Page 57 of The Faking Game
“She didwhat?”
“To set me up for success, she said.” Nora shrugs. “It was years ago.”
“You never needed it.”
She chuckles a little, but it’s polite. Strained. “Right. Thanks.”
“Do you enjoy it? The work?”
“Modeling? Not really. I loved getting to work with beautiful designers, though, and wear their clothes. It’s taught me a lot.” A real smile spreads across her face. “It’s what made me realize I want to be the one creating the pieces. I don’t want to model anymore.”
“You want to design.”
“Yes.” She meets my gaze with one of her own. “Even if my mother and Rafe think I’m throwing away an opportunity by turning down modeling jobs.”
“They’ve told you that?”
“Yes. Repeatedly.”
“I wonder what your therapist says about your mother. And your father,” I say darkly. The image of much younger Nora, caught between two arguing titans, pressured in every direction, makes red descend.They didn’t argue with me.
They arguedatme.
“She has a lot of opinions there too,” Nora says. She raises her hands. “Shouldn’t we practice again?”
“Shouldwe?” I ask her. “What doyouwant, Nora? It’s your list of things to practice, and so far, I’ve decided on the self-defense classes. That wasn’t on your list.”
“No, I guess it wasn’t,” she says slowly. “But I like the idea of defending myself. If the stalker ever… Well. Not to imply that your team isn’t great.”
“You can imply it if you want to. I’ve told you, my ego can take it.”
That makes her laugh a little. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Test me,” I say. “Get angry with me, argue with me. As long as you’re being yourself. Okay?”
She nods, and a small smile curves her full lips. Lips I’ve come close to kissing far too many times, all under the guise of helping her.I’m an asshole, I think. But at least I can help her practice standing up for herself and being honest.
It’s a fucking tragedy that anyone ever made her feel like she couldn’t.
CHAPTER17
WEST
The next day, I’m waiting outside the front doors when she returns home. I’ve spent almost a solid six hours in remote meetings, discussing the latest expansion of Cal Steel, and the sight of her washes it all away. Chases away the headache that’s been drumming at my temples.
She gets out of the car with two large bags, a pair of sunglasses on her head, and parted lips. “West?”
“Welcome home.”
“You’re here? Waiting for me?”
“I am.”
She lifts up one of the bags and gives me another curious look. “You’re not here to tell me off, are you?”
“And why do you think I’d do that?”
“Because I left Fairhaven.”
