Faking It by K. Bromberg

by Bromberg, K.

  “Wow,” Zane says as he sits up in his seat to look at the screen. I can’t take my eyes off of them.

  “We’ve been doing this for over ten years and this has never happened—our couple getting one hundred percent of the answers right.” Fran says and throws up her hands. “I guess SoulM8 is the real deal.”

  “We’re going to try to be,” Zane says with a soft smile.

  “And it launches tonight, correct?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “We have the site info on the bottom of the screen for you if you’d like to check it out, and uh, Zane,” she says with a little lift of her eyebrows and a knowing shrug, “you’ve already taken the newlywed test and passed with flying colors . . . so uh . . .”

  Zane’s hand tenses on my leg just as one of the production crew calls out, “And camera’s off.” I glance beside me to see the panicked look on Zane’s face before he recovers, but the tight smile remains.

  And I know.

  An exclusive relationship is not something Zane would ever entertain, let alone marriage and kids.

  We’re whisked off to the next location, the next green room, the next show, and the whole time I keep thinking of his comments on Good Morning USA. Of the personal touches Zane added for effect with Fran.

  I remind myself over and over that this is all an act. All of it. Last night on the rooftop was wonderful. Romantic. Simple. I had hoped it was an indication of more, between us but after today, I know.

  It’s all an act, Low. He hasn’t once said those things to your face and yet he’s saying them on television.

  There’s your answer.

  If he felt any of what he said, it would be much easier to just tell me in private instead of when five million were people watching.

  I WELCOME ROBERT’S WARM HUG and sincere smile.

  “Only two more events to go tonight, kiddo, and then you’re done with me.”

  “Don’t say that,” I say and step back. “I’m going to miss you. And this. Kind of.” I laugh and he follows suit.

  “I couldn’t be more pleased with the job you did. I know it’s been a long one, but—”

  “There’s no place else I would have rather been than giving all of these people hope that they’re going to find their happily ever after with someone.”

  “Sylvie would have loved you, Harlow. She would have taken so much pleasure seeing you find your own happiness. I mean on Good Morning USA today, you just looked so in love. It was . . . it was the best advertisement we could have ever done for SoulM8.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say.” I choke on the words, on the threat of tears that burn my eyes.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks. Of course he would notice.

  “I’m fine. Just a little emotional with this all coming to an end. It was such a learning experience on all fronts and . . .” I shrug, unable to finish my thought.

  “Thank you for agreeing to open up your relationship to the world. I know it wasn’t easy, but it’s made all the difference.”

  Robert’s words echo in my mind the rest of the afternoon. While I’m in the make-up chair getting ready for our second to last event of the night. As I’m speaking on the stage about SoulM8 and singing its praises. And then after the speech while we mingle with the crowd.

  His comment eats at me, bit by bit, little by little.

  Just as I feel that I’ve worked the room long enough and can step out for a quiet respite before the official launch party begins, I’m stopped right before I leave the ballroom.

  “I’m sorry to bug you but I just had to say how incredible it’s been watching you two.”

  “Thank you. Molly, right?” I ask remembering her from her questions earlier doing the Q&A session.

  “Yes!” she says, surprised. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

  “Of course I did.”

  “I just . . . I’ve been following you and Zane and your adventures on the site while waiting for the launch tonight and I have to say, it’s given me so much hope. The two of you have fun, you snap at each other when you’re stressed, you make up, you push each other to take risks . . . I mean, how much the two of you care for each other, it just shines through. Your relationship is what I aspire to have and I can’t wait to find it on SoulM8 like you did.”

  I smile softly at the woman before me. She’s beautiful in her own way but the tears swimming in her eyes and the hope woven through her tone gut me for some reason.

  “I’m sure your prince is out there somewhere for you, Molly.” I pull her into me for a hug.

  “I know.” Her bottom lip quivers and it kills me. “Look at you. You found yours.”

  “I did,” I murmur softly with a smile plastered to my face that I just don’t feel.

  I walk toward the edge of the room to get a breather and try to put a finger on what’s wrong with me. Why does this event seem so difficult when we’re sitting on appearance number forty-something, and it’s harder than the first one?

  The hallway is free of attendees so I take the chance to head toward our private dressing area to get a moment to myself. Hopefully I can snap out of this funk I’m in and be ready for my final duty for SoulM8—the launch party. Once inside, I take my heels off and sit down on the couch.

  I don’t know how long I sit there, lost in my thoughts. But I startle when the door opens and Zane steps inside, phone to his ear, holding his finger up to signal that he’ll just be a minute.

  “No, mate. I’m in our dressing room now so I can talk.” He walks over to the table where snacks are laid out for us and grabs a handful of almonds. “You should be here, Jack. Even you might get yourself laid in this crowd.” He laughs and tosses a few of the nuts in his mouth. “Nah, the only thing I guarantee is that you’re going to get charged a monthly fee . . . no shit . . . I’ve got to run, Harlow’s here. Yeah. Later.”

  “Hey,” he says to me with a lift of his chin and then freezes when I don’t respond. “What’s up?”

  “There are a lot of people here tonight.”

