Page 95 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

"I'd rather be here with you."

"You're so full of it, Philip. You don't care about me."

"Why do you always sell yourself short like that? You mean the world to me, baby. I should never have let you go."

"You're drunk. You should go home."

"I'm barely buzzed," he says. Then his upper lip curls in a sneer. "Real nice job on the campaign, by the way. I didn't figure you for someone who'd exploit a connection to get ahead."

Do you know what should have been the first red flag with Philip? The fact that I never told him Lou’s secret. When I told him I went to college with Lucy Jane, he got so eager about it, I couldn't tell him the truth. I wasn't afraid of exposing her, either. I was afraid he'd hit on her in front of me. I thought he was such a catch, it seemed like a foregone conclusion that she would have liked him back.

Silly, silly me.

He actually wondered about it once. He said, "You call yourselves the Janes, you went to college with Lucy Jane, and Lou's real name is Lucy. You can't tell me that's a coincidence."

"You got me," I said. "She really is Lucy Jane. She spends all day as an associate at a law firm doing grunt work, but she's secretly a famous millionaire. Who in her right mind would do that?"

He snorted and mercifully let it go.

My motives were iffy, but my instinct was spot on. He wasn't a safe person to share my secrets with. He definitely would have hit on her, and he would have manipulated me into thinking nothing happened and that I was being crazy to think otherwise.

Only a couple of weeks ago, Philip saying I used Lou to beat him would have sent me spiraling into self doubt. Fake dating or not, it's astonishing what feeling seen, appreciated, and loved has done for me.

I hold my head high. "It only feels like exploitation to you because you're incapable of real friendships. She's the one who offered."

"Right, like you didn't plant it in her head. You couldn't stand the thought of me winning."

I look at his dull hair and glassy eyes. "I didn't realize I had so much power over you."

"Pfft," he says. "You don't have any power over me. I don't care about you."

"Your quarterly texts would suggest otherwise."

"Come off it, Ashley. You think you're so special, I'm obsessed with you? You're the one who blocked me!"

“You're right, I did," I tell him. "And I did it because I think I'm so special. You're toxic, bro. Blocking you is like blocking nerve gas. Good for one's health. Recommended by doctors everywhere."

"More like psychiatrists," he says.

I give a humorless laugh. "Oh my gosh, that's hilarious. Because a psychiatrist diagnosed my ADHD, right? Oh, man. Killer. So funny. Neurodivergence digs are so hot right now."

"Whoa," he says, as if I’m so out of control. "Calm down. I didn't go there. I wouldn't make fun of a diagnosis."

"You just did."

"What? No. That's not what I meant. You always read into things."

"Philip, you mentioned psychiatrists."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're gaslighting me right now."

He holds his hands out and laughs like he can't believe his ears. "Gaslighting? Yikes. Chill out, Ashley. You are so dramatic."

I could scream. Part of me wants to fight back and not let him drag me back down to his level. But even as I think it, the fight drains out of me.

I don’t care enough.

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