He rolls his eyes and then saves about five inches on the end of the bench for Max.
“Are you gonna eat those?” another dude asks me. He can’t get over the fact that I’m sitting in front of two plates of uneaten food. Neither can I.
“I’m waiting for someone.”
He’s not coming and all I can think isWhat am I going to do with this burrito?It was ten bucks. I might have Kobra’s money but damn, $10 is a lot for a burrito.
It’s shapeless and huge. Nothing to do but Instagram it. I don’t even write a caption. The uneaten burrito speaks for itself.
Immediately, people start commenting with crying emojis. Crystal was right. These random people I don’t even know are the only ones responding to my posts. My online shit did nothing but drive Max away.
I take a sad bite of my taco and set it back down. I don’t think I can eat, but the taco is fucking amazing so I inhale it.
I refresh my Instagram just one more time. There are a ton of notifications, including one [email protected] heart soars and my pulse races. It could be something bad, but I’m optimistic.
It’s not a comment. It’s a like. Instagram tells me that@BlackEinstein314likes one of my posts.
Please let it be the picture of the two of us on the scenic overlook. Please.
It is! That’s as good a declaration as any that Max is into me and that he has forgiven me.
So where the hell is he?
As I’m looking at the screen, he comments.I don’t love you, too.
A smile breaks out on my face like the morning sun on a cold winter’s day. I’m bursting—he doesn’t love me. I’m pretty sure that means he loves me. Or maybe that he likes me. I don’t know, but it feels good.
“Mia.” I turn, half expecting Max, even though I know the voice belongs to someone else. I see JP, dressed casually, like he’s about ready to drive to a winery in Sonoma. “Mia,” he says again. “Thank God I found you.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“You told the whole world, right? Instagram.”
I don’t know what to say. Why exactly is he here? He proposed. I left the house. I invited another guy out for tacos on Instagram. To me, it seems like we’re done.
“I love you, Mia. I shouldn’t have proposed the other day. I didn’t realize how badly you were injured and how extensive your memory loss was. You aren’t acting like yourself.” He shakes his head as if confounded. “I saw your Instagram posts. Burning your clothes in a trash barrel and…taking the bus—I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I’m worried.”
That’s nice of him. “I’m fine, JP.”
“I’m not even mad that you invited the house sitter out to tacos. I want to take you to a doctor and get everything back to normal, back to the way it was. I see now that you’re just not yourself. That was a serious head injury.”
“Going back to normal is exactly what I don’t want. I’m not that person anymore. I don’t even like her.”
“I was only gone for five days, Mia. How could everything be that different?” He gestures to the crowd that doesn’t include Max. “The house sitter isn’t even here. You’re waiting for no one. Please come home with me.”
The Ferrari does look good.
“Max is coming,” I say. He liked that post. Any dummy could figure out what that means. He’s coming and he’s forgiven me.
“Everything was so perfect before. It was so beautiful.”
I think for a second before coming clean with him. “JP, it was beautiful in pictures. But none of those pictures were true.They were staged and filtered, just like my life. It was all spin.”
He shakes his head. “No. Some of it was real.”
Did he really not know? “I lied about everything. I liedto you.The business was all facade, my image was all facade, I was in trouble with the cops. I charged you for matchmaking and then set myself up with you.”
He draws his eyebrows together. “You faked your way into my life. Sure, I was mad. But hey, it’s what you do. It’s what we all do. What am I? I was born with this money. I’m not brilliant. I pretend every day to be as smart and good as people think I am, but it’s an act. You, though—you made it on your own. That is impressive. You faked your way to the top. I’m not mad. I’m proud of you.”
