Page 70 of The Temptation of Truth

My eyes sting, and I breathe through it, willing the tears away. My emotions have been through hell and back in the last twelve hours, and I’m so fucking overwhelmed. I have a mom. I have sisters. I have so many unanswered questions and unmade decisions. And now, I’m about to have anex-girlfriend.

I wipe my sweaty palm on my leather skirt and close my eyes.

“Kat, I know a thing or two about contract relationships, okay? Those pap pictures weren’t staged for the media. If they were, they’d have been crisp, clear, and in public. The pictures I just saw were of a private moment between two people who had no idea they were being photographed.”

“It wasn’t like that. We were just practicing.”

Kat stumbles over her words as she speaks, her voice high-pitched and defensive. But me? My words come out sounding tired. Defeated. I swallow back a sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

Practicing.

They were justpracticing.

The lie hurts more than the pictures, and a tear breaches my lash line and rolls down my cheek.

“Three years,” I whisper. “We were together for three years. You could at least respect me enough to be honest.”

She gasps, then sniffs. “I do respect you!”

I roll my head back and forth against the brick. “No. If you did, you’d have told me about the relationship contract as soonas it was floated as an option. I wouldn’t have found out from a gossip blog moments before I’m supposed to play a show. If you respected me, there wouldn’t be pap photos of you and Kazpracticing. I wouldn’t be blindsided. I would have known.”

I also want to add that if she respected me, she’d have consulted me first. I don’t, though. It’s pointless.

She clicks her tongue and huffs. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mabel. You know how important my career is to me. I thought you supported me.”

I can picture her thin brows slanted and her overlined lips pointed downward in a frown. Indignant and ready to argue. I bet she has her hand on her hip, too. In the beginning, I’d have found it cute. Admirable, even. The way she never backs down. The way she never admits fault or owns her mistakes. But now? Now I’m just...

Over it.

My exhale is slow as another tear trails down my cheek. “And what about after?”

Kat pauses. “After what?”

“This runway show. Let’s say you get on it. What happens then?”

“What do you meanwhat happens? Then I compete, and I win. What else?”

“Will you still need to be in this fake relationship with Kaz once you get on the show? How long is the contract for?”

“Oh. Well...We haven’t really signed a contract.”

I bite back a groan. No contract. No parameters. Justpracticingin the dark. I don’t bother pointing out how fucked up it all is. It doesn’t matter. She won’t listen, anyway.

I ask the next question already knowing the answer. I don’t even know why I do it. Maybe I need to be sure. I need it to hurt more before I take it seriously.

“So when you win, will we be able to go public? No more press appearances with Kaz. No more handsy photos or flirty videos. No more practicing kissing in dark corners. Instead, it will be you and me doing red carpets and events, right? You and me in the media. No more hiding. No more secrets. It will finally be how we’ve talked about. Right?”

I hate myself for the small bud of hope that starts to bloom in my chest as I speak. The way my mind creates vivid, colorful images of each scenario before they even leave my tongue. Scenarios I’ve imagined hundreds of times over the last three years. The outfits and the music and the glam. Flash photography and smiles. Her hand in mine. Us laughing and posing together on every tabloid cover in the magazine rack. Us in love, loud and proud.Us.

Even now, in the wake of this deep ache, I can’t help but long for it just a little. I don’t even want it anymore, but muscle memory is a bitch. And what’s the heart if not just an annoying fucking muscle?

“Mabel. Sweetie. Don’t do this. You know it’s not that easy. It’s just not the right time.”

I huff another strangled laugh and wipe at my cheeks. She’s not saying anything new, but this time...God, this time, I hear it for what it is, and it fucking hurts.

“When will it be the right time, Kat?”

When she doesn’t answer, Sav’s words from last week ring in my ears.