Faking It

by K. Bromberg

  “Does he know that we’re not together anymore?” I ask.

  Zane’s sigh fills the line and then the silence settles as I wait for him to respond. “We’ve spoken, yes.”

  “Oh.” My chest constricts because that means no more need to act.

  “The contract, Harlow?”

  “Yes. Sure. What about it?” I ask trying to get my footing back beneath me.

  “It allows you to still take other jobs while working for us and—”

  “Thank you for the consideration, but I think I’ll pass.”

  What are you doing? Steady work. Steady paycheck. Dream job.

  But it would mean seeing him regularly. It would mean that I’d be reminded of what I can’t have, what I can’t want.

  “What do you mean, you’ll pass?” His disbelieving laugh sounds exactly how I feel right now.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Zane.”

  “Too bad. Our meeting is set for nine o’clock tomorrow.”

  “I told you, I don’t think—you need to go through my agent.” Whew. When in doubt, always blame it on the agent.

  His chuckle fills the line. “I don’t go through agents.”

  “This time you’ll have to.” Anything so I don’t have to see you when all I really want to do is see you.

  “You’ll show,” he says and for the briefest of seconds, I’m reminded of when he came to the house to bring the shoes. Of his offer to attend the party. Of the start of all this.

  A tiny part of me latches onto this tiny sliver of something between us and wants to see if he’s giving me an opening like I think he might be.

  Either that or I’ve undoubtedly gone crazy.

  “No, I won’t,” I counter.

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Still arrogant and demanding I see.”

  “Did you think I’d change?”

  “Yes.” My voice is the quietest of whispers when I speak, my little nod to him that I was holding out hope.

  “You’ll show, Harlow. You’ll show because of women like Molly who we met in New York.”

  My fingers tighten on my cell. “You remembered her name?”

  “You’ll show because it’s those women who need the hope you being the face of this company will provide.”

  What about the hope I need?

  “I won’t show,” I lie.

  “Yes, you will.”

  DON’T OVERTHINK THIS, LOW.

  Step.

  Don’t enter his office with high expectations.

  Step.

  Don’t walk over the threshold expecting him to have changed.

  Step.

  Don’t hold on to any hope that he’s going to talk about you and him beyond the contract.

  Step.

  It’s like a sucker punch when I see him. It sounds dramatic and ridiculous but when he looks up and his eyes meet mine and that slow smile spreads across his lips, my breath catches.

  “Hello, Harlow.” He stands. “Please, come in.”

  “Hi.” I cross the space, my spine stiff, my nerves rioting beneath the surface. My heart constricts in my chest when he places a soft kiss on my cheek in greeting before pulling my chair out for me.

  I expect him to walk back around his desk to sit across from me, but instead he leans his hips against it right in front of me.

  Of course.

  Too far to touch and too close that I can smell his soap and cologne and remember what those cords of muscles beneath his shirt felt like beneath my palms.

  “So?” he says and falls silent until my eyes meet with his.

  “So.” There’s so much to say and yet this isn’t the time or place to say it. In my text I told him I could put everything between us aside so we could work together . . . and now I’m trying to and God, how I was wrong. There’s no forgetting a man like Zane Phillips. There’s no playing him down and pushing him under the rug.

  “I have a contract for you.”

  “Yes.” The less I say the better right now until I can gain control of my emotions rioting out of control. “May I see it?”

  “I’d rather talk about it first.”

  “Of course you would.”

  “I think the terms of it will be to your liking. It will allow you to stay local with a steady monthly income. There will be occasional travel but nothing like before.”

  “With you?” I can barely get the words out.

  “What?”

  “Will I have to travel with you?”

  “I am the CEO of the company. Yes, some of the travel will have to be with me.”

  Our eyes meet, hold, as the sexual tension ignites between us in a way I can’t even describe. My hands grip the arms of the chair instead of reaching out to touch him like I want.

  My heart beats a strident staccato as I try to swallow over everything I really want to say instead of the words that come out.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Zane’s smile cocks up at one corner, and I can’t for the life of me figure why this is amusing to him.

  “I don’t think it’s wise.”

  “You’re going to be living with me so why wouldn’t you be able to travel with me too?”

  “Because I . . . what did you just say?” I stare at him, my eyes blinking several times as if it will make me believe what I think I just heard him say.

  I fight back the hope that threatens to grow.

  “I said you’re not making any sense. Since we’ll be living together, what’s the big deal if we travel together.” He folds his arms across his chest and digs in.

  “Who said I’m moving in with you?”

  “I did.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because it’s been almost two damn weeks since you left, Harlow and I can’t sleep for shit.”

  “I’m sure many women would be willing to wake up next to you.”

  “Because every time I get my coffee, I wait for you to make fun of me for making it too weak.”

  “Sounds like your own problem.”

