Page 66 of Faking the Face Off

Ollie leans down and kisses my cheek sweetly. He lets his lips linger for a moment before he pulls away and opens the door.

“Please understand I’m not going away.” My voice is barely audible. “I just need a little time.”

He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Talk soon?”

I swallow another lump that’s threatening to form in the back of my throat as I nod. “Yeah. We’ll talk soon.”

I watch as he walks down the sidewalk to his car, staying put like he always does for me until I see him get inside and pull away.

And then I close the front door behind me and bang my body against it.

I hope I’m doing the right thing.

CHAPTER 23

ANNA

The thing you don’t realize about a self-imposed time-out, is that sometimes being left alone with your thoughts can be good, but also it can get…well, one-sided. Look, I took the first few days of being home, alone, and not going out anywhere very seriously. I needed to decompress from all of it.

I’d called Ben and asked for some time off, which he and Molly gave me easily. Then I spent more time in front of the TV than I have in years. I watchedThe Vampire Diaries, again, as well asGossip Girl. All of them. Every episode of both shows in a week. You may ask how, but I can only tell you that I did it like it was my job.

I discovered the beauty of ordering Uber Eats and groceries to the house. By the third day on the couch when another delivery appeared, Dad finally gave in and we loaded apps to his phone so he could place orders on a whim if he wanted, too. Winning.

When the weekend had come and gone without me leaving the house, my father tried to coerce me out with bribery. He started stealthily, leaving crumpled pink bakery bags, clearly marked Shelly’s, in the trash so I could see them. Finally one morning, after seeing three shoved in the trash, I had to know.

I point to the trash can in my hands. “Why are you doing this?”

“Throwing trash away?” Dad asks innocently.

“Throwing all your Shelly’s evidence in here so I see it.”

“Does it fire you up?” he jokes.

“Maybe.”

“Do you have FOMOA?”

I cock my head to the side. “FOMOA?”

“Fear of Missing out Allthetime.”

“Pretty sure that’s not a thing.” I chuckle. “And ‘allthetime’ is not one word.”

“Today it is.” He squints as he looks at me, wrinkling his nose. “Have you even showered this week?”

“This,” I say, pointing an accusatory finger his way, “is why I’m looking for a new place to live.”

When my dad’s eyes widen with shock, I realize I may have dropped this on him a little quickly. Part of my checking in with Anna has been to look at boundaries, and this is one. But it’s a good one.

“You are?”

“Yep.” I put the trash can back under the sink. “Want to see it?”

Dad scowls. “No.”

“Come on,” I say, tugging his hand. “Let me show it to you.”

“Bring the computer here.” His stance is stiff, prompting me to roll my eyes.

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