Page 80 of Fake It 'til You Make It

‘I’m starting to think that some of the things we lead ourselves to believe, or that get ground into us, about who or what we should be and who we should want to be with, make no sense. I guess I’m trying to say, I don’t think you’re pathetic. Not at all.’

She’s staring at me silently, probably trying to determinesome meaning in my nonsense, and I’m only just beginning to decipher it myself.

‘From the moment Fleur paid me any attention, even though we were so wrong for each other, I think I felt obliged to be with her. Like I should be so wowed by the fact that a girl like her showed a guy like me any attention. As if I’d be letting down men all over the world if I didn’t make her mine. Now who’s pathetic?’

The way Abbey is looking at me makes me feel naked, exposed and vulnerable. It reminds me that I just said those words aloud, in a gondola with two strangers. Worse than that, I spoke those words as me, as Ted, the tech geek who could never get the girl.

I don’t dare look anywhere other than at the mountains. Damn mountains making me emotional, making me forget who I’m here to be.

Surprisingly, Abbey doesn’t pick up on it, or chooses not to question it. It’s as if she knows who I am, like she can see through the façade, seeme.

Instead, she asks, ‘But you love her?’ As if it’s the only answer she cares about.

Her question drags me from my spiral of self-analysis.

Do I? Did I?I wouldn’t have asked her to marry me if I didn’t. I have to at least have some faith and conviction in myself. I surely must have been in love with her on some level. Even if just the idea of her and us.

But if Abbey had asked me if I’ve ever sat next to Fleur having a deep and meaningful conversation, feeling like there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be, no one else in the world I’d rather be sitting next to, I’d have to say no. I’m not convinced I had that with Fleur. Not now. Not now that I’ve felt the connection that can exist between two people, not now that I’ve felt anoverwhelming urge like the one I feel now to touch another person, to kiss another person, to hold another person.

No, I’m not convinced I was truly, unequivocally in love with Fleur.

For the whole time those questions have been dancing around my mind, I’ve been watching Abbey and she’s been staring at me. And suddenly it occurs to me that she’s waiting for an answer. Do I love Fleur?

No. But am I willing to say that and take down one of the walls between Abbey and me? Risk finding out that sheisstill in love with Andrew. That I’m here as a prop.

I can’t do that. It’s self-preservation.

So I answer, ‘I don’t know.’

Her expression is unreadable, even as her eyes never leave mine, despite the fact I’m desperate to read her thoughts.

Her opinion of me matters. I don’t know why or since when exactly but it does.

I care what she thinks of me because I care about her. Only, I have to keep reminding myself that she doesn’t know who I am. And that’s the biggest shield I have against the risk of getting hurt again.

I know I need it because sitting here, I don’t want our conversation to end. I could spend every minute of the rest of my life talking with Abbey.

Which is a very dangerous place to be.

So I change the subject. ‘Where would you live, for you, no one else, if you could live anywhere in the world?’

‘Anywhere?’

‘Anywhere.’

‘Other people aside?’

‘Yep.’

She inhales as she thinks, then a smile creeps on her lips andshe looks out of the window to the mountainous peaks. ‘Well, you made San Francisco sound very appealing. But, ultimately, eventually, right here.’ Then she turns sharply to face me. ‘I’m not sure I could handle living with my mom again, though. Not unless Dee or Nate were here to deflect some of the maternal attention.’

Our gondola is drawing close to its highest point and we both shift to the edge of the bench, ready to alight.

‘I’ve always hoped I’d work for my dad, so maybe that’s one justification for being in New York that is about me. You know, getting experience to work for him – I’d want to earn my place.’ We both stand, waiting for the doors to open. She suddenly darts her attention to me, eyes wide, and says, ‘But that was the old me, boring me. Dad definitely doesn’t need a footloose and fancy-free actress.’

It’s a bizarre reaction, one that throws us both, and I don’t know why but it makes me say, ‘What about as a business analyst?’ We step off our ride onto the platform. ‘You were great with me the other day.’

She shrugs. ‘If I were good enough, my firm would have asked me to apply for qualification in that department.’

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