Page 107 of Fake

If I didn’t know better, I’d say my mother has a crush she’s trying to hide. She must be feeling even better than I thought.

“I didn’t give Nathan the time and space he said he needed the last time,” I say, honoring her need not to talk about Mr. Silverfox with great effort. “I’m giving it to him now. If he’s ready to try again, he’ll call.”

We make it back to Mom’s room and I help her into bed. The walk has tired her out enough that frustration tightens her features. There was a time when walking down a hallway was something she took for granted. There was also a time when we weren’t sure she’d ever manage it again. The stronger she gets, the more she wants what she once had, the easier it is to take her progress for granted.

“You’re doing great,” I say, brushing the hair back from her face. “Making good strides week after week.”

“That’s what they say.” Mom’s eyes slide closed as she sinks into her pillows.

“Listen to ‘em, Mom. Your first doctors said you’d never get your life back and look at you, walking to and from PT like a boss.”

She cocks her head and tuts, a sure sign she knows I’m right, but isn’t in the mood to admit it. Mom’s attitude slips when she’s tired, so I make an excuse about needing to get to The Depot early to fill out some paperwork and make my exit to let her rest.

The drive to the bar is easy and I sit in the parking lot, digesting my conversation with Mom. I miss Nathan. A lot. I’d love to tell him about Mom’s progress, even take him to meet her so he can be just as impressed as I am. But he never saw her at her worst, and I was so busy being strong and trying to prove I wasn’t using him, that I never shared those stories. He was real with me, but I wasn’t with him.

What a shame.

FORTY-SEVEN

Nathan

I pull open the door to The Depot and sigh. It’s everything The Pact is not, which is exactly why Dom chose to meet here. The lighting is dramatic, the tables a gleaming black lacquer with warm brown inlays. The customers are dressed in clothes so expensive, the cost of an outfit could buy a few weeks of groceries for a foundation family, while the servers wear the black on black typical of luxury customer service.

I scan the crowd and find Dom at a table in the middle of the room, sitting back in his chair like he owns the place. There’s a light fixture directly over his head, casting warmth down on him like a spotlight. He probably chose the table himself for that reason alone.

He waves me over, grinning wolfishly as I approach. “What’s good, brother?”

“Can’t complain.” I pull out my seat with a shrug. “The expansion at ROF is rolling along smoothly. We’ve successfully approved our first round of applications and can start bringing much needed relief to people in the area.”

Dom nods even though he doesn’t give a shit. “You heard from Mina?”

“Nope. But she hasn’t heard from me, either. We left things kind of ambiguous.”

I’ve missed her every day and thought about calling her twice an hour. But she said we shouldn’t see each other until she’s financially stable, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to know if that happened. With work so busy and Nick still missing, I don’t have the bandwidth to figure it out. But if I wait too long, she’ll slip through my fingers and the one thing I’m sure of with each passing day is that I can’t let that happen.

Something behind me catches Dom’s attention. He arches a brow and smirks before leaning his elbows on the table. “You’re better off without her.”

“Right.” I fight the urge to turn and see what caught his attention. Probably a dazzling and spectacular woman, and I couldn’t care less about those. “Dollar signs and opportunities and all that.”

“You can’t deny your life improved since you started taking my advice.”

“I’m gonna have a giant ass house that’s too much space for one person. Does that count as an improvement?” As beautiful as that home is going to be, it’s a lot of house for one person.

“I can introduce you to all kinds of women who’d love to fill that extra space for a while.” Dom’s gaze darts over my shoulder again.

“What are you looking at?”

I turn and there she is. My Mina. Hair slicked back into a tight bun, black slacks, black tee, red lips. Tray in hand…

She fucking works here?

Our eyes meet and she draws up short.

A smile brightens her face for an instant before dismay takes its place. Her brows knit and she sighs, looking around as if desperate for an escape.

“Ouch,” murmurs Dom but I don’t care because Mina’s heading this way, shoulders square, chin proud, eyes blazing.

“Hello and welcome to The Depot. I’m Mina and I’ll be your server this evening. Did I give you enough time to decide?” Her tone is polite, though her eyes are panicked. Or pissed. Or…fuck. I don’t know.

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