Page 61 of That Fake Feeling

“Sorry, that did sound bad.”Isigh at myself. “Ijust meant that it’s the opposite of my family.”

“Yeah, and you know what?Whilewe were sitting outside earlier,Igot a sense of how good that might feel.”

Didthis solitary soul, who pushes everyone away while she studies and works, catch a glimpse of what it’s like to be surrounded by people who love you, and actually like it?

“Anyway, what does your aunt say?Isshe upset?”

“Shejust sent me the pics of the article and said, ‘Somethingyou want to tell me?Hashtagsecret boyfriend.Hashtaghandsome hottie.’”Shepauses for a second. “Iprobably shouldn’t have read out that last one.”

It’simpossible to tell in the low light whether she’s blushing, but she tugs at her skirt and shifts in her seat.

“Well,”Isay. “Herobvious excellent taste in men aside, she can’t be too pissed off if she’s hashtagging like that.”

“Sillyhashtags are her thing.I’mlucky it’s late here, though, or she would have video called instead of texting and really caught me off guard.”

Iglance at the clock on the mantel.It’salmost midnight. “Doesshe work?Didyou say she owns a coffee shop?”

“Oh, no.Thefriend who sent her the article is someone she knows fromCatastropheCoffee, the local place she goes to most days.Oneof the women who works there saw the article and thought it might be me, so she texted her the photos.”

“Holdon.CatastropheCoffee?NowImight only be aCEOby accident, but evenIknow calling a caféCatastropheCoffeeis a terrible business decision.”

Asmile brightens her face. “Catastropheis the name of the town.Everythingthere is called something like that.There’sCatastropheCakes,CatastropheClothing,CatastropheCattery.It’stheir thing.”

“Ha.Mightas well be calledWeFuckUpEverything.Soundslike my kind of town.”Isnort. “Maybethat’s whatIshould be called.CatastropheConnor.”

Silencehangs around us for a second in the cozy, glowing room asRosetakes a sip of her drink, as if deciding whether to respond to that or let it go.

Sheturns a little to face me and rests the side of her head on the back of the chair.

“Itconfuses me when you say things like that.”Hertone is equal amounts of concern and bewilderment. “You’vebuilt this billion-dollar company from scratch.You’verenovated a stunningChelseatownhouse.Youand your brothers and cousins have bought and renovated this place that looks like something out ofArchitecturalDigest, yet you keep saying you’re a total failure.”

Ha.Asif she can talk. “Andyou’re this vibrant, smart, funny, stunning woman who seems to isolate herself and have no human relationships in her life.Well, apart from the eccentric aunt, but she lives three thousand miles away, so it’s not like you hang out.”

“Youhave no idea how many friendsIhave or whoIhave in my life,” she says quietly.It’slike the whole of her being is focused on the finger she runs along the lines etched in her glass.

Iprobably shouldn’t push this issue but…

“Iknow that since you’ve been at my place, you haven’t eaten a single meal out of the house.Ican see the dishes in the dishwasher.Andyou’re in your room every night whenIget home.Thelight’s on, orIhear you walking around.So, you’re not exactly out socializing.”

Sheraises her eyebrows but still doesn’t look at me. “Andthere was me thinking you’d barely noticedIwas there.”

Ifonly she knew.

“Theexact opposite.Thesmell of your shampoo or lotion or something lingers wherever you’ve been.AndIlike seeing your shoes by the front door.”Hergaze jumps up to mine.Maybethat was too honest. “It’sjust nice that the place feels properly lived in for the first time.That’sall.”

“You’vemade a beautiful home.Ifyou’re not happy doing what you’re doing, maybe you should renovate houses for a living instead.Orat least as a hobby.”

“Fuck, no.Contractorsdrive me crazy.”

Shechuckles and shakes her head. “Well,I’msure you don’t need to work at all if you don’t want to.”

“ThenIwouldn’t just be a fuckup,I’dbe a lazy fuckup.”

Thecandlelight casts deep shadows across her forehead as she furrows her brow. “Itmakes me sad that you think of yourself like that.”

Iknock back the last of my drink. “Weshouldn’t be talking about me.Ishould be helping you figure out what to say to your aunt.”

“Oh,Ihave no idea how to handle that.Ineed to sleep on it.”