I nod. “Yeah, I refer a lot of my patients to her, and OT does, too. She’s really good, but you know, if she’s not what you need, or if you don’t jive with her, we can always find somebody else. I have a whole list of them to refer you to, if you need. Whenever you want.”

  I don’t know what to do, how to be, with him like this. It’s not like I can pat him on the back and go there, there, because that’s just not going to cut it.

  “I’m sorry, Brody, for everything.”

  “I thought I had everything figured out, you know?” He laughs, bitterly, clasping at his own hands tightly again, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t, he’ll break apart. “I wanted to play for another ten years if I didn’t get injured in the game. God, I can’t believe I’m complaining right now. I must’ve ruined your appetite, huh?”

  I shake my head, giving him a small smile when he looks at me. His eyes are red-rimmed. He has the look of a man stuck on tracks as the train rushes forward, doing all he can until he’s finally bracing for impact, regrets and all.

  “You didn’t ruin anything. Thank you for bringing me this. What do I owe you?”

  At that, Brody’s face shutters, as sure as he’s slammed an invisible force-field between us, hiding behind it.

  What the what?

  “Hell, Amber, can’t I do something nice for you?”

  I wheel back my chair just a little, just to get that extra bit of space. It always felt like Brody made me weak in the knees, even while I was sitting down. Being this close to him is making me forget the endgame.

  “Hey, relax, I just asked a question. You wanna spend your money feeding me, that’s not my problem.” I grab my plastic fork and stab into my penne and shove it in my mouth, losing my mind at the taste. “Ah, it’s been a hundred years since I’ve been to Del Vecchio’s. Best pasta ever.” I munch and munch, unnerved by how intently Brody seems to be watching me.

  “Since coming back home, I find that I’m reacquainting myself with all our old haunts. A lot of them have changed, yeah, but some of it has stayed the same. Old Mr. Petros recognized me the other day, and it kinda broke my heart, to see him having gotten so old,” Brody says.

  I snort. “Mr. Petros. He used to give us free rice puddings, remember?” I reminisce along with him, as we talk about all the restaurants we went to, spending our hard-earned cash on food and movies, just wanting to spend time together. It also helped that we’d get free stuff, our parents being patrons and loyal customers before us, too.

  “Yeah, shit, I forgot about those. Maybe we can go there tonight?”

  Panic, sudden panic, that burns up my throat and has nothing to do with the arrabiata sauce.

  “Uh…I…I don’t know.” There, that puts the matter forward succinctly. I hold up a hand when Brody opens his mouth to start inevitably arguing.

  “Look, I know our parents saw us last week, eating together. Big whoop. I’ve got a lot of things going on right now, I’m working on some applications for a post-doc,” I lie, waving my hand over it so we can gloss over that subject, too, “I’ve got an issue with my cousin that needs to be resolved, and we’re actually going to be moving offices in the new year, which is awesome, but I’m already drowning in paperwork and I’ve gotta get shit organized.”

  Brody’s quiet for a time, taking all of this in. “Amber, don’t bullshit me.”

  I flap a hand at him, spearing into more penne and eating while I can, chewing, swallowing. I’m not going to waste a precious moment of not eating because I have a feeling I’m going to get pissed off much sooner than I thought.

  What can I say? Brody brings out the angry beast inside me.

  “Hey, I’m not one of those people who has my shit together, okay? I can’t do too many things at once, being pulled in all these different directions. This isn’t meant to be real, Brody, this isn’t meant to take up so much of my time, this fake thing between you and me. It’s for show. So let’s make it for show. Stage a few pictures of us holding hands, or whatever, and that’s it.” I spear some more pasta, demolishing a good quarter of the package in a single forkful.

  “Me? Taking up too much of your time?” He stabs a finger in the air viciously, cutting through the air like he wishes it were a part of my body instead.

  My heart starts and stops in my chest, watching his face as if he’s a complete stranger to me.

  And he is, he totally is.

  I don’t really know this Brody at all, and I have to remember that.

