod. “I think it’s just a stomach bug, or something I ate during lunch.”

  It’s the only answer that makes sense to me. These things usually come on pretty suddenly, don’t they?

  “Alright. If you’re sure. But I’m going to be checking on you all night,” he says, giving my ankle a gentle squeeze.

  I feel it then. I feel it more than I’ve felt it before. The care Gavin has shown me, the gentleness. I realize that maybe I wouldn’t be settling for him. Maybe that car ride and conversation with Oliver was all I needed. It was a better form of closure for us.

  “Thank you,” I say weakly, allowing my eyes to close. “I’m sorry for ruining our date.”

  I hear him laugh warmly. His weight vanishes off the bed and then I feel a pair of lips press to my forehead.

  “You didn’t ruin anything. Swear. Get some rest, Cassidy.”

  I awake the next morning to pounding on my front door. I was up off and on all night after Gavin brought me home, vomiting my guts out. I felt weak and warm, but I felt as though I was nearing the end of it around three last night.

  “Cassidy!” A voice calls my name from down the hall, sounding unbelievably worried.

  I roll onto my side, woozy and tired. I look at the clock and realize that it’s nearly ten in the morning. I’m two hours late for work. I jump up, my head throbbing. As soon as I’m up, I feel the need to vomit again. I lean over the trashcan and do so, the pounding at my door getting louder.

  I wipe my mouth, push my trashcan to the side to clean later, and get out of bed. Each step feels like work as I walk towards the front door. The pounding doesn’t stop until I unlock and open it. Standing there, blonde hair a mess, worry on his face, is Oliver.

  “Finally, you open the door,” he says, using annoyance to cover his worry. He looks down at me. “Are you alright?”

  “Do I look alright?” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

  “No.”

  It’s a blunt answer, one I would be annoyed with at any other time. He steps into my apartment without permission, closing the door behind him. I don’t have it in me to make a smart remark.

  “You were late to work. You’re never late.”

  “I’m sick. I overslept. I apologize. Did you come all this way to yell at me for being late?” I ask.

  I don’t want to stand anymore. Standing feels like too much work. I walk away from him, into the living room, and onto the couch. I clutch a pillow to my stomach, praying that another wave of nausea doesn’t wash over me.

  “No. I was worried,” he admits. I should have been able to tell from how messy his hair is. Whenever Oliver’s worried, he messes with his hair. “I called your phone at least ten times. I asked Noelle if she heard from you and she said that you went out with Panton last night...”

  He trails off and I realize where he’s going.

  “You didn’t,” I gasp.

  I want to melt into the couch. Just when I thought that there could maybe be something between Gavin and myself.

  “I didn’t call him,” Oliver says, and I start to relax.

  Okay, I guess I was assuming things.

  “I went to his work.”

  “You what?!”

  “I wanted to see if he showed up for work,” Oliver explains. “And he did. He was there. I asked him about you, and he said that he took you home sick last night and hadn’t heard from you this morning.”

  “Oh, Oliver,” I’m not sure whether his behavior is out of line or endearing. I settle on a mixture.

  “I was concerned. So, I came over here to check on you. I was about to call 911 when you wouldn’t answer your door.”

  “Jesus,” I bury my face in my hands.

  “Well, if Gavin,” he’s back to saying his name mockingly, “was any type of match for you, he would have stayed with you last night. We wouldn’t be in this mess then.”

  “I told him he could go. Some people listen to me.”

  “Some people care about you. Are you feeling any better this morning?” He asks.

  “I’m having this conversation without vomiting,” I retort. But my stomach still feels upset. I feel like if any food were to touch my lips, I’d be sick again. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

  Oliver shakes his head.

  “No apologies. I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. Do you need to go to the hospital? To see a doctor?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s probably something I ate yesterday. Or a stomach bug. I’m sure I’ll be okay tomorrow.”

  He narrows his eyes. I don’t think he quite believes me yet.

  “Have you called your mother?”

