Page 72 of Fake It 'til You Make It

Back home, Mike lives further north than me, closer to Oracle Park, the Giants’ stadium. Though also coastal, I’m based nearer to Santa Clara. I love heading up to him on the weekends and us getting out for a beach run or trail run. The smell of the salty air, the feel of the wind whipping off the Pacific, the sound of crashing waves.

If I ignore the man laughing at me, I might be homesick for the first time since arriving in New York. Not longing for the life I had a few weeks ago but missing San Francisco, missing home. That yearning brings with it a stark reminder that at some point Ineed to return, give Fleur yet another but absolutely final terminal diagnosis for our relationship and fess up to my family and friends how much I’ve been played by my best friend and fiancée.

‘Let me get this straight,’ Mike says breathlessly, I hope more because of exercise than because he’s laughing so hard. ‘The hot new actress from downstairs, who you keep telling me you aren’t fooling around with, wants you to go with her to Canada for a week, to pretend that you’re me? Ah, man, I’m dying.’

‘Are you done already?’ I snap. ‘I was being serious when I said I want your advice.’

‘What do you want me to tell you, little bro? It’s awesome being me. Enjoy it while it lasts.’

‘Could you just— You know what, forget I called.’

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up.’ The wind calms and I think my brother has stopped jogging, maybe put a hand around the speaker to shield our conversation from the wind. ‘Jokes aside, what I really think is that you should come home and give Roman exactly what he’s got coming to him. As for Fleur, she needs to get the hell out of your place. Never did think she was good enough for you and now she’s proved it. But if you’re adamant you’re not ready, why not stay in NY for longer?’

‘Because Rome is going to come here and I want to get things in order from a business perspective before I see him. That’s going to take at least a few more days.’

‘And you have to fly to Canada today?’ Mike asks.

I do because Abbey’s mom has booked us flights for today and if I’m going as Abbey’s boyfriend, I need to go with her. Not to mention it lowers my risk of seeing Roman before I’m ready.

Even without any of this, I want to help Abbey. I want to support her when she deals with her troubles in Canada. I oweher at least this much for all the truths I’m keeping from her. Every lie I feel increasingly guilty about.

‘Yes,’ I tell him simply.

He whistles as he exhales and I imagine him scratching his chin as he considers his next words.

‘Can’t you go as you? I mean, I know I’m way more dope and all…’ He pauses and I know he’s waiting for me to react to his teasing. If I wasn’t feeling so anxious, maybe I’d find him entertaining. Maybe not. Probably not. ‘Look, Ted, don’t let this go to your head or anything but I think you’re a pretty great guy. This Abbey chick would be lucky to have you, as you, not me.’

‘You have to say that; you’re my brother.’ Though it’s true, I still fight back a small smile because it’s rare my brother is genuinely affectionate, despite the fact I know he loves me. ‘But honestly, there’s nothing between Abbey and me, just friends. She’s been burned, I’ve been burned. She helped me out, I’m returning the favor.’

Even if I’ve felt lines blur in my mind at times, they’ve been lapses in judgment, that’s all. Neither one of us is in a position to get into a new relationship. It would be relationship suicide, in fact, to start something now.

I’m not even contemplating it.

Mostly.

Ever.

‘A favor she needs because she doesn’t want her ex to think she’s single?—’

‘He already thinks she’s seeing me, or should I say, you.Shethinks I’m you.’

‘And she hasn’t fessed up to her folks that her childhood sweetheart was a jerk and went behind her back, so instead of her folks trying to get the pair of them back together, she’s turning up with you, me, to put them off the scent?’

‘Broadly right.’

He blows a raspberry down the line, then whispers, ‘So fucked up. Do you like her, Ted? Tell me you haven’t fallen for her because the identity crisis aside, she’s clearly still into her ex.’

‘She is?’

‘She doesn’t want to fess up to her ex being a dick in case she gets back with him. Isn’t that plain as day?’

‘Maybe. I really don’t think she wants him back.’

Does she? I hope not.

But as I stand here in Mike’s spare bedroom, I stare at my half-packed luggage, questioning this trip for the zillionth time since I started packing my bag for tomorrow’s flight.

I doubted whether I was over Fleur and I guess I’m not over what I’ve lost and how things panned out. But I do know, after seeing her here last week, after listening to more of her lies and bended truths, that I could never get back with her.

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