Page 59 of Fake It 'til You Make It

Watching her go, it strikes me how rare it is for anyone to stop and ask me if I’m okay. I spend the staircase climb to the eighth floor – a delay tactic – trying to recall Fleur or Roman ever asking me about me, ever caring about the answer if they did.

Part of me would really like if Fleur had taken her stuff and left for a flight back to San Francisco already. Another part of me, I think small but very much present, wants to see her. God knows why. I haven’t worked out yet if I’m holding onto something and what that is. The good parts of us, maybe?

What were they? That’s another question I was asking through my insomnia last night. What is it that I love about Fleur? What made me want to spend the rest of my life with her?

There’s music playing inside Mike’s apartment, which I can hear from the hallway as I approach the door. It’s happy music, something Fleur would sing in the car, though I couldn’t tell you the artist’s name. It’s not the choice of artist that disturbs me, however, so much as the fact Fleur feels in the mood for bright, cheerful tunes. I’m more in the mood for something haunting myself.

Pausing before I open the door, I accept I have to go inside. If I wasn’t ready for the music, I certainly wasn’t ready to see Fleur floating around the kitchen wearing a brightly colored summer dress, making coffee and plating what looks like bought-in breakfast.

‘You’re still here then,’ I say, animosity oozing from me, yet my words not quite as venomous as I intended them to sound.

‘Oh, you’re home. You’ve not eloped with the actress downstairs, then?’ She stops mid-action and gasps. ‘You didn’t stay with her, did you? Not whilst I was sleeping up here? Not after I told you to end your little rebound fling?’

‘What?’ I snap.

‘Just checking, no need to be so tetchy.’ Clearly, she’s still holding onto her crown, dismissing Abbey as lesser, nothing. ‘Let’s start again. I was hoping you would be back to see that I’m being the perfect wifey.’

The sight of Fleur in the kitchen is perplexing enough, never mind her trying to playwifey. She always tells me a woman’s place is out in the world, as far away from the kitchen as she can afford to be.

‘I’ve made us breakfast and coffee,’ she adds.

‘Fleur, what’s going on? Why are you even here? And where’s Roman? I know he booked two flights, presumably one for himself and the other for you, so, where is he?’

She pauses in her task, putting fruit onto a plate. ‘I’m herebecause I did a lot of thinking last night, Ted, and this…’ She gestures between the two of us. ‘It’s not done; we just had a blip, that’s all. We can move on from this.’

A blip? Is she for real?I scratch my head until it hurts, frustration driving me insane.

‘Fleur, you slept with my best friend. One of the things I keep asking myself is how many more times would you have slept with him? How long would it have gone on behind my back if I hadn’t walked in on you two by chance?’

‘I just don’t see the use in going over the details, Ted. The fact is, the silly little thing between Roman and me is over. And you’ve had your payback now anyway.’ Not even close. Even if Abbey and I were really together. ‘You were so busy with work and I need attention sometimes, too.’

I shake my head. ‘No, don’t put this on me.’

She’s out of the country more often than she’s in it and all I do is respond to her demands for attention. Every night out I don’t want to go on, every photograph I don’t want to have taken, every cancellation of the things I’m doing to please her. Ironically, in a bid to keep her.

She brings a plate closer to my side of the kitchen island and puts it down in front of me. ‘Coffee?’

She doesn’t listen to my answer – standard – then sets about preparing coffee. With her back to me, she says, ‘I’m saying we both need to be better, that’s all.’

I’m standing in stunned silence. She hands me a mug of coffee then reaches up to kiss me on the lips – a gesture I don’t want and that makes my stomach turn in all the wrong ways. She finishes by tapping my cheek with the palm of her hand.

I think back to Abbey’s kiss this morning. The kindness of it. The sincerity behind it.

If that was medicinal, Fleur’s touch is the root of the condition.

‘Now, I know you like to work things out on your own and hide away from the world, so I’m going to give you the space you need to think this through.’ She moves into the lounge area, where she picks up a large handbag and hangs it on her wrist.

She grins, as if there’s nothing wrong in the world, as if the entire future I saw before me just two weeks ago hasn’t been thwarted.

Turning on her high heels, she heads for the door, leaving me staring after her and holding two mugs of coffee.

When my senses come back to me, I call Mel.

‘Do you know where Roman is?’ I ask after our usual greetings.

‘He’s here, in the office. Apparently only one of his tickets to New York was used, so I’m guessing Fleur is with you?’

‘I must have sinned so bad in a past life.’ I scoff. ‘So Roman never caught the flight?’

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