  “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  I don’t have a comeback for that one other than a cautious smile that says I want to believe but am too hurt to hope.

  “That’s your own doing,” I whisper.

  “It is.” He nods. “I’ve been miserable without you, Harlow.”

  I don’t trust myself to speak because as good as it feels to know that he’s been suffering like I have, it doesn’t change his views on love.

  “Good.”

  “Good?” he chuckles, and I nod as tears I don’t want to show well in my eyes. “I missed you. Everything about you. I haven’t slept, I’ve been an asshole to everyone, I . . . Christ,”—he scrubs a hand over his jaw—“SoulM8 is taking off through the roof—I should be the happiest guy on the planet and yet the only thing I can think about is you and how badly I screwed up.”

  “Okay.” I draw the word out because I’m trying to stay true to my promise that I deserve more and with each word he speaks, it makes it that much harder to not rise from the chair and kiss him senseless.

  “I’m screwing this up, aren’t I?” He laughs and draws in a breath as I shake my head and wipe away the first escaped tear. “Please don’t cry.”

  “Zane . . .”

  “I told you love was bullshit but you know what? Right now I think it feels like complete misery. Like I have the stomach flu and am having a heart attack at the same time because that’s how I feel without you. So you see, I need you back. I need you to love me so you can show me what it is. So you can prove to me that it’s this wonderful thing that everyone says it is because right now it just feels like shit.”

  “That’s because you’re experiencing heartbreak,” I murmur.

  “Is that what this is?”

  I rise from my seat and nod my head. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “God, yes.” He smiles and reaches out to frame my face in his hands, and hi
s touch. . . oh, how I missed his touch. And his smile. And his laugh. And everything about him.

  “It feels like there’s a knife in your heart that’s twisting constantly.”

  “Yes,” he murmurs.

  “And all you want to do is eat three gallons of ice cream even when your stomach hurts all the time.”

  “Something like that.” When he smiles this time it reaches his eyes for the first time. “Can you help me fix it, Harlow?”

  He leans in and brushes his lips against mine as another tear falls.

  This is where I belong.

  Here.

  With him.

  God, how I missed him.

  “It takes a lot of groveling to fix a broken heart.”

  “I messed up, Harlow.”

  “You did.”

  “I let you walk away without a fight.”

  “You did.”

  “I won’t do it again.”

  “Why should I believe you?” I ask, needing to hear the answer.

  “Because being with you changed me,” he says and my heart swells in my chest. “Because all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever allowed myself to see is the negative side of relationships. Then you walked in, gloves on, fists up, and you fought your way into my heart. I didn’t even know it happened and the next thing I knew you were gone, and I was left understanding those stupid fairytales you say your mom espouses for the first time in my life. I’m not a knight in shining armor, Harlow—far, far from it—but I know I can be the man you deserve. I know I will work hard to make you happy so I never have to feel this misery again.”

  “You’re not the only one who was miserable.”

  “No?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Should I kiss it and make it better?” He steps in and kisses me so tenderly I want to melt into him. When he leans back, he lifts his eyebrows. “Better?”

  “That’s a start.”

  He laughs against my lips. “Be patient with me? This is all new to me. It’s uncharted territory that scares the hell out of me but being without you scares me ten times more. So I’ll make mistakes. I’ll mess up . . . but I’ll keep trying to wade my way through this so long as I know I get to have you as the reward on the other side.”

  It’s my turn to kiss him. I snake my hands up the front of his chest, thread my fingers through his hair, and pour all of my pent up emotion into the kiss. Into showing him what it feels like to love and be loved.

  When the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine and we stand like this for a few moments just absorbing the moment, each other, and the possibility that is now between us.

  “Can I say it now?” I ask, needing to get it off my chest and out in the air.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, Zane Phillips.”

  I can feel his body hitch at the words, his breath catch, and then his lips meet mine as he accepts the words that I know scare him.

  “Harlow, I promise that—”

  “No promises, Zane. I just want you. How you are. Who you are. Mistakes and all because God knows I’ll make plenty of them too. We don’t have to promise each other anything other than we’ll try. That’s all I can ask of you.”

  “So that’s a yes, then?”

  “That’s a pretty broad statement for me to agree to.” I laugh.

  “You’ll move in with me?” He leans back, eyes asking, smile reinforcing.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “If Lula will like Smudge.”

  “I’m sure if we just throw them together in the same dog run, they’ll learn to love each other.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep, look at the two of us,” he says as he wraps his arms around me and just holds on.

  “I don’t believe in forcing a relationship.”

  Zane throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, do I have a story for you, then.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, but that’s for another time.”

  “What’s for right now, then?”

  “Making up for all the time I’ve missed kissing you, Cinder.”

  Our eyes meet, hold, flirt.

  “Such a hardship, but I guess I’m up for the challenge.”

