Page 43 of Love Me Like It's Real
“And are you sure you want to date a troublemaker?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“So you haven’t read the latest blog post?”
I shake my head as if he can see me before I tell him I haven’t. “Why? What does it say?”
“It laments the fact no one warned you about me. Apparently I should come with a warning that I break hearts wherever I go.”
“Oh,” I say.
No, I definitely don’t want that. I don’t want to be the talk of the town but no matter what I do I might end up in the blog anyway.
“I have a suggestion.”
“I’m listening,” he says.
“We fake date but let’s make a show out of it. That way my girls think I’m happy or whatever and you stop looking like trouble to everyone around here.”
There’s a long pause on his end and I go back to chewing my lip.
This is probably wild. I’m probably still drunk from last night. I’m probably going to regret this.
Before I can take it back, he speaks up: “You’ve got yourself a weird deal, Felix. I’m in.”
Oh dear God, what have I done?
THIRTEEN
HAYWORTH
The call was unexpected.
And so was the offer.
I’m not sure why I’d even say yes other than to spend more time with Felix, which is bizarre because I don’tdodating. I know he suggested it in my professional capacity, but I have no clue why I accepted. My reputation around town is in the gutter. It’s not going to get any better because I fake date another dude for a couple weeks or however long this charade is going to go on, but I don’t think Felix understands that.
When I’m back in Maplewood later, after a long and frustrating operation of trying to get a guy to hit on me and accept my offer for a blowie I’m wiped.
Of course the guy fell for it. And of course his husband was waiting for him in the restroom to tell him they’re done. It may be my job to get people answers but it doesn’t mean I enjoy being witness to their heartbreak. It’s horrible to see and even worse to experience. I should know. Been there, got the postcard to prove it.
Mom is already drinking coffee when I let myself in and she puts her book down as soon as she sees my face.
“Honey! Is everything okay?”
I take my coat off, drape it over the chair and take a seat opposite her. “Just a long day.”
“You were working?” The usual sarcasm at the mention of my job is absent in her expression this time as she leans closer and looks deep into my eyes with a penetrating gaze only parents can possess.
“Yeah. I had a job in Montpelier.”
Mom gives my hand a squeeze and then pours me a cup, glancing my way every few moments as if she’s afraid I’ll break down when she’s not looking. “It didn’t go well?” she asks.
I let out a long sigh and reach for my cup.
“It went as expected.”
Mom presses her lips together. “Oh honey. I don’t know why you keep doing this to yourself.”