  “So I can cause her to worry too?”

  “I know you two are close,” he says with a shrug. “I thought she could provide you some comfort.”

  “I’m alright,” I sigh. “I don’t want to worry her. She’s thousands of miles away right now. There’s nothing she can do. She’ll just panic.”

  “I’ll pay to fly her out. Private jet. She’ll be here as fast as air travel can carry her.”

  “Oliver...”

  “I want to help.”

  This man... We’re supposed to be out of each other’s lives. So why is he in my apartment, trying to take care of me while I’m sick? I try to sit up on the couch, and look as fierce and professional as possible.

  “As I said, I’m sure it’s something I ate. Or maybe it’s a twenty-four-hour bug. I’ll stay home today, relax, rest. If I still feel like garbage tomorrow, I’ll schedule a doctor’s appointment. Deal?”

  Oliver has his arms crossed over his chest. Annoyance is clear on his face. He looks like he’s dealing with a child.

  “Cassidy...”

  “Oliver. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself. I did it for years before you came along, right? I can continue doing so. I appreciate the concern that you’re showing me. I’m grateful you care enough to come to check on me, but I know my body. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  He continues to stare at me, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. Is he debating whether I’m telling the truth or not? Or is he trying to figure out just how far he can push me?

  “Fine,” he finally says although it’s clear that he’s not happy with my decision. He’s not happy he didn’t get his way. “I expect you to check in with me as frequently as possible, alright? I want to make sure you don’t die alone in your apartment.”

  I huff, making a show of rolling my eyes as dramatically as possible. “I’m not going to die.”

  “You don’t know that. You won’t go to the doctor.”

  “Oliver!”

  “Fine,” he throws his arms up in the air. This is the most endearing I’ve seen him in months. Oliver is not the type of man to get up in a huff. He usually just manipulates things to make them work out for him in the long run. This time though, I’m not giving in.

  It’s clear that he cares about me and I find it cute. I know that I shouldn’t, especially after I’ve been considering a relationship with Gavin.

  Gavin! That’s when it really hits me that Oliver visited him earlier. How awful does that look? My ex hunting down the guy I’m currently seeing while he’s at work. Jesus, Gavin probably thinks I’m the worst.

  “Cassidy,” I look up when he says my name. “I ordered you soup from a bistro down the street. I expect you to eat it if you can. If you need anything, please call me. You don’t have to check in with me every hour, but please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  I sigh. After the realization of how he likely treated Gavin hits me, I find him more annoying than endearing.

  “Thank you, Oliver.”

  “Of course.”

  He takes one last look at me as if something’s weighing on his mind. It’s like he wants to say something to me but doesn’t. He just shakes his head and walks out of my apartment. I hear the door lock behind him.

  I lay back on the couch, fina
lly getting a chance to relax again. I don’t feel as nauseated as I had when I first woke up, although the idea of eating whatever soup Oliver ordered me makes my stomach start to twist and turn all over again.

  Once I get my mind off food, I feel ok again. That only confirms my theory that it is a stomach bug. I walk back to the bedroom, grab my phone, and set about writing Gavin the most apologetic text that I can come up with.

  Chapter Three

  I’m back at work the next day. When I woke up this morning, I still felt ever-so-slightly nauseous, but I’ve been able to brush it off. I go about my work, finishing up everything that I missed while I was home sick yesterday. My job has slowed down at the moment, waiting for the finalization of Alan and Camille’s divorce. Personally, I’m glad we’re no longer in crisis mode.

  When lunchtime hits, Noelle and I are back at our usual café. We have the same window seat as always. This time, I order soup. I still don’t feel up to eating something solid.

  “God,” Noelle says, taking a bite from the salad that she usually gets. “I can’t believe that you ditched me yesterday. I had to eat lunch alone, like a loser.”

  She grins after she says it, clearly joking.

  “I’m so sorry I felt like garbage and inconvenienced you,” I laugh.

