Page 73 of Counterfeit Boyfriend
31Ethan
A weekand a half into my new job, and I was finally starting to feel like I had the hang of things. Well, save the copy machine. Every time I tried to do something as simple as duplicate documents, it’d eat them or spit out a hundred versions of page one. Or it’d jam or smear black ink down everything, including my white shirt.
Yeah, the copy machine was clearly possessed by a demon.
But everything else from the compact desk in the tiny, windowless office to the stack of paperwork that’d take me approximately a month to go through but had to be done by the end of the week… All of that was exactly what I’d always pictured when I’d decided to become a lawyer.
In other words, I had everything I’d always wanted.
And it felt so damn empty. I gripped the armrest of my cushy chair, bracing myself for the destructive ping pong ball that’d beat up my insides, awakening all the regret that refused to be shoved away.
This giant piece was missing, and that piece was named Gwen.
With that, the words on the document in front of me swam together, and I tossed the file I’d been going through onto my desk and raked a hand through my hair. Since I’d reached the end of my coffee cup a while ago, I decided to pack up and call it a day.
Gwen loved coffee. If only I had an ounce of her energy, coffee or not.
Even in court, it’d be handy to talk as fast as she could. To twist up my opposition with so many words they wouldn’t know which ones to address first.
I bit back a smile, even as more regret crept up to bind my chest. God, I missed her. I’d called her once a day for two weeks, alternating between morning, midday, and night, as if that’d make a difference. There’d even been a drunk dialing incident around midnight when I’d been feeling especially desperate, which counted as calling her twice on one of the days, although I wasn’t sure which one, so I figured it could be a freebie.
Not that it felt like a freebie. None of the calls did. Every single unanswered one drained more of my hope, until I wasn’t sure I had any left. I didn’t want to give up, but the past few days, I couldn’t bring myself to dial her number and have the call roll to voicemail where any messages I left would go to die.
Sticky night air, only slightly cooler than it’d been during the day, hit me as I pushed out of the building where I worked. I told myself not to give in to temptation and make the move I’d made more often than I cared to admit, but my thumb didn’t obey, tapping the photos app on my phone. Under favorites were the pictures I’d snapped at the lighthouse: Gwen, way too close to the lighthouse railing, the ocean behind her; Flashing me a dimpled smile and heated look that spoke to the make out session we’d had shortly before I’d taken the picture; and the final one with her lips pressed against my cheek.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel her soft lips. Smell her perfume. Hear her laugh.
Almostwasn’t enough, though. I didn’t want only muted memories; I wanted the real thing.
I’d stopped by her apartment about a week after our trip, and Tori informed me that Gwen wasn’t there, and that as far as I was concerned, she’d moved to merry old England.
I’d begged for help, telling her that I’d do anything for a few minutes of Gwen’s undivided attention—I just needed to see her and to talk to her, so that at least I could say I’d given it my all. I swore there was something almost encouraging in Tori’s eyes as she’d told me she’d file a restraining order against me if I showed up again. Confusing as hell, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
I did know that if a restraining order was taken out against me during my first month of working at a law firm, I probably wouldn’t have a job anymore. That should probably deter me from considering another drop by, either her apartment or work, more than it did.
Over these last couple of days, I’d entertained the thought of just cutting my losses. Like my brother, I didn’t deserve Gwen. And if she needed to move on…
Lead filled my lungs and gut, spreading its heavy effect to my legs and making it harder to climb into my car. After debating back and forth for a few minutes while on the road, I turned down the street that’d take me to my apartment.
And away from Gwen.
I was pushing inside of my place when the loud growl of an engine caught my attention. My brother’s Camaro pulled into a parking spot, and I sighed. He and I had given each other space after the road trip from hell. Nothing emphasized how shitty and long a road trip could be like going from sharing it with the perfect woman to sharing it with your pissed-off brother.
Not that he was the only pissed-off one. It’d been dead silent, only the occasional remark about gas stations, bathroom breaks, and grabbing food.
The knock on my apartment door made me sigh again. I jerked at the knot in my tie, loosening it as I swung open the door. “Yeah?”
Evan patted my chest, nice and hard. “Nice to see you, too, bro.” He strolled on in, no waiting for an invitation. “You never came to collect for your first month’s rent. Want me to write a check?”
My laugh came out edged with bitterness. As mad as I was at him for blowing our switcheroo scheme to hell by showing up, I didn’t hold him for responsible for wrecking things with Gwen. That was all me. Didn’t mean I was happy to see him, even if this tiny part of me missed him and the relationship we used to have—the one we had when he wasn’t pulling stunts. “No thanks.”
“The asshole in me wants me to say good, because you already took enough from me, but I’m trying to repress that side a little more. Be a grownup and all that.”
I nodded, not wanting to go near that landmine. I already felt shitty enough from walking around broken, and I was done getting involved in things that’d inevitably blow up in my face.
He glanced around at the bare room. It wasn’t nearly as nice as his place, and I didn’t have much in the way of furniture yet, but after everything that’d happened, there was no way I could stay with him, and moving back home with my parents would make me feel even more pathetic than I already did.
“Look, bro…” Evan ran a hand over his jaw, then seemed to decide to just spit it out already. “I never should’ve asked you to take Gwen to that wedding for me.”
