Page 75 of Silver Fake

I laugh nervously because I know she isn't joking.

"That's fair. I'm going to do whatever I can to get her to forgive me, and even if she can't, hopefully, I can at least convince her to come back to the firm."

"Good."

She heads out, and I drop back down in my chair. She was right about everything. I don't have the first clue how I can get Lisa to talk to me, let alone forgive me, but I've got to try.

CHAPTER25

Lisa

It'sweird to think I am right back where everything with John started—in Barton Beach.

Things are so different now than they were then, and it's been less than two months.

The last time I was here, at Denise's house like I am now, I was on vacation looking for a fun time on the beach with my best friend. Instead, I wound up in a fake relationship that became very real for me but maybe not as real for John.

Okay, maybe that's not true.

It's probably more accurate to say it became too real for him because it's always when things get real that he does something to put a wrench in everything and ruin everything we started building together.

Of course, thinking of it from that perspective, this visit to Denise's isn't completely different from the last. John was one of the reasons I came here then, too. He'd pushed me away, acting like an ass, and I needed a break from seeing him every day at work.

Last time, I thought he'd hurt me, but I had no idea what it could feel like to have my heart broken by John Barton. But last time, I wasn't in love with him when he started putting distance between us. It sucked, but it wasn't near the pain this break is causing.

Despite him showing me his struggles with accepting love, I got comfortable in our everyday routine. And before I realized it, I fell completely in love. So of course, this time, he pushed harder than ever and shattered my heart, causing a searing pain unlike anything I've ever experienced.

So yeah, I came to Denise's to put miles between us like before. The difference is that I won't have to worry about running into him at work now or after this trip to her house is over since I quit my job at the firm.

Panic builds up, making my chest tight as I think about that again.

I'm not a spontaneous person, so quitting the firm I've worked at for more than two decades is a huge deal, but I couldn't imagine going back in there and seeing him.

Even if I accepted the job with Victor, their offices are in the same building, and they are both partners at the firm, so I still would have seen John. I couldn't deal with seeing him at work regularly, knowing he thought so little of me to believe I was planning to leave him entirely without so much as a word.

Denise and I are sitting on the couch in her sun room that looks out at the water. My best friend and the beach seem like just the things I need to wash my hurt away.

Even if it only makes me feel better a little at a time, I'll take whatever I can get right now. Even if it is in a beach town named after the family of the man, I'm trying to put behind me. Somehow, that part isn't bothering me.

Maybe it's because I know he's hours away. Even his parents aren't here right now, although that is one thing I wish wasn't true because they would be here if Nancy wasn't so sick. John might be an ass, but his parents are wonderful.

My cell phone buzzes on the couch beside me, and I swear it's like he knows I'm thinking about him. I know it's John before I pick it up and look at the screen.

It's another text apologizing and asking me to talk. He's been alternating between calling and texting since Tuesday. It's Friday, and I've yet to respond, but he's not taking the hint.

It's hard not to think of him while this pain is so fresh and raw, and with him constantly reaching out. I’m not sure how I'm supposed to get him off my mind so I can try to heal my heart. I feel a tear slide down my cheek, and I lift my wine glass, taking a sip and trying to discreetly wipe it away so Denise won't notice.

But her eyes go right to my face where my finger touched my cheek. Anger and sympathy are at war in her eyes as she watches me.

"I know you don't want to talk to him," she says, "but I'd love to give him a piece of my mind."

I smile because she's a good friend. If I gave her the okay, she'd be in the car, driving to Houston to get in his face and tell him exactly how pissed she is that he hurt me again.

"I know you would," I say, "and he would deserve it, but I think I'm more upset with myself than him right now."

Her eyes widen, and she sits forward on the edge of her oversized chair so she's moved closer and straight across from me.

"He was a jerk. Regardless of the situation, you gave him so much. The least he should have done was give you a chance to speak without jumping to conclusions. So he deserves to sit in that guilt for a little while before you talk to him."

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