Page 81 of Fake Married to the Grumps

"Anytime. That's what friends are for."

Friends. I know that's what we are, but something about the label doesn't feel right. But as she continues staring up at me with big, blue eyes, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as alone as I thought.

Her compassion washes over me like a soothing balm, easing the tension in my shoulders and the turmoil in my heart. I draw in a shaky breath, blinking back tears.

"Thank you," I whisper, squeezing her hand. "For being here. For caring."

She smiles, and it's like a radiant beam of sunlight piercing through the bleak fog that perpetually shrouds my life. In this moment, I feel less adrift. An anchor. A lifeline.

Marissa has a way of making me feel likethere's hope for me yet. Hope for redemption, for healing, for a future I never dared to dream of.

Without thinking, I reach out and pull her into a hug, the warmth of her embracecomforting me as I inhale her sweet scent.

She stiffens at first, surprised by the sudden display of affection, but then she relaxes into my arms, her breath coming in soft, steady waves against my neck.

For a second, we stand there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the world falling away around us.

And in that fleeting moment, something shifts within me—a sense of peace, of belonging, that I've never known before. A warmth blossoms in my chest, and for the first time in years, the knot in my stomach loosens ever so slightly.

What am I doing?

I release her from my grasp, my arms dropping limply to my sides. The knot in my stomach tightens once more, and the fleeting warmth in my chest turns to a bitter chill. I avert my gaze, unable to meet her eyes, the certitude of my actions crashing down on me like a ton of bricks.

"I'm sorry," I stammer, my voice hoarse with emotion. "I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have..."

Marissa shakes her head, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's okay. Really. I understand."

I hold the door for her, and she gets in without another word. The drive home is quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound in the car.

As we pull up in front of our building, I kill the engine and turn to her. My heart races as I struggle to find the right words. "Um … Marissa, about that night I left ... I know things got a bit tricky ..."

Marissa stares at me, her eyes wide and searching. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I meet her gaze, the awkwardness of the moment hanging heavy in the air between us.

"Oh, no, it's fine," she says, her voice wavering slightly. "I don't even remember."

Before I can respond, she quickly opens the car door and climbs out. I watch as she hurries away, disappearing into the apartment building.

But there's no time to dwell on such thoughts, not when my phone rings, jolting me back to reality. I glance at the screen to see Chris's name flashing, and I quickly answer the call.

"Hey, Chris, what's up?" I greet him, the weariness of the day evident in my voice.

"Bryce, buddy, long time no talk!" Chris's voice booms through the phone, his enthusiasm is contagious even through the receiver.

"Yeah, sorry about that. It's been a hectic few weeks," I reply, sinking back into the comfort of my car seat.

Chris chuckles, "Tell me about it. So, what's new with you? Any juicy gossip I should know about?"

I roll my eyes, already knowing where this conversation is headed. Chris is my best friend and the only person I was in contact with during my time away from the city. We go way back, and he’s always had my back no matter what.

Despite the distance and the years that have passed, Chris has always been a constant in my life.

"Nothing much, just the usual. Working on a new project, trying to stay out of trouble."

"Ah, come on, Bryce. You know you love the drama. Speaking of drama, have you heard about the rumors circulating about you and that model, Sheila?"

I sigh, the mention of the rumors bringing a sour taste to my mouth. The media loves to sell crazy stuff like that about me, and Sheila knows it, so she's using it in every way possible. The things people do for fame.

"Yeah, I've heard. Some tabloid nonsense about us dating or something."

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