Page 33 of It's Not All Fake

A faint smile touches her lips, but then she looks down, and I know there’s more.

“We were in business together,” she adds, “and he’s not happy with the terms of our dissolution. I just found out this morning that he filed a lawsuit against me for lost profits.” Chloe shakes her head, still stunned. “I’d be completely underwater with all of this if you hadn’t offered this arrangement,” she admits, embarrassment but unnecessarily so.

“I have a good lawyer who can help you. I’ll have him call you tomorrow,” I say gently, but resolutely. It does seem fortuitous, for more reasons than I expected, that we met when we did.

Her eyebrows crease momentarily, hesitant to accept my offer, but then she manages a smile. “You’ve really got that guy-to-the-rescue thing going on, huh?”

I chuckle. “Well, it stems from childhood, right?” I tease, although I know this is true. I couldn’t help my mother when I was small, and I’ve been trying to make up for it ever since.

“Most things do,” she smiles faintly.

Again, she looks vulnerable, perhaps troubled by surfacing memories from her own painful history.

I decide I’d better tell Chloe something else. If my mother didn’t tell Chloe about the abuse, she might not have told her about her health history either. But it’s a part of me too, and I want Chloe to know it.

“A few years ago, I felt just as helpless as I did when I was a child, Chloe. When my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

I feel queasy again, remembering how it felt like the bottom dropping out from under me when I got the news.

As the blood drains from Chloe’s cheeks and her lips part in shock, my suspicion is instantly confirmed—my mother also failed to mention this part of her history.

“She’s been in remission for a year,” I reassure Chloe, but emotions continue to kaleidoscope across her face. “But I… uh.” I swallow hard. “I’m terrified it will come back.” I feel the sting of invading tears at my admission. I look down, waiting for the tears’ retreat.

Chloe slides her hand into mine, surprising me. Holding her hand feels natural—we were inseparable at our movie premiere date. But this is different. I doubt she holds her clients’ hands.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes watery.

I nod, thinking about how lucky I am to still have my mother. I can’t imagine what Chloe’s been through. “I’m sorry you lost your mom…” I say, holding her gaze, her green eyes clouding with sorrow.

A corner of her lip turns faintly upwards, her way of thanking me. The half-smile fades as she looks down, lost in the emotions I’ve stirred up. I guess she’s hurt and confused by my mother’s decision to keep her painful past under wraps—these feelings, at least, I may be able to ease.

“Chloe, my mother loves you. She didn’t tell you because she wanted your help moving forward,” I say gently.

“I know,” Chloe nods, pulling her hand out of mine to tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear.

I feel a pang of disappointment at her retreat, wondering if I said something wrong.

Chloe shrugs. “It just makes me doubt myself a bit, I guess.”

“You don’t need to doubt yourself,” I say earnestly. She’s successful, smart, and undeniably talented. She’s helped my mother immensely, even without knowing all the background details. She must see that.

She is also beautiful without trying—her long lashes cover her piercing green eyes as she fiddles with the material on her skirt, a curly strand of chestnut hair falling over her cheek.

Chloe looks up at me, serious. “You opened up today. You were vulnerable,” she reflects. She seems pleased with me and maybe her own skill in breaking through my hard facade.

I smile, realizing she’s right. “It really sucked,” I admit. “But it felt bearable… with you.”

Chloe searches my eyes, maybe trying to decipher if my compliment was only about her skill as a life coach. It wasn’t. I think she understands this because a faint blush colors her cheeks.

She’s so gorgeous, and I don’t think she realizes it.

“Any woman would be lucky to share that with you,” Chloe whispers. Her eyes—those deep emerald pools—hold mine with a sincerity that grips my chest. I’m taken aback by her suggestion that it’s somehow a privilege to see the darkest parts of me. Yet I can tell that’s exactly what she means.

But I don’t want any woman. I want Chloe.

I lean in, closing the space between us, and press my lips to hers.

Chloe tenses, surprised, but she doesn’t pull away.

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