One Week Girlfriend part 1

I care to admit.
    “So we’re back to that, huh? All those sweet words and yesterday’s romance evaporates after I get you off. Now we’re at square one and the paid girlfriend bit.”
    She’s mad. But I’m madder. “Tell me the truth. Is there another guy?”
    “Only if you tell me how your sister died,” she throws back at me.
    Surprise renders me silent and I let go of her, back up a few steps. Fuck. I hadn’t counted on that. Figured I still had a little bit of time before I had to confess about Vanessa. “There’s nothing to tell,” I murmur, not about to go into the details, ignoring the guilt that has a death squeeze on my chest.
    “Right, you just so happen to forget to mention you have a dead three year old sister who died here almost two years ago to the day. I mean, no wonder you don’t want to come back to this place, Drew. I wouldn’t want to either. I’m sure your house is chock full of horrendous memories you don’t want to face.”
    “You’re damn right.” She’s distracting me and I’m getting angrier because of it. We are not going to discuss my sister any further. “Who’s the guy, Fable?”
    She shakes her head. “No one.”
    “Who’s. The. Guy?” I bite each word out, so freaking tired of her bullshit.
    “What? Are you jealous?”
    “Fuck yes, I am!” I roar, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “After everything we’ve shared, especially after yesterday, you have the nerve to ask if I’m jealous? Of course, I am. This isn’t a game to me, Fable. This is my life. And I want you to be a part of it. But if you’d rather fuck around with other guys, then I can’t deal with that. I want you and you only. I’m not sharing you with anyone else.”
    My breathing’s ragged by the time I’m finished with my speech and I can’t believe what I just said to her. She’s staring at me like I’m crazy and maybe I am, but I can’t hold back with her. For whatever reason, she makes me want to confess everything.
    Every fucking thing, the good and the bad.
    “Me and you, we’re pretending,” she whispers. There are tears in her eyes and one slips down her cheek. I want to stop it with my thumb, I want to kiss the tear away, but I don’t. I can’t, not after what she’s said. “This isn’t real. You’re getting caught up in nothing.”
    “That’s not true,” I start but she shuts me up, pressing her fingers against my mouth for the briefest moment before she drops her hand.
    “It is. You don’t want me, not really. I’m not who you think I am. And you’re definitely not who I think you are. There are so many secrets and problems between us, I think our life would be one fucked up mess after another if we were to really try and be together. And that’s never going to happen, you know this.”
    I can’t say anything. I know she’s right, no matter how badly I don’t want her to be. I’m wishing on nothing right now. And my heart is breaking for it.
    “Two more days, Drew.” She pauses, chewing on her lower lip. “Unless you want me to leave tonight like Adele said. She has something planned, about the anniversary of your sister’s death. And clearly I’m not invited.”
    “I don’t want you to leave,” I say automatically. “Two more days, I need that from you.”
    “Fine.” She nods once, her lips thin, her eyes imploring.
    She wants to say something more, I can tell, but Adele throws open the front door, announcing, “Dinner’s ready!” all cheery-like and it’s such bullshit I throw her a hard stare over my shoulder, earning a slammed door for my efforts.
    “We should go in,” Fable says, wrapping her arms around herself as she starts for the front door.
    I follow her, only realizing later I never found out if there really was another guy or not.

 
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
     
    Day 6 (Black Friday), 8:00 a.m .
     
    What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us . – Ralph Waldo Emerson
     
    Drew
     
    Yesterday’s Thanksgiving dinner was a disaster, not that I expected it to be anything less. Dad invited a few business associates, and while they talked Wall Street and the state of the economy at one end of the table, we were pretty much silent at the other end. Fable sat across from me, stubbornly quiet as she picked at her plate full of catered food.
    Adele doesn’t cook and she sure as hell wasn’t going to prepare a Thanksgiving meal. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a