Page 52 of Friends Who Fake It

“What does that mean?”

And despite their ruse, and their promise to maintain it, with Raf, who’d been through so much, and been so open with Francesco, he felt a pull towards absolute honesty.

“Just that. It’s not always what it seems.”

Raf grunted. “Don’t I know it.”

Francesco winced.

“Did Willow lie about being pregnant to trap you into marriage too?” he asked, sarcastically, his voice grating with hurt. Francesco reached out, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Raf grunted. “We weren’t talking about me.”

“We don’t have to talk about me.” Then, with a shake of his head, “There’s nothing to talk about, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Don’t do that. I hate that you didn’t tell me about Willow.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s casual.”

“You’re dating one of our oldest family friends—that can’t not be a big deal.”

Francesco’s gut twisted. “It’s casual,” he repeated.

“Does Willow know that?”

He thought of Willow, and how she’d been that night. When he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and she’d held onto him like she never wanted to let go. His insides churned with a strange and horrible tangle of feelings. “Yes,” he blurted out, hoping it was true. Hoping that he hadn’t hurt her. Hoping that she didn’t hate him.

He couldn’t bear that.

“We’re really fucked up, aren’t we?” Raf said, his lips twisting in a ghoulish smile. “I mean, I know we’re like him, but I didn’t realisehowlike him until now.”

Ice seemed to trickle down Francesco’s spine.

“I suppose it would be impossible for us to have normal relationships with women, after seeing the way dad was.”

Francesco grunted. He’d thought the same thing a million times but hearing it out of Raf’s mouth made a part of him want to fight it.

“Rocco’s happy,” he pointed out.

“He can be the exception to the rule.”

Francesco moved away, refilling their glasses generously. He felt like getting drunk tonight. He felt like drinking to the point of obliterating his ability to think. To miss her. To do something stupid and promise her things he knew he’d never be able to deliver.

“Can I ask you something?”

Raf made a noise that Francesco took for acceptance.

“How come you stayed with Marcia so long?”

Raf took the drink then went to the sofa, sitting on the edge of it, long legs spread wide. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s say you and I are the same,” Francesco said, cradling his own drink as he took the seat opposite Raf and stared at his brother. “That because of dad or whatever, we’re never going to be able to commit to a woman. That we’re just not interested in that.”

Raf grunted.

“I always thought the best way around that was to keep things light. I’m hardly a monk, but I’ve never made a woman a promise. I’ve never made her think I want more than a few nights.”

“And Willow’s okay with that?”

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