~ CHAPTER 47 ~

  FINN

  Lou shut the door to her room. And I immediately rushed across the space for her cell phone charger—the one next to her bed. I yanked my phone from my pocket, connected it to the charger, and let it fall on top of her covers. Then I turned to her. We’d put on a nice, polite little show for Nick and Amanda. “Fuck,” I said, tugging at my hair, staring at her across the room. I couldn’t contain my smile. “You don’t fucking love him. I knew you didn’t.”

  “I don’t.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and gave me a small, shy smile of her own.

  I shook my head. She had on her black hoodie today—her sexy body lost in it. It was my sign that she was feeling more anxious than normal today. Maybe she’d been missing me just as much as I’d been missing her since we last saw one another. She gave me the impression now that our ‘break up’ had little to do with how she actually felt about me.

  “Get over here,” I told her in a soft voice.

  I knew from experience that those words worked well on her.

  She moved closer.

  I sat back on her bed and pulled her onto my lap.

  “I love you,” I told her. Under her shirt, I traced my fingers across her back. Her skin was so damn soft. “I love that you’re different. You shouldn’t have lied about Nick. But I think I understand why you did it.”

  She buried her face in my neck. “Why?”

  “Because you love me, too,” I whispered in her ear. “Maybe just a little?”

  She nodded against me.

  “Maybe more than a little?”

  She nodded once more.

  Hell, yes! She loved me.

  The emotion radiating off of her said what her lips weren’t. She moved her hands to my face and slowly touched her lips to mine. She thought she was doing what was best for me—ending things. But in truth, she was what was best for me.

  My phone turned bright, and I caught the light from the corner of my eye. I hadn’t turned it on in three days because I couldn’t face the world. Happy pictures on social media. The news. The weather. Normalcy. I’d wanted to shut it all off. If I couldn’t have Lou then what did any of it fucking matter. I’d driven with Patrick to D.C. But the picture I’d painted for Nick and Amanda wasn’t exactly the reality of how my last couple days had gone. I’d done more sleeping and drinking than actual functioning in that time. I’d shown up today ready to beg for Lou to give me another chance only to find her jumping into my arms. That had been one hell of a surprise waiting for me.

  With my phone back on, I went to my messages. Sure enough. I found one waiting for me. I pressed the phone to my ear to listen. All the while Lou’s eyes were on mine. “Hi. It’s Lou. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you now. I just can’t. I hope you’re okay. I hope by the time you hear this you’re already laughing about fainting and falling. Get better soon. Please. Okay. I love you. Bye, Beast.

  Bye, Beast. Damn.

  “Call me it again,” I muttered. We’d both heard those last few words from the message. And damn if they weren’t everything I needed to hear.

  “Beast,” she breathed.

  Fuck. I touched her lip with my thumb. Someone had better call John. I was going to lose my job for sure. Because I planned on living in this room with Lou for the next few days. That word on her lips—fuck, I was done. I was so far gone for this girl. I needed inside her now.

  ~ EPILOGUE ~

  LOU

  Seven Months Later

  Finn started the engine to his Jeep. I sat in the passenger seat.

  “Breathe, honey,” he muttered.

  I took a breath. And then another.

  “Breathe,” he repeated, his voice soothing.

  Cars didn’t bother me so much. It was everything outside of the car that bothered me. I had, after all, ridden in Nick’s car all the way from Maine that one time. I reminded myself of this every single time I sat in the car with Finn.

  Seeing that I was okay, Finn reversed away from our home.

  Our home. Finn moved in with me a couple months ago. Ever since Nick moved out, he had been living with me. We were making the rent together. So, in every sense of the word, it was our house.

  Tonight we were on our way over to Amanda and Nick’s home. This was the only other place I would travel to. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to visit Finn’s old house yet and see more of his artwork he still kept there. I hated that I couldn’t accomplish that, but my doctor says, “even the smallest amount of progress is still progress,” and that I should be proud of every step I take, no matter the size.

