Page 64 of Fake Out

Fran gives a satisfied nod, her bright red hair bobbing with the motion. “Great, let’s move on to organizing property viewings.”

I nod, my mind miles away. My gaze shifts to the window, where the city sprawls out beyond the glass, alive with movement and energy. It’s a stark contrast to the mundane reality inside this office. All I can think about is Charlie, about the last time I saw him and all the things I said.

The more I think about it, the more I worry I made a terrible mistake. The kind that can never be fixed.

“Marissa?” Fran’s voice snaps me back to reality.

I blink, forcing myself to look at her. “Yes, sorry.”

Fran merely smiles, patient and kind.

“Remember, always take detailed messages and make sure you’re directing them to the right agent,” Fran adds, handing me a chart with everyone’s extension numbers.

As I nod my head in understanding, my thoughts drift back to my days as a sports agent.

I can still feel the rush of adrenaline, the excitement of closing deals, and the thrill of traveling around the country with Charlie by my side. My heart aches as I think about him; he was so much more than just my client. We shared a unique connection that made every meeting an adventure.

“Marissa? Are you still with me?” Fran’s voice snaps me back to the present, and I realize I’ve been lost in thought. Again.

“Sorry, Fran. I’m listening,” I apologize, trying to shake off the memories of the life I used to have.

I know I was harsh with Charlie, pushing him away when he needed me most. The guilt weighs heavy on my heart, but I can’t help but feel like it’s too late to make amends.

“All right. Let’s move on to organizing the emails,” Fran says.

I dutifully follow her instructions, but of course I’m still thinking about Charlie.

I miss him. More than I care to admit. But there’s nothing I can do now. All I can do is try to move forward and make the best of this new job, even if my heart longs for the life I used to have.

“Think you can handle it?” Fran asks.

I force a smile. “I can. Thanks, Fran.”

She heads into the back offices, and I take a seat in my new chair, at my new desk. At my new life.

Letting out a breath, I place my hands on the desk. There’s nothing to do now but wait.

The phone on my desk suddenly rings, jolting me out of my reverie. I reach for it, but then notice the screen is dark.

It’s my cellphone that’s ringing.

“Oh, shoot.” I reach into my purse to turn it off.

But then I see the name flashing across its screen, and my heart skips a beat.

Charlie.

A wave of anxiety washes over me. Why would he be calling after I pushed him away?

“Hello?” I answer hesitantly.

“Marissa? It’s Charlie,” his familiar voice comes through the line, sending a shiver down my spine. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed hearing him speak.

“I know,” I say. “I didn’t delete your number.”

“Please don’t hang up,” he says, hurried. “Please hear me out.”

His plea is a jab to the gut. “I wasn’t planning on hanging up,” I murmur.

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