Page 191 of The Faking Game
“Yes. Your father and I were together for almost three decades, and we had a wonderful time together.”
There are days when I can nod at my mother’s cultured delusions. Days where I play along with the narrative she prefers over the truth. Today is not one of those days. “You hated each other,” I say. “Wonderfultime? How many affairs did you have? How many affairs did Dad have? I could never keep count.”
There’s silence on the other end, and then her low, furious voice. “West.”
“I suppose that was the point, though, with sending me off to Belmont. If I wasn’t around, I couldn’t keep track.” My voice is cold. “What do I have against marriage?Everything.”
“Your father and I loved each other.”
“That’s not what love looks like,” I say, thinking of Nora sleeping in bed this morning. Of the furious, painful need inside me to protect her. Even from herself and her own people-pleasing.
Which should also mean from me.
“You don’t know everything,” she says.
“No, I suppose I don’t. But from where I stand, can you blame me for not wanting a marriage like yours?” My words are cruel, but they’re also true, and right now I don’t have it in myself to be restrained.
“Why do you think your father and I married? He was just as much a subject to the clause of the trust as you were. But he decided to do it right, consider a lot of candidates. We arranged it all nicely.” Her voice is far more aloof now. “Nora is a beautiful girl. You will make a lovely couple, and she clearly adores you. It’s a great start.”
My hand tightens around my phone. “That was all fake.”
There’s complete silence on the other end.
“We pretended. She was pretending every time you saw her.”
My mother laughs. It shocks me enough that I have no response. “That girl is head over heels, West, and if you can’t see that, then I can’t help you,” she says. “And the fact that you’re hemming and hawing over the simplest, most strategic course of action tells me that maybe you are too.”
“If I marry her, it will be for my own good,” I tell my mother. “Not for hers.”
“Marriage is compromise. Your father and I may have had our moments, but we understood that from day one.” Her voice hardens. “The question is, do you?”
CHAPTER58
NORA
West hasn’t been himself since the night of the Spring Ball.
He’s busy, and so am I, working from early in the morning until late to perfect the pieces for the Fashion Showcase. It’s only days away. West used to be around, though. Popping by with a cup of tea for me or texting to suggest we grab dinner.
But now he’s not around at all; not at the estate. Not in his office, not in the library. And when I see him, it’s brief interactions, short conversations with a heaviness in his eyes.
He’s here. He’s holding me. His lips brush over my temple, and his kisses are still hot and hungry, but his whiskey eyes have shuttered.
Yesterday, I woke up to him sliding into my bed and turned toward his warmth instinctively.Didn’t mean to wake you,he’d murmured into my hair, and pulled me to drape over him. He once told me he slept better if we were connected somehow. A hand on my waist, a leg intertwined.
None of that has changed. He still wants me, I know that, deep in my bones. Even if he hasn’t brought up the marriage thing once since I said it.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Worked late. Trying to map out Wilde’s movements.” He sighed in what sounded like relief when I pressed close to him. “God, you feel good.”
“Mmm.” I was sleepy and annoyed at his absence, but too glad that he was back to protest. I fell asleep again, warm and happy and determined to talk more properly the next day, only to find him gone again when I woke.
So I stick to my usual routine. Go for a run with Sam and Madison, eat breakfast in the kitchen, perfect hems and stitches and folds.
Ignore my brother’s calls.
He’s called every day since the party. Twice the day after, three times yesterday. But on the third day, he sends me a text I can’t ignore.
