Page 62 of Fauxmance in the City

“I didn’t know I would be until this moment.” I laugh without humor, a little shocked that I’m standing here telling Charles everything. “But it’s time. If it continues much longer, I could hurt someone I care about it.”

“Do you know what my job is, Catie?” he asks, but he continues, not waiting for an answer. “I sell shit for a living. Pretty, tied-in-a-neat-bow BS. And the moment you click off the TV, the BS is gone until tomorrow, when I create more bullshit for the viewers to devour, tweet about, and blog about. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that, in the business of morning TV, none of it would exist without a good helping of crap.”

How silly of me to think my lies mattered. At least to this man.

“What about the reality show Gillian talked to you about? With Sam and me? There’s no way we can fake it on that level. It was only meant to be for this one little special.”

“There’s not a reality show. I told her that you guys could come on to do some DIY segments. If Gillian wants a reality show, she’ll have to sell it to HGTV or TLC.”

I frown, not convinced. “She was pretty adamant about it.”

“She’ll forget about it by next weekend.” Charles climbs the steps back to me. “But don’t do anything stupid like confess to your fans. I may not have integrity, but I know what sells, and I’d like to continue using you on the show. You’re good for ratings.”

“Do you think Gillian will be cool if I tell her the truth about Sam and me? And the other stuff?”

“What truth?” A sharp voice booms behind me, and a shiver snakes down my back as I turn. Gillian stands in the doorway of the back door.

“Er, um. Sam and I, well…we’re not married. I mean, I am married, but not to him. And…”

“And what?” Gillian asks when I hesitate.

“I can’t cook and I’m a slob,” I quickly say, tearing the Band-Aid off.

“Don’t be hard on the girl, Gilli.” Charles smiles. “It’s not a big deal.”

“She’s a fraud. A con artist. This could destroy the magazine.”

“Oh, don’t be a fucking hypocrite,” Charles says. “We’ve been lying to the public for years about our marriage.”

“This isn’t the same thing.”

Karen pokes her head out the door from the kitchen. “Charles, we need you in here. There’s an…uh, issue.”

Gillian snaps her head around. “What?”

Karen blanches. “Just a scheduling thing.” Then she scurries inside.

“Sorry to leave you alone with the wolves,” he says to me, following Karen. When he passes Gillian, he lets out a low growl.

Her cheeks burn with fury, and she zeroes in on me with her laser glare. “Who else was in on this?”

My throat constricts, but it’s not my job I’m worried about anymore. It’s Sam’s. “This is my fault, Mrs. Kennedy. No one else is to blame.”

She barks a laugh. “I’m not an idiot. You couldn’t have lied for so long without others conspiring along with you. Your so-called husband, for one.”

My heart thunders in my chest. “Sam was against it from the start. He won’t say anything to anyone.”

“I plan to keep it that way.”

My stomach twists violently. I brought Sam into this mess, and now his career may be ruined. I have to save him. “What if…um, what if someone saw you and Charles going home to separate apartments every night?”

“My life has nothing to do with this,” Gillian sputters, blood rushing to her face.

“I didn’t lie.” I’m bumbling, words coming faster than thoughts. “I am married. My real husband…we’re separated. We’ve been separated for a long time.”

“It’s still a lie.” Suddenly, realization fires in Gillian’s eyes. “Is there anything that’s true?”

I bite my lip. “Everything I write. I swear. The decorating and household tips, the recipes, even the marriage advice,” I hurriedly explain. “I just leave out that I can’t do most of it on my own.”

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