Page 89 of The Fake WIfe Playbook

I take a step closer. “It’s not what it looked like.”

She laughs, but there is no humor in it. “You’re actually going to say that? Seriously?”

“Tess set me up,” I blurt.

Another laugh, sharper this time. “Wow. That’s original.”

“She did, Kate.” I run a hand through my hair, tugging hard at the roots because I need to punish myself. “She texted, said she just wanted to talk. I shouldn’t have gone, I know that. I was stupid. But I swear—I swear—I didn’t kiss her.”

“She kissed you.”

“Yes.” I take a step closer, but then I stop when she pulls back. “She leaned in, and I was pushing her away, but someone was there with a camera. She planned the whole thing.”

Kate looks away, but before she does, I see the pain I’ve caused, the trust I’ve broken, and I hate myself for it.

“I love you,” I say, the words tumbling out raw. “Only you. I didn’t meet with Tess because I wanted anything from her—I just didn’t want unfinished shit hanging over us. She’s targeting you to get back at me. I thought if I tied up the loose ends, we could move forward. But I was wrong.”

I drop to my knees. Literally.

Her eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

“I’m begging you.” My palms press to the floor. “Begging you not to walk away from us because I was too stupid to see Tess still had an agenda. I should’ve known. You were right to be mad. You’re always right.”

She blinks. Once. Twice. But she doesn’t speak.

“I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t want her. I wantyou, Kate. You’re it for me. The beginning, the middle, the end. And if I lose you over this, I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll spend every day wishing I’d done this better—beenbetter.”

Silence. And then, she says, “Get up.”

I do. Slowly.

Her eyes lock on mine. “If you ever fall for something so stupid again?—”

“I won’t. I swear to God.”

“—or put yourself in a position like that, where someone else gets to decide what I see? We’re done.”

“I know.” I nod. “It won’t happen again.”

She studies me for a long, brutal second.

Then she steps forward and touches my face, barely there, like she doesn’t quite trust herself yet.

“Next time,” she whispers, “you tell me before you meet with a ghost from your past.”

“I will. But there won’t be a next time.”

And when she finally lets me hold her, relief washes over me like a tsunami.

41

FINN

Winning-self-explanatory.

I lean against the wall, watching her.

“I love you, Kate.”