Page 95 of Santa's Girl
“You okay?” Caroline asked, placing a hand on my back.
No.
I wasn’t okay.
Because all I could think about were the dinners where I’d fretted over splitting the check, worried about his finances, trying to protect his pride.
All I could remember was how he’dletme believe he was just scraping by.
The North Face fleece he said he bought on clearance.
The Escalade he “borrowed.”
The restaurant where he’d claimed the cook’s uncle was a partner.
The bouquet he gave to Margie that “just happened” to be her favorite.
It was all a lie. A pretty lie, wrapped in flannel and leather, delivered with warm hands and perfect kisses. And I fell for it. Hard.
I felt like a fool.
Worse, I felt played.
I wasn’t sure if the room was spinning or if it was just my pride unraveling, thread by thread. Everyone around me clapped, unaware, smiling in admiration as he gave a short,gracious speech. I couldn’t hear it. Not a word. It was like glass ringing in my ears.
Caroline leaned in. “What do you want to do?”
I blinked hard, forcing the tears back, my throat tight.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I really don’t know.”
I didn’t wait for the applause to end.
I didn’t wait for him to look at me.
I just… turned.
Out of the ballroom. Through the double doors. Into the marble-floored hallway where everything suddenly felt too loud, too bright, too fake.
The truth slammed into me like a freight train.
Calden Boone.
Not Bear. Not my rugged, gruff mountain man with grease under his nails and a body that made me lose every coherent thought. Not the guy who fixed my flat tire in a snowstorm, who held me against a cabin wall and made me believe something good could grow out of brokenness.
I had fallen in love with a man who didn’t even give me his real name.
My fingers shook as I snatched a champagne flute off a passing tray, tossed it back like a shot. The waiter gave me a wide-eyed look. I didn’t care. I took another. Gone in one gulp. And another.
The bubbles hissed in my throat like fire.
I fumbled for my phone, ignoring the texts that had already started coming in from Caroline:
Are you okay?
Where did you go?
I’m gonna kick him in the balls for you.
