Page 64 of Faking With You

I melt into him and nod. He takes my glass from my hand and finishes the champagne before placing it on a nearby high-top and linking our fingers as he leads me out of the room.

“Don’t you need to say goodbye?” I ask.

He smiles at me over his shoulder. “I did before I found you.”

How this man has managed to get to know me so well is mind boggling, but it also makes me feel safe and seen. I don’t have tohide how I’m feeling, he knows. I curl into his side for the entire ride back to the apartment, and as soon as we’re inside, he’s pulling me into his arms and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He pulls up some music and plays it before placing his phone on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get to dance with you enough tonight,” he whispers into my hair.

The longing in his voice has me on the edge of saying those three words I know I shouldn’t. He holds me as though he can’t dream of letting me go, and I hold him the same way. The songs blend into each other as we sway in the kitchen of this London apartment. I don’t have the emotional or mental capacity to tell him tonight, but this whole thing was about stepping out of the safety of the box I’d put me and myself in. I resolve to tell him tomorrow about how I’m feeling. That I’ve developed feelings beyond what we agreed, but none of the superficial things matter to me. Not our age difference, or his work schedule, or anything else someone can think of. The only thing that matters to me is that at the end of the day, Mac comes home to me and I get to build a life with him.

We eventually pull apart, and Mac helps me out of my dress before we shower together and he helps me wash my hair. As his fingers massage my scalp, I close my eyes and let images of what a future with Mac could look like fill my head. The more I let those images flash in my mind, the warmer I get, the more content I feel, and the more I’m solidified in telling him about my feelings.

Falling into bed after our shower, we take our time with each other, and Mac whispers little praises like, “Perfect,” “Gorgeous,” and “All mine,” against my skin. We come together, looking into each other's eyes as waves of pleasure hit us, and when it’s over, I smash my lips to his.

My final thought before sleep consumes me is there’s no way this isn’t real.

CHAPTER 49

Eliza

We wake to banging at the front door. I’m still naked and wrapped in Mac’s arm and groan when he moves.

“Ignore it,” I murmur and try to burrow deeper into him.

The banging comes again, and Mac leaves the bed, leaving me groaning again. I crack an eye just enough to see Mac slip into a pair of shorts.

“Go back to sleep, love. I’ll be right back.”

I close my eyes and listen as he heads to the front door and pulls it open.

“Father, what are you doing here?”

“We have things to discuss with your takeover.”

“Can’t this wait?”

“No, we need to get on it. I want this all done before the end of the fiscal year, which means we need to get on it. We also need to figure out the details of your move back to London.”

That has my ears straining to listen. I shuffle to the edge of the bed, trying to get closer.

“Eliza is still asleep. Can we at least take this somewhere else?”

I hear some more murmurs before the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Mac’s moving back to London? I should have expected this. I should have known his father was going to want him here to run the company, especially so he could look over his shoulder and make sure he’s doing everything up to his standards. What hurts the most, though, is that I just asked him if he’s thought about moving back. He could have said something then, or even last night when Harry brought up the topic in what I thought at the time was a weird question. We ended last night with everything feeling perfect, like we had both fallen into place, and I was ready to tell him I wanted this to be real, that for me it already was. I had gotten my hopes up all for them to come crashing down at once. He had all these chances and never mentioned anything.

I need space. I need space from Mac and everything that reminds me of him. He’s been given the position so he doesn’t need me anymore, and he’s moving back here anyways, so he’s gotten everything he needed out of this arrangement.

Tears stream down my face as I throw all of my stuff into my suitcase, not caring if it’s packed nicely, just shoving it all in and practically sitting on it to zip it closed. I take one last look at the apartment before grabbing my purse from the kitchen counter and leaving. I grab a taxi and open my phone, finding the first flight to Vancouver. I don’t care how much the ticket is, I need to leave. I’m lucky there’s one in two and a half hours. I can hopefully make it through security and onto the flight, and it didn’t cost me an arm and a leg.

Security is slow, of course, because the one time I want to rush, everything has to go wrong. I make it to the gate just as they call my boarding group. I find my seat near the back of the plane, and I immediately notice how they’re not as nice as the seats Mac booked us for our trips. I’ve never flown by myselfbefore. In fact, I’ve only ever flown with Mac, and as I do my seatbelt, I feel anxiety creeping in. I want to hold Mac’s hand or talk to him or just feel his presence next to me, but I can’t.

I stare out the window, wiping away my tears as they fall. I knew this was all going to end, I just never thought it would be thousands of kilometres away from my own apartment and my best friends. The flight feels longer than it did last time. It feels like torture. Every time I pick up my Kindle to read, I can’t get into the book. I keep rereading the same page over and over, comprehending nothing. When I try to play a game on my phone, I find myself just staring at it, not doing anything. Music is no help, and even my favourite comfort shows are doing nothing.

I feel like a zombie when we finally land and I grab my bags. I order an Uber, but instead of inputting my own address, I input Hannah’s. I drag my bags up their front steps and knock, hoping Hannah’s off today. When she pulls open the front door, still in her pyjamas, I fall into her arms, crying, and she holds me, running her hands over my hair.

I notice Grayson as he grabs my bags off the porch and Hannah leads me to the couch. She doesn’t say or ask anything, she just holds me and lets me cry it out. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this with her. I’ve never felt as desolate as I do now. I don’t see how I’m supposed to just move on. How am I supposed to continue with my life as though I didn’t just lose the only man I think I’ll ever love.