Page 63 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

I roll my eyes. “Why am I not surprised? That girl was born for drama.”

Charlie nods but doesn’t speak.

In fact, neither of us speaks for a whole minute, but when I can’t stand the silence any longer, I say, “What changed, Charlie? Why all this?” I gesture to the splendor that surrounds us. “You haven’t spoken to me in nearly two weeks. I don’t understand.”

She takes a deep breath in, then breathes out a long sigh. “I was wrong, Troy. That’s what changed. Not only was I wrong, but I jumped to conclusions based on that false belief.”

“You mean about what your dad said,” I acknowledge.

“Yes. I made a grave mistake. I believed him. I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” I cut across her.

“Please, Troy. Let me finish.”

“Sorry.”

She inclines her head and then continues. “I should have given you a chance to at least defend yourself, but I was so angry. That wasn’t right. Nor was it fair.”

“Well,” I say, “perhaps I deserved it. It’s what you get when you lie to the woman you love.”

Her eyes widen for just a second.

“It’s true,” I admit. “I do love you, Charlie. I love you, and I am in love with you.”

“Then I only have one question,” she says.

“Ask it. I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“When we came back from your grandmother’s party, and you invited me in for dinner, we sat and talked for a long time afterward.” I know what her question is going to be, but I remain silent and wait until she gets to it. “I asked you why you left. Do you remember what you told me?”

I nod. “Yes. I do.”

“But that wasn’t the truth.”

“No, Charlie. It wasn’t.”

“Then my question is, why couldn’t you be honest with me? I’m not mistaken if I say that even then, you wanted us to get back together, am I?”

“No. You’re not mistaken.”

“I don’t understand, though. How can you feel so deeply for someone and not be honest with them?”

I look straight at her, mainly because I want her to see how honest I’m being. “Do you remember that day your car wouldn’t start, and I drove you to your clients?”

She nods.

“And do you remember inviting me in for coffee?”

“Sure,” she says, a small frown forming. Clearly, she’s wondering where I am going with this.

“You probably don’t remember that you talked about your dad.”

“No. I remember that, too.” She’s still looking confused. “Is there an end to this story any time before midnight?” She half smirks.

“I’m getting to it. So, you talked about your dad, and what surprised me in that conversation was how well you guys were getting along. When I left, your relationship was precarious at best.”

“Okay.”

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