Fake Love
NYT Bestselling Author
Claire Contreras
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Also by Claire Contreras
Chapter One of The Consequence of Falling
Acknowledgments
One
9 months ago
I know everyone says they hate to eavesdrop as they are actually eavesdropping, which kind of negates the former part of the sentence, but I really do hate eavesdropping. I’ve found that you never overhear anything good. It’s always things that make you take a step back, or in my case, five.
"It's not a real engagement," Cory said, and I swear I heard his eye roll in that sentence. "I did it to get back at Veronica for getting engaged to that douchebag. Yeah, and grandma, obviously, you know she's thrilled about it, but still. Yeah, I know. It's not serious – "
I closed the door quietly and stared at it, wide-eyed. The pounding in my ears drowned out the rest of the conversation. He was talking to his brother, I knew that much. I also wasn't stupid. I'd agreed to the fake engagement. Cory had never once lied or pretended anything when we were alone, but that was the thing, lately, things had changed. I chalked it up to us having sex last week. It was dumb, it was careless, and we shouldn't have done. We definitely shouldn't have repeated the mistake six times since.
Now things were weird between us. I couldn't tell you the exact moment I noticed it, but I did. It was the way he looked at me, the way he held my hand as we watched The Bachelor when no one was around to see us. I replayed the one-sided conversation I'd just heard again, my lip quivering as I analyzed the sound of his voice. He wasn't lying when he said this thing between us was nothing of importance. I knew him well enough to know that.
I looked down at the letter I was now crumbling, the one that held words that made me burst with happiness. The letter that said I'd been accepted into the residency program at Harvard. The one that gave me an out of this whole charade. I'd come back to the apartment we now shared to show Cory the letter, expecting excitement and celebration. Instead, I was met with a conversation I wish I'd never heard. With my shoulders slumped, I walked back to the elevator, down to the lobby, and out of the building. He was my person, the one I went to with things like this. We'd been best friends for as long as I could remember, and sure the lines between friendship and relationship blurred at times, but at the end of the day, we had a silent vow to never hurt one another. Well, that went out the window today. I tried to berate myself. Tried to tell myself I was being stupid for letting this get to me because technically I was being stupid, but it was hearing those words that made me realize something else, something much scarier than I hadn't been willing to admit to myself: I was falling in love with him. Real love. Not the fake shit we'd been doing most of our lives.
* * *
I took the subway to my best friend, Yvette’s apartment. I’d explained my dilemma on my way over, through static frequencies in the subway and the hustle and bustle of the six o’clock employees getting off work, and by the time I was shouldering past the Wall Street men and women, I broke down. Thankfully, I was already a block away from her place by then. She opened the door and took in my form with sympathetic green eyes before pulling me into a tight hug.
“Congrats on the acceptance letter,” she said against my hair. “I’m so sorry about Cory.”
“Thanks.” I pulled back, wiping my eyes. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional over it.”
Her eyes went wide for a moment, but she didn’t comment as she closed the door behind me and led me into her small kitchen, where she poured us a glass of red wine. She was quiet, her eyes clocking my expression, which at this point must have looked a lot like self-loathing and defeat.
“It’s not like he lied to me or proposed under false pretenses. I really don’t know why it’s getting to me,” I said, taking a sip of wine.
“Ev, I can’t even tell if you’re serious or not right now.”
"What do you mean? Of course, I'm serious."
“How could you just now realize that you’re in love with Cory?” She set her glass of wine down with a clink. “You’ve been in love with him your entire life.”
“Not my entire life.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “I think I would’ve known if that was the case.”
"Oh, honey." She shot another sympathetic smile my way. "What are you going to do?"
"Nothing." I shrugged, tearing my gaze from hers and looking out her tenth story window. "What can I do? I just got accepted to the residency program of my dreams, which means I'll be a whopping four-hour drive from here. I have no reason to admit to anything."
“Anything meaning your feelings,” Yvette clarified.
I nodded my response because I was at a loss for words. What was this gripping I felt in my gut? Was that love? If so, I hated it. My phone vibrated on the counter where I’d set it down when I got here. My heart seemed to pound harder at the sight of Cory’s name and face. It was a picture we’d taken at Coney Island last summer, he was kissing my cheek as I bit into the cotton candy I was holding. The movement caught me off guard and made me laugh. Memories of that day flooded me – our first real kiss, the day we ended up in bed together. The day, in retrospect, that I started seeing him as more than just my best friend.
“Fuck,” I breathed out, turning the face of the phone over to reduce the guilt I felt for ignoring his call. “Fuck.”
“I think you should tell him how you feel,” Yvette said. “He’s in love with you too, you know.”
