Page 90 of Fake It 'til You Make It

‘Abbey…’ I have to tell her now.

Except, my reveal would be much bigger, much worse. She thinks her white lies are despicable, when actually, I’m pleased she’s not an actress. I’m happy she’s normal. Normal is a great thing.

Her reveal only highlights how big and deep my deceit runs.

Or is now selfish? Is now about me and how much I’d like to lie her back on that bed? She’s had a shitty day and finally some good news. Better news than I even thought it would be earlier today.

I’m not going to ruin it for her.

God, I need some space. This is all too much and too weird and my head is an absolute car crash as it is.

Coward, coward, coward, coward, coward.

40

TED

I’m sitting at a table out on the back deck, a mug of coffee and a cinnamon bagel next to my laptop. Even though it’s my R&D Friday, I wade through work emails that I should have been dealing with yesterday.

Abbey heads outside from the kitchen, biting into a slice of toast smothered in peanut butter and holding a mug. ‘Are you ready to put on those hiking boots, Mr Athleticism?’

‘I’ll happily put on my hiking boots, but if we find a good spot for bouldering, I’m going to give you a piece of your own medicine, how does that sound?’

‘I’d expect nothing less, Mr Thomas.’

She seems so much lighter today as she leads me out to a garage which has more adventure kit inside than I have ever seen. What has the appearance of a triple garage from the outside is in fact car free and looks more like an extreme sports store than an outbuilding.

The walls are lined with shelves and on them are boxes full of hiking boots, ski helmets, snow boots, ropes and carabiners. There are road bikes, mountain bikes and electric bikes standingin racks. There are five surfboards, two SUP boards and two bright-orange kayaks attached to the walls with their paddles. A clothes rail is loaded with different colored ski jackets, what look like climbing jackets and others that look like they’ve been worn by hunters.

‘Here, these will fit you and I’ll get you a pair of hiking socks.’ Abbey hands me worn but clean but Gore-Tex boots, then she throws me a pair of socks from a box on another shelf and finally, hands me a cap.

‘I did bring a cap,’ I tell her, ‘but I’ll take the boots and socks, thanks. Do you have enough kit for the whole of the province in here?’

Abbey smiles. ‘Just the town.’ She grabs herself a pair of walking boots, socks, and a backpack. ‘Mom loves nothing more than playing host.’

‘Could have fooled me.’ It’s like the words fall out of me without my brain engaging first. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that?—’

‘Yes, you did,’ Abbey says straight-faced. She picks up a can of something from another shelf and puts it inside her backpack. ‘Bear spray,’ she explains, so casually I don’t know whether she’s pulling my leg. If she isn’t, I’m even more intimidated by her than I was walking into this trove.

My trepidation must be showing on my face because she steps close to me and pats my chest, with the ghost of a smirk about her mouth. ‘Don’t worry, big guy, I’ll protect you.’ Then she winks and sort of knocks me dead with it. The look, the sureness, the playfulness, her touch. I much prefer this version of her than seeing her cry into a pillow. Maybe her becoming an actress just to make good on a Tinder profile has had a silver lining.

‘And I probably should have said Mom loves entertaining people she wants to be here.’

I laugh, part in relief, part because of the honesty in that statement.

Around twenty-five minutes later and with little strategic input from me, Abbey and I have strapped two kayaks to a roof rack on an SUV that she assures me she can drive, despite never driving in New York. Abbey seems to have a full backpack, which she filled whilst I was changing into hiking-appropriate gear. She wedges it into the footwell behind her seat and we set off to a destination she has chosen.

About a half hour later, she pulls into a well-marked car park and after untying the kayaks, we lug them along a fenced pathway through some trees, which eventually make way to an incredible view of a vast lake. There are actually a couple of other people paddling kayaks in the distance, who look like they set off from the same spot we’re standing.

It’s been a while since I’ve squished myself into a kayak and all I remember from my last flirt with the sport is how much of a back breaker it is.

‘Where are we headed?’ I ask.

Abbey tucks her T-shirt into her shorts, then ties back her hair. ‘To the start of the hike.’

I really need to pull my attention away from her lips. From the urge I have to press mine to hers.

It took everything I had not to kiss her lips by the car before her lunch yesterday and only the thought that she might not have wanted it made me kiss her cheek instead.

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