Page 97 of Fake it With Me

“I didn’t know she was going to message me! I’m not interested in another job.”

“But you haven’t told her that, have you? Haven’t officially ended your relationship with Faux. You’re keeping your options open, just in case this doesn’t work out. Just in case you need a backup plan.”

I wanted to argue, but he wasn’t entirely wrong. I hadn’t officially told Della I was done with the agency. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind because I’d been so caught up in what was happening here. But I could see how it looked from his perspective.

“I should have told her,” I admitted quietly. “You’re right. But I’ve been so focused on us, on you and Daisie, that I didn’t even think about it.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? You didn’t think about it. Because at the end of the day, this is still just a job to you. I’m still just a client.”

“No. God, no, Darek. That’s not true at all.”

“Then why haven’t you told Della you’re not available? Why haven’t you made it clear that you’re not interested in other opportunities? If this was real for you, that would have been the first thing you did.”

“No, my first thought was you and your custody situation,” I said. I was barely keeping the tears back. I didn’t know it was possible to feel your heart break in real time.

But it was happening.

He turned back to his boat, effectively dismissing me. “This ends when the contract ends. The sooner we both make peace with that, the better.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. This was always temporary, Liza. We both knew that going in. I just forgot for a while. Let myself get confused about what this was.”

“It’s not confusion. What we have is real.”

“What we have is a business arrangement that I’m choosing to end early. Consider the contract fulfilled. I’ll have the payment processed today.” He still wasn’t looking at me. “You should start making arrangements to leave.”

I staggered backward like he actually kicked me. “You’re kicking me out?”

“I’m releasing you from your obligations. You’re free to take that San Francisco job, or whatever other opportunities Della has lined up. You don’t need to stay here anymore.”

I stood there, staring at his back, waiting for him to turn around. Praying he would take back his horrible words. I needed him to look at me and tell me he was sorry for being an idiot.

But he didn’t. He pretended I wasn’t even there.

“Fine,” I heard myself say. “If that’s what you want. If you’d rather believe I’m here for the money and don’t want to actually listen to what I’m trying to tell you, fine. Let’s just end it now.”

I stood for a few seconds, silently begging him to turn around. Please turn around.

When he didn’t, I knew it was over. I could practically see my hopes and dreams evaporating in front of my very eyes.

I turned and ran back to the house, half expecting him to follow me. I hoped he would come after me and apologize. I needed him to tell me he didn’t mean it.

But he didn’t. The boathouse door didn’t open. No footsteps followed me across the lawn.

He really did it. He ended it without a backward glance.

I burst into the house and took the stairs two at a time, heading straight for my room. Not my room. The guest room. It was never really my room. I was never really part of the family. I was just passing through. I was the hired help. Nothing more, nothing less.

I started throwing things into my suitcase, not bothering to fold anything, just needing to get out before I completely fell apart. Clothes, toiletries, my laptop, my research notes. Everything that marked this room as mine, packed away like I’d never been here at all. I left the expensive dresses hanging in the closet. I would never need them again. And I didn’t want to take anything from him.

I had to go back to his room to get my phone. I grabbed it, ignoring the messages from Della. I pulled up the Uber app with shaking hands. The nearest available driver was twelve minutes away. Fine. I could hold it together for twelve minutes.

I dragged my suitcase down the stairs, the wheels thumping against each step, and that was when I saw her. Daisie was standing in the hallway in her pajamas, the stuffed whale clutched in her arms, staring at me with wide, confused eyes.

“Liza? Where are you going?”

Oh god. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t break this little girl’s heart. But I also couldn’t stay.