Page 119 of Fake it for Keeps

“It matters to you. So it matters.”

I closed my eyes, and before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out. “If I could go back, I never would have left you on that beach.”

I heard her breath catch. Then a soft sniffle.

“Hallie? You okay?”

“No.” Her voice was thick with tears. “I’m not okay. I fucked up, Colt. I broke something that was starting to feel really special to me. And I’m so angry at myself. I don’t know what the next right move is. I don’t know how to fix this.”

My chest tightened. I wanted to be there with her. Wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her it would be okay. But I was hours away in Manhattan, and she was in the Hamptons, and the distance between us felt insurmountable.

“It’s four in the morning,” I said gently. “You don’t have to figure it out right now. You don’t have to make your next move until the sun comes up.”

“What about you? Can you go back to sleep?”

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Then I’ll stay up with you,” she said simply. “Tell me something. Anything. Tell me about your favorite memory of Lauren.”

The request caught me off guard. No one ever asked me about Lauren. Frankie knew better. Everyone else didn’t know at all. And was it wrong to share memories of my first love with my second love? I didn’t want to hurt Hallie with those memories. Or make her feel inadequate or second rate because that was the farthest thing from the truth.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because she was important to you. Because talking about the people we’ve lost helps keep them alive. And because…” She paused. “Because I want to understand you better. Even if it’s too late for us.”

I should say no. Should tell her it was none of her business. Should hang up and let us both go back to our separate misery.

But I didn’t.

“She used to sing off-key in my car,” I said. “Didn’t matter what song was playing—pop, rock, country—she’d sing along at the top of her lungs and get every single note wrong. It was terrible.” I smiled despite myself. “But she was so happy when she did it. So free. And I loved that about her.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was.” My throat tightened. “She was everything to me. And when she died, it felt like the entire world stopped making sense. Like I’d lost my compass and would never find my way again.”

“But you did find your way,” Hallie said softly. “You’re honoring your father’s legacy. You took care of Frankie. You survived, Colt. That takes incredible strength.”

“It doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like going through the motions.”

“Until recently?” I knew what she was asking. Until her. Until I’d let myself feel something real again.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Until recently.”

We sat in silence for a while, just breathing together over the phone. The panic that had woken me had subsided, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

“Colt?” Hallie’s voice was quiet. “I know you need time. I know you might never forgive me. But I need you to know something.”

“What?”

“It was all real. I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner. I’m sorry I let it get this far. I’m sorry for everything. That’s not who I am. I hated the person I became. I’m not vengeful. I did move on after the beach thing. It was my choice to be bitter about it. I don’t want to feel like that ever again. Because even though it hurt at the time, I think it made me stronger. It made me who I am. I shouldn’t have let one bad decision lead to so much pain. I’m selfish. I never want to feel selfish again. This whole thing has taught me another life lesson. I just want you to know, you will always be the one that got away.”

The words should have made me angry. Should have felt like another manipulation. Instead, they just made me tired.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” I said honestly. “I don’t know how to trust it. How to trust you.”

“I know. I don’t expect you to.” She paused. “You should try to get some sleep. Just close your eyes. Leave the phone on your pillow.”

I smiled. “It’s fine. I’m going to work out. That’s what I usually do after one of these stupid nightmares.”