Page 95 of Faking It
“All of the above”—I smile softly—“aren’t in your typical wheelhouse.”
“For you, they are,” he says, holds my gaze for a beat, and then looks back down to his picture and begins to color.
Unable to speak, I stare at him for a beat before climbing into bed beside him and watching him color. And later when I doze off to sleep—my arm across his abdomen, my cheek resting on his chest, and his lips pressing a kiss to the top of my head again—I know I’m a goner.
“ROBERT! GOOD TO SEE YOU.” And it is—for once—because there is nothing else he can throw at us or make us do since we’re a few days out from this promotional tour being over.
Robert walks across the lobby and reaches out to shake my hand. “You look good,” he says with a firm shake and broad smile.
“I am good,” I say with a definitive nod as we take a seat at my table in the bar. It’s modern and sleek and representative of everything about New York: style, a touch of the city’s history throughout, and a ton of people talking passionately about whatever their subject is. “I’ve survived an almost cross country bus trip without going stir crazy. I’m in New York City. And SoulM8 is looking like it’s about to launch to numbers we only could have imagined.”
“The numbers are incredible. I’m excited for the official launch to see what numbers we capture.” Robert lifts his finger to the bartender and after placing our order for drinks turns back to me. “I mean, the amount of attention we’ve cornered for this market blew my projections out of the water. The numbers you’re sending me, they’re just incredible and the official launch isn’t even until tomorrow.”
I think of the pending subscription numbers we have ready to go live when we push go and all of the positive feedback we’ve received from the new round of beta testing and the numbers guy in me gets excited.
I lift my glass to clink against his. “Cheers, mate. A lot of that has to do with you. Your ideas. Your connections. Even the things I bucked back against. Thank you for that. It’s truly been an experience.”
“An experience you didn’t want to take.”
I nod slowly and take a sip of my drink. “True . . . but in the end, you were right. Promoting us as a couple. Doing the reality TV excursions. They connected people to us and in turn made them interested in the platform.”
“I’m sure you swore at me a time of two.”
“Maybe.”
Robert laughs. “And how is Harlow feeling about all of this?”
“I can’t speak for her, but I think she’s been pleased with the experience.” It’s an odd question and there’s something in his tone that I can’t put my finger on.
“Is she here?”
“Not at the moment. I know she has an agent, but I looked into them and they’re small time. I figured since we’re here in New York, I might as well send her over to a friend of mine at IMG Models to see if she could give her some advice.”
“You say that like you’re not going to be seeing her again. It’s my understanding that IMG has an office in Los Angeles too.”
He fucking catches everything, doesn’t he?
“Yes, they do, but this is a personal friend. She offered to give her some advice and in that industry, advice from an experienced person who isn’t looking to undermine you is gold.”
“As with any business.”
“True.”
“Harlow is good at what she does.”
“She is,” I say with a nod.
“Sending her to IMG is a surefire way to lose her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, hating the sudden tightness in my chest that those words bring. The knowing that this whole tour is basically over. The waking up to her every morning and sliding in beside her every night is done. The seeing things through a different pair of eyes—ones that look at everything as fresh and new and exciting—is over.
This weird, new normal I’ve gotten used to will be over.
“She’s good at what she does. At being who she is.” Robert looks down to the bottom of his drink for a beat before looking back up. “You know as well as I do that she’s going to be snatched up quicker than you think. How are you going to handle being apart from her?”
I grit my teeth because that’s all I’ve been thinking about the past couple of days . . . being apart from her.
I swear to God it’s like he knows this has been all fake, and is baiting me with each of his questions.
