Page 6 of Faking It with My Bossy Ex

I never planned on seeing Amy again. Didn't trust myself to do the honorable thing and let her go. But now that she's here, in my car, close enough to touch? It's like the universe is playing some cosmic joke on me. And the punchline? I'm actually grateful for it.

I'm the one who walked away. Coming crashing back into her life and reopening old wounds hardly seems fair. But having her here, hearing her voice, her familiar rose perfume tickling my nose–it's intoxicating.

And Snowfall Springs? It's not exactly big enough for us to avoid each other. Not that I'm planning to try.

“You can't say stuff like that,” Amy finally says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what, if anything, I said was offensive.

“Stuff like what?”

“That I'm beautiful.” She shifts in her seat, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Ah, I see. So you'd prefer I lie?” I can't help the smirk tugging at my lips. “Sorry darling, but honesty's kind of my thing.” Lying and breaking hearts.

Amy turns to the window, her chin resting on her wrist. “I don't want to know what you think about me.”

“Fair enough.” I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her, to run my fingers through her hair. I’d bet it’s silky smooth.

“I’ll try to remember that you want to hear only lies out of these lips.”

“That's not what I said.” The tiniest of smiles almost wins, pulling at the corner of her lips. Those lips. I force my gaze back to the road before I do something stupid.

“Looks like things here haven’t changed much.” Her voice is brittle, and every inch of her body is like a loaded spring waiting to jump out of the car. My heart sinks when I see the worn sign, ‘Welcome to Snowfall Springs.’ We’re here.

“That’s a good thing. Sometimes change isn’t so good.” Change like letting the girl you’re head over heels in love with walk out of your life. What if I could make her walk back in?

“You can leave me at the bakery.” She points at the familiar turn ahead, completely ignoring my comment.

“Still friends with Laura, then?” That could be a way in. Laura always hated me though, getting help from her would be impossible. Not that I would need any help.

“Wenever lost touch.” Amy sits up a little straighter. “Not everyone in this town broke my heart and cut all ties with me like it meant nothing.” Her words are like tiny daggers digging into my skin.

That’s not what happened. I gave her the dream she wanted and ripped my own heart out so she could become the artist she was meant to be. She would have felt trapped if she gave up her painting opportunities just to stay close during my college years. I couldn't let her do that.

I thought I'd made the right call every time I saw those posts online—Amy in Europe, living her dream, that megawatt smile lighting up the screen.

But the sadness etched on her face now punches me right in the gut. All this time, I thought I was doing the right thing by setting her free, and all I want is for her to be happy.

Why is she not happy?

Was I wrong to walk away? Was it wrong to craft a lie to get her to choose happiness?

I glare at the blanket of white snow settled over the town with a black storm cloud over my head. It’s a nostalgic sight. The familiar shops, houses, and buildings. Memories filled with Amy prance around in my head, like nagging mockeries of the past.

We turn the corner down the block, and ‘Laura’s Tasty Treats’ comes into view. I pull up to the front and park the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” she mumbles as she steps out, pulling her colorful coat, scarf, and gloves to her chest as she does. Everything in its place usually calms the demons in my head, but this time, the void black of the back seat cements the cold emptiness of the car.

I jump out, following her to the back and pulling her things from my trunk. My limbs are wooden, and each movement is like walking through mud.

Her cold fingers wrap around the suitcase handles and she turns, her slim figure struggling through the snow toward the bakery.

“Ames,” I call out to her, just like I used to. Her back stiffens and she turns, something unreadable swimming in her gaze.

“I'm glad Europe was good for you.” I hold those emerald eyes with mine for half a second more.

“See you around.” It’s the best I can manage, stuffing my hands into my pockets before I do something stupid like reach for her.

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