“Did you not hear anything I said to you on the way here? He’s not in love with me at all.” I swallowed to keep my emotions in line. “Besides, he would have told me if he was. Cory is honest to a fault.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re kind of intimidating. Have you considered that maybe he’s just scared to tell you?”
“How am I . . . how am I intimidating? I’m a mess. I’m like the least intimidating person there is.”
“A mess.” She snorted, crinkling her nose at the sound. “If you’re a mess, I don’t even know what that says about the rest of us. You’re what they were thinking about when they came up with the Type A personality handbook. All you’ve been talking about since we were kids was medical school. You downloaded a Harvard Medical School application and filled it out in seventh grade, while the rest of us were out toilet-papering the houses a block over. You outgrew your party stage when the rest of us were just getting our feet wet.”
I stared at her as she continued her rant. When she was finished, she let out a breath and shrugged as she lifted her glass of wine to her lips. I glanced out the window again. Yvette’s apartment was facing inward, so it’s not like she had a spectacular view of the city, unless seeing your middle-aged neighbor in his boxer briefs was your thing, but at least I didn’t have to face the realities that she was bringing to light in here. The thought of Cory finding me intimidating was absolutely ridiculous. He was the one who was intimidating. He’d had his entire life mapped out for him before he was even born. His father was the CEO of what had gradually become one of the biggest architectural firms in New York and Cory, who'd taken after him, was now employed there. It was a given that one day he and his brother would take over his father's responsibilities.
My parents, on the other hand, didn't quite have everything figured out for me. My father was a traveling drummer – a true artist – never landing in one place for too long if he could
help it. My mother, a nurse, which was where I got my love for all things medical – not because of her per se, mostly because of the revolving door of doctors who used to be around when I was growing up. While mom was busy entertaining them in her bedroom, I'd take their stethoscopes and diagnose all of my dolls. That was until we moved into the house next to Cory's and he served as my patient. My phone vibrated again. My gut coiled. I didn't have to look at the screen to know it was him calling.
“You can’t hide forever,” Yvette said.
I put a hand over my phone, the vibrating reminding me that she was right. I couldn’t hide forever. I needed to tell him that I was leaving and wouldn’t be back for a while. Cory had gone to Harvard with me, he’d studied architecture while I studied medicine. He’d gotten his masters while I attended medical school. We’d been together the entire time in Cambridge, so I knew going back without him would be a little weird, but my flight instincts were kicking too hard for me to give it much thought right now. I needed to get out of the predicament of telling him that I may be in love with him.
Two
I met Cory at a little Italian restaurant his grandmother liked. It was the same place we had been having dinner every Sunday night since we'd moved back. Nana was sitting across from us, dipping her garlic bread into the dish of olive oil, I was staring at the menu as if I didn't already know what I wanted, and Cory was beside me, his left hand on my right, above my thigh.
“What’s new, Evelyn?” Nana asked. “Any wedding plans yet?”
“Not yet.” I smiled, looking up from the menu. “I do have big news though.”
Cory’s hand gripped mine slightly. I sat up straighter, shoulders back, and took my hand from underneath his. The hand-holding was all for show, because his grandmother, whom I adored as if she was my own, mistakenly thought we were actually engaged. The engagement was a show we’d put on to make Cory’s ex-girlfriend jealous. I wasn’t sure whether or not it had worked because Veronica (the ex) was still dating the guy she’d been dating before the charade and Cory had given me very limited information on all of this.
“Well, what’s the big news?” Nana asked.
“Yeah, what is it?” Cory said. I didn’t have to look over at him to hear the concern slash irritation in his voice.
“Harvard accepted me into their residency program.” I felt myself blush. I hated attention on me, and this was huge news.
“That’s wonderful!” Nana gasped, covering her mouth as she chewed the garlic bread and smiled. She looked at Cory. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yeah, wonderful,” Cory responded in a tone that sounded less than wonderful. That was what pissed me off. I finally looked at him, only to find his blue eyes searching mine. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Today.” I set down my menu. “I got the letter today.”
“At home?”
“Yes.”
“So, you went home, got the letter, and left?” His eyes narrowed slightly. Another day, under different circumstances, his pointed gaze would’ve made me wither, but not today. I held my head high.
“I went to Yvette’s.”
He nodded slowly, something that looked like betrayal filling his eyes. “So you told her before you told me.”
“We’re not in grade school, Cory. I’m allowed to tell whomever the news first. That doesn’t take anything away from our friendship.”
“Right.” He tossed the menu down and ordered his usual – spinach gnocchi. Nana and I ordered our usual – classic lasagna.
“Did you tell your mother?” Nana asked.
I nodded, smiling. “I called her on my way over here.”
“She must be so proud.” Nana’s smile made me smile wide. “We’re proud too, you know.”
“Thank you.”
“Our little Evelyn,” she said, smiling. “You better do something special for her, Cory.”
