Page 99 of The Fake Dating War

“We’ve been busy.”

“We have.” I look around as if proof will jump out at me. It kind of does since we’re still on the floor, both not fully dressed. Jake’s back is leaned against the end of the bed, and I’m sitting on a group of pillows with my legs stretched out. If I shift forward, I could make our feet touch.

“Did you think we’d end up here?” I find myself wondering out loud.

“No.”

Right. Me and him. It didn’t make sense.I force a laugh. “Who could have imagined that?”

“That’s not what I said.” He pauses. “I’ve imagined it.”

I should call him an optimistic pervert, but I’m too busy rolling his admission over in my head. So he thought about it. Us. For how long? When did it start? And did the sex live up to what he thought it would be like? Not that it matters to me. It’s whatever. I’mnotactually asking him for a scorecard. It’s enough to know that he thought about it. That he wanted it.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Patel?”

“Nothing.” I nudge his leg with my foot.

Before I pull away, he grabs it. “Tell me about two years ago.” His hold around my ankle is delicate, but steely determination is in his gaze. Like he’ll wait for as long as it takes, but he’s going to find out one way or another.

As for me, my stomach has gone see-saw. “I bet you’ve already tried to figure it out. Considering how you like to piece things together like a nosy detective.”

“I have.” His hand caresses along my foot. I’m about to complain about how I’m ticklish when he starts massaging the soreness from my heels away. Fuck me. This is a dirty tactic. His voice is deceptively casual when he talks. “You’ve hinted at financial troubles, so I’m guessing it has to do with that. Maybe it’s related to this Harry person. And I bet your parents and maybe even your sister don’t know the full details, otherwise they’d be more worried. Though some of your other relatives keep acting like you survived some disease and are finally in a good spot—” His hand freezes. “Were you? Sick?” His expression tightens. “Patel?”

“No.No that—no sickness.”

“Good. I’m glad. That’s really—good. So you aren’t and weren’t sick.” He peeks at me again, as if needing a second confirmation.

“No, that’s not it. You won’t guess what it was.”

“Then put me out of my misery and tell me the truth. If you want me to sayplease, I will.”

“Say it,” I demand, mostly to buy time.

“Please.”

For a man who hates unknowns, the mystery is probably killing him. Regardless, I shouldn’t be pressured to open up, but that’s not the actual issue. The problem is how words have bundled up inside me, wanting to get out. Somehow, I’m not lying or changing the topics. I’mconsideringsharing with him when I’ve never done so with anyone else.

I open my mouth, then close it. “I need some water first, I think.”

I move to get up, but Jake is faster than me. He’s up and searching for a fresh bottle he put somewhere. Meanwhile, I’m suffering with my thoughts.

What happens when he learns the truth?

He won’t jump to my defense anymore, because who would? That’s why I’ve kept my humiliations to myself. These last two years have been about hiding, recovering, trying to erase evidence, and living in shame quietly until I’ve done enough to pull myself out of my situation…

That way, no one knows I was ever stupid, misguided, foolish, and pathetic. But then, why am I not lying to him straight away now? Or flashing my tits, so we go back to fucking each other senseless?

Instead, there’s a weird stirring inside me that I’m not used to feeling. Actually, it’s been there since the wedding started, I think. Something about being around family that cares for you and wants to become closer again is part of it. The other part has come back with water for me. I chug half the bottle, trying to delay the inevitable.

The real me.

That’s what it is, I realize.

It’s what bothered me about my drastically different hair.

I felt like it erased the bun-loop. The me I had become to survive.

Maybe I don’t want to be buffed out like a brand new penny, because my pain has shaped me—and also clawing myself out of the pain has shaped me. Could it be? Do I want Jake to see the entirety of who I was, all my stupid flaws included?

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