  I pull my phone out of my bag, checking it with a sigh. I haven’t heard from Gavin since the apology text yesterday. No telling me off for it, no forgiving me. Just silence.

  Maybe Oliver did me a favor. My heart wasn’t really there with Gavin or anything, so it’s not like it’s a painful breakup. But I was beginning to come around to the idea.

  “What’s wrong?” Noelle asks.

  “That obvious?”

  “You keep looking at your phone and sighing. Usually, that’s a sign that something’s wrong.”

  “I haven’t heard from Gavin in two days,” I say, putting my phone back in my bag.

  Fine. I’ll just stop checking it. I’ll stop looking so desperate. I didn’t like him that much, I try to justify it, but being ghosted still stings. No matter the circumstance.

  “Have you texted him?”

  “Mhm.”

  “No reply?”

  “Nope,” I sigh. I still haven’t told Noelle about what happened yesterday and why Gavin is likely avoiding me. I take a spoonful of soup into my mouth, satisfied as the warmth slides down my throat. My stomach feels happy. “I have a good feeling as to why though...”

  “Anything to do with you retching on your date?” She grins over at me. “Because if that’s why he’s weak. What man would dump you because you feel like garbage?”

  “That’s not why. Gavin was an absolute angel in that situation,” I say. “He brought me home, made sure I was comfortable, didn’t cringe when I puked. It was great. Until it wasn’t.”

  She pushes her salad to the side, clearly more interested in the story than lunch. “What happened, Cassidy? Spill.”

  She puts her elbow on the table, chin in her hand.

  “Well, when I didn’t show up for work yesterday...Oliver got worried. So worried, in fact, that when he asked you about it and you told him that I was out with Gavin the night before...he went to his job to see if he was there too. When he saw him, he confronted Gavin about what happened and where I was.”

  Her face is a picture of horror. She lets out a low whistle, shaking her head.

  “Jesus, are you serious?”

  “Dead. Is that not a little much?”

  “We both know that Oliver lives for being a little ‘much’ if that’s how you want to describe it,” she sighs, shaking her head. “Wow though. Poor Gavin. Can you imagine?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Noelle. I already feel like garbage because of it. I was embarrassed as hell when Oliver told me what happened. I can’t imagine what Gavin thinks of me because of it.”

  It feels like the more I try to separate myself from Oliver, the closer we get pulled together.

  “I don’t have advice,” she finally admits. “That’s like a deal breaker. It looks like your ex is still in the picture. It looks like your ex is a damn psychopath.”

  “So, should I just let this fizzle out?” I sigh. “No chance of salvation?”

  I know the answer deep down. I know that I might as well give up on whatever could have been with Gavin. Even if the result would’ve been me accepting my lackluster emotions for him, it still would’ve been better than being alone.

  “Think you’re right,” Noelle says, pulling her plate back towards her. “Sucks, but this is New York. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

  “In the last few months, I’ve lost two of the most gorgeous fish I’ve ever seen,” I lament.

  “Yeah, well. Maybe you just suck at fishing,” she laughs and takes another bite of her salad. “Anyway, you’re feeling better today, right?”

  “Yeah. Oliver tried to force me to go to the doctor, but I think it was just a stomach bug. Or maybe I just got tired of Italian food,” I say. “Either way, as soon as the pasta hit my tastebuds, it was over for me.”

  Her brows knit together in the center of her forehead, creating a small wrinkle.

  “Cass,” she never calls me ‘Cass.’ I hate it when she does. She says it in a singsong. I tilt my head in her direction. “Do you think that maybe...”

  “Maybe what Noelle?”

  She’s going somewhere and I don’t think I’ll like it. I never do when she uses that singsong.

  “Nausea is a usual symptom of, you know...”

  My eyes widen. I’m sure from her point of view it looks comical, but it’s anything but. I realize what she’s hinting at. Pregnancy.

  I shake my head as quickly as possible.

  “Nausea’s the only symptom. It’s got to be a stomach bug.”