  I raise an eyebrow, dab at my mouth delicately with my complimentary napkin so as not to remove my bulletproof liquid lipstick. “What are you talking about?”

  Brody scoffs, incredulous. He clutches at his thighs, right over his knees, digging in, and I know it causes him pain since his skin tone pales out.

  “What am I talking about? Ever since I got back home, it’s all I’ve been hearing, how great you are, how amazing you are to your parents, that you bought a little house with a backyard like we always said we were going to have.”

  I laugh, narrowly avoiding choking on another bite of pasta. “We were eighteen. Talking about a future, like idiots. We should’ve known better.” I shake my head, wanting to lay it all out there. “Brody, what we’re doing is stupid. Clearly, we can’t stand each other, so why even bother?”

  “No,” he says with a finality that rankles.

  “No? Who are you to get to say no to me? No?!” I drop my fork, wanting to move around, to expend all this restless energy. Or punch something. Yeah, punching something sounds real good right about now. “We can’t pretend that we’re into each other, it’s not going to work like that.”

  “We can’t pretend because you don’t want to pretend, you don’t want to give this a chance.”

  Pressure builds in my head, right behind my eyes, in my nose, in my entire face that I fear I’m going to explode. “I don’t! I think it’s a dumb idea! I don’t have the time nor the energy for you.”

  “Amber, why are you being like this? I’m not going to hurt you…”

  I don’t realize I’m panting, that my body’s ramrod straight, spine stiff, muscles tensed and ready to fight-or-flight. All I’m doing, though, is freezing in place. My heart’s pounding, heartbeat throbbing at my temples and throat, all the way down to my wrists.

  What am I scared of? This isn’t a horror movie, there are no jump scares here…so, what gives?

  I shake my head, words stuck in my throat.

  Brody rolls his chair back, until he’s up against the opposite wall, giving me all the space in the world. He still takes up so much space in my office, changing the gravity of my workspace, pulling me and everything else towards his event horizon, that once I’m there, there’s no going back.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Tell me if you want me to leave—”

  I shake my head. “No, no, you’re fine. I…I don’t want to talk about this, I really don’t. I have to get ready for my next appointment anyway, so, yeah, yeah, maybe you should go.” I nod along, trying to convince myself, trying to convince him.

  I also want to eat some more, but I know it’s going to taste like ash, so I don’t put the food anywhere near my mouth. I clean up as much as I can. Brody grabs the bag of garbage and takes it with him. All I have is a recycling bin in here and a microscopic wastebasket that barely holds anything past a few wrappers. So, he clocked that, too.

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he says, crumpling the paper bag in his big hands. “Please, I know you don’t owe me anything, but can we talk tonight?”

  I nod, just wanting him to leave.

  I think he gets that, too, because before I know it, he’s gently, carefully holding onto my hand, squeezing lightly in what feels like reassurance that somehow makes the world go blurry with the tears welling in my eyes. I don’t want to do this, not in front of him.

  “Just go, Brody. Just…go.”

  He leaves, closing the door behind him with a firm click, and I can barely lift my head to glance at the clock, see that I have twenty minutes left to pull myself together. I’ve got twenty to tidy up, to pretend that Brody was never here, even if his cologne and the smell of his old-school laundry detergent lingers.

  I’ve always been good at pretending everything’s spectacular and today’s no different.

  When I finish for the day, and Liz is closing up shop at the front desk. She points to the mini fridge under the desk, the one where we keep our diet energy drinks or diet sodas for emergency measures. I open it to find the customary logo for Petro’s and I know that Brody came back here and brought me a rice pudding that I can see through the clear packaging—just like old times.

  But we’re not the same people anymore and pretending otherwise is a farce and hurts everybody in the end.

  God, what does he want from me? Is this his stupid way of wanting to get back together for real this time? Why? Why now? Why after so long?

  I make it home, the lights set to timers now since it gets dark so much more quickly. The humming of the fridge welcomes me home, the house making its settling noises as I walk up the stairs and head towards my bedroom, passing the guest bedrooms, empty except for beds with decorative duvets, and put down my purse.

