Page 74 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

“Marlow, there’s only you. Even back when you and I were just pretending, there was only you. I haven’t touched another woman – or even wanted to – since you and I have been together.”

Her arms are wrapped around her middle protectively. I know she’s trying to decide whether or not she believes me, and it fucking guts me. I worked so hard to get to this point with her,where I actually thought I had broken through that icy shell of hers and gained her trust. I don’t know what else I can do to convince her that there is no one else but her. Now or ever.

The look on Marlow’s face right now tells me I’ll never get the chance to try.

The wall of ice is creeping back up around her rapidly. I can see the blocks piling up in front of her, thicker and higher than ever before. When Marlow exhales a deep breath, I can feel the chill of her words even before she says them out loud.

“Ryan, I just think between this…and the Kayla thing…” she starts.

“Kayla? Are you serious? You know that I hardly ever even spoke to her. Are you really holding that against me?”

Marlow sighs and shakes out her hands.

“No, I’m not holding it against you. I know you didn’t provoke her, but my point is that there will always be some woman chasing after you.”

“And I’ll always be giving all of my attention to you. I don’t care about those other women. I’ve never given you any reason to doubt me or the way I feel about you.”

“I know, but I just don’t…”

“You don’t trust me,” I finish for her.

Her gaze drops to the floor as she shakes her head slowly. It’s infuriating, the way that she just disappears behind her wall of ice. When she does, Marlow becomes as unreachable as the North Fucking Pole. And for all of her ice, I’m fire. It’s coursing through my veins and burning to my core.

Words that I already know I’m going to regret bubble up like lava. Despite my best attempts, I can’t force them back down. I’ve given this everything that I have. Given her everything that I know how to give. And for all my efforts, Marlow never budges an inch.

“Well, if you honestly think that I would even think about touching another woman then you haven’t been paying much attention. All I fucking see is you, Marlow. But I’m done trying to convince you. If it’s easier for you to just push everyone away, then I hope you enjoy being alone.”

Marlow is a stone pillar as I walk past her and out the front door. She doesn’t even breathe. The red flush in her cheeks has crept up her temples, around her ears, down her neck, and to places I can’t see. Places I’ll never see again.

Chapter 27

MARLOW

By Monday morning, I’m convinced there isn’t a drop of moisture left in my entire body. It’s all leaked out of my eyes and – if we’re being honest – my nose, which is painfully raw from constant blowing and blotting. My eyes are so puffy they might as well be swollen shut. And my stomach is doing nervous somersaults because I know that I’ll see Ryan today and I still don’t know what to say to him. I’m not sure if there is anything that I can say to ease the hurt of this situation. All I can do is hope that in time I can find a way to coexist with Ryan without bursting into tears every time I see him at work.

As much as I am dreading seeing him for the first time after our breakup, something even worse happens: I don’t see him. Not once all day.

Or the day after that.

Or the day after that.

And so it goes all week.

Every time someone says his name, it sends my heart flying up into my throat. When I reflexively look up and don’t see him standing in front of me, my heart makes the long, slow crawl back down into my chest.

I know he’s around, somewhere. His personal truck has been parked outside every day, while his work truck is noticeably absent. My best guess is that he’s relegated himself to fieldworkin hopes of avoiding me until I either get a new job or move away.

Trust me, I’ve considered both options. My browser history is littered with job openings that I know I’ll never actually apply for because, even though I ruined things with Ryan, I like my life here in Gatlinburg. I love my job and the friends that I’ve made and even my weird little apartment that always smells like freshly baked bread. And if I move away, I’ll have to accept that things are really over between us, which is proving harder to acknowledge than I would have ever imagined.

Emmett catches me in the break room on Friday afternoon and asks if Ryan and I are going to happy hour. Apparently, the news of our breakup hasn’t yet reached the rest of the station. I shrug and say that I’m not sure if I can make it, ignoring the other half of the question entirely.

On one hand, I want to go if only to catch a glimpse of Ryan. It’s selfish. He obviously doesn’t want to see me. But my heart is still in need of something from him. Closure, maybe…even if it comes in the form of seeing him with someone else. Or with her.

When five o’clock rolls around, I’m nearly set on going to happy hour with everyone. I follow the others out of the building, but when I see that Ryan’s work truck is already parked back in its spot and his personal truck is missing from the parking lot, I change my mind. He won’t be there, and I shouldn’t be there either.

Instead, I make a beeline past the bar and straight to my apartment. My after-work yoga routine has been replaced by my new routine of eating day-old German pastries for dinner while standing in my kitchen. After that, I’m pretty much biding my time until it’s a reasonable hour to crawl into bed.

Tonight, that routine is interrupted by a knock on my door. I assume it’s Olga, who seems to sense my inherent need to stuffmy face with carbs and sugar these days, but I open the door to find Abby standing there instead.

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