Page 56 of Friends Who Fake It

She didn’t stop to look through the glass before pulling the door inwards, and then wished she had, when Francesco stood on the step, looking at her with the same mask of fury he’d worn the last time they’d seen each other.

She wasn’t prepared for this.

She needed time and warning before seeing him again. She needed time to gather her defenses and be able to look at him without feeling as though she were in freefall. But given the lack of notice, she was completely knocked for six.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, forgetting they were friends and instead focusing on the fact that this man had broken her heart. He hadn’t meant to, but that didn’t change the facts. “I thought we were having a clean break?”

He just glared at her, like she’d said something hideously insulting.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated, but louder, and the last thing she expected was for him to sweep past her, into her hallway, pushing the door shut in his wake.

“Come in,” she muttered sarcastically, as she leaned against the door. He spun around to face her, his chest moving now with the force of his breathing.

“I told myself I wouldn’t come here.”

“You didn’t listen to yourself, evidently.” She had no idea how she was managing to sound sonormalwhen her insides were sparking like crazy.

“Just…don’t say anything,” he said, holding a hand up to silence her, which incensed Willow even more than his presence alone had.

“What the actual fuck? Are you seriously coming to my house and telling me not to talk?”

He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he drew in then pushed out a deep breath.

“Are you seeing him again?”

Willow felt the world shift beneath her. She hadn’t even thought that Francesco might have seen the photos.

“You told me it was over.”

“It was over,” she said, and when Francesco opened his eyes and looked at her, she felt a wall of feelings ram against her.

“But now?”

She hesitated. For some reason, she felt like she needed to keep some kind of protective cloak in place, and maybe Tom was that? But she couldn’t lie to Francesco. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he said, after a long, stretched pause. “But I do.”

Something like hope burst in her heart but she forced herself to ignore it. To wall it off.

She knew Francesco well enough to know that being jealous wasn’t the same thing as being ready to put aside your inner wounds and move on with your life. And ironically, it was thanks to Francesco that she really knew she’d never settle for less than total commitment. At one time, she’d thought maybe just taking the breadcrumbs he offered would be enough, but she knew better now.

She opened the door and held it wide, looking at him pointedly. “Well, thanks for sharing. Is that all?”

His expression tightened. “I’ll go,” he said, lifting a hand placatingly now. “Just tell me if you’re involved with him. Though I don’t know why I’m even asking, the pictures made it pretty clear.”

“You should know better than anyone that just because two people look like a couple, it doesn’t mean they are.”

He moved closer, eyes probing hers. “What does that mean?”

Her heart throttled in her throat. “I don’t know why I’m even answering this,” she sniffed. “You hardly deserve an explanation.”

“Please, Willow.”

It was the ‘please’ that did it. She felt all the fight leave her body and almost had to slump against the door. “We were giving each other’s stuff back. It was a goodbye, Francesco, nothing more.”

He stared at her, his jaw clenched, body taut, and nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”

“Okay,” she repeated, nodding, her throat stinging suddenly. She blinked quickly. “Can you go, now?”

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