  “There are.” He gives a measured nod, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out where I’m going with this when I don’t even know where I’m going. “What’s going on, Harlow?” He turns and rests his hip against the table behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “When the bet, contest, whatever you call it is over, what are you going to do with SoulM8?”

  I can tell by the way he startles that my question catches him off guard, but his answer is calm as can be. “No clue.”

  “What?” I laugh but it sounds forced and disbelieving, like how I feel.

  “It’s a business. If it performs, I keep it. If it doesn’t meet its potential, then I sell it off and find something else.”

  “Just like that.”

  “Yes, just like that.”

  “But what about all of this?” I throw my hands out. “All the hard work you did to get SoulM8 where it is and all of the time and effort we’re putting in now to make it take off with a bang? Are you just going to throw it all away?”

  “Sometimes businesses fail for no fault of your own or lack of effort. You can’t dwell on it. You just have to dust your hands off and move on to the next opportunity.”

  Is that what you’re going to do with me? I wonder.

  I’m sure my eyes ask the question but my lips stay in a thin, unmoving line as the single thought takes over my mind.

  “But—”

  “But what? That’s what you do when you run a business. The decisions aren’t always easy and sometimes they fucking suck but you can’t always throw good money after bad. Sometimes you cut your losses. Sometimes you take risks. And every once in awhile, they all pay off and you have success.”

  Our eyes hold across the space and his expression tells me he’s trying to understand what’s wrong when I don’t even know anything other than I’m scared to death for this whole thing to end. That and I’m sick and tired of pretending that we’re a couple when I
want to actually be one.

  My mouth opens then shuts.

  My chest constricts and my throat burns.

  “What’s going on here, Har? What am I missing?” He asks as he takes a few steps toward me and sits on the arm of the sofa where I’m sitting.

  “This whole thing—us out there being all lovey dovey and perfect so people aspire to be like us—it’s getting hard for me to do.”

  “Good thing we’re almost done then. Five hours and counting, aye?”

  I take a deep breath, ignoring the knife in my heart. “It’s just that—”

  “Now is not the time to grow a conscience.”

  “Screw you, Zane. I just sat with a woman named Molly who just told me all she wanted was to find love. I had to look her in the eye and lie as she told me she wished she could find one like ours. You tell me that’s not deceitful.”

  “Look, we’re both tired. It’s been a long haul on the road and we’re both done with it. All we need is to see this out and then we can then slip quietly under the radar as we start posting more and more success stories on the site. We’ll use those for promotion and there won’t be any need for us to pretend anymore. Then you’ll feel better about it all.”

  “Have you ever had your heart broken before?” My question comes out of left field, but I just keep thinking of all of these people who are believing our lie and are willing to pay money to try and attain it.

  Zane doesn’t answer the question, instead he lifts his drink to his lips and keeps his eyes on mine over the rim of the glass.

  “It’s always a game to you isn’t it?”

  “What is?”

  “It’s always someone else’s heart on the line, someone else’s heart you want to toy with so long as she gets your dick wet when you want it to be wet.” The words are out and I’m on my feet as fury continues to build inside of me.

  “Watch your step, Harlow.”

  “Why? What are you going to do? Fire me? Not sleep with me anymore? Tell Robert the truth so he knows you really don’t care? That his investment in memory of his wife was just wasted on some guy who doesn’t believe in what he’s selling?” I pace from one end of the room to the other as the tension builds in this small space.

  “I’m not the only businessman who doesn’t believe in what he sells and whether I do or not, frankly, it’s none of your goddamn business,” he growls.

  “No? I know I’m looking at a man who tells me he has no problem taking risks and claiming losses professionally but he can’t fathom doing it personally.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? You’re all over the goddamn place and I can’t follow where you’re going next, so how about you spell it out for me because I’m fucking lost.”

  “How about this? I’ve fallen for you, Zane. Yep, just one more stupid, gullible woman for you to con with your perfectly targeted advertising campaign and spouted statistics. I didn’t pay a subscription fee though so I’m sorry you didn’t profit from my desperation.”

  I could have told Zane I had three heads and he wouldn’t look more surprised. His eyes are wide and lips are lax, and he just shakes his head as if he’s trying to comprehend what I just said.

  “Harlow . . .” He reaches a hand out to me and then lets it fall as words escape him, but that simple action screams so very loudly to me.

  “That’s what I thought.” I choke over the words as I stare at him. There are so many apologies in his eyes that I’m not sure how to tell him it’s okay, that I’m just as blindsided as he is.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  A knock comes two seconds before Zoey pushes the door open. “You guys ready?” She looks at Zane and then me and the back to Zane. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Fine.”

  We both answer in a rush of words.

  “I just—I just need a minute to change,” I say as I bite back the emotion in my voice that’s threatening to rise up and spill over into tears. “Can you both please excuse me?” Turning my back to them, I walk toward the dress hanging on the cabinet to the far left. I close my eyes and it seems like forever before their footsteps head toward the door.

  “Har—”

  “Please don’t.”

  There’s silence as he stares at me and then the sound of the door shutting.

  I finally told him, Mom.

