Page 82 of Fake Crown

We’re not on even ground yet. Good to know before I stick my foot in my mouth or spew out everything I’ve been thinking for the last couple of weeks.

I move aside to let her in, but nothing between us feels quite right. From that first weekend, I never held back my affection, never questioned the ease between us. But I’m definitely on the back foot now.

She sheds her coat and her boots at the entry, and she takes a seat on the couch. I stand with my back against the island and cross my arms.

“I know I still have some work to do,” I say.

“No, it’s—” Posey tucks her hair behind her ears. “Thank you for everything you’ve done so far. It hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

I hate how stilted and formal we are, as though we didn’t spend weeks wrapped around each other. “If we—if you—I’ll never ignore something like this again. I promise. I had no idea they were coming after you so hard.”

She lets out a low laugh, and the tension in her shoulders seems to vanish. “I pray to god there’s never something like this to ignore again.” She leaves the couch to stand with her feet between mine. Slowly, she inches her way into my body, and when she wraps her arms around my middle and places her cheek over my heart, we both sigh.

I smooth her hair, and I breathe her in. There’s probably something I should say, but I’m so relieved she’s here and that she stepped into my arms. Without a negotiation or pleading on my part, she entered my embrace.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

My chest swells, and I draw her tighter against me. “If this is what letting you down is like, I’m not fucking doing it again.”

She lets out a little laugh and glances up. “Never? That’s a high bar, Faulkner.”

“I’ve got all your favorite lattes and orgasms memorized in case I fuck up again. What’s your favorite flower as a backup?”

“Ooh. I do like flowers. Roses. Any color of roses.”

“Noted,” I say. Part of me feared she’d name some pretty plant that only flowers once every ten years but looks gorgeous in a white room. “Are you sure you want to talk to Val?”

“I want all this to stop, don’t you?”

“I want her to stop,” I say, “but I don’t want this to stop. We can ignore Val or confront her, whatever you want, as long as we’re on the same page about what comes next.”

She doesn’t go tense in my arms like I expect. Instead, she gives me a quick squeeze. “Can we figure out you and me after we’ve called off Val and her dogs?”

It’s not a no, so I’ll take it, but I’m concerned Val won’t call off her pack of wolves, and going to speak to her might just make them bite down harder. Before we go, we need a plan.

We’re in the food court of the athletics building, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure meeting with Val is a bad idea. Up ahead, Val is seated at a four-person table, and she’s on her phone, so she hasn’t seen that I’ve brought Posey for the conversation.

I can already picture the steam coming out of her ears when she realizes she’s been ambushed. My we need to talk text was answered immediately, and when she offered her place for the location, I suggested here after my practice. She must think I’m really stupid to get lured into any ploy that puts me in a position to be alone with her a second time.

Val glances up, and she rises from her seat, gathering her purse and phone. She storms toward us. “This isn’t happening,” she says.

“Hold up,” I say. “We just want to talk.”

“Talk?” Val huffs out a breath. “Why would I want to talk to either of you?” She eyes our joined hands, and her jaw tightens. “You must have been fucking around behind my back.”

“I never cheated on you.” I rear back at her comment.

“Bullshit. You can’t expect me to believe this is all a giant coincidence. The little interest you showed me disappeared in the final few weeks we were together. You break up with me at the last minute, and Posey appears out of nowhere to attend the wedding with you? Please. I was not born yesterday. Red flags everywhere.”

I’m momentarily stunned. She’d been spewing accusations over the holidays, but I never thought she believed them.

“It wasn’t out of nowhere. I posted in the campus chat server for a date to the wedding. Posey responded. You can probably search for my post if you don’t believe me.” For the first time, I don’t see her as vindictive but as genuinely hurt.

“I spent a year and a half with you. You never held my hand or posted photos of us or did anything sweet or romantic. A year and a half.”

We were on and off the whole time, which to me, answers her question. Why would I want to do anything sweet or romantic when we were often steeped in a battle of wills over something she wanted that I wasn’t prepared to do? As a couple, we didn’t work, but I was too lazy or too routine oriented to break things off for good. At the time, being with her felt easy, but looking back, now that I know what a real relationship feels like, there was nothing easy about being with Val. We were a bad combination from the start.

“You wanted those things?” I ask. Posey squeezes my hand, but she’s been a silent bystander so far.