Page 96 of Fake it With Me

This wasn’t the man who made love to me last night. He was distant. Shut down. Cold.

“Darek,” I tried again. “Please talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He finally stopped sanding but didn’t turn around. “I can’t do this again.”

“Can’t do what?”

“Have my heart broken. Get attached. Let myself believe in something that was never meant to last.” He set down the sandpaper and faced me. The coldness in his eyes made my stomach drop. “The contract will be over in a few days. I need to remember that. We both do.”

“But I don’t want it to end. I told you that. We’ve built something. And Daisie. I love that little girl.”

“You told me a lot of things.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “But actions speak louder than words, don’t they?”

“What are you talking about? Darek, we had such a good day yesterday. You were happy. I was happy. We all were. What changed between last night and this morning?”

“I woke up. That’s what changed. I remembered what this actually is.”

I felt tears starting to burn behind my eyes. “What this is?”

My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest, scraping across rib bones and doing real damage.

“Don’t.” The word came out sharp.

“Don’t what?” I asked. My throat hurt from the attempt to hold back tears. I was certain I was in the throes of a nightmare. Any second I would wake up and he would be kissing the side of my face and telling me it was all a bad dream.

“Don’t say that when you’re already planning your next job. You’re already thinking about your next client and the fat paycheck you’ll earn. Will you fake it for him as well as you did with me? Did you have some kind of acting classes in your college career?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Acting?” I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. My brain felt sluggish, like I was trying to run through quicksand. “Darek, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What next job? What client?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Liza. I saw the messages from Della.”

My stomach lurched. “What messages?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Liza. It does not work for you. Anyone that looks at you can see you’re intelligent.”

For some reason, I didn’t think that was a compliment. “I’m not playing anything. What messages? I haven’t spoken to Della since she sent me the contract to sign.”

He shrugged. “Then you better check in with your boss because she’s pretty eager to get in touch with you.”

He made it sound dirty. Wrong. Like Della was my pimp. Or madame.

“If you want to be mad at me and have a fight, then we need to be on the same page so I can defend myself. I haven’t talked to Della. I thought things were good between us. And now you’re acting like a total stranger.”

“I saw the messages,” he said again.

That was when it dawned on me. Text messages.

“Wait, what? You went through my phone?”

“It was buzzing. I thought it might be important.” He crossed his arms, defensive now. “Turns out it was. Very enlightening, actually.”

“Well, you’ll have to enlighten me,” I replied. “Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re already lining up your next fake relationship. Already planning to move on to the next guy who’ll pay you to pretend to care about him.”

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. It felt like a donkey kick to my chest. “That’s not fair.” My voice sounded like I had been screaming for hours.

“Isn’t it? You’re still registered with the agency, Liza. You’re still available for hire. So tell me, what exactly was I supposed to think when I see you’ve already got your next gig lined up?”