The Decoy Girlfriend(60)
“For me and most writers I know, our hearts are full of gratitude that we get to have this job, which is all everyone wants to hear. No one wants to know about the scabbed-over parts. For so long, I was sabotaging myself because I was scared to do this without her.”
It has taken her until this exact moment to realize it, but it’s why Taft’s rejection was hitting her so hard: this relationship, fake as it is, is the first fiction Freya’s poured her heart into in a long time.
The silence stretches, both of them sitting with what Freya’s shared.
She’s the first one to break it. “If you don’t say something eventually, I’m going to get anxious that I somehow broke one of your precious rules.”
He huffs. “Freya, for what it’s worth, I wanted to take back my dumbassery about rules pretty much ASAP. I tried to broach it over pizza, but . . . Anyway, I’m sorry for getting carried away at the photo shoot.”
“You tried to take it back? When?” Light bulb moment. “Wait, we weren’t just talking about pizza?”
He looks embarrassed. “I thought you’d read between the lines.”
She tries not to groan. “You decided to back away without even asking me if I was willing to risk it.”
“If we do, our time together might just be another scab one day.”
Of course, sure, there’s a real possibility of that happening, but if the alternative is an impersonal frozen tundra, Freya’s not going to make it until Mandi returns in two weeks for the movie premiere.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll write you into a book and it will live on forever,” she jokes.
He laughs. “Haven’t you already done that?”
Freya flushes, thinking back to the snippet he managed to sneak. “He’s not you, trust me.”
Considering the circumstances of how they met, maybe asking for his trust is too cheeky.
“I trust you,” says Taft. Her eyes fly to his. “And if you’ll let me, I promise I won’t ever be brutal with you. I know you’ve had it rough lately, but whether or not I ever get to read what’s on your screen, I will always be gentle with your heart.”
* * *
—
Taft meant every word. But he also knows that actions speak louder. Even though he knows it’s not something Freya expects, he wants to prove it anyway. And he thinks he finally has the perfect idea.
A few days later, he’s ducking into Books & Brambles—having shaken off a stealthy photographer and a group of giggling teen girls who weren’t exactly subtle about trailing him—when he overhears Stori talking to Freya. Neither woman sees him enter.
Stori’s draped over the counter where Freya’s sitting with Hunka. Freya’s hair is piled high in a messy bun, errant curls and blue glasses framing her bare face. Even though she’s “off” when they’re at home, she needs her time at Books & Brambles to recenter herself. He doesn’t want her to lose herself completely in being Mandi, and he knows that’s not what she wants, either. It caught him off guard the first time she went to work, how much he missed her presence, but now he’s sure of it: Freya occupies the center of his universe.
But fuck, he can’t help it. When she’s not with him, he feels adrift. He misses her more than he ever thought it was possible to miss another person. So today, he gives in to his impulse to pop in for a visit.
“You’re doing it again. Staring off into the distance with your thinking-about-Richard-Madden face,” says Stori, reaching out to tug one of Freya’s curls.
Taft half smiles. If Freya’s a fan, he’ll introduce them.
“You know me so well,” says Freya. “All right, prove it. Game of Thrones era, Cinderella, or Marvel’s Eternals?”
Stori sounds smug as she answers, “That’s a trick question. He’s equally hot in all of them.”
“Lies! Robb Stark all the way! The right amount of stubble is, like, the sexiest thing on a guy.”
“I didn’t know you were into facial hair.”
Freya’s voice goes up a notch. “It’s a . . . um . . . recent development.”
“Hmm, doesn’t a certain roommate of yours happen to have—”
“Taft!” Freya’s shriek cuts Stori off. “What are you doing here?”
He gives her an amused smile. “This is a bookshop, isn’t it?”
Freya bites her lip, glancing at the street visible through the window display. Seemingly satisfied by the empty sidewalk, she searches Taft’s face. “Were you seen? I mean, were you careful?”
Amused, he nods. “Very. I took the long route to get here in order to lose anyone tailing me.”
“Hmm, countersurveillance. Very sexy stuff,” Stori says with a smirk. Freya shoots her aunt a displeased look, but Taft can swear he sees her fighting a smile.
“Aaaaand that’s my cue to go rearrange some books and pretend I’m not here,” announces Stori. “Try not to reenact any erotica this time?” She gives Taft a pointed look as she departs.
“I think I’m growing on her,” he says with a shrug.
Freya snorts. “So, seriously. Why are you here?”
“Way to make a guy feel welcome,” he drawls.