Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(23)
I turned and walked back down the stairs, reached for the front door and pulled it open. I ducked my head when I whispered, “Please go.”
He walked down the final few steps. I felt his gaze burn into me, but I was too mortified to look him in the eye.
“Ellen, you can talk to me. I told you, I don’t judge.” His voice was soft, understanding, but that just made it so much worse. I wished for him to be mean so that I could feel justified in kicking him out, but he had to go and be nice about it. Ugh!
I kept my voice firm. “I said leave.”
For a second, he didn’t move. I sensed a struggle in him before he finally walked to the door. Unable to resist, perhaps because I was a glutton for punishment, I lifted my gaze to his. All I saw was sympathy and my face grew hot. He felt sorry for me, probably thought I was some sad loser who got her kicks from pretending to be someone she wasn’t. And let’s face it, that was the truth.
“If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”
Yes, I did know where to find him. Tuesday mornings at the Polka Dot Café. A sense of loss filled me to realise I couldn’t ever go there again, not as Elodie anyway. The jig was up, and Julian was certain to tell Suze all about his discovery.
Suze!
A feeling of grief clutched me. I didn’t want to lose her.
Julian left and I slammed the door shut, lowered myself to the floor and dropped my head into my hands. What a mess. That tense, awful feeling of chagrin trickled its way through me. It seared my insides, leaving humiliation in its wake. Julian was one of the most fascinating men I’d ever met. No, he was the most fascinating man I’d ever met, and now he saw me for what I really was.
A fraud.
I needed to get my shit together, quit pretending, finish writing my book, and be a responsible adult again. I needed to throw away my fanciful ideas about Elodie, quit lying to people and get back to being the socially inept hermit that was in my DNA.
Being myself was safe, and safe was what I needed to be.
So why did I feel like I’d lost a vital part of myself?
I got a text later that evening from Bernice, asking if Julian and Rose had dropped my ticket off. I didn’t tell her that it was just Julian, nor did I complain to her about giving my personal property to two virtual strangers. Sure, it was only a ticket, but still!
All day Sunday I wallowed and tried to get over the intense feeling of mortification. Of being exposed. To have someone know you pretended, to know you dreamt up this fantasy and tried to make it real, was worse than being discovered as a fake.
On Monday I had an early shift at the bookshop. I opened up and a number of customers came and went. At around eleven thirty, I was stacking shelves when the door chimed open. My gut dropped, and the small hairs on my arms stood on end. Julian walked in wearing dark slacks, a forest green shirt with several buttons undone, and a black velvet blazer. He had this sort of grown-up Peter Pan style going on (ironic, I know). I was certain it wouldn’t work for anyone else on this planet other than him.
Why hadn’t he given up on me yet? It made no sense. Upon further consideration, I’d decided Julian most likely wasn’t a book critic seeking to “out” me. On Saturday, three boxes of books had arrived at my house and he’d barely given them a second glance as he carried them upstairs. If he were trying to discover my true identity, he would’ve taken the opportunity to peruse the sender details, since my publisher’s name and address was right there on the boxes.
But if he wasn’t on a secret investigation, then why was he so interested? Why did he continue seeking me out? It certainly wasn’t for my glowing personality, and now that he knew Elodie didn’t exist, it most definitely wasn’t for my good looks.
On instinct, I ducked down behind the bookshelf and hid, hoping he’d leave. I spied on him through a crack between the books and watched as he placed two takeaway coffee cups down on the counter. The edge of his mouth curved in a smile when he said, “I can see you hiding over there.”
Great. As if I needed anything else to be embarrassed about with this man. Inhaling a deep breath, I mustered some self-respect, rose and dusted my hands off on my jeans.
“What are you doing here?”
“Bringing coffee to my new friend. You take it with milk, no sugar, yes?”
I narrowed my gaze and walked around him to the counter. He’d gotten takeout from the Polka Dot, and their coffee was my favourite. The rich aroma invaded my nostrils and it was so hard not to pick it up and down it.
“Thank you, but I’ve already had my coffee for today.”
“Go wild, have another,” he encouraged with an impish grin.
“I can’t. Too much caffeine gives me heart palpitations.”
“Ellen, if you don’t drink it, I’m going to have to throw it away, and wasting coffee is a sin even a degenerate such as myself refuses to commit.”
Gah! Why did he have to be so amiable? The glint in his eye was impossible to resist.
“Fine,” I allowed. “But only because I wouldn’t want that sin weighing on your conscience.”
I lifted the cup and Julian took the other, still grinning at me as he brought it to his mouth. Okay, so he was an inordinately sexy person. This was something I noticed about him from the beginning. He exuded sex appeal in a subtle way that had nothing to do with his clothes or his looks. It was an energy that surrounded him. It was a freedom and comfort in his own skin few were lucky enough to possess. Maybe that was why I felt such a draw to him. He was everything I wished I could be. Everything I was pretending to be as Elodie.