  “You better be,” he murmurs as his lips meet mine and our worlds collide once again.

  The only difference is this time the collision is a welcome one.

  Without pretenses.

  Without an audience.

  Just the two of us and a world full of possibilities.

  One year later

  THE COAST OF SARDINIA IS breathtaking. The beaches, the water, the people.

  The man walking toward me with board shorts slung low on his hips and eyes that are only for me, even more so.

  How is this my life?

  I don’t ever want to leave.

  “Hey, there,” he says and pulls me into him for a kiss. Whiskey and mint are on his lips and the scent of the sun is on his skin.

  “So?” I ask.

  “So . . .” he murmurs against my lips when he leans back and looks at me. “How’d I get so lucky?”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “The outcome?” I swat at his chest playfully as he pulls me in for another kiss to try and distract me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  Is he being serious?

  “I walked away from the bet. I let the money go.”

  “Very funny. You’d never do that and let Kostas win without a fight. I know you better than that.” But there is something about the way he says it that tells me he isn’t joking. He wouldn’t, would he? “Zane?”

  “You can’t put a profit on love. It’s priceless.”

  “Oh, God that was cheesy.” I laugh.

  “Hey, don’t hate the player.”

  “Well, then the player needs to get a stronger game,” I say but there’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me think he’s really not joking.

  “Zane?” He just stares at me and lifts his brows. “Zane!”

  “Hmm?” He tilts back the bottle of beer to his lips.

  “You’re not joking are you?”

  “About?”

  “You forfeit the bet?”

  He shrugs like a man who can walk away from that kind of money without caring. “I agreed to the bet in the first place because I wanted that thrill. The buzz was missing. But I realized it wasn’t the business I needed, but rather something else . . . or should I say someone else.”

  “Ohhh, much stronger game there. Definitely an improvement.”

  “See? I can learn.”

  “You can,” I lean over and press my lips to his. “And you have.” And then one more time. “Now are you going to tell me what happened in your meeting?”

  He shrugs like a man who is used to winning and losing millions—with complete nonchalance.

  The past week has been . . . God, it’s been fabulous. We made ourselves turn our phones off, unplug, and tune in. Lazy days on the beach. Spontaneous picnics in the park. Lovemaking that lasts for hours.

  No interruptions. No stress. Just us.

  Then of course company came today. Kostas and Mateo and Enzo arrived for their annual two year get together. And to open the envelope that holds the results of their high-stakes contest.

  I look over at Zane. He has color on his skin and there’s an ease to him that’s new to me. Almost as if he’s finally comfortable in his own skin. I’ve always thought he was before, but I can see it now.

  “What?” He says when he notices me watching him watch the yachts bobbing in the crystal blue of the ocean.

  “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  “Do I ever joke about money?”

  “But Zane!” I sputter out the words. “That’s a lot of money!” Like more than I’m even comfortable saying. A million dollars he’ll lose
in the purse and a million dollars he used for SoulM8. “You put all that money into SoulM8 and then the prize and—”

  “And SoulM8 is making me a lot more money than that initial investment . . . and I found you.” He reaches over and cups the side of my face, thumb brushing over my bottom lip, trying to distract me. “I think I got my money’s worth.”

  “You’re game keeps improving by the minute.”

  “Lucky for me we have all the time in the world.”

  He smiles at me and it makes everything inside of me heat up. “So who won?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I walked out before they opened the accountant’s results. I’m sure we’ll hear all about it later though . . . but right now, I just wanted to be with you.” And it never gets tiring hearing him say stuff like that.

  “So you don’t even know if you won?”

  He smiles in a way that tells me he may have, he may not have and his ambiguity drives me crazy.

  “I forgot. I wanted to show you something. Sit tight.”

  I turn and watch Zane head into our villa behind us and return shortly with what looks to be a laptop case. “What are you doing with that?” I ask.

  “Breaking the rules.” His grin is lightning quick.

  “We said no internet—”

  “You can punish me later.” He winks and presses a kiss to the side of my head as he sets the laptop on the table in front of us.

  “What’s this?”

  “I—uh—got wind of this video that was going viral that I wanted you to see.”

  Such an odd thing for him to say but okay . . . “Of?”

  “Of one of the best proposals I’ve seen come out of a match with SoulM8. “

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you chose to come back here and show me this instead of seeing who won and hanging with the guys? I’m flattered.”

  “I told you, I’ve got mad game.”

  I start laughing as the computer screen springs to life. Zane hits a few buttons and then swears when our own image pops up on the screen. “Dammit,” he grumbles. “That’s what I get for borrowing Kostas’ computer.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s like the camera is stuck.”

  I start laughing. “Can I just say I don’t want to know what he’s doing or recording so that his camera is stuck on his screen.” Images of women and more women and everything in between fill my mind. Zane grumbles a few more times. “It’s not a big deal. We can watch it later.”