Page 101 of The Fake Dating War

“You found a way to track the scoreboard this week, haven’t you?”

“I—yes. Sally. I harass her daily for the numbers.”

“Still winning?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

“You’re here. No one else on the team is?—”

“As unhinged as us?”

She relaxes enough to laugh, and it feels like I’ve done something right. That her happiness is my job, which I have no interest in sharing with her because it makes no sense. This also feels like the right time to mention Tarun Singh. I should bring him up. Confess why I agreed to coming to this wedding in the first place.

Except—

Signing him is a mountain of a challenge and the chances of it happening are pretty much nothing. And more so, everything has changed between Reema and me. Fuck, I—I don’t want her thinking it’s been a game for me.

Dread cramps my gut. For a man who prides himself on hard honesty, I can’t get this part out. I’m a hypocrite. I need to tell her, but I can’t. My throat tightens. Fuck me, I’m actually afraid of losing her.

“I wish we could both win the bonus this year,” she whispers, pulling me out of my panicked thoughts. “That we both didn’t need it so badly.”

“Why do you need it?”

“I—” She hides her face against my arm.

“You can tell me,” I coax softly.

“It’s so I…” Her fingers tighten on me. “So I don’t have to skip meals and sleep in someone else’s living room anymore.”

53

REEMA

The way he’s shaking his head, I almost see the pieces trying to fit in his head, though they don’t seem to be coming together. A man who breathes, sleeps, and dreams of logic has become illogical. And pale.

“You need food?” he asks, looking at my stomach.

“Not right now.”

“Are you hungry?”

“We just ate.”

“But you’ve gone hungry before?”

“I—it sounds worse than it was.”

Both hands drag over his face. Then dark pools of green lock on me. “Explain. Be detailed.”

Somehow—I can. Words aren’t tied into knots inside me right now. Maybe it’s because I know about his mother’s house, and how his father betrayed him by withholding so much. That Jake was gut-punched even by his death. That he hasn’t recovered from the pain and hurt of that loss.

He said he can’t talk about that part which I understand. Maybemetalking helps him understand I’m here to listen when he is ready to go there.

“As you know, I work hard and can obsess,” I say, watching him for a reaction. His face hasn’t changed. He is paying attention to me so sharply. “The not eating is more of a by-product. I had so much debt to pay off, and because I kept thinking about it, I couldn’t stop working—and so I forgot to eat. It turned into this—” My hand motions in the air. “What is it called? A—a feedback loop.” I try for a small smile. “You’ll appreciate my attempt at math-y language.”

“I don’t think you understand how I’m feeling, Reema.”

I’m jolted by the sound of my name. He’s taking me so seriously, even as I’m shying away from how bad it had gotten for me. He’s not letting me hide or downplay, and now I’m notPatel. Is it because he cares? Or because he’s mad?

“It was worse before,” I hurry to tell him, “when it first started. I can afford to eat again, but I’m so close to being debt-free that there are days I’ve forgotten meals. Or maybe—” I rub the bathrobe’s belt between my hands. “I’m used to it, and it feels like I can’t stop thinking every dollar counts. I’ve been so obsessed with digging myself out of this hole I put myself in that I can’t slow down. I don’t remember what it means to slow down and properly take care of myself.”

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