Page 56 of Faking It with my Small Town Billionaire

The sad thing is, this is all a silly misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that might just ruin everything. I was just beginning to get excited at what the future for Lily and me might be like. After our conversation at the hospital, I nearly floated home.

While it had been a complete surprise, I was thrilled to discover she had a crush on me in high school. We joked about it, and then we shared yet another tender kiss. But better than the others, that kiss was the start of something special. Or so I had thought.

Now, things are worse than before. At least before, she was still here with me. I could still see her, and smell her, and be near her. At least before, there was still a chance for us. Now, as I sit in this apartment, which feels completely cold and empty without her, I’m worried that she’s not going to believe my explanation.

She already had fears about starting a relationship. She was terrified my feelings were only a product of our circumstances, but that could not be further from the truth. Sure, we’ve been forced into proximity because of the massive lie we’re telling, but my affection for her is based on far more than living in the same apartment.

Like me, her work has always come first, and like me, she’s never had a serious relationship. This had been a huge step for both of us. Much to my delight, Lily put her fears aside and took the plunge.

I’m still struggling to come to terms with the fact that Lily could believe I would do something so awful to her. I’ve tried so hard to show her how much she means to me. After all of that, after the moments we’ve shared and the feelings we’ve expressed, how could she imagine that I could even look at someone else?

Perhaps she’s more insecure than I realized. Maybe a stupid email might just be our undoing.

I heave a sigh and take a sip of my drink. I swear, the next time I see Charlie Wells, I’m going to kill him!

22

Lily

As the sun sets on the lake, I sit on the porch of Dad’s cabin. It’s actually our cabin now, but all three of us just call it “Dad’s cabin.” I think we always will. He used to come up here on the occasional weekend to fish. His little rowing boat is still tied to the small pier that reaches out onto the lake, and the sight of it makes me miss him more than I have in a while.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been up here. It’s a getaway for Ellie, Martha, and me. We all use it for short vacations or weekends away, only I haven’t had time for a break in so long.

Sitting here with the beautiful view in front of me, listening to the dusk chorus of birds in the surrounding oaks and birch trees, I realize I really need to make more time for myself.

Of course, that’s only a fleeting thought. My mind is overrun with far more pressing ponderings. Like, how did everything go so wrong? Who is Charlotte? How long has Orson known her? Did she come before me?

Of course she did.

Have I been completely blind? Did I rush into this thing with Orson without thinking it through? It still doesn’t make sense, and I can’t reconcile that email with the man who has treated me so well for the last four months. What am I missing?

Trying to figure it out, I recall that guy coming to the bakery not long after Orson and I had decided on our fake marriage. Maybe Marcus had been right. Maybe Orson is a player. My gut tells me it can’t be true, and yet, what am I supposed to think?

At the time, Orson had been so angry. He’d given me an explanation of the kind of man Marcus was and why he had come to see me. At the time, I believed him. In fact, I didn’t question it. But how could I possibly have known that what he said was the truth? How do I know that Orson wasn’t just trying to cover his own behind?

It makes sense that his anger would have had more to do with Marcus trying to blow the whistle on his infidelity, right? He did have a lot to lose. I mean, his whole inheritance rides on the fact that he had to be married. Maybe he thought I would throw in the towel if I discovered the kind of person he really was.

All these questions and no answers.

Oh, make it make sense!

The truth is, I don’t really know him. This whirlwind relationship, albeit fake, has occurred over a period of a few months. Yes, I knew of him in school, but that was years ago. Before he walked through the bakery door on the night of that meeting, I had no clue about him or his life.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize that lying comes easily to him. This whole arrangement is based on a lie. If he’s been willing to lie to his own family about us, I shouldn’t really be surprised that he’s going to lie to me.

I’ve been an idiot. I’ve allowed myself to get sucked in, and for all I know, Orson Donovan is a conman.

You don’t really believe that.

I don’t know what I believe anymore. I’m exhausted, I’m emotional, and I’ve been under so much pressure to trick everyone I know, including my own family, into believing that I’m married to this guy. It’s all been too much.

Sipping the wine I found in the cabin, I take a huge breath in. We keep the place stocked with food and supplies in case any of us takes a spontaneous break—or runs away from our husbands, even the fake ones. I wish I could shut my thoughts off, but they just keep on coming. I thought about that email around a hundred times as I drove here to the cabin, but no matter which way I look at it, I can’t find another explanation. He has someone else in his life.

While I was worried sick about my mother lying in a hospital bed, he was out having dinner and fraternizing with this Charlotte woman. And he did that after I told him how I felt about him. After I told him I had a crush on him in high school. After that soft and tender kiss.

Why? Am I not enough?

This woman has clearly been in his life longer than I have, so what was the point of him trying to win me over? From what I’ve seen, he barely has time for one woman, let alone two. But that would be perfect for him, right? He’d have me in the little town of Willow Creek, and then, when he has to stay in the city, he has someone there to make sure he doesn’t get lonely.

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