Page 51 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

I tentatively move toward the front door, pulling a light cardigan across my body. His hand raises, and just as he’s about to knock again, I unlock the door and open it.

He’s standing there, getting completely soaked, looking at me with pitiful sadness. “Can I come in?”

Well, I can hardly refuse him, can I?

I step back, but not too far, allowing him to step into the entryway but go no further. He closes the door over behind him, and stands there, dripping onto my wooden floor.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask brusquely, folding my arms protectively across my body.

“Charlie, please. What’s going on? Clearly, I’ve done something wrong, but I can’t fix it if you won’t tell me what it is.”

“Who says I want you to fix it?” I ask icily.

His eyes fly wide open. “Don’t you?”

I continue to glare at him.

“Talk to me. Please, Charlie. If you want me to walk out of your life and never come back, then that’s what I’ll do.”

I can see he doesn’t really want that, but at this moment, I don’t care.

“You mean like you did ten years ago?” I hiss.

“That was different.”

“Of course it was,” I snap sarcastically. “My dad told you to leave, and so you left.”

Troy’s jaw drops, and a stillness washes over him.

“Yes. He told me everything. Unlike you. I gave you an opportunity to tell me the truth, but instead, you lied.”

“Charlie—”

“There are no second chances, Troy. You devastated me ten years ago, and you’ve done exactly the same now that you’re back. I was an idiot to believe I could be happy with you. Now, I want you to leave.”

“Will you not—?”

I point toward the door, cutting him off. “Now, Troy. If you have any feelings for me at all, you’ll do as I ask.”

He drops his head in disappointment, and without another word, he turns and walks back out into the pouring rain. When I slam the door closed behind him, I fall against it. The devastation I managed to hide from him overwhelms me, and after losing the battle with that familiar agonizing tightness in my throat, the tears begin again.

22

Troy

It’s been three days since I went to see Charlie. Not that I’ve really noticed. Each day has rolled into the next as I go through the motions. Any excitement I felt for the restaurant before has waned. In fact, I’ve barely been near it. I just can’t rouse myself to feel anything like motivation.

Desperate to find out the reason for Charlie’s sudden silent treatment, I told her I wasn’t leaving until she opened the door and talked to me. But when she finally did, I was nearly too stunned to react. Of all the things I had considered, the actual reason never occurred to me.

Why, I do not know. In hindsight, it should have been the first thing that came to my head. She’d been with her father the day before she stopped talking to me. How had I not made the connection?

Charlie was angry. In fact, I don’t ever remember seeing her as angry as she was that night. But then, I can’t really blame her, can I? She has every right to be angry. I’d lied to her face. After Grandma’s birthday party, she’d given me the chance to come clean. To put all my cards on the table. I’d chosen to tell her an untruth.

You did it for the right reasons.

That doesn’t matter now. Right or wrong, I should have been honest. Yes, I was worried about what the truth might mean for the relationship between her and her father, but in hindsight, that wasn’t my decision to make. I had no right to manage that for her.

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