Page 110 of Fake It 'til You Make It

She pouts, fastening her robe around her. ‘And, like I said, I’vedecided to forgive you for glancing in the direction of that actress girl in New York. We’re even now and we can move on.’

Forgive me?I can’t even.

‘Fleur, Iamsorry. I’m sorry that I let things get so deep with us. I actually want to thank you, even Roman too, because you’ve saved me from making a big mistake. I can never forgive you for being with someone else whilst we were together and I’ll never forgive that the person you chose was Roman, but I can recognize that we were never right for each other. I was in love with the idea of us but I realize now that I’m not in love with you.’

Not at all and I doubt I ever was, truly, but that feels too cruel to say even to Cruella De Vil, so I say, ‘Not the way you should be loved if you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone. So, I’m begging you, listen to me this time. Please take your things and go back to your apartment. No more sushi sitcom pranks or surprise visits. I’m here, I’m back, and we are over. Truly, definitively, forever, done.’

The next day

I’m up at 5a.m., despite going to bed last night – after cleaning fish from the floor of my lounge – and feeling like I could sleep forever.

I message Abbey to see if she’s okay and to give her the low-down on my run-in with Fleur, then head out for a head-clearing run along the beach front. On the way back, I pick up a newspaper, a pastry and a coffee, purely to pass the time until 7a.m.

Late last night, Roman and I agreed to meet early at the officetoday. I want to do this when the office should be empty. I’ve had enough of public showdowns for a lifetime.

Whilst I’m killing time, thinking I’d so much rather be hiking up a mountain with Abbey than settling old scores, Abbey sends me a screenshot of her smiling – that devastating smile – and pointing at an email on her laptop that makes me insanely happy in return. She’s setting up a meeting with my accountant, Matt, about the business strategy role.

She’ll crush it. I tell her as much in a reply.

And I’m so proud of her but I decide to keep that part under wraps. There’s a real risk I could come on too strong with this, with us, because what I’m also thinking is, I really freaking hope she wants to take a job here, in San Francisco.

When I arrive at the office, Roman is already here, standing behind my desk and looking out of the window across Silicon Valley.

I pause in the hallway, watching him through the glass walls.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him in the flesh since everything went down. Seeing his name in emails had me seething. His face being in that stupidGQarticle and all the trouble it caused made me livid. I watched Abbey stand up for herself on Saturday and it’s about time I started doing the same.

I’m waiting for the red mist to descend but all I feel is gutted. Hurt beyond measure. He looks like the guy I’ve been friends with for more than a decade. The guy I’ve spent nearly every day with for as many years. But now he’s just the man responsible for the biggest betrayal of my life. Armed with the documents my accountants and lawyers have prepared based on Abbey’s strategy, I step into my office and finally see the whites of Roman’s eyes, in the flesh.

Give him his due, he looks drained. Exhausted and, I don’t think I’m imagining it, remorseful.

No matter, we can never, ever come back from this.

‘Ted,’ he says, without his usual brightness, without animosity. I’m staring at him, still weighing him up, trying to get a hold of this situation and how we could possibly have gotten here but I finally conclude, face-to-face, that there’s no reason that can make this okay. There’s no universe in which a friend can do this to another friend and move forward amicably.

So I toss the business papers on the desk between us. Ted looks at the pile, then up to me.

‘Don’t you want to beat the shit out of me? Demand answers? Ask why?’

I realize I’m emotionally depleted on this now. I have no more energy to waste on this guy.

‘I know why. You place more importance on money than friendship, or even being a decent guy.’ I gesture to the pages between us. ‘So you’ll need to sign those. We can’t work together, so we’ll restructure. You’ll get your equity but not the way you want it and you’ll lose your voting rights, have no responsibility or say in how the business is run going forward. You can accept it or you can refuse and I’ll take a demolition ball to the partnership and we’ll both lose. Except I’ll be able to start again and rebuild without you.’

His chest rises and expands slowly, his nostrils widening as he inhales. He didn’t expect this and he didn’t want this. Tough shit. I turn away from him and leave the office, slamming the door shut on him, on us, on our friendship and working relationship. I’m at the elevators, the doors already opening because no one else has called one since I arrived.

‘I am sorry.’ His words come from behind me and make the hurt I’m feeling cut deeper.

I’m not falling for it. I’m not going to let him charm me or manipulate me. Sorry isn’t enough.

‘I don’t want to hear it, Rome. It’s done. We’re done.’

I step into the elevator, not glancing his way, but he stands between the doors, forcing me to look him in the eye and see that he’s hurting, too. It’s surprising but welcome. It makes me feel like less of an idiot for thinking we had an unbreakable bond all these years.

‘It wasn’t only about cashing in, no matter whether you believe that or not.’

‘Then why, Rome? Go on, hit me with it. Why did you start sleeping with my fiancée?’

‘Jealousy.’ It’s direct and definite, as if it ought to have been obvious, as if there could have been no other explanation.

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