  As we pulled up, I hopped out of my seat and raced up the driveway. I didn’t bother knocking, and instead burst in through the front door. Amanda and Nick were expecting us. They’d seen me do this before. It wouldn’t faze them.

  Finn was inside with me a moment later.

  I heard the baby crying from the back of the house somewhere. I didn’t see Amanda or Nick, they must have been taking care of their baby, so for the moment, Finn wrapped his strong arms around me and held onto me tight. I still hadn’t figured out what it was about the outside that terrified me so much. Even after a few months of seeing a specialist, one that would do home visits, and many introspective conversations with Finn, I couldn’t comprehend it. But the fear was there. Always itching at the back of my neck.

  The difference between the old me and the new me—I wasn’t facing it alone anymore. I had Finn, at his furthest, only ever a phone call away, and I had Nick and Amanda’s support. After taking a moment to recover from the car ride, I tapped Finn’s arm, so he’d loosen his grip.

  He let me go and I gave him a wink. “I’m good.”

  “I know.” He smiled back at me.

  “Hey guys,” I yelled. I was excited to see the baby. “Need some help!” Finn and I were babysitting tonight. We took on this role at least once a week, so that Amanda and Nick could have a break.

  “Yes!” yelled Amanda. “Mia had an accident… everywhere!”

  “Fuck, let’s go,” Finn joked. He gave me a look and nodded toward the door.

  I slapped his chest. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

  “I’m afraid of that.”

  “I bet you could handle it.”

  “If it were our kid one day, I’d handle it. For Nick’s kid—um, no.”

  He was kidding around. He loved little Mia just as much as the rest of us. “Our kid?” I questioned. He’d never said anything like that before.

  “Yeah,” he shrugged. “Maybe one day.”

  I shook my head and walked away. I went toward Amanda’s panicked voice and the baby’s cries. Finn and I weren’t ready for kids. Not by a long shot. I didn’t need another person in the world that I’d be afraid for. But I loved the faith he had in me. The way he looked at me like I was the most capable person in the world.

  He was my silver lining. My beast. My person.

  I would never let that man go.

  THE END

  * * *

  Many secondary characters that appeared in this book, are leading characters from some of Sarah Darlington’s other novels:

  Nick and Amanda | Inked

  John Michaels | Never Kiss a Rockstar

  Mick Jasmine | Crazed

  Patrick | Faked

  Keep scrolling to read the first two chapters of FAKED by Sarah Darlington ….

  PREORDER: FAKED

  Patrick and Nova’s story! Preorder your copy for $0.99 now!

  ~ CHAPTER 1 ~

  NOVA

  Faking it. I’d been faking it ever since I was sixteen years old.

  Every orgasm during sex.

  Fake.

  Every sigh and moan. Every compliment and encouragement.

  Fake.

  No, sir, you do not have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.

  Every cute conversation and sultry smile with one of my customers across the bar.

  Fake. Fake. Fake.

  So, why was it this hard for me to find a fake date for my sister’s wedding? Christmas was in one week, her wedding on the 26th, and I had yet to find some handsome, brainless, charismatic nobody to pretend to be my date for what was sure to be one week of utter hell.

  “Him?” Gianna asked, pointing at one of my regulars across the room. Gianna was a waitress at The Oyster. I, a bartender. We’d been friends ever since I started working at this hole in the wall strip club three years ago. I stared at this guy named Patrick sitting at one of the tables, a drink in hand, gazing up at Heather on stage.

  Poor lonely weirdo in the glow of the haphazardly strung Christmas lights.

  “Yeah, no.”

  Patrick was only around five foot nine. Ten tops. His brown hair scraggly and to his shoulders. He had nice eyes and a gentle smile. But let’s be fucking real—I wasn’t about to bring a regular from my strip club home to meet my parents.

  “He comes in a lot for you.”