I didn’t bother to look over at him again, but his silence continued to feed my anger.
* * *
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked the second we walked into our apartment that night.
“We’re back to that?” I took a deep breath and let it out. I needed to not lose my temper right now. “I told you over dinner.”
“I mean before. When you’d agreed to meet me here for lunch, or did you forget about that?” he asked. “I took off work and came here. I was waiting for you.”
I thought of the phone call I’d overheard and struggled to keep my cool. This was exactly why we should have stayed friends, just friends, and never hooked up the other day. Now he was leaving work early and coming home with the excuse that he was going to see me, probably thinking he’d get me in bed again. If I was being honest, the thought had crossed my mind until I heard the call.
"I didn't forget. You were on the phone and it seemed like you were having an important conversation, so I left Yvette's." I shrugged, walking away, towards my room, the one I hadn't used since we hooked up. I'd been sleeping in his bed. Another line we shouldn't have crossed.
“You could’ve sent a text, called me, whatever.” His footsteps were right behind me.
“What is your problem?” I turned around. He stopped walking. “Are you seriously mad because I told other people before I told you? That’s petty even for you.”
“I’m mad because we had plans and you flaked, which you never do. You didn’t even answer my calls or texts. Is it that difficult to pick up your phone and tell someone you’re not going to be coming to lunch?”
“So this is about lunch.”
“Amongst other things, yes.”
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” I brought my hands up to my head and massaged my temple. All of this was giving me a major headache. “I’m exhausted and honestly, I’m not going to stand here and let you make me feel bad over something that means so much to me.”
Before he could say another word, his phone started vibrating. I watched as he fished it out of the pocket of his jeans, looked at the screen – which I was almost positive said, Veronica. He glanced at me one last time before he answered it and walked away. I didn't know what bothered me more, the fact that he answered the call and left like the argument we were having was insignificant or the fact that it was her calling. Either way, I was done. I showered, changed, and started packing a bag before I fell asleep. I needed to leave in two days and I had no time for petty drama.
Three
9 months later
“It is so hot.” I took the light jacket I was wearing and tossed it in the backseat of Yvette’s car. “Nice ride, by the way. I didn’t even know you had a driver’s license.”
“I do, thank you very much.” She laughed. “It’s Devon’s car though.”
“I thought you broke up?”
“We did.” She revved up the car and pulled out of the airport, heading into the city.
“Huh. I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay friends with all of your exes.”
“It’s not that difficult.” She shrugged. “None of them have felt like my one love of my life people talk about. Dev was close, but after three years together we just became roommates, you know?”
No, I didn’t know. I’d had a handful of boyfriends, and sure, I’d been in love with at least one of them, but somehow the only person I could think of when I heard the phrase one true love was my best friend, who was my fake fiancé.
"Have you spoken to Cory?" Yvette asked as if sensing my thoughts.
“Nope. Not in a month.”
“A month?” she squealed. “What the what? How is that even possible for you two?”
“Well, he acted like an asshole when I was leaving, and even though he apologized and started acting like a real friend again, he reverted back to his asshole self a little over a month ago. I barely have time to sleep and I definitely don’t have time for that.”
“Wow. So you’re not even going to tell him you’re here for a few weeks?”
“No.”
&n
bsp; “You don’t miss him?”
“I do, but that’s not the point.”
The truth was, I missed the hell out of him. After he apologized to me about acting like a child over my acceptance, he threw me an awesome going away party. He’d driven the four hours to Cambridge with me and helped me unpack my things. After that, things were great for a while. He called every day, but then I got busy. Really, really busy. Our schedules didn’t coincide. I was working while he was sleeping and vice versa. About two months ago, he’d stopped trying and I tried not to think about what that meant. Had he moved on? Probably. I’d heard through the grapevine, also known as Yvette, that Veronica had broken off her engagement to the banker she'd been seeing. That alone gave me a reason to believe he'd moved on . . . with her.
I told myself I didn’t have time to dwell on such matters, that I was a doctor now and doctors didn’t care about things like that but it was bullshit. I cared. I cared a lot, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. It felt selfish on my end to tell him who to see or not to see when I wasn’t even willing to give him an hour of phone time with me. He was hot, young, successful, and kind-hearted. He deserved a great woman by his side. That great woman was not Veronica, but that wasn’t for me to decide. Sometimes loving someone meant letting them go.
“You’re not wearing your engagement ring anymore,” Yvette pointed out.
I bit my lip. “I have it with me though.”
“Do you normally wear it?”
I nodded. Not only did I wear it, but I used it as an excuse as to why I couldn't get on dates with the few guys who'd tried to ask me out. I wasn't sure how people in my program found the time to date.
Fake Love: NYT Bestselling Author Page 1
