by Lara Swann
I hope it’s not real.
Just an act. Just pretend.
Because all I want to do right now is pull her into my arms and make it all better.
And I can’t do any of that.
I shake my head, angrily, going on instinct as I try to work out what the hell is going on. It’s not hard, not with those jibes about my job.
“You don’t have a clue, Cassie. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. How would you even know what’s real - you, who can’t take the slightest risk without a three-hour conversation, a spreadsheet and a timetable to consult? That’s not how life works, fuck it. And I’m done with it dragging me down.”
She recoils and I have a moment to wonder if I went too far - too close.
But those are the traits that - infuriating as they are - I’ve always found adorable about her. And she knows that.
“I don’t have a clue?! I’m not the one with a string of broken, failed relationships and no idea why they never work out. I never knew why, Josh. Not until now. But fuck it, no wonder you can’t keep a woman for longer than a few months. You’re an asshole, you haven’t got a clue what it really means to care about someone, and you know what - you can fuck off. Feel free, bastard. Why the hell would I want you to stay around any longer?!”
“You fucking…you don’t understand a fucking thing, Cassie. Stupid, naive girl.” I’m vibrating with anger now - real anger - and I have to stop myself from yelling and cursing some more.
She’s got tears running down her cheeks and the fiercest expression I’ve seen yet, fists clenched at her sides while she glares at me.
“Just fucking go.”
“Gladly. I’m done with this whole fucked up thing.”
This time when I turn on my heel, I don’t wait for any other response. I don’t wait to see if we’re on the same page.
I don’t want to.
This shit got too real, too fast, and I’m spinning with my reaction to it.
I storm towards the house, call a taxi I can barely be civil enough to order, and shove my shit into a bag.
Usually I can control myself. I can use my emotions for an act, to play a part. But they never take over. I never get confused about what’s actually real.
But then I’ve never tried arguing with my best friend, the one who knows every fucking thing about me, while we’re playing ourselves.
She pushed buttons I didn’t even know I had, and…fucking god damn it.
I slam a fist against the door jam on the way out of the house, then kick at the ground as I realize I’ve got nothing to do except wait here. For god knows how long.
Reliving that scene again and again in my mind.
When I finally calm down enough to stop being pissed at everything she said, an unpleasant weight settles inside me.
This was meant to be part of the plan.
Sure, I was hoping not to have to actually do the break up part. And it wasn’t meant to be a day early.
But I was always going to go through with it if I had to.
I knew we’d probably have to work the rest of the shit out ourselves, back home, and away from her family.
So why do I feel like everything has gone terribly wrong?
I was prepared for our fake relationship to end. But that break-up felt more real than the whole damned thing.
Everything we said to each other is circling in my head. Unrelenting.
Does she really think all that shit about me?
About my relationships. About my job. About…me.
I try to tell myself she doesn’t. That it’s just an act.
That this was all part of the plan.
My plan.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve fucked it all up.
I wait for the taxi for a very long time, wondering if Cassie will come after me.
Even if it’s just to let me know that it’s okay - that this is what she wanted.
She doesn’t come, though.
Neither does anyone else.
Chapter Fifteen
Cassie
I wake up alone the next morning.
That shouldn’t be the first thing I notice. It’s not like I’ve been sleeping with Josh for long.
But it feels…weird not to have him there beside me.
It feels weird not to have him here at all.
Like a bad dream. Something that you think is wrong, and false, but you can’t quite wake up from anyway.
And when my mind jumps to what happened yesterday…my heart twists.
I’m not even angry anymore - just aching and aching hurt as I replay it again and again, trying to work out what happened. What it means. How I feel.
I’m so fucking confused.
And I think I’m almost hungover - dazed and empty after the wretched emotions of yesterday.
An overwhelming sadness I can’t shake.
The nagging feeling that I might have lost something very important.
I rub my eyes, gritty from barely sleeping last night, even after I spent the evening wandering around and around the garden.
After that furious argument - after our break up - I couldn’t help myself. I took off away from everyone.
I’d always intended to stay - to put on some sort of show for my family. Wail and despair and curse the world. Break down into a thousand pieces and swear off relationships for good.
But then, I’d always intended the whole thing to happen today, too.
None of it has gone to plan. Nothing happened as it was supposed to.
It wasn’t meant to feel so…real.
I wasn’t meant to get so angry and upset and hurt.
After all that, I couldn’t even face my family. Couldn’t possibly add trying to pretend something on top of that.
Though I doubt I even needed to. The whole thing was far too fucking raw to need any additional convincing.
I wince again as I think of how personal it became.
The things he said.
I haven’t been able to get those thoughts out of my head.
Can’t take a risk without a three-hour conversation…everything always has to be about you…ungrateful as ever…I’m done…Done.
Done. Done. Done.
I press my hands to my eyes, trying to shut it out.
