Page 42 of Fauxmance in the City

Natalie shrugs with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, no. How many did you take?”

“One.” She slides onto the couch, then gingerly rests her arm on a pillow. “Maybe two. She shrugs. “My hand hurts.”

“You should’ve gone to Panama. I told you I didn’t need you this weekend.” I sit next to Natalie and rub her shoulders.

“Old habits die hard, and all that. Plus, Jacques needed me.”

I shake my head. “Oh, Nat. One day, you’re gonna need to start living your life for yourself.”

Natalie’s conversation with Sam has been rolling around in my head, and I’m determined to pay more attention to her life and what she might need from me and not the other way around.

“What would you do if I did that?”

I squeeze her shoulder. “I’m a survivor, Nat. I’ll be fine. I’ve tried to set you free many times over the years.” I cast a wry look in Natalie’s direction. “Not that I haven’t jumped at every offer you’ve made to assist me, but I hope you don’t feel I’ve taken advantage.”

“Nope.” Natalie waves her good hand in the air above her closed eyes. “I made a shitload of money and contacts thanks to you. I’m not like you. I don’t want the spotlight. Just a little restaurant I can call my own.”

My phone buzzes, and I snatch it up, prickles spreading across the nape of my neck. I huff when I see it’s a work text from Patrick. All week I’ve jumped when my phone buzzed, anticipating it was Sam.

My face must register disappointment because Natalie asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Sam.” I sink against the edge of my desk. “He hasn’t spoken to me since last weekend.”

Natalie stands, but she sways and grabs the bookcase next to her. “I thought you two made up.”

“Nope,” I say. “He still hates me.”

“Trust me.” Natalie smiles knowingly. “He far from hates you.”

I shake my head, but then I decide to tell Natalie the full story. I’ve been avoiding it because nothing is real until I tell her. “He said he loves me.”

“What?” Natalie squeals. “I mean, he alluded to it, but you never said anything. Tell me everything.”

Words tumble out, and I explain what happened on the first night, including Sam’s confession and subsequent takeback. I leave out the sex stuff, not wanting to dive into that whole extra layer.

“Why do you think he confessed?” Natalie asks.

“He didn’t mean it,” I say, but there’s no conviction. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

Natalie slaps me on my shoulder.

“Ow.” I rub it, my skin stinging where she hit me. “That was unnecessary.”

“Sam’s been in love with you from the moment he met you, you idiot.”

I snort. “He sure doesn’t love me now.”

“Why did he finally tell you that night?”

“He was jealous,” I say, which is partly true. “He thought I liked Max.”

“Max and you?” Natalie wavers on her feet, then sinks back into the sofa.

“Sam saw us in the hallway the first night and got the wrong idea. That’s when Sam got all cray-cray and blurted it out.”

I pick up my garment bag and grip it to my chest. “I was a total jerk to him after he said it.”

---