  “I don’t want some psycho stalker from the strip club at my sister’s wedding.”

  “He’s not a psycho,” she whispered. “He’s almost handsome.”

  “He comes in way too much.”

  There was this small moment where I thought Patrick, the strip club regular, was a decent human. There was this one time he made me laugh. Like a genuine, real laugh. But then he followed it by bringing in his friend the following night. An incredibly gorgeous man with tattoos up to his perfect jawline who called me, and I quote, ‘the chipmunk girl.’

  What the fuck? Honestly. I received enough bullshit about my voice growing up. I didn’t need to hear it as an adult. A few months back I’d had septoplasty, which finally helped me breath better through my noise. And, admittedly, had improved my voice. But I still hadn’t forgotten about the ‘chipmunk’ comment from his friend.

  “I think you’re running out of options,” Gianna pointed out. “Christmas is in a week.”

  “Ugh.” I groaned. “You’re right.”

  For shits and giggles, I decided to go talk to Patrick. What could a conversation hurt? We hadn’t had one since the ‘chipmunk’ night. He’d kept his distance from me since then. Maybe I’d read him wrong this whole time. Maybe I shouldn’t judge people so harshly. Maybe he could be the date I needed for this wedding.

  I grabbed a clean glass, tipped it to its side to fill it with an IEP on draft. Then with drink in hand, I stepped away from my safe haven behind the counter. I never ventured to the other side. When I did, sleezy men would try to stick money in my jeans. Others would proposition me for a blow job in the bathroom. It was fucking ruthless on the other side of the bar. But I left my spot and walked to Patrick. I set the drink down in front of him.

  “How are you with families?” I demanded.

  He sat up straighter in his seat. He hadn’t expected me. The gin and tonic he’d been drinking went all over his shirt, soaking the material.

  “How are you with families?” I tried again.

  “Excuse me, what?”

  “Ugh,” I groaned and sat down in the seat across from him. I helped myself to the beer I’d brought for him. He didn’t need it. He clearly was a mess. I usually didn’t drink while working, but it was dead in the club today. Most normal people were home with their families or out doing last minute shopping. Or hell, at work. “How are you at meeting other people’s families?” I asked after I took a long sip. “Like when you have a girlfriend, when you meet her family, how are you? Are you the good impression type? Are you the charismatic type? Are you likeable? Can you bullshit people?”

  “You’re implying that I have lots of girlfriends. Lots of opportunities to meet my fictional girlfriend’s family. Um, no, that’s not me.”

  I stared at him. Well, this conversation had been a waste of time.

  “But hypothetically,” he added. “If I had lots of girlfriends, I think I’d be fine with their parents. I get along well with strangers. Most regular, non-beautiful strangers. Sure. I can bullshit them all day.”

  Hmmm. I kind of believed him. He lost his shit every time he tried to talk to me. Now was no different as he tried to ring out his wet shirt unsuccessfully. But I remembered him laughing with his hot friend that night. He’d been normal with him. Joked with him. Not to mention, he got along well with all the other employees here.

  I glance at Gianna. She gave me two thumbs up in her mini skirt. It seemed she found him decent enough. I wasn’t so easily convinced. I needed to test his potential more.

  His ‘fake date’ potential.

  “Can you answer more questions?”

  “Shoot.”

  ~ CHAPTER 2 ~

  PATRICK

  The bartender at The Oyster—she was talking to me. Her mouth moved a mile a minute as she more accurately interrogated me. But words were words, and I’d take any from this woman.

  “How were your grades in high school?” she wanted to know.

  “I graduated.”

  “And college?”

  “I graduated that too.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders straightened. “Okay.” There was a hint of surprise in her voice. Her very neutral voice. The last time I’d dared to speak to this woman, her voice had been a higher pitch than this. I wondered if she’d had some sort of surgery to correct it. Then I felt like the biggest fucking jackass on the planet.

  “What do you do for a living?” she continued.

