Page 159 of The Fake Out Flex

And the ugh boots are back.

Don't judge me.

Or do judge me, I deserve it.

I'm too exhausted to care.

But I have to do this. I have to set the record straight.

Fraser may still be angry and hurt when he finds out I was planning on pitching him the story—which he's entitled to be—but at least he won't be under the wrong impression that I had any intention of betraying him.

Bottom line: I wasn't honest with him, and I fully own that. I'm prepared to deal with whatever consequences may come.

Well, as prepared as anyone can be when it comes to potentially losing the person they love after they just finally got together with them.

The door swings open, revealing a messy-haired, crumpled-looking Fraser with two prominent bags under his eyes that weren't there yesterday.

"I come in deep-fried peace," I say, holding up the fries I picked up at the diner.

He looks at my lame peace offering, then at me, then says, "Come on in."

I follow him into his living room.

There are two big suitcases open on the floor, and he's midway through packing. He pushes them out of the way with his foot and gestures toward the sofa. "Can I get you anything to drink? Soda? Juice? Water?"

"I'm okay, thanks."

I sit down on the couch.

Fraser sits down on the other end. Not all the way over, but leaving way more space between us than he normally does. It feels like we're back in our high school days again.

"How's your stomach?" I ask.

"Slowly returning to normal. He's issued a strict Freeman family dinner ban. Effective immediately and for eternity."

"I'm glad you're feeling better." I smile.

He's keeping things light. That's a good sign…I think?

I decide not to waste any more time.

"I know you're hurt and probably really angry at me right now, and you have every right to be, but if you give me five minutes, I can explain everything."

"All right."

I lift up a fry. "Let me tell you the fried truth, the whole fried truth, and nothing but the whole fried truth…"

I start with what he already knows. That my numbers had been tanking despite our high-profile relationship and my jumping-off-building antics to rectify it. That Margo had warned me my head was on the chopping block when the network announces their first round of cuts shortly.

Then I bring in some new information. "She's actually been bugging me for months to do a story on you."

"She has?"

"Yeah. And for a long time, I resisted."

"Why?"

"Because I know you, and I was positive you wouldn't be interested and you'd turn it down. I also didn't want to bother you with it or make you uncomfortable, especially since you'd already done me one giant favor by going to jerkface's wedding with me."

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