Page 91 of The Great Dating Fake Off
“I was hoping you’d act like yourself again.” He scoops Tairn back into his arms, now that he thinks he’s proven some kind of point. “You’ve been in a funk for the last two weeks.”
I push up from the chair and migrate toward the register. “No I haven’t.”
“You haven’t talked my ear off about what you’re reading, you’re not bringing any food to work in your ridiculous color-coded Tupperware, we haven’t been to Chili’s, and you’ve been posting exclusively horror on the store’s Instagram.”
“That’s my job,” I grumble. “I’m supposed to post books.”
“It’s summer. People like beach reads, cheerful shit like that.”
I gesture at his entirely black ensemble. “Tell me more about cheerful, Kylo Ren.”
He exhales in exasperation. “I’m worried about you.”
It occurs to me that life would’ve been easier if I’d just fallen for him when I moved here. This attractive, enigmatic, thoughtful man. If he could’ve fallen for me, too.
I wouldn’t be lying in bed at night so deeply alone, regretting my choices. Regretting the people who got hurt because of me. Falling asleep to dreams of untouchable men.
In a perfect world, we pick who we want and they want us back.
His voice is stern. “I know you’ve been sending my mother weekly flower arrangements. Anonymously.”
Busted. If I were a cat, all my hair would be standing straight up. Benji was not supposed to find out about the flowers. That’s between me and my conscience. “How do you know that?”
“Because she thinks they’re from me, even though I keep sending thumbs-down emojis every time she sends me a picture of them. But I’m not going to tell her they’re from you, since you clearly want it to stay anonymous.” He lifts an admonishing finger. “After the way she treated you, you do not have to do that. I would’ve yanked her out of that dining hall much sooner had I known it was going to take such a quick turn. I won’t forgive myself for that. But I won’t have you miserable and pandering to her.”
“It’s fine, Benji.”
“It’s not fine. Now stop spending your money on wasted flowers, hear me?”
“I need to feel like I’m making it up to her in some way that doesn’t feel like I’m outright asking her forgiveness.” I spin my ring. “It’s the least I can do. For all her anger, she was upset because she thought I hurt you. I betrayed her trust. I ruined her daughter’s wedding.”
Benji huffs. “Rosalina didn’t want that wedding. It was clear from the start. I know my sister, and the only part of that wedding she would’ve chosen is her bridal party. But the rest of it was clearly all the family’s doing.”
“It’s not just the wedding.” I approach the checkout counter and slide my hand over the cold countertop. “It’s her relationship. Maybe she just needed to get to the other side of that week so she and Enzo could get some space from the family and move forward. It’s like I took her cold feet and submerged them in ice water, and now she’s done something she might regret.”
He sets Tairn on the perch near the checkout counter and leans against the end of a bookcase, arms crossed. “It’s not your fault that they have family issues. Now, I don’t know them as a couple. I don’t know what else might be going on. But I know you. You’re carrying guilt that doesn’t belong to you.”
The front door opens with gusto. “Knock knock!”
In strolls Gia. Even if I didn’t know it was Gia, I’d still know, courtesy of the name tag pinned to her tied-up flannel shirt. She’s rocking a uniform for The Huntress, a sports bar down the street. Skimpy shorts, winter boots, and blood red lips complete the bartender ensemble.
She meets my eye and smiles. “Oh good, you’re both here. I was worried it’d just be Mr. Storm Cloud over there.”
Benji’s gaze follows her as she struts across the store. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Not so fast,” Gia says. She comes to a stop next to the perch and lifts Tairn into her arms. “I want to talk to you, Benjamino.”
Benji’s eyes widen. “What are you doing? Why are you touching him?”
“I’m greeting one of the other living things in this room?” Her face is the visual representation of the word duh. “Be rude not to, wouldn’t it?”
Horror and indifference look exactly the same on Benji, so I’m not sure what we’re working with. He merely stares.
“What do you want, Gia?” he asks.
“As you probably don’t know because you surely haven’t asked, Rosalina is now sleeping on my couch.”
A weight lodges itself in my stomach.
