Page 194 of Fake it ’Til Fall

Carla found out Liam cheated again.

Not with me.

Not with some poetic full-circle punishment arranged by a generous universe with excellent narrative timing.

Just cheated.

Again.

Because apparently Liam did not need character development. He needed supervision, a locked phone, and possibly a warning label.

Carla left Winterberry Cove before lunch.

The wedding is off.

“I’m handling the cleanup, darling. You are not needed for this,” Mom said after we learned the news. Then she added, “And yes, your invoice is still being paid in full.”

So I came back to Boston with Forrest, put on soft pants, opened my laptop, and spent twenty-seven minutes staring at the resignation email I drafted yesterday.

Forrest sets a carton of noodles on the coffee table. “Eat.”

“Interesting management style.”

“You haven’t eaten since noon.”

“I had a muffin.”

“It was half a muffin.”

“It was emotionally complete.”

He gives me a look.

I pick up the chopsticks. “Fine. I will consume dinner because you have made it clear this relationship contains surveillance.”

His hands stop on the second takeout carton.

Relationship.

The word sits down between us and removes its coat.

I focus on the noodles with intense professional dedication, because I am a coward with carbohydrates.

Forrest comes around the couch and sits beside me. Not too close. Close enough that my body notices. My body has become unhelpfully fluent in Forrest proximity.

“You, okay?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He waits.

“No,” I amend. “Actually, yes. But, I’m also annoyed.”

“At Liam?”

“At karma.”

His eyebrows lift.