Page 104 of Black Ties and White Lies

Obviously, bitch. What time?

Once we plan to get together in a few hours, I feel better. Part of me wants to tell my friends everything that’s happened, to get their advice on it all. But I know I signed an NDA. I don’t want to get in trouble. More so, I don’t want them to think badly of Beck. I’m still protecting him because deep down I want to believe every word he told me last night. I want to know that getting me to agree to be his fake fiancée wasn’t some sick scheme of his to get back at Carter. I much prefer the reason he gave for all of this. That he simply wanted me and he’d do anything to have me.

My heart wants to believe he loves me because I know without a shadow of doubt I’ve fallen in love with him.

Letting out a deep breath, I get up out of bed. I’m tired, my limbs not wanting to move as I make my way toward the bathroom. It feels off to do a morning routine in here. It feels too quiet. I’m too used to listening to Beck take work calls as I get ready or hearing him listen to some boring podcast while I try to distract him in the shower.

It all feels off and I hate how attached I got to him. It all happened so quickly, despite me swearing I wouldn’t let a man become my life again like I had with Carter.

With Beck it hadn’t seemed bad because he was just as obsessed with spending time with me as I was him. It seemed healthy. It seemed perfect. In hindsight, maybe it wastooperfect and maybe I should’ve known that all along.

My stomach growls, proving I can’t stay holed up here for much longer. Luckily, because it’s Sunday, I don’t have to go into work with Beck. But we do live together. I’m going to have to face him if I want to eat.

I may have a stash of Twizzlers in one of my bags in my closet. Maybe I could live off that for sustenance.

Groaning, I know I need to get it together. I’m going to have to face him, even if my heart is broken from the betrayals of last night.

I yank open the door, thinking of how wrong of a turn last night went, when I come face to face with Beck.

His smell assaults my senses immediately, wrapping me up in a familiar advance. I never want to smell bergamot and jasmine again. Or maybe that it’s I never want to stop smelling his signature scent again, becoming all too addicted to everything that is him.

“Good morning,” he says gruffly, his eyes scanning my face.

Why does he have to look so good even when he looks so rough? I take in his simple pair of jeans and sweater. He might be dressed nicely, but his eyes are bloodshot and his hair is so disheveled it looks like he’s been constantly running his fingers through it. I’ve never seen him look so worn out.

I look from him to the empty hallway. “What are you doing up here?”

He holds up a coffee cup from our favorite coffee shop in one hand and a paper bag in the other. “I brought you breakfast. And coffee.”

He gives me an apologetic smile and I almost forget every piece of information Carter told me. It’s easy in Beck’s presence, with the remorse dripping from his body. If it wasn’t for the ache still in my chest, it all may have already been forgotten.

Beck hands me the coffee. “I got you your favorite.”

I press the straw to my lips, taking a long sip. It’s exactly right. I hate how he’s memorized it, despite the fact it’s always been me who picked up our coffees. The fact he still remembers my order isn’t lost on me.

“Thank you,” I answer, trying not to let my words come out too harsh. I’m so angry at him for lying to me, for keeping so many secrets. But he’s also become my best friend, my safe place, and I miss him. I miss talking to him, cuddling with him, doing the most mundane things with him, and I hate him for spinning lies to get us to this point in the first place.

“There’s also a few different pastries in the bag. I got you all of your favorites. And if none of these sound good then I can have Ezra stop and grab you something else before taking me to the airport.”

I pause opening the bag, looking up at him in confusion. “You’re leaving?”

He scratches his chin, pinning me with his indigo stare. “Yeah. A last minute thing came up. I’m having to fly to San Jose for three days. I didn’t figure you’d want to make the trip.”

“I’m your assistant. You pay me to go to these things with you.” I turn to step back into the room, but he grabs me, turning me to face him.

He manages to still keep space between us as he looks down at me unsure. “I’m not talking to my assistant right now,” he begins.

“Iamyour assistant,” I correct, looking down to the spot he’s touching me.

He waits until I look back up at him to speak. “Then you’re fired. Because right now I’m talking to the woman I love, not the one who works for me.”

My heart flip-flops dramatically in my chest. Why does it seem like he always says all the right things to make me melt into a puddle at his feet? It’s like he knows exactly what to say to remind me that I love him. I just don’t know if that’s all part of his act or if it’s genuine. My head is all sorts of fucked up after last night. I don’t know who—or what—to believe. And it’s left me reeling ever since.

“Margo,” he pleads, gently running his fingertip over my cheek. “Please, just listen to me for a moment, okay?”

I nod, having to swallow back emotion. All of a sudden, I can feel tears pricking at my eyes and there’s a lump in my throat. It’s the tone of his voice. It matches mine—filled with sadness and remorse. It has me seconds away from telling him I believe him, or at least I don’t care if it was fake to start with. As long as it’s real now, that’s all I need. I hold myself back from saying any of that because the truth of it is, I need to be confident it’s real now before I promise him anything. And I’m just not there yet. It’s why I couldn’t continue to wear his grandmother’s ring. It doesn’t feel right to wear something with so much sentiment when things between us has gone so wrong.

“I’m going to go on this trip.Alone. I know you need space to think through everything I told you last night, and I want to give you that.”

---