Page 77 of The Fake Out

I picked at the label on my beer. “I don’t understand.”

“Bro, because it’s the type of shit you do for your wife!” Noah argued.

Dinah nodded. “It might have seemed like a simple gesture to you, but to Veronica, that felt big.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” I muttered.

“To her, it was,” Dinah went on. “Look, Veronica has walls upon walls up. She doesn’t let people get close to her. She even keeps me at arm's length and our brothers are married. If someone gets too close, she pushes them away.”

“This is because of that asshole, right?”

She nodded. “I hate that he made her afraid to open herself up to love again.”

“So what do I do?”

“Give her some time,” Noah offered.

“Let her cool off. Maybe some space will help,” Dinah suggested.

I took another swing of my beer and mulled it over.

They were right, but not for the reason they thought. Veronica was not and would never be my girlfriend. That had been our arrangement, and I had to remind my heart where the line was so I’d stop crossing it. After the wedding, we’d go our separate ways; it didn’t matter if she was pissed at me right now.

I had to keep reminding my heart none of this was real. To stop blurring the lines between what was fake and what was real. Veronica was supposed to help me get over Astrid; I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her in the process. Space would remind my heart of that.

Chapter Twenty-Two

VERONICA

I hadn’t heard from Blaise in a week. The wedding was this Friday, so I should have been freaking out, but I wasn’t because I had no one to blame but myself. I had to kick him out and show him the imaginary boundary between us. I couldn’t have him thinking our arrangement could turn into something more.

So why did it feel like someone was jabbing a knife inside me?

“Hey,” Olivia greeted.

I looked up from wiping down my tattoo chair. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Are you okay?” she asked, giving me a concerned look. The same one she’d been giving me all week every time she caught me checking my phone and sighing in disappointment.

“Yeah, why?”

“You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

“I’m fine.”

The bell rang on the shop door. I didn’t have another appointment for a while, so I wasn’t that concerned about it. She looked over at the door and then turned back to me with a grin. “Ooh, I see.”

Before I could ask what, a six-foot-three blonde giant stood in front of me, looking like I had kicked his puppy. My traitorous heart skipped a beat when I saw his apologetic face.

“Hi, sweets,” Blaise said.

I gave him a tight smile, but inside, my heart was dancing around because I secretly loved that he called me that. And I missed him. I wasn’t supposed to miss him. He was just my fuck buddy/fake boyfriend, who I was going to lose after this weekend. My heart wasn’t supposed to flutter when he smiled and purred that pet name at me. I also wasn’t supposed to be wearing the Bulldogs t-shirt he left behind because it smelled of him and made me miss him less. I wasn’t supposed to get attached. That was never our deal.

“Hi,” I said stiffly and wiped at my chair, even though it was already clean.

He held up a brown paper bag with grease at the bottom. “I come bearing gifts. Can we talk?”

“Take your break and talk with your man!” my brother called from his station across the room.