Page 85 of Fake It 'til You Make It

The moment of truth.

What happens when I tell her? Does she hate me, send me away, never to see me again, disappointed that I’m not Mike, furious that I lied?

I lower my arm, bracing my hands on either side of her door, staring at the ground as if the answer to my question is written on it.

Or… is there some other alternative? Like she actually forgives me for the lies and we finally have that kiss, and that kiss turns into what I want.Her.

I raise my fist again.

It’s now or never.

But maybe never is for the best. I’ve thrown myself into a relationship once before and look how that turned out.

This feels different. Very different. I think I want Abbey for all the right reasons, some of them I can’t even explain, except to know that I can’t stop thinking about her. This isn’t as it was with Fleur. I don’t want Abbey because I think I’m supposed to want her.

I want her despite knowing I ought not to, not right now.

She’s just out of a long-term relationship and I can’t say for sure that she doesn’t still have feelings for her ex.

Feck.

I start walking back along the corridor to my bedroom.

But the one person I want to talk to about all of this is behind that door.

And I can’t talk to Abbey.

Not until I’m willing to tell her the truth. Take the risk.

She deserves as much.

I turn back toward her room. It’s time.

I raise my fist to knock on her door and?—

‘Michael? What are you doing?’

I near jump out of my skin. ‘Mrs Mitchell.’

I don’t know what to do first: explain why I’m standing in the corridor outside of Abbey’s room wearing my boxer briefs and a T-shirt, or hold my hands over my crotch.

‘I was just?—’

She smiles at me knowingly, or so she thinks. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she says, ‘Goodnight, Michael.’

She really has no idea. ‘Goodnight, Mrs Mitchell.’

Once she is safely behind her own bedroom door, I head back to mine.

Tomorrow. I’m telling Abbey tomorrow.

37

ABBEY

We come to a stop on the forecourt, to one of Banff’s finest hotels – a castle amongst mountains – and Mike turns off the engine of my Fiat 500, which he has once again managed to squish his long legs and big frame into.

My nerves have been building during the drive, but now that we’re here, they’re in overdrive. I don’t feel like the new me, the fake me, or even the New York version of me. Perhaps in part because I didn’t pack clothes from my new wardrobe expecting this lunch today – Mom typically sprang it on me, knowing it’s not my thing.

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