Page 64 of False God

Charlie says nothing, waiting for me to finish, his expression completely neutral.

“I gave Cal one of my favorite books, one I thought he’d like, for his twenty-fourth birthday.” I swallow, holding Charlie’s gaze and praying pity won’t appear there. “His parents had rented out a back room at a restaurant. All our friends were there. Anyway, he opened my gift, laughed, and said ‘A book? Babe, you’re a billionaire.’”

A muscle in Charlie’s jaw twitches, but that’s his only reaction.

“He was drunk. We all were. But it stuck in my head. The Winstons were—are—rich. Cal had already gotten a new Rolex and a huge pile of expensive gifts for his birthday. He’d expected me to spend a lot of money on him simply because he knew I had it. It made me second-guess our relationship. Second-guess myself. I’d thought money was something I didn’t have to worry about with Cal. I always assumed he wantedme… not my net worth.” I play with my napkin. “And that probably sounds naive because I’ve known my whole life what most people think when they hear my last name. That some guys see dollar signs when they look at me. But I’d convinced myself Cal was one of the few who didn’t care, and I panicked when I realized that maybe he did. I broke up with him a couple of weeks later.”

“Did you tell him why?”

“Not entirely. I said we were moving too fast, which wasn’t a lie. Everyone was speculating that he was going to propose soon. Cal was the only guy I’d seriously dated, and I was just starting my career. It wasn’t that I knew Ididn’twant to marry him; it was more that I wasn’tsureif I wanted to marry him. And then,once we broke up, I felt lighter. Freer. I felt terrible for hurting him. Guilty for putting our best friends in the middle of our breakup. But also … I think I’d used him as a life preserver, after moving back to the city and changing majors. He felt familiar and safe, and I needed that security at the time. I realized, when we broke up, I could swim on my own, I guess.”

I stop talking abruptly, wonderingwhyI’m telling him all this. Sharing details and thoughts I’ve never said aloud. It’s cathartic, talking to someone who didn’t witness any of it firsthand.

Rather than appear bored by my monologue, Charlie’s focus is still intent. Like he paid close enough attention that he could recite every word I said back.

“What was the book?”

“Huh?”

“The book you gave yourex. What was it?”

My brain is still stalled from the unexpected question. I don’t know what I expected Charlie’s response to be, but it wasn’t that. I’m also hung up on the way he emphasizedex.

“Uh,Middlemarch.”

Charlie smirks.

“What?” I ask, even though I have a good idea why he’s amused.

“Your favorite book is set in England.”

“I said it wasoneof my favorite books. And so what if it is? It’s a compelling portrait of social and political life.”

His smile only grows.

“Have you read it?”

He shakes his head.

Ivy reappears, setting our dinner plates down with a silent flourish. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Charlie thanks her before I can.

A simple gesture I rarely see. Most of my social sphere is so used to being catered to that the service is expected. Unremarkable. I would have expected the same from aduke, but it’s not the first time Charlie’s surprised me.

“What about you?” I ask, spearing one of the crispy potatoes that came with my cod.

“What’soneof my favorite books?”

I roll my eyes. “No. Haveyouever been in a relationship?”

“No.” Charlie’s answer is immediate yet sincere.

I tilt my head, more interested in him than my steaming plate, even though the food smells incredible. “Why not?”

“Why not?” His small smirk transforms into a full smile. “Coming from the woman who acts personally offended by my company?”

I assume he’s referring to the multiple times I pretended not to know him.

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