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“You said I mean the whole world to you, but that’s not true. It’s never been true. Football means more.” His brows furrow and his lips turn down. “It’s okay, Dom. I’ve always known my place in your life. But I don’t want you to pretend I hold a higher status than I do. I think it’s time we were both realistic.”
He shakes his head twice. “Clearly I have a lot more work cut out for me than I realized.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, and I’m afraid to ask. So I don’t.
A tabloid is thrown on my desk, a picture of Dom and me sitting at our table the other night. His expression looks almost hungry—for something other than food—but I know the truth. That was when he told me he wasn’t going to give up on our friendship. His determination—and stubbornness—is legendary. The headline is in big bold letters above the image. Dominic Smith scores new lady—Jen Summers forgotten?
I fight back a roll of my eyes and glance up at Tessa, whose perfectly trimmed brow is arched high. “Mind filling me in? I thought you were done with him?”
I blow out a breath and lean back in my chair. “It’s not what it looks like.”
I didn’t think it was possible but her brow arches higher. “Really? Cause it looks like you were on a date with him.”
I can’t tell her the truth. Not that I don’t trust her, but that was part of the agreement I signed with Dom’s new PR person.
Leaning forward, I rub circles on my temples, hoping to stem the headache that’s been growing ever since I agreed to this stupid idea.
“I told him,” I confess.
“That you wanted to end your friendship?”
“That too.”
Her eyes go wide and she inhales sharply. “You told him?”
I nod and fight back a laugh as she drops in the chair on the other side of my desk, looking at me like she doesn’t know me at all. “I can’t believe you told him and are just now telling me. We’ve been at work for hours! How did he take it? Was this at dinner?” she asks, pointing to the picture of us on the front page of the tabloid. “Tell me everything!”
“It was before that. It was a few weeks ago, actually.”
“So the dinner really was a date!” She sits up tall and looks like she’s about to start clapping like a peppy cheerleader, which I can’t have because there’s honestly nothing to cheer about.
But I also can’t tell her that everything she’s going to witness for the next six months is completely fake.
How the hell did this become my life?
“It was just a trial thing. You know Dom’s not really a commitment guy.” Understatement of the century.
Her eyes narrow. “Why aren’t you ecstatic about this? You’ve been pining for this guy for as long as I’ve known you, and now he’s finally stepping up and you seem…I don’t know, almost dejected by the whole thing. Shouldn’t you be glowing with happiness?”
I stare out the window, not seeing anything because I’m too lost in my feelings. “It’s not like I thought it would be,” I whisper.
It was never supposed to be fake. Or feel like someone was whittling my heart like a piece of wood, slowly and painfully.
“How did you think it would be?” she asks.
“Oh, I don’t know, glowing happiness, I guess?” I say, offering her a small smile and stealing her words. Truthfully, I thought it would feel like finally putting two perfect puzzle pieces together. It would be effortless.
It would be real.
But I know what I got myself into, and I agreed to this short-term torture for long-term gain. At the end of this, I can cut all ties, allow myself to grieve what will never be, and then move on and hopefully find someone who will love me as much as I deserve to be loved.
“You’re not telling me something.”
“I’m still processing it all. I’ll fill you in on all the dirty details at some point.”
She frowns, and I realize I’m not selling this at all. I need to pull on my big girl panties and make this seem real. I need to act like I would if Dom and I were really a couple.
“You know you can trust me, right?” she asks.
