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“Makes sense,” Darcy said.
“You haven’t heard the bad part yet.”
“Oh, sorry, continue.”
“He’d come all the way from Ireland to see Gavin. Turns out their dad is sick. Like, death’s door sick after years of drinking and drug abuse, and Gavin is down as the next of kin. They won’t listen to the other brothers, and Gavin is screening his youngest brother's calls. Apparently, he had a rough childhood in a really, really bad part of Belfast.”
“Wow,” Darcy said and blew out a breath.
“I know, right?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. I think I love him.” I swallowed down a sob. “Or I’m at least totally infatuated—”
“Oh, love schmove. It’s too early to think about the L word! How was the sex?” Darcy asked, ever so practical.
I gave a watery laugh.
“Earthshakingly amazing, but that’s not the point. I mean, it’s a factor, but I don’t really know who he is. I thought I was getting to that point, but if he could hide a major thing like that from me, then what else is he hiding? Does he do drugs too? Was he violent? I mean, other than in self-defense. He has some pretty big scars. It looks like he’s been stabbed at least twice.”
“Hard core!” Darcy said, sounding thoroughly impressed.
“Yeah, I suppose, but I’m not sure that’s really what I’m looking for.”
“Guess not. You went through enough with he-who-shall-not-be-named.”
“Not quite the same. Kenny acted tough but would run away if you shouted boo,” I pointed out. “I would be fine with Gavin and me just having very different pasts, and even fine with him not opening up about it until I found out from his brother, given that we really only just met and are just in this dumb fake relationship—”
“A fake relationship with very real hot sex,” Darcy interrupted.
“Right. But the thing is that we kind of had a moment between us, in which he was kinda getting on me for having to go to therapy, and I was asking him if there isn’t anything he might need to go to therapy for, and he said there wasn’t.”
“Well, what guy is going to admit that?” she pointed out. “Plus, he probably knows he needs it but doesn’t want to even admit it to himself, let alone you.”
“True,” I conceded, but something was still nagging me. “It’s just that I really didn’t appreciate being made to feel as if I was the only one in the room with problems when clearly he has so many of his own.”
“That makes sense. He sounds like a complicated guy, and your period of required fake engagement is over, right?” she asked.
“Good question,” I admitted. “I have no idea.”
We hadn’t really talked that part through. I thought both of us were assuming we might get a wedding invite from Kenny and Raquel, and that we’d best keep pretending until then. But I also thought both of us were secretly hoping that if we never defined a time period, it would just continue to last.
“Well, I think it’s a good time to cut loose if you’re not that into it or you think he’s dishonest or complicated,” Darcy said. “It might be best to get out while you can. No hard feelings at this point. You might be best just trying to forget him. Maybe don’t ghost him, let him down easy, but don’t take things any further. I’ll even help; we can go out for margaritas to plan a strategy. A good happy hour always cures the blues. At least temporarily.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Maybe.”
“I’ll meet you at the bar opposite the office tomorrow at six. See you then, cupcake!”
If Darcy didn’t think that Gavin and I were meant to be— the thought of my fake fiancé and I being “meant to be” sounding silly to even think about— then I guessed we really weren’t. I hung up feeling a bit dumb for believing Gavin when he seemed too good to be true.
Not that it was all a lie, but there was enough that he had been hiding to make me doubtful.
***
I had just sat down to try and write a blog post when there was a knock on the door. I thought it was odd because of the controlled entrance but figured Darcy had gone out and forgotten her key. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I rolled my eyes and went to the door to find someone I really didn’t want to see on the other side of it.
Fucking Kenny.
“How did you get into the building?” I demanded, anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach.
“A very accommodating delivery man,” Kenny said.
“Great. Now get the fuck out.”
“I need to talk to you, please. Don’t send me away. Hear me out.”
I had never heard him beg like that. All signs of fronting were gone completely. He looked so pathetic that I relented, even though I had no feelings for him left anymore— other than pity, I supposed— and I had recently realized that perhaps I had never really had any to begin with.