I keep trying to tell myself he didn’t mean it. That it was an act. That he’s really fucking good at pretending. But when he said all that stuff…it rang true.
You infuriate me enough without even trying…I can think of dozens of reasons…dozens of reasons…
And now I know some of them.
I groan again, dragging myself miserably out of bed.
It wasn’t just on him, either. I lashed out right back. Hurt and angry and caught in the middle of so much confusion about what the hell we were doing.
Whether he really meant what he was saying.
What had started as a good thing to counter with, a clever act…twisted into something else.
Somehow, I forgot that it was just supposed to be a pretend argument, and I started fighting for real.
I knew where all his weak spots were, and I went after them. Deliberately. Wanting to hurt him back.
God damn it.
And now…who the fuck knows.
Our fake relationship is over, of course.
But our real one? Our friendship?
I don’t have a clue.
And instead, I’m just left here, completely desolate.
It shouldn’t even have mattered - the shit he said. He’s teased me about it all before. I don’t know why I took it so fucking personally. I don’t know why I hit him back so hard.
And now I just feel empty.
Missing him, and feeling completely shitty about everything that happened.
Missing waking up beside him…touching him…kissing him…
Which doesn’t even make sense. That’s not what I should be thinking about.
But then, this whole week stopped making
sense a while ago.
I force myself to shake it all off, to try and stop obsessing about any of it, and stare at my packed bags with a sigh.
Eventually, I pull myself together enough to start dragging them downstairs, stalling for another few minutes at the thought of having to face my family.
I’m so not up to dealing with their shit right now.
And I have no idea what to say to them, either.
I managed to avoid it yesterday - spending hours wandering the gardens, trying to sort out my fucked up emotions.
It didn’t work, but at least I didn’t have to deal with them too.
And by the time I headed inside, the thought of their last-night takeout - more of a tradition than family soccer has ever been - was enough to turn my stomach. I disappeared to my room without a word instead.
Maybe I can just slip away with a quick ‘goodbye’.
Even though this part had been the whole point of having Josh play my fake boyfriend.
Stupid fucking idea. Why the hell did he ever go along with it?!
It’s suspiciously quiet when I get downstairs though, and I frown.
Usually the leaving-morning cleaning efforts are in full swing by now. Something I’d probably get shit for not being part of already, except that I’m clearly too devastated to help right now.
Hey, look at that, Josh. Maybe the plan worked.
The thought brings me no sense of satisfaction.
Though…no one else appears to be doing anything either.
I see all the bags packed up by the door, but have to wander through the house before I finally hear them in the dining room.
On leaving day?
I push open the door with a frown, and everyone goes silent, turning to look at me.
Well, you expected that much.
“Auntie Casss! We’re having pancakes!” Lucas beams up at me, bouncing excitedly on his chair.
“We…are?” I ask, confusion momentarily overcoming my numbness.
Maria steps up to me, smiling gently as she wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“We thought it would be good for you to have a proper breakfast before you head all the way back to LA.” She squeezes my shoulder, and bemused, I take the chair she’s nudging me towards.
Right in the middle. Of course.
“But what about…” I start.
We never have breakfast the morning before we leave - we always just pick something up on the road. Mom and Dad have had a strict no cooking after lunch the previous day rule for as long as I can remember. It’s the reason we always get take-out, too.
“Don’t worry about it, honey. It’s only a little extra to clear up.” She smiles at me again, taking a seat beside me.
The large plates full of pancakes, sauces, bacon and syrup say something entirely different, but it slowly dawns on me that this is for me. Which only makes me feel more awkward.
“Um, okay. Well, thanks.” I finally say, helping myself to a couple of pancakes in front of me.
“I’m sorry, Cassie. About…what happened yesterday.” Mark says after a few moments, and a couple of others nod.
“I…yeah, um. Yeah.”
I have no idea what to say.
Maybe I should break down about it now?
But I feel too wrung out for that. And…I’m worried that if I start, I might never stop.
I don’t want there to be something to cry about.
It feels totally unnerving to have everyone’s attention on me, but I start eating anyway. I don’t taste a thing.
I manage two bites before it starts.
“It’s for the best anyway, sweetie.” Mom says, leaning across the table to pat my hand. “He really wasn’t the right guy for you.”
“Yeah, I mean sure he was hot.” Beth continues. “But he wanted you to support him. I mean, what the hell? My god, I wouldn’t be caught seen with a dead-beat like that. And this was meant to be about my engagement party. You guys fucking spoiled that.”
My hands tighten around my cutlery, but I don’t say anything.
This was what I wanted, right?
“Hey, okay everyone, there’s still pancakes to finish.” Maria interrupts.
Beth rolls her eyes at her, but she takes the hint. For now, anyway.
Maria turns back to me though, saying quietly. “They’re right in some ways, though, Cassie - he didn’t deserve you.”
