Page 111 of That Fake Feeling
“Yes,” she yells back. “Youslept through most of the climb.”
Theair up here is fresh and clean, the exact opposite ofNewYorkCity.Andeverything is real and alive—the trees, the birds flying among them.Hell, even the log cabin feels like it lives and breathes.
Iclose my eyes, tip my face up to the sun, and inhale the scent of goodness.
Ilose myself in it so completely for a second thatAuntJencoming up behind me makes me jump.
“Hereyou go.”Sheputs two mismatched mugs on the sawn-off tree stump that serves as a table and sits in one of the wicker chairs on either side of it.
Maisie, who followed her out, jumps into the other, like this is their regular routine.
“Now,” she says, full of purpose, “I’mguessing you wouldn’t suddenly be here if everything was perfect at home.Whydon’t you tell me what’s going on?Haveyou broken up with the rich and”—widening her eyes and nodding—“extremely handsome man?”
Ilean back against the deck railing.
Thisis the moment whereIhave to confess to lying, to being a terrible, terrible human and completely misleading the one person who really cares about me.
Mystomach feels like it’s attempting to turn itself inside out.
“Ihave something awful to tell you.”Itry to take a breath, butIcan fill only the top two percent of my lungs. “Wewere never really together.”
Shelooks baffled. “Thearticle in the magazine seemed to think you were.”
Oh, if only it were that easy to tell if something is real.
“YouknowItold youIgot a great summer job that came with amazing accommodations?”
Shenods and stirs her tea.
“Well, that wasn’t a lie.Thatpart was completely true.Hewas my job.”
Shestops moving the spoon mid-stir. “Whatwas?”
“Pretendingto beConnor’sgirlfriend.Forthe press.”
Shetips her head to one side, confused. “Youwere pretending to be his girlfriend for the press?”Sherepeats my words as if that will help her understand them. “Whatdoes that mean?”
“Theypaid me to play the part of his girlfriend, be seen out with him, and do articles like the one inAGoodLook.”
AuntJenknits her brows and shakes her head, like the words make no sense. “Butwhy?What’sthe point of that?”
Imight be starting to realize whatConnormeans when he feels like he disappoints his family despite all his appearances of success.
“Hehad a bad image that needed cleaning up.AndapparentlyIwas the perfect, squeaky-clean girl next door to do that.”
Maisiestretches in the sun and snuggles deeper into the orange and purple cushionsAuntJenpicked up on her travels aroundIndiayears ago.
Sheresumes the mashing of her teabag and gives me a knowing smile. “Andyou ended up liking him, right?”
Mymouth gapes beforeImake an attempt at a protest. “No.”
It’ssuch a halfhearted denial,Idon’t even convince myself.
Shechuckles and taps the side of her head. “Oh, you can’t fool yourAuntJen,Rosie.”
Atleast she doesn’t seem to give a damnIwas a girlfriend-for-hire.Heronly concern is for my well-being.I’mso lucky to have her.Sovery lucky.
Myribs loosen their grip on my lungs, andImanage a bigger breath asIshake my head and smile. “Well, maybeIdid.Alittle.”