  I get changed into comfy clothes and pull on fuzzy socks before heading down to the living room and grab the rice pudding I left on the stairs, still chilled from being in the fridge so long. I pull up something to watch on Netflix, debating between The Alienist or The Mask of Zorro for some swashbuckling old fun, and choose the latter.

  I forgot Anthony Hopkins was in this movie. I saw Silence of the Lambs last year some time, and I’ve never been the same since. He’s terrifying, absolutely terrifying. At least he’s a good guy this time around.

  I eat my rice pudding while watching the movie, checking through my phone and the group chat as well, finally getting a thumbs up emoji from Vick that she’s coming over on Saturday.

  I plan out everything in my Notes app, adding what I want to buy, ingredients and wine and the like, then also shoot off a quick message to Brody, thanking him for the rice pudding.

  I’m not a complete and utter jerk.

  Brody ends up calling me, because of course he does.

  I think about screening it, about letting it go to voice mail, the day’s trials and tribulations dragging me down into the couch, the rice pudding finished, about just settling in as the sugar rushes through me and is about to make me sluggish and cozy. I can fall asleep on this couch and forget about the day, press the restart button for tomorrow.

  I end up connecting the call, pressing my phone to my ear, biting at my lip. “Yeah?”

  “You got home okay?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes. I’m fine, thanks.”

  Silence, crickets. “Okay, then, I’ll leave you to it.”

  I make a noise, something between a pained grunt and a wheezing laugh and have a split second of questioning all the life choices I’ve made that have brought me to this very moment.

  Holy shit, what was that?

  “Yeah?” Brody says hopefully, and it messes with my head and my heart when he talks like that to me.

  I sigh. “I’m not the same person you knew, yeah? Friendly reminder and all that.”

  “Amber…”

  “No, just, if you still want to do this stupid thing where you and I pretend to be dating, then fine, fine.”

  “I want to do what you want to do.”

  I don’t want to do this, but it’ll be easier if I do. Isn’t that the same thing as stepping out of your comfort zone—it makes you uncomfortable?

  I like that he’s giving me the option, like it a whole lot, but I just don’t trust myself when it comes to him.

  I’m a late bloomer, and people terrify me. But Brody?

  I’ve known Brody Kane my entire life, and I know that he’s the safest shore to be on, and I find myself swimming towards him.

  Not that I want to be on top of him ever again.

  Nope, not me.

  It’s been a hundred years since I’ve been this involved with someone, and I’m lonely as hell.

  Seriously, who am I kidding? This is going to suck so bad.

  “Let’s do this. But there have to be rules, Brody.”

  Silence, and then, “I’m listening.”

  NINE

  “Okay, let’s go over it again.” I stop myself short of saying once and for all since the air of finality wigs me out. “You know the drill, we have American Thanksgiving in two weeks so be prepared, train your stomach from now.”

  Brody laughs, but there’s an edge to it, panic leaking out. “Train my stomach. I’ve been over before, Amber, lots of times. I know how to behave.”

  “Yeah, definitely, definitely, behave. Like I’ve said before, no being overly touchy, or I’ll sock you one.”

  “Yes, I know, Amber. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to. Are your cousins going to be there? Vick and Max?” he asks. It sounds like there’s a question within a question, but I’m too tired to go deep-diving to try and find the answer hidden behind all the bullshit.

  “Yeah, obviously. We are going to Aunt Lisa’s.”

  “It’s just that the last time I was there, she threatened to never cook dinner again, so I was wondering.”

  I frown at him, ignoring the curdle of unease in my insides at the idea of Brody being in the same room with everyone again.

  “How do you remember that far back? I can’t even remember what I ate for breakfast. Or if I even had breakfast.” It might have been a bowl of Fruit Loops because I’m a child and unrestrained, and I will make poor life choices in the cereal aisle at the grocery store.

