Page 20 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

I don’t know why, but I was surprised. “I love math,” I replied, struggling to understand why anyone would hate it.

Troy took another step forward. “Yes, but that’s because you’re really smart. I mean”—he gestured to my eyeglasses—“you even look smart.”

Up until that point, I had hated my glasses. I wanted contacts, but we couldn’t afford them. We couldn’t even afford nice glasses, so I was stuck with the cheapest, thickest, ugliest frames poor people could buy.

I pulled a face and dropped my gaze. “I look like a dork,” I muttered.

“Hey.” A second later, I felt Troy’s finger under my chin. He lifted my face to look at him. He was frowning down at me. “Don’t ever say that about yourself.”

I gazed up at him in awe. My whole body tingled, from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. He didn’t move his hand, and the sensation of his gentle touch against my skin sent my stomach lurching.

“You’re a beautiful and smart woman, Charlotte,” he said. “The glasses you wear don’t define you. Besides”—his face softened with a smile—“I think they rather suit you. I don’t know why you’re not dating yet. Any guy would be proud to have you by his side.”

I don’t know what made me say it or where the courage came from. Maybe I was just caught up in the moment, but I said, “I don’t want any guy.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“I want you,” I whispered, even as my heart thumped so hard that I thought it might burst from my chest cavity.

For the longest second, he didn’t say anything. His eyes seemed to search mine, and then a huge smile beamed across his face. “Good,” was all he said. A second later, he bent his head, tenderly kissed my cheek, and left Milly’s room.

And that was how Troy and I got together. A few days after that, he took me on our first date, much to Milly’s delight. After a few months, we were practically inseparable. Everybody seemed to be happy for us. Milly, their Mom and Dad, and even his grandparents seemed to love me. Everybody but one person.

You see, while I was spending all my time with Troy, I wasn’t there to look after Dad. I wasn’t there to make dinner, clean the house, or do everything Mom had done when she was alive. I was beginning to live my own life, and Dad did not like it. He made it perfectly clear, too. I can’t count the number of times he told me what a bad kid Troy was. But he was wrong. Well, he was wrong until Troy up and left without a single word.

* * *

I put the cups back into the cupboard and think about what I’m doing. Troy’s back in Cherryville, and yes, he certainly seems different. But am I setting myself up for another fall?

The idea of suffering such intense heartbreak a second time makes me catch my breath. It nearly destroyed me last time. In fact, I can easily say that the devastation and grief were on par with how I felt when I lost Momma. I know that might seem hard to believe, but I was only eighteen years old when he left. He was my whole world.

In some ways, he saved me. He had released me from the shackles of living with the man who was supposed to care for me. He filled me with confidence in who I was as a person—something my father had never done. He made me feel special, important, and loved. And yes, he did love me. I know he did. Which is what made his sudden departure even more devastating.

Why? Why did he leave without a word? Perhaps, now that we’re both adults—particularly since I have to live beside him and interact with him—I should bring it up in our next conversation. I need to know.

10

Troy

Milly stayed at my place for a little while longer. She spent that time jibing me about being in Charlie’s house, but I was swift in putting her straight.

“There is nothing going on, Milly. You need to curb your active imagination,” I said firmly.

My little sister cocked her head to the side and gave me a knowing smile. “Please tell me you are not that blind?”

I frowned and shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

“Troy,” she sighed heavily. “Really, I wonder whether you have eyes. Did you not see the way Charlie was looking at you? Did you not see her disappointment when you said we needed to go?”

“No,” I lied. “If anything, she probably felt relief.”

“Now I know there’s something wrong with you. What did those French chefs do to you?” Milly moved around the kitchen, looking like she was in deep thought. “I remember a time when you always knew the very thing Charlie was thinking. Maybe you’re losing your touch.”

“Maybe I am. But the fact remains. From what I saw, Charlie was glad to be rid of me.”

It was another lie, but it was for the greater good. I didn’t want Milly to get any ideas. Clearly, it was a little late for that, but I certainly wasn’t going to give her any encouragement.

She’s been gone for about an hour now, and as I sit here in my living room, her words are playing over and over in my head. Of course, I noticed Charlie’s disappointment. What I now have to figure out is how to keep the momentum going.

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