Page 32 of Friends Who Fake It

His light hearted comment angered her further. He was kidding. Like this was all some big joke. Like she was a joke?

“No, actually, I’m out at dinner, but when you wouldn’t stop calling, I came outside to make sure everything is okay. So, is it?”

“I called twice,” he said in response.

“Okay, whatever. But you’re okay?”

“Willow—,” he sighed. “Yes. And no.”

“What does that mean?”

“Willow?” Tom’s voice cut through and she quickly blanked her face, hoping he hadn’t seen the emotion there. Because just hearing from Francesco was making her insides zip and loop in a weird way. “Did you want dessert?”

Nope. He had apparently seen nothing. “I—won’t be long.”

“They’re closing the kitchen, that’s all.”

Already? She blinked down at her watch. It was after ten. “Oh, right. Um, no. Just a coffee.”

“Great. Black?”

Irritation flared inside of her. “No, an oat latte.”

“Great.” His smile was bemused. “Don’t be long.”

It was those three words that sealed the deal for her, cementing what had been building inside of her all night: an acceptance of the final, absolute end of her relationship with Tom. An understanding that he wasn’t what she thought—what she needed. What she’d once loved. Except, had she really loved him? Or just the idea of him?

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“Okay. It’s just, you were?—,”

“Is that Tom?”

Her heart stammered. It was strange to hear Francesco say the other man’s name—stranger than it had been when they were together. Then, she’d welcomed the mention of Tom. It had been a salient reminder of where her priorities lay. Now? She couldn’t say with clarity. It was all so muddled.

“Yes.”

“You’re out with Tom.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you didn’t see him anymore?”

“I hadn’t seen him in a while, but you’ve always known what he means to me.”

She closed her eyes against the way that felt to say. The fact she knew, even as the words left her lips, that it was a lie.

“Of course.”

She watched as a woman strode across the street, blonde hair tossed over one shoulder. Effortlessly confident and chic.

“Anyway,” she said unevenly. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

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