  Half of being an adult is the continuous debate you have with yourself about wanting cake, being allowed and having the money to buy cake, but ultimately knowing it’s a bad decision.

  “Can I see you tonight?” Brody asks, and I’m nodding to myself without doing the verbalizing, thank God.

  “Uh, why? You miss me or something?” I roll my eyes at myself, pinch the bridge of my nose. That sounded so stupid now that I said out loud.

  “I do.” Brody says, laying it all out there.

  My heart seizes in my chest, and my breath is a rattle in my throat. “What? What did you say?”

  Brody sighs, sniffs, and I wonder if he’s outside braving the cold, taking a walk, doing Brody-the-man things that I don’t really know about.

  I’ve got another ten minutes of multi-tasking since I’m going to leave the filing for tomorrow morning, or bribe Liz to do it for me with my signature snickerdoodle cookies that the entire Prewitt family has adopted as their own in payment.

  “I do miss you, kinda always have,” he admits, and I’m sure I make a hurt sound, deep in my throat.

  My heart flares with pain, an SOS. “Brody…what?”

  “Come outside, I’m freezing my nuts off. You’ve been here all day, you know there’s nothing left to do. You’ve always been like this, shit. I’ll buy you something good to eat for the supper you haven’t even had yet. Come on, Amber. You’re done for the day, you know that you’re done for the day.”

  “You’re outside the office?” I wheeze, chest squeezing down, down, collapsing. “You’re outside of the building waiting for me?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Because you needed to get out of your parents’ house?” I ask, needing to make sure, even though I know it’s not the right question I want to ask him. I leave everything else to subtext, ignoring my insatiable need to read between the lines and see things that aren’t really there.

  “Yeah, sure, sure. Come on down. I’m waiting, and we’ll go eat, okay? Amber…did you hear me?”

  I grunt an affirmative sound, and disconnect, then dial Max as fast as my fingers can type her phone number out from memory.

  “Yo,” she answers the call around a yawn. “My eyes. They hurt. Help me,” she whines, even though I’m the one that called her.

  “Max, Max, I don’t know what to do!”

  “Whoa! Relax, relax.”

  I clutch at the blouse I’m wearing, the cute silk button-down that I wish I could wear outside of work, you know, if I went outside and interacted with people outside of my job. I’d wear it if I went on interesting dates instead of all the disappointing ones I’ve been on in the last couple of years.

  “I can’t relax just because you said so. Look, Brody Kane is waiting outside of my office building, and he wants to take me out to eat.” I let the words out in a single breath, waiting for Max to talk some sense into me.

  Pretty sure this isn’t part of the rules, spending more than once a week with each other. And to have him waiting for me outside in the cold?

  Fake dating doesn’t mean inconveniencing yourself for the sake of the other party, especially when you don’t need to keep up appearances.

  I’ve gone into a full-fledged panic, and I don’t know how to get out of it.

  “Oh. Is that all? I was pulling on my jeans to come and save you, but now that I know what this is all about, I can totally change into my sweats again.”

  “What? No! I need an elaborate ruse to get me out of the building without him noticing.”

  “Amber,” Max sighs. “What’s actually the matter?”

  “Did you not hear me? Brody Kane is outside my office building, and he’s waiting for me!”

  “To go and eat, yeah? Like, he isn’t stalking you or anything, right? Did you make plans to go out tonight?”

  “Kind of?” I hedge, tapping my nails against the surface of the desk, a staccato rhythm that accompanies the rhythm of my heart in a symphony of distress. “I don’t know what to do. I’m panicking, okay?”

  “You go outside and let the man buy you food, like you’ve always done in the past. This isn’t anything new. Are you guys getting back together finally? That’s so cute!”

  I’m about to set her straight, to tell her the truth, but I can’t, I just can’t do it right now or else everyone’s going to know my business, and nope, no, thanks. Not going to deal with that.

  There’s probably a special circle of hell dedicated to your own family roasting you until the end of time over a fake relationship. There’s just gotta be.