  “Is it the only symptom or is it the only one that you’ve noticed?” she quirks an accusatory eyebrow in my direction.

  Earlier, I was panicking over the Gavin situation, now I’m panicking over this idea that Noelle put into my head. I’m trying to trace back, trying to think if I’ve missed a period or missed a symptom. It’s not abnormal for someone to miss a period in high-stress situations, right? The end of my relationship with Oliver was definitely high stress.

  I just never thought to keep track of anything like that.

  “I’m not pregnant,” I say it whisper as if anyone around us is trying to listen in to the conversation. As if anybody actually cares.

  “As far as you know,” she sips from her water, a smirk on her face. “Look, you could just take a test and we could just rule it out. If you’re so sure. You should know either way, right?”

  I just stare at her. What am I supposed to say? There’s no way I could be pregnant. But when I close my eyes and think about it, I can’t remember the last time I was intimate. I know it was with Oliver, but I don’t remember when. I don’t remember what protection was used. I don’t know if I accidentally skipped my pill or if he had a condom.

  I’m freaking out.

  “I hate you,” I finally say, looking Noelle dead in the eyes. “But fine. We’ll take a test and I’ll prove you wrong.”

  “We’ll?”

  “I’m not doing this alone. You’re the one who suggested that it was even a possibility.”

  This is the moment that Noelle and I crossed that line. We went from being work friends to actual friends. Maybe we were all along and I never really considered it. She downs the rest of her water, pushes her salad plate to the side, and looks at me.

  “Alright. You are done with your work for the day?”

  I don’t get a chance to answer before she speaks again, “Well, you are now. We’re doing this.”

  “Now? Not after work?”

  “Are you really going to be able to focus the rest of the day with this on your mind?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

  I sigh, shaking my head.

  “You’re right.”

  “So, call in. Tell them that you started feeling sic
k again and that I offered to take you home,” she said matter-of-factly. “Problem solved.”

  The problem is not solved at all.

  Noelle stops by a corner convenience store. I run in, find the pregnancy tests, and buy one with cash, as quickly as possible. I know that I’m acting unreasonably. The clerk who makes minimum wage doesn’t give a single damn that I’m buying a pregnancy test, but I still feel like I’m doing something wrong in the situation. I feel like I don’t want to get caught.

  I keep telling myself that whatever’s happening, I’m not pregnant. Noelle just got in my head. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t. I run back to her car, climb inside, and close the door. I shove the plastic bag down on the floorboard, not wanting to look at it for the rest of the ride.

  “You’re being unreasonable Cassidy,” she says as she pulls away from the store. She turns her GPS back on, having got my address when we first got in the car.

  “Am I?” I hiss. “I think I’m being perfectly reasonable. Anybody would freak out in this situation.”

  “Have you never taken a pregnancy test before?” She looks over at me, raising an eyebrow.

  “Never.”

  I’ve always used protection. Always made sure I took my birth control pills on time. Never skipped a day. The romantic drought that I experienced before moving to New York certainly helped me in that regard.

  “It’s going to be fine. Just breathe before we have to go to the hospital and let them tell you.”

  That instills more panic in me. The idea of anybody else knowing, besides me and evidently Noelle, is the last thing I want. We drive the rest of the way to my place in silence. Noelle parks and we walk up together. I keep the plastic bag held to my chest, hoping not to encounter any of my neighbors.

  Logically, I know it’s not that big of a deal. These things happen. Noelle was right that I’m overreacting, but I don’t know how not to. We make it up to my apartment and I unlock the door, letting both of us inside.

  She looks around and shakes her head.

  “This is a hella nice place, Cassidy. Got any roommates?”

  I shake my head.

  “Lucky,” she mutters.

  “You don’t have your own place?”

  “I’m a secretary. I’m not even a salaried employee,” she rolls her eyes, turning towards me and walking backward toward my living room. “You really don’t know how good you got it, do you?”