  This time though, I have a feeling he’s not going to be bringing me more shoes.

  MY CHEEKS HURT FROM SMILING.

  And not the sincere kind where everything is going right, but more because I’m afraid if I stop, if I let there be one, simple crack in my façade, I won’t be able to hold back everything I feel from showing on my face.

  People and pictures and proclamations of how they can’t wait for midnight when the site will go live. They’re on a constant rotation during the evening. All of them of course, except for Zane.

  He’s kept his distance from me. The few times his eyes have found mine, we stare at each other across the space all too briefly before someone comes up wanting our attention.

  His laugh carries through the room though, and each time it does, my heart hurts a little bit more.

  “Ladies and gentleman.” Zane’s voice booms through the microphone and the crowd turns their attention to the stage while I slowly make my way toward the back of the room. “I just wanted to take a quick moment to thank you for all coming out and celebrating the launch of SoulM8 with us tonight. Of all the businesses I’ve started or owned, this one holds a special place for me because it deals with something you can’t put a price on—matters of the heart. For many people, myself included, love has always been this elusive thing that I couldn’t exactly touch so I wasn’t quite sure I believed in it or thought it existed. SoulM8 helped me find the answers to that. It helped me realize there was someone out there for me.” He looks down for a dramatic beat and as much as I want to believe him, as much as I want to swoon at his words and think he’s speaking about me, we’ve done so much pretending over the past two months that all of a sudden I’m not sure what is real and what is fake. “Look, I’m not saying you’re going to find the love of your life right off the bat. It may take a few tries, but what I am saying is that it might restore your faith in the process. It might show you that other good people like you are out there wanting the same things . . . and eventually, you’ll find your way to each other.”

  The room erupts into a round of applause about the same time I sneak out the back door, unable to listen to his voice and his confusing words a second longer.

  I scramble out of the lobby and the minute my heels hit the sidewalk outside, I feel like I can breathe for the first time all night long. And then I move. Away from the venue, away from the eyes of people who might recognize me from inside, away from the people who will care that there are tears streaming down my cheeks.

  Time falls by the wayside as I walk the cold, unfamiliar streets until I end up back at Zane’s penthouse. It’s right when I finish packing that I hear the front door open and close. The toss of keys on the table. The sound of footsteps that stop right behind me.

  Be strong, Low.

  “You could barely look at me out there tonight.” My voice is quiet as I zip my bag up, but keep my face toward the wall and away from him.

  “What are you doing, Harlow?”

  “Packing. Going home.” I turn to face him and see the panic fill his eyes. My chest feels like it catches on fire at the sight of him. Disheveled and dashing. Scared and defiant. Lost and unsure.

  “You can’t just hit me with words like that, and expect me to have an answer on the fly,” he says, stumbling over words when he doesn’t stumble.

  “If I told you in a text so you’d have time to think about it . . . would that have made any difference?” I ask, my own voice even and calm as he opens his mouth and closes it without responding.

  He runs a hand through his hair and sighs as he takes a few steps toward me. “I’m a guy, Har
low. I’m not good with these kinds of things.”

  “I’m not good at them either apparently,” I say through a disbelieving laugh and shake of my head. “I tried to fight it, Zane. I really did . . . but it happened and I . . .” I throw my hands up as tears fill my eyes.

  “I care about you.” He takes a step forward, and I put my hands up to his chest so he keeps his distance.

  “I know you do,” I say as he stares at me with eyes full of so much emotion and pain that it just reemphasizes the decision I made earlier. “I can’t change the things that are deep-seated in your nature, the things you’ve always believed, and I’m not going to try to.”

  “If you just let me process all of this,” he says, his voice tightening in stress, but I know him processing it all isn’t going to change anything.

  He either wants me or he doesn’t.

  He’s either willing to take a chance or he isn’t.

  “This is all my fault,” I say and change tactics.

  “What do you mean by that?” His brow furrows and the tension in his shoulders set.

  “I started this. I mean, I’m not sure who started this between us, but I let it go to where I swore it wouldn’t go. I joked I was just here for the sex, and in the beginning, I was. I thought it’s not a bad way to spend the two months since we were stuck together. Then things started changing and between the pretending to be a couple and the incredible sex at night, I think I started to believe it. By then it was too late for me to step back.”

  Tell me you believed it too! Please! Tell me I wasn’t the only one.

  Give me something to go on. Anything to tell me that I’m not insane in what I saw from you, in what I felt from you.

  “Fuck, Har . . . I’m struggling here. Why does anything have to change? Why does—”

  “I left the party tonight telling myself I was crazy. That I should have just shut my mouth and let things be. Maybe when we got back to LA things could be how they were in the beginning—fun and flirty. I was willing to settle for that, Zane. I was willing to shove my feelings aside and just casually date and see where things went with you. But deep down, I knew I never would’ve been happy with that. And then I was roaming the streets thinking, and I kept seeing all of these couples walking hand in hand, laughing together, enjoying each other. It hit me that I deserve that. I deserve more than this,” I say pointing to him and me. “God yes, you’ve won my heart, Zane. You’ve actually had it for some time. You’re an incredible man . . . but I deserve all of that.”