“Yes, dammit! My fiancée!” I’ve come too far and done too much to bother with deception anymore. And besides, calling Tess my fiancée brings me the comfort I need right now, as if me calling her that will have the power to bring her back. I disconnect the phone and pace the room, waiting to hear what news Karl brings me.
* * *
I let myself into the apartment with my keys after calling out, “No worries, Charles. It’s only me.” She must hear the fake cheerfulness in my voice because Charlie comes shuffling out of the bedroom saying, “Why are you back? What’s going on?”
The floodgates open and I break into sobs. “Ch-Charlie…I-I don’t know what to do.” I collapse on the living room sofa that’s been brought out of storage now that we no longer have to use the space for a second bedroom. Charlie is sitting beside me in a flash. “Stay here. I’m going to get you a Valium and brush my teeth. Then I can think straight. It’s a work day tomorrow, noodle. What are you doing coming back here after nine o’clock at night?”
She disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the faucet switch on. These normal activities remind me of how Roscoe and I have fallen into spending our free time together at RB1, and it makes me cry harder.
The smell of herbal tea and toothpaste comes closer. “Come on, Tess. Drink this. She hands me a small white pill and when I reach out to take it, I’m shaking so hard I can’t even pick it up. Charlie pats my back saying, “Open up, noodle.” Then she gives me the tea to help me swallow the pill. The placebo effect is immediate. I wipe my eyes and hiccup, but I’m able to answer questions, which helps me make sense of this evening too.
“Charlie, I’ve been lying to everyone so badly that I’ve lost track of what’s real and what is a fantasy. It doesn't matter anymore because it’s all lies anyway.”
“If you’re about to tell me you’re working as a high-priced stripper-escort in town to pay off your student loan, Tess, you wouldn’t be the first girl to do such a thing. You know that, don’t you?” She pats my back in a soothing manner. I try to laugh, but it comes off as a kind of strangled sob.
“It’s not as bad as that, but you remember that backer I told you about…?”
“Oh God.” Charlie’s patting on my back quickens. “Are you some rich, old dude’s sugar baby?”
Charlie’s guesses are almost accurate, but I find myself jumping to Roscoe’s defense, even though I know he’s a selfish bastard. “He’s not old, Charlie! He’s only thirty-six! I wish everyone would stop making such a big deal out of age gaps. And besides…he looks a-mazing!”
“Whoa. Okay! Your sugar daddy’s a hottie. I get it. So, why are you crying and coming back to your old apartment late at night?”
“Oh Charles…something bad happened and I didn’t know where else to go.” The fake fiancée story leaks out and seems to become more and more complicated as I tell it. “We went to this fancy nightclub. I think it was because he wanted to show me that being with him wasn’t all yachts and elite dining. Roscoe wanted me to know all those things I did before I met him, all those youthful things, were still possible. Sarah Blakely was there, and she smelled a rat immediately! She said she was sorry about the similarity of her collection to mine, but she promised me it was subliminal.”
Charlie gives an angry snort. “Bullshit! She ripped you off!”
I sob. “It’s too late. I felt sorry for her when she told me she was giving up fashion designing, so I believed her. She came around to the penthouse, took one look at my collection and the engagement ring around my neck, and put two and two together. She forced me to sign a contract tonight or else she said she would leak the news of our engagement to the press. The Bridges hate the press—”
“News of your fake engagement to the press?” Charlie looks confused.
“No! Yes! I don’t know.” I shake my head. “The Bridges will blame me for everything. The Japanese merger deal would fall through if I told Sarah the engagement was fake…she would duplicate my designs anyway, just like she did before! And I can’t lose this collection, Charlie, because it’s what we call in the business, a name maker. Just like Tom Ford at Gucci or Stella McCartney at Chloe, I can’t lose this collection. So, I signed the contract, at least, this way I can retain some credit.”
Charlie sighs. “That’s nothing your dad’s lawyer can’t get you out of Tess. It doesn’t explain your tears. Anger? Yes! Hysterical crying? No.”
I take a deep breath and feel the effects of the Valium inside me for real this time. I haven’t eaten for hours and my head’s reeling. “I can’t get out of it!Sarah says she will go to the press with the news of our engagement if I try to, and then Roscoe will think I’m trying to force him to marry me. And he doesn’t even love me!”
More tears and back pats. The pill kicks in and I manage to tell my best friend in a calmer tone, “I tried to guard my heart, Charlie. I’m not stupid. But it’s so hard when life seems to be perfect.He’sperfect. Perfect for me. And I found out tonight that he doesn’t feel the same way about me. I would die of shock if he did. But I don’t deserve him calling me names behind my back and laughing with his brothers about me.”
I tell her what I overheard at the restaurant and Charlie goes ballistic. “The bastard! How dare he! After the way you helped him out and made him even more fucking billions of dollars! If I ever lay my hands on him…”
“I also got something out of it, Charlie. It’s my best line of clothing ever…”
Charlie snorts and growls. “Fuck him! Let’s get you to bed, noodle. When you wake up tomorrow, everything is going to seem a bit better, I promise you. You’ll never have to see that creep again.”
I don’t want to think of never seeing Roscoe again. It hurts too much. But I also know it is probably for the best, so I stumble into Charlie’s bed and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.
CHAPTER23
TESS
I really don’t want to wake up. I hate it when my mind clears the fog and becomes alert. The memories that begin flooding back in are so acutely painful, for one moment, I think about finding Charlie’s Valium stash and swallowing the entire blister pack. My head feels dead, but my heart feels raw. A surge of adrenaline pumps through me whenever I think of Roscoe saying, ‘Gold digger, sugar baby,’ as if I’m some bimbo who needs to sleep her way to the top.
The herbal tea I drank last night is what gets me up. When I walk out into the living area, Charlie is gone. It’s a work day.
But my mom and dad are sitting on the sofa.
“Mom!” I run to give her a hug, but when I turn to hug my dad, I see he’s fuming. The aggressive thrust of his chin tells me everything I need to know because I haven’t seen it since the collection fiasco at school when they wanted to fail me.