Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(78)
“I can’t believe you hired a male escort, that’s just so…anti-Ellen.”
“Well, technically I didn’t hire him, because no money was ever exchanged.”
He chewed on his lip, and I sensed a confession coming on. “When I went to Amsterdam, I slept with a prostitute.”
My eyes widened. “You did?”
Nick nodded. “It was pretty rough. I came away feeling bad about the woman, bad about wanting to pay for sex in the first place, just plain bad about everything. I ended up paying her double what I originally owed.”
“Oh, Nick.”
“I had to. It was clear she was only doing it because she didn’t have another choice. But I don’t think that’s the case for everyone. From what you’ve told me of Julian, it sounds like his job is a personal choice. He actually gets something out of it.”
“Yes, I think you’re right,” I said, feeling both forlorn and jealous. Jealous of all the women who were going to have him now that we were over.
“If that’s true, then you just need to let him be who he is. You can’t change people, Ellen. You can’t make them want a white picket fence and a country cottage if they’d prefer a balcony with a city view.”
“It just hurts. Letting him go hurts so bad, Nick,” I said and dropped my head on his shoulder.
“I know, Els. But it’ll get better, I promise. Time heals all wounds.”
*
I stayed at Dad’s for almost two weeks until he and Shayla were due back from their honeymoon. I told myself it was time to get back to reality. Bernice had been taking care of Skittles and Rainbow for me, and it was definitely time to relieve her of her duties. Besides, I missed my birds.
They didn’t even know how lucky they were to have a partner for life, a little friend to be by your side for all your days.
During my stay at Dad’s, I’d thrown myself into my book. I didn’t check my emails, barely even looked at my phone. Instead, I wrote. Emotion had built up inside me and it needed an outlet. As such, the final Sasha Orlando book was turning out to be very tumultuous. All of my feelings these past two weeks became her feelings. I couldn’t help it. Writing the story was like therapy.
From the start of the series, Sasha developed a close friendship with Toby, her boss at the newspaper. Over time, they started to have feelings for one another, but because they’re both seeing other people, and also because it would be unprofessional, they keep their relationship platonic. I’d never originally planned for them to get together, but there was a large contingent of readers who shipped Sasha & Toby, and I wanted to finally give them their happy ending. I’d even written a sex scene. A real, detailed, unadulterated sex scene!
Anyway, it seemed that immersing myself in a fictional happily ever after helped me forget about the lack of one in my own life.
When I arrived at my house, Skittles and Rainbow went apeshit. I know it’s hard to picture lovebirds going apeshit, but just picture them flying all over the place, tweeting like mental, nipping at my hair, and pooping on my shoulder.
I had to change my shirt afterward.
I steeled myself to finally check my emails and missed calls. There were several from Daniel, a couple of texts from Suze wondering where I was and to let her know I was okay asap, but nothing from Julian.
I shouldn’t be mad at him for not trying to contact me, since I hadn’t tried to contact him either, but it still stung. Things between us really were over and I needed to start accepting it. Getting my heart to accept it was half the battle.
My guilt over Suze ate away at me until finally, I decided to bite the bullet. I needed to come clean to her, and then she could decide whether or not she still wanted to be my friend. It was Monday, so I texted her back, apologising for the radio silence, and said I would meet her the next morning at the café.
Her response came not long after.
Suze: Okay, but I want an explanation for why I haven’t heard from you, lady!
Damn, this wasn’t going to be easy. But I had to be brave, otherwise I’d spend the rest of my life hiding, and I was sick of it, sick of keeping track of lies.
The following morning, I didn’t put on a lick of makeup, no wig, or fancy outfit. No mask. Instead I wore jeans and a T-shirt, my hair pulled into a ponytail, glasses firmly in place.
I walked into the Polka Dot Café, a lump in my throat when I spotted Suze at our usual table. She scrolled on her phone and sipped a latte. My hands shook, and my pulse thrummed as I walked up to the table, pulled out a chair and sat. Suze’s eyes flicked up from her phone.
“Sorry, but I’m waiting for someone.”
“Suze, it’s m-me,” I stammered, staring her dead in the eye. Not too much eye contact, Ellen. You don’t want to come across like any more of a crazy person.
She blinked, frowned, then shook her head. She stared at me for a long moment, taking in my hair and eyes, how different I looked but with Elodie’s face.
“I…I’m not sure what’s going on here,” she said, clearly perplexed.
“I’m Elodie.”
She was still openly staring at me. “Right.”
“But my real name is actually Ellen,” I said and scratched nervously at my wrist.
“Okaaay,” she drew out the word as she let that sink in.