Page 4 of Forever Fake

I should ignore him and just delete his messages. My thumb hovers over the screen for several long seconds as I hesitate. I shouldn’t keep reading his texts, but… If I block him I won’tknow what he’s up to or what he’s going to do next. I need to untangle myself from him without pissing him off.

I swipe and read the two messages he sent.

Oliver

Hey babe, what are you doing tonight? We should talk. I don’t understand why you aren’t returning my calls and texts.

Really?After what he did, I think it would be obvious.

Oliver

Why don’t you come over to my place? Or we could meet for drinks?

I stare at the thread of unanswered texts going back two weeks. Since I resolutely broke up with him–again. By that I mean I’ve ghosted him. Total silence. I don’t know how else to handle this situation. We’ve ended things in the past, but he has a way of manipulating me into giving him another chance. Not this time. It’s final.

My pulse pounds in my temple as I consider replying. I should put it into words that we’re over, through, totally done. Except every time I decide on that course of action, anxiety ripples through me. My heartbeat stutters and my skin flushes. I wipe a clammy palm against my thigh.

Before I can talk myself out of this again, I muster my courage and type out a text.

Ginevra

We won’t be seeing each other ever again. I hoped it was obvious, but we’re done. Don’t message me again.

Oliver

I don’t understand, babe. What happened?

I scoff. Is he serious right now?

Ginevra

You know what happened. Leave me alone.

Oliver

What? Are you angry about the movie we made together? That was hot, babe.

My stomach heaves. I feel like I’m going to be sick. He makes it all sound so innocent, but I...

Flashes of memory threaten to rise to the surface and I instantly shut them down. I can’t deal with that shit right now. Or ever. I’m trying to shove that incident into a box in my mind and store it deep, deep down where it will never see the light of day again.

Oliver

We’re not over. There’s no such thing as over between us. You’re my forever girl and if you think you can break this off, you’re wrong. I’d rather kill you myself than let you go. Do you hear me, you fucking whore? You’re a worthless little slut, you know you are, and I’m the only one who cares about you. Who loves you.

Tears well in my eyes. I flip my phone over so I don’t have to read whatever he sends next. Two more pings sound, telling me that he’s not done ranting. I swallow past the lump in my throat, put my cell on silent and toss it into my clutch.

I can’t fucking deal with this right now. I’m going to a party.

The driver pulls up in front of Blake Baron’s enormous brownstone and lets me out. I’m late, so everyone is already inside and the party’s well underway. Standing on the sidewalk, I give myself a short pep talk, inhale a couple of deep breaths, plaster a smile on my face, then climb the stairs to the mansion.

In the foyer, I give my name to the attendant and he checks it off the list. From here I’m free to roam. I should find Arianna and her husband, but I’m still too frazzled to immediately seek her out. Instead, I head for the second floor in hopes of finding a quiet bathroom where I can fully regroup in private. I’m going to have fun tonight, damn it, just as soon as I pull myself together.

I come across a candle-lit, unoccupied bathroom about halfway down the hallway. Slipping inside, I turn the lock and press my back to the cool wooden door.

I’m okay. Or at least, I will be okay.

I repeat that mantra in my head for a solid minute.

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