Chapter 32 - Naomi
I wake up on Meg’s couch with swollen eyes and stiff limbs. I sigh, turning my head towards the window and squinting at the light. Meg is in the kitchen singing to herself. The smell of coffee wafts towards me, and I sit up like a groundhog poking its head out of its hole.
“Morning, sunshine,” she says. “Coffee?”
“Please,” I groan. It feels like I’ve been hit by a bus. I push myself off the couch and accept the steaming mug she hands me.
I slide into a kitchen chair and sigh.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m supposed to have a physio appointment with Max today,” I say.
She scoffs. “You think he’ll show up?”
I laugh. “Not likely.”
“That’s the worst part of this whole thing. He was a good client. He was making good progress. Julia was talking about getting him to do a testimonial for the website. Big name client and all that.”
“Well, I fucked that up, didn’t I?”
She turns towards me, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t fuck anything up. You acted exactly how anyone would have, and then you were blindsided. Don’t ever say that this is your fault.”
I nod. “I might take a shower and then we can head to work, yeah?”
Meg smiles and nods. “Sure.”
Julia looks at me when I walk in and gives me a pitying look that makes my stomach turn. I wonder how many people will look at me like that when they find out about me and Max? How many tabloid articles will talk about our split?
I never considered any of that when I agreed to pretend to be his fiancée.
“What’s wrong, Naomi?” She asks, pulling me aside. “Is everything okay with your mom?”
“Everything’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“You can take the day off if you need to,” she says. She seems to have softened as a boss ever since she got engaged. Maybe love does that to a person—makes them soft. It sure did it to me.
I smile sadly. “As tempting as that is, I think I’d actually rather work.”
“Okay. You’ll tell me if you need anything?”
The way she’s looking at me makes me want to punch something. Meg glances at me from the kitchen. She’s pouring two cups of coffee, and all I want to do is smash the mug into a wall and scream into a pillow.
But I don’t. I accept the coffee with a nod, and slink away to the furthest corner of the office.
All morning, I watch the clock.
Max’s appointment is scheduled for 11am. I have three clients between now and then, and I try my best to give them my undivided attention.
But all the while, the time is marching onwards, closer and closer to 11 o’clock.
“You okay, Naomi?” My long-time client, Daniel asks me. He came to me after a hip replacement surgery eight months ago. “You seem distracted.”
I force a smile. “I’m fine, Daniel. Sorry about that. Now, let’s get you over here on the exercise ball.”
With renewed energy, I focus on my client. Once Daniel leaves, I’m once again staring at the clock. No clients from now until 11 o’clock—just a bit of paperwork to do. I slide behind my desk and write notes from the morning’s appointments, pointedly ignoring the clock.
My heart starts beating faster when I raise my head and see it’s almost time.
Is he going to show up?
Do I want him to show up?
The seconds tick by, and finally the clock strikes eleven. I glance at the door, palms sweaty and heart bouncing off my ribcage.
Nothing.
No movement. No Max.
I let out a sigh so loud that Meg looks over. She sees me glance away from the door, and gives me a sad smile. I wish she wouldn’t pity me like that.
“Were you hoping he’d show up?”
“I don’t know,” I respond. “I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time. Is that possible?”
“You feel how you feel. It’s all valid.”
“This situation is so fucked up. I was so stupid to think that it would work out. What did I expect?”
“You made the best decisions with the hand you were dealt, Naomi,” Meg says gently. “Look at this way, if you hadn’t, your mother probably would have lost the house. She might not be getting the care she needs. You’d be in worse shape if that happened than because of some guy.”
I know she’s right, but her words sting. Max doesn’t feel like ‘some guy’. He doesn’t feel like the kind of guy that’s just a one-month fling. He doesn’t feel like the kind of guy that I’ll end up laughing about in a couple month’s time.
It felt like love. It felt like a love stronger than I’d ever felt before. It felt so real, it’s hard to imagine that it wasn’t.
But here I am, staring at the clock and waiting for a man that I already know won’t show up. Why would he? And after how he spoke to me last night, why would I want him to?
Am I that pathetic that I still want to see him, even though he accused me of setting him up and doing all of this for some stupid merger? He’s the one who was so scared of getting fired from his daddy’s little company that he came up with an elaborate plan to pretend to be engaged to me!
I shouldn’t be upset about him.
I should be happy that I dodged a bullet. No, I didn’t dodge a bullet. I dodged a fucking rocket.
I glance at the door one more time and then force myself to look away. I push my chair back, marching to Julia’s office.
“Julia,” I say as I poke my head in. “I think I’m going to take you up on that offer of the day off. I need to go home and be with my mom.”
“Of course, Naomi,” she says. “I’ll cover your afternoon clients.”
“I only have two appointments—my notes are on top of my desk.”
She nods, and I slip out the door. I wave to Meg, who gives me a tight-lipped smile. I push the door open and fly down the stairs towards my car.
I know one thing: I need answers.
Mid-morning traffic isn’t bad, so I make it home in decent time. When I race the steps up to my apartment, my heart is pounding. Running up a couple flights of stairs while you’re panicking about your long-lost father and your failed fake engagement will do that to a person. Apparently.
“Mom?” I call out as I unlock the door.
“In here, honey,” she says from the bedroom. I drop my bag and head towards her voice. The blinds are drawn. Her frail body hardly forms a lump under the covers and my breath catches in my throat.
The anger and frustration that was burning a hole in my chest dissipates, and I sit on the edge of the bed gently. My mother’s eyes flutter open and she tries to smile at me.
“How’s the nausea today?”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” she lies. “I’m fine. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I took the day off.”
“Are you okay? You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
She chuckles, patting my hand. Her chuckle turns to a cough and she tries to sit up. I fluff her pillows and help her up.
“Have you eaten?”
“I had some toast this morning,” she says. She gestures to the nightstand, and I see half a piece of toast. ‘Some toast’ meant half a slice with a bit of butter on it—hardly enough sustenance for a grown woman.
I nod. Suddenly, I’m tongue tied. I thought I would barge in here and demand answers, but what am I supposed to say?
My mother takes a deep breath, her eyes boring into me with a look that only mothers can give.
“Something happened between you and Max, didn’t it?”
I snort bitterly. “How did you know?”
Tears well in my eyes and I shake my head.
“Who is my father, mom?”
“What?”
“I need to know. Who is he? How come you never told me?”
My mother sighs, staring towards the closed blinds and blinking back tears. She squeezes my fingers and then swings her head back towards me.
“I was scared, Naomi.”
“Of what?”
“That you’d find him, and I’d have to see him again.”
“What, why? What happened? Did he… did he do anything to you?” My voice is strangled. I’m so close to getting the answers I need. So close to finding out where I came from. So close to knowing why Max was so angry this morning.
My mom just sighs, squeezing my fingers again.
“No, no. Nothing like that.” She looks at me and smiles sadly. “There’s no chemotherapy for a broken heart, honey.”