  “I work at Kill Devil Ink.”

  “You’re a tattoo artist?”

  “I’m the receptionist.”

  She groaned. She pushed her golden hair behind her ears. “How are you at lying?”

  “I fucking excel at it.”

  She sat back in her seat. I don’t think she expected that sort of answer out of me. But lying—it was kind of my forte.

  “Hey,” I told her, leaning forward, ignoring my wet shirt sticking to my chest. “I’m not sure what you’re asking of me. But I’ll do it. I’ll meet your parents. I’ll be your pretend boyfriend. Whatever it is, I’m there.”

  “A date to my sister’s Christmas wedding in Colorado?”

  “That’s it. That’s me. I’ve never been to Colorado. I would love to go.”

  Her face went ‘scared-shitless’ blank. She was by far the most beautiful woman to ever give me more than three minutes of her time. Just the sight of her behind the bar, wearing that black choker, the one straight out of the 90s she always wore around her perfectly slender neck, could make my skin buzz. It was hard to look at her and not fucking fantasize about seeing her in bed wearing nothing but that choker. I could watch Heather shake her tits on stage all day, the stripper dancing at the moment, and never worry about her voluptuous body giving me an erection in public.

  This woman, however.

  I had to worry about her fucking neck giving me an erection.

  I made a point of always keeping my eyes on her eyes when we spoke.

  “I don’t know your name,” I said in all honesty. “And I’d really like to know it.”

  I could see the uncertainty on her face growing. “Nova.”

  Nova. Finally. Not the chipmunk girl.

  “Real or fake,” I asked. “I mean, it I were hypothetically going to be meeting your parents, I think I’d need to know your name. Your real name.”

  “Nova is my real name.”

  “Then nice to meet you, Nova.

  “I never said you were going to meet my parents.”

  “You never said I wasn’t. Look—” I stood up, for once in my life finding some sliver of composure talking to this woman. “You know I come into this place every week for you.” I tugged my wallet from my wet jeans and pulled out a few dollars for the waitress who’d been serving me prior to Nova’s arrival. I dropped those bills on the table. “I’m not here for the titties. Although, those are a nice bonus, Heather.” I said that last part a little louder because Heather, on stage, was close enough to hear me talking about her. “I like coming in here to see you. Whether we speak or not, it gives me a little bit of comfort each week. I don’t think that’s a secret. I’m pretty sure everyone in here knows I have a crush. And if you need help from a friend. I could help you. But the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable. I see that I am doing that. I’m always do that. So… bye, Nova. Have fun at your sister’s wedding.”

  I stepped away from the table.

  Once upon a time, I’d been that kid in high school. The popular, good looking, quarterback. In college, I hadn’t made the team. Without that title, the girls didn’t find me half as attractive as they had before. On top of that, I struggled to keep out of trouble. In the end, I barely graduated. And finding a job, with my lengthy history, wasn’t as easy as I’d always expected it to be. This little fantasy I’d made up in mind about Nova—was just that. A fantasy. She was beautiful. She’d always be beautiful. But I was suddenly afraid that if I got to know her, the real Nova, that reality wouldn’t live up to my dream. And I didn’t need another disappointment in life. Life was always fucking disappointing me. I wanted to keep Nova on her pretty little pedestal.

  Perfect bartender Nova and her sexy black choker.

  So I left. I left before another thing in life went rancid.

  * * *

  Preorder FAKED now!

  Available for purchase on Amazon or read for *FREE* in Kindle Unlimited.

  ALSO BY SARAH DARLINGTON

  KILL DEVIL INK Series

  Sexy tattoo artists… yes, please! This spicy new series of interconnected standalones follows the angsty, loveable men and women employed at Kill Devil Ink. A whole new set of characters, with appearances from a few fan favorites along the way, make this series a great spot to start for old and new Sarah Darlington readers alike.

  Inked

  Marked

  Faked (coming December 1, 2021)