Page 9 of Pretend for Me

I looked him straight in the eye.Fuck those green eyes.“Thank you for—telling me.” I gulped, mustering up the courage to leave. “Please let me go.”

The double meaning of my words wasn’t lost on me.

“Cassie, I’m so?—”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare apologize!” I shouted, surprising myself at how assertive I sounded. I refused to allow him to hurt me again. To give me hope only to rip the rug right out from under my feet. I had to get out of there. “I can’t do this.Youcan’t do this. It’s not fair to either of us, but especially not to me.”

“We need to talk eventually, don’t you think?” Matthew suggested, reluctantly stepping out of my way.

I paused on my walk to the doors, contemplating my next move. “Fuck you,” I whispered harshly, having wanted to say those words to him for ten years too long.

“Wait!”

I shook my head and proceeded to enter the restaurant. I had another monster to face. He’d have to just get used to disappointment. Lord knows I had.

6

CASSIE

“Cassandra!” Bridget motioned with two fingers for me to follow her as soon as I had made my way into the restaurant. She handed me a floral arrangement to carry and then strode off, causing me to have to hurry after her.

We walked through the crowded tables toward the back of the restaurant. Nerves ran through my veins from what just happened and what I anticipated was about to. Bridget’s office was right off the kitchen, so we were at a standstill, waiting until the servers collected their trays and allowed us to enter the door behind the countertops.

I knew by the set of Bridget’s shoulders and the stern look on her face that I was in for it. I’d be lucky if I made it out of there with a reference, let alone still being employed. Wordlessly, Bridget pointed to the rolling cart and instructed me to set down the hydrangeas.

Bridget’s office was white and sterile. The glass desk was immaculate, not a stray piece of paper to be found. It was clear that Bridget was a perfectionist through and through.

“Take a seat,” Bridget ordered, gesturing to the two leather chairs in front of her desk. She spoke in an eerily calm tone that only served to cause my worry to increase.

Bridget took a deep breath, staring at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Bridget, I’m so sorry. It was—” I made a feeble attempt at an apology before Bridget interrupted me.

“Enough!” Bridget stuck her hand up in the air. “I asked one thing of you. One thing. That was to not fuck up.”

“I’m so sorr–” I fidgeted in my seat, my eyes unable to meet Bridget’s disgusted glare.

Bridget got up from her desk and walked around to sit on top of it in front of me.

“Save it! Did you forget that it was against my better judgment that I hired you? With zero fine dining experience and those shaky hands! Audrey wouldn’t shut up until I interviewed you, and I said to myself,fine, I’ll give you a shot. It was a slow season, and you couldn’t possibly screw up that badly, right?” Bridget shook her head at me, as I picked my fingers.

I don’t know what was making me more upset: Bridget’s disappointment, Beau’s death, or Matthew’s reappearance.Take your pick.

“Wrong! I was wrong to hire you. You’re fired. Please go collect your things from your locker, and I’ll send your final check home with Audrey. Thank you for your service. Best of luck.” She swatted her hand in my direction, signaling she was done and I should leave.

“Bridget, please.” I let a few tears fall before closing my eyes when I saw Bridget was not going to back down. I stood and walked away, trying to maintain the little dignity I had left.

Whenever things becamedifficult in my life, I couldn’t help but think about my parents. What they were like and what they would have thought of my choices in life thus far. Would they be proud of me? My life would have been totally different if they were alive. I never had a mother to lean on, and I certainly never had a positive male influence in my life. I couldn’t even remember what my father looked like.

But life wasn’t so kind. Fairy tales were just make-believe, stories where nothing bad ever happened and good always won out over evil, where hurt didn’t exist, and everyone got their happily ever after. No, fairy-tale endings weren’t reality, so you had to make the best of the cards you were dealt.

I sat up from the bed and gulped, trying to catch my breath. Audrey handed me tissues, sitting up beside me. She looked at me with expressive eyes, willing me to speak.

“So the guy at the table … with Bridget and her boyfriend … That was Matthew.” I whispered his name, but it still hurt all the same.

“Matthew, the ex-boyfriend?” Audrey pondered, running her fingers through the rat’s nest that had become my hair.

All I had told Audrey about my past was that I grew up in foster care and had an ex-boyfriend named Matthew. Vague didn’t even begin to scratch the surface.

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