Page 64 of Love is Fake

I want to rip her arm off, jealousy surging up inside of me like a tsunami. But I have no right. Lennox isn’t mine. He never was. He’s always been hers.

“Oh, you’re still here.” She looks me up and down, her expression saying exactly how little she thinks of me.

“Not for long,” I manage to grit the words out, ignoring Lennox’s pained expression.

“Noxy!” She whines and the nickname grates on me like nails on a chalkboard. “I’ve been traveling for hours, a massage would be div-iiiine.” She all but drapes herself over Lennox. Why doesn’t he stop her? He just stands there like waxwork, unmoving.

My automatic reaction is to shrink back, make myself small. It’s what I would have done in high school and Honey, after all, is just another Carly, a beautiful bully. So, I do the opposite. I stand a little taller, even though that still puts me at a serious height disadvantage to the model with her endless legs.

“I’m actually on my way out.” I motion towards the door, wishing- among other things – I was on the other side of it. “So, no.” No – it feels damn good to say that word. It sounds final, like all of this.

Honey huffs dramatically. “I’m sure you don’t have any clients more important than Nox.” Her voice is saccharine sweet as her painted talons stroke his shoulder. “You wouldn’t want him to tell your boss he doesn’t need your services anymore.”

My eyes widen. Seriously? She’s threatening my job now?

“That’s enough, Honey.” Lennox’s voice is sharp as he takes hold of the hand that’s rubbing him like a damn magic lamp, stopping her ministrations.

I don’t know if he’s telling her to stop touching him or to stop treating me like a damn servant. But I don’t care, I’m not waiting around to find out. I’m done with both of them.

“Noxy, why are you being like this?” Honey pouts at Lennox like a spoiled child.

“You should have told me you were fucking coming,” he growls. “This wasn’t what we agreed to.”

Whatever, I’m not hanging around to watch them have a domestic. Miss me with that bullshit.

Looking directly at Lennox, I hold my head high, my pride carrying me through, papering up the cracks over my heart, at least for now.

“Congratulations, you two deserve each other.”

I watch as Lennox’s face falls – as if he cares what I think – and as he takes a step towards me, I turn around and all but run out the door. I don’t stop until I’ve slid into the waiting Uber and told the driver to get out of here as fast as he can.

Familiar feelings of worthlessness threaten to overtake me. I hunker down in the back seat, willing him to drive faster, to put as much distance between me and Lennox as possible, as if that’ll stop the hurt.

So, this is what it feels like for a heart to break, I think to myself dully as I stop trying to hold the tears back. I don’t think I could anyway, even if I wanted to. I don’t know if I’m crying for whatever I thought we had ending, or because apparently it never really begun.

I’ve only ever been a stop-gap for Lennox, if that. I was never his endgame. I was stupid to believe I could be and that stupidity has landed me here; no man, no job and no damn idea what to do next.

Chapter

Eighteen

I’ve wasted way too many tears on Lennox Damn Gray. They’ve stained my pillow, my sweatshirt, the designer-looking silk shirt Kiara’s wearing. For someone who ‘doesn’t do tears’, I’ve really outdone myself.

I’d slunk out of the Uber and directly into Kiara’s arms, the angry expression on her face telling me she was ready to go on over to the Gray Mansion and go medieval on Lennox’s ass on my behalf. And, to be honest, I half-wanted her to. I wanted him to hurt like he hurt me.

I didn’t tell her what had happened. I didn’t need to. Even if Lennox hadn’t come clean to me only moments before Honey made her big entrance, it would have been impossible to hide from the news of their engagement. It was all over social media and every tabloid website in the northern hemisphere. Not that I’d poured over every one of those articles until Kiara forcibly took my laptop away from me or anything.

I wish I had amnesia, that way I wouldn’t be able to remember exactly how it felt to be held by him. I didn’t realize I’d been preparing the whole time for what it would feel like to lose him, but the truth is he was never mine to lose.

I hate him for what he did to me. But I also I hate myself a little too, for what Ilethim do to me. For letting him in even though I knew I shouldn’t have. For breaking all of my rules because I thought he was special, because I thought he was worth it. My thoughts go back to the encouragement my gave me, telling me the pain of losing someone was worth the happiness of being with them, that it’s the price you pay for loving someone. It sure as hell doesn’t feel that way.

“He’s not worth any more tears, babe.” Kiara says the words I’m thinking out loud as she strokes my hair soothingly. Absently, I wonder if her hands are tired. She’s been stroking my hair for the better part of a week.

She’s not wrong, I reason, but turns out it’s easier said than done.

I was never much of a crier but since leaving the Gray Mansion I don’t think I’ve really stopped. The worst part is, all I have to show for my sobbing is a wet pillow and a banging headache.

“You think Michael can take over?” I ask, part of me feeling as if I shouldn’t be letting my private life affect my professional one.

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