Page 73 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

Fucking great. This is about some woman I probably slept with ages ago. Is Marlow still this insecure about our relationship?

“Okay…”

“She said you two were back together,” she interrupts before I can get another word out.

“Back together? That doesn’t make any sense, Marlow. Aside from you, Blair is the only other person I’ve ever been with for more than one night. How could I get back together with someone I’ve never even dated?”

Marlow doesn’t say anything. The skin on her cheeks and chest is bright red and she’s fighting back more tears.

More softly, I add, “It’s probably just some woman I spent the night with forever ago passing through town and hoping for a repeat performance.”

“That’s hardly any better, Ryan.”

“Okay, well what did she look like?”

“Short…freckles…dark brown curly hair…”

Bonnie.

But why would she say that we’re together?

Marlow said she was talking to the bartender, and suddenly the pieces start to fit together. I breathe a sigh of relief and reach for Marlow’s hand. Her fingers rest limply in mine.

“Marlow, this is a misunderstanding.”

She studies my face for a second and pulls her hand away from mine.

“So, you know her?”

“Yeah, it must have been Bonnie. She’s a friend of mine. Well, not even a friend, really. I just helped her out by pretending to be interested in her to make Eric, the bartender, jealous. She had a thing for him.”

Marlow chews this over, allowing a moment to pass before she speaks again.

“You two never hooked up?” she asks.

“No…well, sort of. We went home together once, but she spent all night talking about Eric.”

The skin on Marlow’s chest deepens a shade.

“Marlow, please trust me: nothing happened between Bonnie and me,” I say.

“Nothing except you wanting to have sex with her, but feeling guilty about the fact that she liked someone else?”

I sigh, wishing I could either rewind and explain things differently or fast forward to see where this conversation is going to end.

“It’s not like that. I just…”

“And if she has such a big crush on the bartender, why would she tell him that she’s dating you when he’s basically begging her for a date?”

Marlow stands up before I can answer. She’s pacing across the room, blotting her eyes with the heels of her hand. I push away from the table and trail behind her at a cautious distance.

I could tell her all about Bonnie and Eric’s terrible date. Bonnie filled me in one night when we ran into each other at the bar. Turns out, Eric is the hipster asshole I always thought he was. Surprise, surprise. But none of that matters. This isn’t about Bonnie or Eric. This is about the fact that Marlow will never really trust me.

No matter what I do, she’ll always have doubts about me. About us. And no matter what we do, we just can’t seem to get this right. I want to fight for her. Every single cell inside my body wants to go to her, tuck her into my arms, and kiss her until she forgets about all of this.

But I can tell that Marlow doesn’t have any fight left in her. It’s in the slump of her shoulders, the tension around her eyes. She’s already made up her mind and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to change it.

That doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.

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