Page 39 of Fake Wife
I can’t rouse the curiosity to care. I’m still too stuck on Corbin.
“You didn’t tell me what he’d be doing out there then.”
“And I won’t. That’s his business, literally. But I suggest that if he’s still not at the penthouse when you get home, you should head out to Cannon Bluffs and find him. I think you’ll be surprised. I’m not sure you two are as different as you think you might be.”
She’s already paid the check, and as she finishes that cryptic message, she slides from the booth. “Come on. You can walk me home.”
“I think you might be the nutso one,” I say as she links her hand through my arm and walks out the door, waving goodbye to Jonas, who’s busy behind the bar. He puts his hand up in a silent gesture for her to call him and she returns a thumbs-up.
We walk the few blocks in the direction back to Corbin’s apartment and I gape at Caitlin as she enters the lobby, still holding on to me.
“Hi, Maurice, how’s it shaking?” she calls out to the security guard.
“Miss Pappas, Miss Monroe. Pleasure to see you ladies this evening looking so beautiful.”
“Flatterer,” she teases him.
“I thought I was walking you home,” I say.
She presses the button for the elevator and grins at me. “You are. I live on the tenth floor.”
“Yeah. You’re nuts.”
“But harmless.” Her brows scrunch together. “For the most part, anyway.”
We take the elevator up, and as the doors open, Caitlin steps out holding them open and faces me. “I’m not crazy. I just thought it’d be weird for you to know I live in Corbin’s building. When I moved out of my parents’ house, he helped me get this place. He’s one of the best, Teagan, I promise you, and I think you guys will be perfect for each other.”
She steps back and out of sight as the doors close. Before I can remind her it’s all pretend. And I ride the elevator up to the penthouse, smiling. The girl is harmlessly crazy, a bit wild, a whole lot energetic and kind, and I think I’ve finally found my first friend in Portland.
Funny that it’s only taken me five years.
Chapter 14
Corbin
I’ve sent ten text messages to Teagan. All unanswered. I’m pacing my living room, practically wearing the Italian wool rug down to nothing as I stare at my phone.
I didn’t mean to be gone so long, sneaking out of Teagan’s bed early this morning to head out to Cannon Bluffs before the sun had even risen. But I had to get out of there, away from Teagan and her sweetness and her vulnerability.
I’m quickly learning that she might be the first girl I’ve found who’s truly too good for me. Her innocence and kindness, her openness, her lack of secrets. All of it’s so drastically different from the world in which I was raised. When I’m around her I feel unsettled and insecure, which is rare for me.
Especially after last night. Now she’s been ignoring my calls and texts for the last three hours, ever since I left Cannon Bluffs.
As usual, I lost myself in my work—in the screeching sound of saws along with noise-canceling headphones. I didn’t see her text from this morning until I got in my car to return to Portland. I didn’t even think she’d be looking for me.
But when I got home and she wasn’t here, without a note, or a word, I’ve become increasingly worried.
Panicked.
Terrified.
Has she left me? Taken off because I was such a gigantic prick last night? Did I drive her so insane she got piss drunk to the point of throwing up? Good God, I literally drive the girl to drink.
Perhaps I’m not so different from my father.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, stabbing my fingers on my phone screen to pull up her name again.
I press the call button, and before I hear a ring, the click of my door unlocking and then opening makes me hang up.
