I was starting to think he might be right. Maybe mistakes and imperfections were the real beauty in life. The unplanned moments that became the most precious memories of all.
Like this moment. Sitting on this couch, realizing I was falling hard and fast for a man who saw me better than I saw myself.
“That night …” I worried my lip between my teeth, nodding. “I’d found out Mathew was back in town. And he hadn’t even reached out to me.”
“Mmm …” Axel didn’t seem surprised. In fact, he cocked his head. “These last few years, everything in your life was finally going according to plan. Your social media business was exploding, you left corporate America to become your own boss, and you thought you’d found the love of your life.”
I groaned. “I can’t believe I thought Mathew wasthe one. What was I thinking?”
“Point is, your real life was finally matching your online fantasy. But then it all came crashing down in spectacular fashion when Mathew chose his career over you. And when he came back into town without even reaching out?” He paused, letting that sink in. “That night, you felt it all: the gap between the life you wanted and the one you were actually living.”
I sighed. Somehow, understanding this healed wounds inside of me that I hadn’t even realized were there. Most days, I chose to believe that any pain from my past was in the past. That it didn’t haunt my heart or my actions in the present, but looking back now, I could see each hurt influenced how I interpreted the world and people around me.
With a cracked lens.
His voice went soft again. “I understand you a lot better now.”
I understand myself a lot better too,I thought. I now understood that my belief system had been completelybackward. That I didn’t have to be perfect to be loved. That Axel seemed to love everything about me. Imperfections and all.
His acceptance of my authentic self—the good, the bad, the broken—made me question everything. I mean, look at us now. With no cameras rolling, he was choosing to spend time with me. To see me. To hear me, and to challenge my belief that my worth lay in perfection.
Axel was bringing out the messy, unpredictable, authentic me. The one that liked how she looked with no makeup and messy hair and in sweats. The one that let air out of his tires and hired a pink kitty car just to get a rise out of him.
But with this newfound authenticity came a bucket of dangerous feelings. The more I tried to control the narrative, the more I risked losing this unexpected connection forming with the one person I never expected to trust.
Which forced me to confront an uncomfortable truth: What if the vulnerability I feared was actually the path to everything I ever wanted? Career success, genuine connection, love I never thought possible?
Looking back, every staged kiss for the camera felt like maybe it’d lingered too long. Every casual touch ignited feelings I couldn’t script or control, to the point where I found myself both dreading and anticipating our public appearances. What started as a performance quickly blurred the lines, especially during private moments when no one was watching.
Moments that were starting to mean everything to me.
Oh God. The realization hit me like a punch to the esophagus. I wasn’t just falling for him. I was already there, standing at the edge of the cliff, ready to jump.
And that’s when the fear kicked in. Because Axel might be starting to know me better, but Chicago’s biggest playboy had never been in an authentic relationship before. What made me think I’d be any different?
Maybe understanding him would help me figure out if I was setting myself up for heartbreak.
“You hated that I hid my imperfections,” I recalled. “That all I showed was perfectionism. Why?”
Axel’s entire body went rigid. “Because,” he said, his voice deadly quiet, “I know what happens when the perfect image becomes more important than the person behind it.” He stood abruptly, moving toward the fireplace, his back to me. “I’ve watched someone I loved die, trying to be perfect for the camera.”
34
HE’S ABOUT TO FINALLY TELL ME SOMETHING THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING … #WORSTTIMING
AXEL
I stared at the amber liquid in my glass, watching it catch the low light of my penthouse as I swirled it. The ice clinked against crystal—a sound that still reminded me of my mother’s nervous habit of fidgeting with her jewelry when my father started yelling.
Dakota sat on the sofa, her strawberry-blonde hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. The woman who’d driven me crazy for years was looking at me with genuine curiosity rather than the carefully curated sympathy she used for her followers. She’d asked why. Why I hated her meticulously constructed online persona so much. It was a fair question. One I’d been avoiding since this fake engagement began.
I downed the whiskey in one burning gulp, buying myself a few more seconds.
“In public, we were the perfect family.” I set the empty glass down with more force than necessary. “My mom never had a hair out of place. She always had crimson-red lipstick on.Always. Never left the house without it. Not even to go to the mailbox.”
Dakota remained silent, her gaze steady on mine.
“You’d never see a wrinkle in her clothes or a chip in her nails.” I pushed up the sleeve of my shirt an inch, absently tracing one of the tattoos that crawled up my forearm. Ink that had been my first act of rebellion against that perfect image.
