Page 106 of The Fake Mate

?The hospital inAlbuquerque is ecstatic to hear that I’m accepting the position—and two months ago, I would have been too. Instead of celebrating, I’m hiding away in my house, trying not to think about all the places inside it that Mackenzie’s been.

My bedroom is unbearable; her scent still clings to my sheets, offering both relief and pain, and after three days, I gave up trying to sleep in there, resigned to the couch until she fades or I move. Whichever comes first. There isn’t a moment that passes that I don’t want to call her and apologize, to explain everything and beg her to forgive me, but every time I pick up the phone with that intention, I remember how easy it would be for Dennis to destroy her career. How it would be entirely my fault if he was to do so. Ultimately, being with me isn’t worth being robbed of everything she’s worked so hard for, and I know that.

Which is why I’ve spent every moment I’m not working this past week wallowing in my armchair with a drink in my hand. It helps, but only a little.

I think that what I hadn’t considered before forcing Mackenzie to walk away from me was just how much she’s left a mark on me,how much I would feel it when she was gone. I reason that there had been no time to consider it, since I spent the first few weeks of our arrangement refusing to acknowledge that I’d been fighting a losing battle from the start—because I was, I now realize. From the moment Mackenzie asked me for a stupid selfie... I never stood a chance. She’s just too good, tooperfect, and there was never any possibility that I wouldn’t completely fall for her.

It’s almost laughable that I would only fully realize it after there’s no chance to tell her.

Tonight is no different; I’m two drinks in while staring at the fire and feeling sorry for myself, but unlike every other night between the café and now—I can hear my cell phone trilling on the side table by my chair, the irritating ring grating my nerves. I pick it up with every intention of silencing it, since there’s no chance it will be the one person I want to talk to, but the name on the screen makes me pause, and I wrestle with the decision to ignore or pick up for at least twenty seconds before I sigh and answer the call.

“Oh, good,” Paul says. “You’re alive.”

“Barely,” I mumble pathetically.

“I’ve been trying to call you all week,” he grouses.

I take a swig from my glass, relishing the burn of the whiskey as it slides down my throat. “I hadn’t noticed. Been busy.”

“I heard that you put in your resignation.”

“Yep.”

“So you took the Albuquerque job?”

“Looks like it.”

“You don’t sound very excited about it.”

I laugh dryly. “I don’t, do I.”

“Have you ended your arrangement with Dr. Carter then?”

I wince. “Why do you ask?”

“Just guessing that might be why you sound like you’re in such a sour mood.”

“She has nothing to do with it,” I mutter bitterly.

“So that’s a yes, then,” he sighs.

“Yes, I ended it,” I answer. “A week ago.”

“Again, you don’t sound very excited about it.”

I take another drink, a longer one this time. I hiss between my teeth at the burn. “Yeah, well. It is what it is.”

“Oh, horseshit,” he scoffs. “Why end things if you were going to be this miserable about it?”

I hesitate, wondering if it’s a bad idea to tell him the truth. Now that Mackenzie is gone... I’m definitely short in the area of friends. I wonder if talking about it will help, or if it will make things more intolerable.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I settle for.

“There’s always a choice, Noah. In all things.”

“Not this time.”

“Tell me what happened,” he urges. “You can talk to me.”

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