“Yeah, honestly Cassie, if he’d stuck around I would’ve decked him for the shit he was saying about you. It’s probably a good thing—” Mark says, then shuts up when Maria shoots him a look.
I just stare at my plate, unable to meet anyone’s eyes and trying not to think about how much I miss having Josh here.
I should be agreeing, cursing him and announcing that I’m done with relationships for good.
But I can’t.
I did enough cursing him yesterday, and I regret every part of it.
It’s all I can do not to jump in and defend him. Tell them that they don’t have a fucking clue.
I start eating slower and slower, feeling overwhelmed by it all.
“I’ve got to say though, his attitude…” Mom starts again, and I tense. “He was so damn rude. I could never have seen a boy like that being part of our family.”
I swallow the mouthful of pancake, and it becomes a lump in my stomach almost immediately.
“What can I say, Cassie - you should’ve listened to me. Now, that Matthew…maybe I can get back in touch with him…”
“No.” I finally speak, looking up to glare at her. “No fucking way.”
“Cassie!” She frowns. “Come now, language. You might be upset, but this is no time for—”
“No. I am never letting you set me up with someone again, Mom. I’m done with that whole fucking thing.” I say, my voice rising.
That’s what got me into this whole mess in the first place. Because I couldn’t just fucking say no in a way she understood. I had to invent some elaborate scheme, just to keep the peace. Well, I’m fucking done with it.
“Because your own taste got you so far, Cassie!” She matches my glare. “I’m just trying to help, and you—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think you’re doing, Mom. It’s over. You try and get me to talk to any other fucking guy, and I’ll start off by letting him know that you’re an insecure megalomaniac with no sense of reality. Am. I. Fucking. Clear?!”
She stares at me, her face going completely red, but I’m done.
I stand up, not even caring anymore.
If Josh and I have fucking wrecked everything for this, then I’m going to at least going to make it worth that much.
She starts spluttering something about me as I leave, turning to everyone else in her usual outraged, offended manner.
“Oh, for once in your life, cut the crap Mom.” Mark’s voice follows me as I close the door, and I get a brief moment of startled satisfaction.
That dies as soon as I leave them behind.
Then I’m just alone again.
Lost and miserable.
I wander into the games room, and curl up on one side of the large over-stuffed sofa facing the fireplace.
It’s empty, and it’s almost never cold enough here for us to even use it, but I stare at it for a while anyway.
Wondering what Josh is doing now.
I pull out my phone, staring at the last message he sent me - back before we even left for this trip - and consider texting him.
He was supposed to be leaving with me today. I mean, we were going to break up, but then he’d get a taxi to the nearest town and wait for me there. I’d drive us both back home.
But he left yesterday, instead. And he hasn’t said anything about where he is. He’s obviously not waiting for me.
I feel like I should at least split the cost of him getting home. He came out here for me, after all.
But I hesitate over actually asking about it.
‘Hey, how much do I owe you?’ doesn’t
sound like something I can send right now.
Neither does ‘hope you got back okay’ or the one I’ve never considered before - ‘thinking of you’.
There’s too much shit in the way of any of those.
And the easy closeness we’ve always had - that’s been so self-evident that I’d stopped noticing it was even there…all that feels gone between us. The guy who was always at the other end of a message, a call, a late-night unexpected crashing at his house…
He feels too far away to reach now.
I sigh again as I put the phone away.
“Auntie Casss…”
My heart lifts for a moment, and then drops an instant later, as I look over at Ellie watching me.
It’s not like I mistook her for Josh - their voices are nothing alike. But the way she says Cass is so similar to his affectionate Caz, and no one else ever calls me that…
She blinks at me, and for a moment looks so concerned I almost see Maria written in her face.
I give her a reassuring smile and pat the sofa I’m curled up on, dragging her into my lap. She wriggles around until she’s looking up at me again, then reaches out to touch my face.
“What’s wrong, Auntie Cass?”
I sigh softly, kissing the top of her head. She really is a sweet girl.
“I’m sad because Josh has gone away, and I like him very much.” I say eventually, and it’s not until I put it in child’s terms that I realize how perfect they are for times like this.
That simple sentence has more basic truth to it than any explanation I could give the rest of my family.
“Oh.” She says. “I like him too.”
I laugh a little at that, stroking her hair, aware as I do that it’s more for my benefit than hers.
“You do? I think you might be the only one, honey.”
Another way I messed this whole thing up. It seemed to make sense at the time, but now it’s just confused things even more.
Why did I ever want everyone to dislike Josh?
“I know.” She says serenely, with the wisdom only a five-year-old can muster. “But he told me a secret.”
I perk up at that, surprised.
“He did?” I ask. “When did he do that, Ellie?”
“When we were playing.” She says, cuddling up to me.
I nod, as if this makes perfect sense, but I’m curious anyway.
