Page 88 of Fake It 'til You Make It

‘Andrew, I can categorically say, I do not want to get a drink with you. Thanks to you, I’ve been picked over and interrogated, and even accused of cheating onyou. The whole reason I’m here and playing stupid games is because of you.’

‘Abbey.’ His hands are back on my shoulders. ‘I’ve done a lot of thinking about us and I know we can move past this. I think maybe I just needed to get it out of my system, you know? We’ve been together since we were so young and you can’t blame me for wondering what else might be out there.’

What. The. Actual.

‘But I’m over it now, Abbey. Seeing you with that other guy, I’ve realized that there’s only one woman for me, and it’s you.’

Huh?

I’m silent. Speechless. And blinking over and over, wondering if I’m seeing and hearing things.

Andrew is pleading with me, asking me to take him back. For years, I’ve felt like it’s been me doing the chasing and now, it seems, the boot is on the other foot.

I’m waiting for my adrenaline to hit. That giddiness in mystomach because Andrew wants me. The feeling of warmth, contentedness, safety, knowing I can say yes and we’d head back in that lunch room and everyone would be ecstatic for us. Then we’d fly back to New York together and I’d get a job as an auditor and move back into our old apartment. And eventually, we’d get married and have the grandchildren our mothers so desperately want from us.

I wait for those feelings but they don’t come.

What do come are three thoughts simultaneously.

Firstly, I guess my fake relationship with Mike worked if the objective had been to make Andrew jealous.

Secondly, if I said yes now, I’d spend every moment of the rest of my life looking across my shoulder, waiting for the next transgression.

Thirdly, I really don’t love Andrew anymore.

What I’d like to say is:Go fuck yourself, Andrew.

But I’ve had all the confrontation I can handle for one day.

So what I actually say is: ‘Maybe next time, Andrew. I’m waiting for Mike to pick me up.’

And I just want to get the hell out of here.

39

TED

During Abbey’s lunch, whilst I was taking pictures, drinking coffee and intermittently dealing with work emails on my phone, my accountants called me. They’ve read the paper Abbey put together, the proposal for the new business structure and my plan to break my partnership with Roman, whilst not exactly giving him what he wants.

‘We’re onboard with the plan, Ted. Everything checks out. We’ll confirm by email and you can give us the formal go ahead when you’re ready.’

It’s happening. Thanks to Abbey, I have a way out. I feel relieved, as if a burden was lifted by the call.

Then my accountant said, ‘The woman who put this together for you, she’s clearly astute and commercial in her approach. Why don’t you give her my number and ask her to call me. I’d like to take her for lunch and chat about what we could offer her at the firm.’

‘Funnily enough, I had a similar thought about her working for me.’ But I think she’s set on being an actress, even if everyone else is questioning that shift. Regardless, after this week, I thinkI’d like her to be more than my colleague. Otherwise, and more likely, she’s going to hate me for doing exactly what her ex did and lying to her. ‘I’m at her home in Canada with her at the moment; I’ll chat to her. The thing is…’ Acting aside. ‘She lives in New York and I don’t know how she’d feel about a move to San Francisco.’

‘We have offices in New York, San Francisco, Toronto and Vancouver, Ted. She could take her pick.’

I ended the call ignoring the devil on my shoulder that was reminded that Abbey and I live an entire continent apart.

When I pull up at the hotel to collect her from lunch, I find her sitting on a wood swing by the entrance, alone.

All I want to do when I see her – head down, arms wrapped around her waist – is head inside the hotel and give every person at that lunch a piece of my mind. For a peaceful guy, the thought of someone hurting Abbey can sure get me riled.

Anna chats through the car ride – buoyed by wine – but Abbey is near silent in the back seat for the entire drive.

She thanks me for the ride when we get home but quickly heads inside, kicks off her heeled shoes, and practically runs upstairs to her bedroom.

---