Page 43 of Hard to Fake

Yesterday, I read an editorial by a college grad who had been expecting a huge trust fund. Because of some family issues, it never came through. It completely derailed her life.

That’s not happening to me. I refuse to be the butt of a joke.

A roaming photographer’s presence reminds me to document. Pics or it didn’t happen.

“Bring it in, fam.” I motion Jay closer, and he gets the assignment, leaning in and lifting the phone from my fingers to snap the selfie while we display matching smiles.

We take the picture, and I post it along with one I took of my mom speaking with a little caption.

“So, Garrett helped you out.”

Jay’s comment makes me jump. “Miles? How did you…”

“I’m surprised he let you use Waffles for your costume at the party.”

“Oh.” Relief washes over me. “It was too perfect to pass up.”

My brother frowns. “He’s protective of that little dude. Belonged to his grandma or something.” Someone catches Jay’s eye and he heads out across the room, leaving me to think alone.

Spending time with Miles was even more fun than I expected.

Sure, he’s gorgeous in everything from sweatpants to sorority-reunion best. I’ve caught myself remembering half a dozen times how his hard abs felt under my fingers, wondering if his mouth would be as cocky and confident on mine.

“If you need anything, you come to me.”

I vowed after Kevin that I’d never trust another guy to have my back.

Still, how Miles acted makes me wonder if maybe there are trustworthy guys in the world.

It’s probably bullshit. Like unicorns and the tooth fairy and nonfat ice cream that actually tastes good.

Mom makes a reappearance. “Did you see Kevin’s parents over there?”

I force myself to straighten. “We don’t talk.”

It’s one thing to schmooze for the family business, but I draw the line at voluntarily engaging with the people who spawned my ex.

“Well, you’re about to start. Kevin’s with them.”

My head snaps around to find familiar dark eyes, perfectly cut and styled dirty-blond hair.

The sight of him hits me like a dark, twisted cocktail with the aftertaste of a long, bad night.

I turn away, hoping he gets the message. He was always more subtle than me.

“Kevin was the best thing that could have happened to you,” she sighs. “I wish you’d seen it sooner.”

A headache twinges at my temple.

Mom’s swept off to glad-hand more donors, and I make the rounds until I lose sight of Kevin. I’ve managed to avoid him completely when I duck into the bathroom for a moment to breathe.

The woman in the mirror looks composed. I touch up my makeup anyway.

My ex fit with my mother’s plans. I’d thought he fit with mine. Every sorority sister envied us.

He ripped it all away.

Seeing his face for the first time in so long, I’m not sure my heart healed so much as formed scar tissue.

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