When Love Is Unexpected: A Sweet Fake Relationship Friends To Lovers Romance

23. Chapter 23

The ladies” room is spacious, with plenty of stalls and sinks. I open my clutch and start digging for my lipstick. There are two entry doors, one on each side of the room, with a half wall in the middle. I”m standing on one side when I hear a couple of women come in. They”re laughing and deep in what sounds like a private conversation based on the hushed tones they”re using. They have no idea I”m here. Just as I”m about to make myself known, they say Sam”s name. It could be a different Sam, but my interest is piqued. I stand in silence, with my hand still inside the clutch.

”Did you see Sam?”

”Oh my gosh, yes! He”s hotter than ever.”

You won”t get any argument from me. I completely agree.

”I had a thing for him my junior year.”

”Who didn”t? When he and Patricia broke up for like a week, I asked him out.”

”Ooh, do tell.”

”We went to the movies, and he kissed me when he took me home. Well, I kissed him, but it still counts.”

”And?”

”Patricia was right. Sam is a great kisser.”

Again, you won”t get an argument from me. I agree. I stand against the wall, trying not to make a peep.

”I was sad to hear about their breakup. I thought for sure they”d make it.”

”Patricia told me he was her first. When we ran into each other at the picnic, she didn”t hold back. She said Sam was the best lover she ever had and that she would have him again.”

”She wanted the career first. Now that she has it, she wants Sam, too.”

I stand up straight and hold my breath.

”You could tell she was green with envy when he showed up to the picnic with a model.”

”She”s a model?”

”Probably not, but she sure could be.”

”Why thank you,” I mouth, smiling ear to ear.

”Well, I don”t know where the model went, but if she doesn”t get back to Sam soon, he might leave with Tricia.”

Wait, what?! Tricia? My head starts spinning.

”I can”t believe she changed her name. She goes by Tricia Duncan now. She thinks it sounds better and will look better on her business cards.”

”Well, right before we came in, you saw how they were moving on the dance floor. It”s like no time has passed. They make a beautiful couple.”

”She might have to change those business cards to Tricia Jameson soon.”

”Yeah, I think they”re going to get back together. There”s a reason why Sam has remained single all these years. I bet he was waiting for her.”

I don”t even realize my eyes are leaking until the tears land on the front of my dress.

”We should get back out there to watch the drama unfold.”

With the lipstick forgotten, I grab some toilet paper and dab the tears away. I also take a paper towel and press it on the tear spots on my dress. Slowly, I walk back to our table. My knees feel weak, but my mind is racing, trying to connect all the pieces.

I scan the room and find the happy couple. He has a hand around her waist. She”s dressed in red, and her long, shiny hair is flowing down her back. And, like in slow motion, I watch Patricia reach for Sam”s neck and gently pull him down to kiss him. I look away and then walk away, out into the night.

I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to see Jim. ”Are you okay?” he asks.

”I”m fine,” I say. ”Listen, Jim, would you be willing to give me a ride home?”

”No, of course not, but are you sure you want to leave?”

”I”m sure,” I say.

”For what it”s worth,” he says, ”I think it looks a lot worse than it is.”

”Can we leave now?” I ask on the verge of tears.

”Yes,” he says. ”Let”s go. My car is parked around the corner.”

On the ride back to the house, my phone starts buzzing. It”s Sam. I ignore it.

I realize I only have the studio keys, so I can”t even get into the house to get my things.

”Laila,” Jim says, ”Tricia is not a good person. She”s conniving and a liar.”

”You know her?” I ask.

”Boy, do I ever,” he says. ”When she and Sam broke up our junior year in high school, she and I had a fling. Well, she called it a fling. I thought it was more.”

”What do you mean by fling?” I ask.

”I never told Sam this because they were a couple for a long time, but she and I hooked up every night the week they were broken up. She was so mad at Sam that she didn”t care who she slept with. Then she lied to him and guilted him into proposing only so she could turn him down and have the last word. I”m not saying that people don”t change. We all do, but Patricia. Tricia. She”s wired differently.”

”Thank you, Jim,” I say when he pulls up in front of the house. ”It was very nice meeting you. Thank you for the ride and for trying to make me feel better.”

”I told you all this to make you realize that what you saw back there is exactly what Patricia wanted you to see.”

”Bye, Jim.”

”Bye, Laila. Take care.”

I walk up to the studio and let myself in. My mind is reeling. Sam must be on his way back. Maybe not. The phone has stopped ringing. Maybe he went home with Tricia.

Think! Think, Laila! You”re resourceful and intelligent. If I leave right now, what will I leave behind? Clothes, a suitcase. My heart. I have my ID, cash, credit cards, and a cell phone. I look up and call for an Uber. I lock the door behind me and slip the keys under the mat. I sit on the porch steps and use my phone to make a hotel reservation for the night. I pray that the Uber gets here before Sam does. He”s about fifteen minutes away. I wait; one, two, three, five minutes go by. I realize I”ve been biting the inside of my mouth this whole time. I taste blood. I see a car approach. It”s the Uber. I climb into the back seat and ask the driver to take me to the hotel.

”The Pacific Terrace on Diamond Street, please.”

When he starts driving, I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. The phone is buzzing again. This time, I don”t even bother to look.

Once at the hotel, I check in and head up to my room.

When I close the door, engage the lock, and sit on the bed, I allow myself one good cry. Once I”m done, I promise never to shed a tear for him again. A promise I can”t keep.

Jim”s words play back in my mind, ”Patricia is conniving and a liar.” Well, so is Sam. They deserve each other.

I spend five minutes looking for a flight back to New York. I find a direct flight leaving at 7:20 a.m. It”s eleven o”clock now.

I pick up the phone and call Katherine.

”Hello,” says a groggy Adam.

“Adam,” I say, ”I”m sorry for calling this late.”

”Is everything okay?” he asks.

”No,” I say. ”I”m coming home.”

”Wait,” he says, ”What happened?”

”It”s a long story,” I say. ”I can”t think right now. I just wanted to call you guys and let you know I”m okay. I”m sure you”ll be hearing from Sam at some point. I don”t know, but I”m coming home.”

”What can I do?” he says.

”Go back to bed,” I say. ”My flight is in the morning. I”ll take the train home from the airport. Good night. I love you guys.”

After hanging up, I look down at my dress. I felt so beautiful in it. That seems like a lifetime ago.

Nothing is open this late. What am I going to wear? This stupid dress is expensive but impractical, and the heels are even worse.

I take the elevator back down to the main floor and put on the best damsel-in-distress look I can muster. I”m sure it doesn”t take much.

”Hi,” I say, talking to a young man at the front desk, whose name tag reads Pablo.

”Pablo, I need some help.”

”What can I do for you,” he says in his most professional tone.

”I”m running away from my boyfriend.” His eyes grow wide. Okay, I press on. ”I only have what I”m wearing and need some clothes.”

”Well,” he says, ”Everything is probably closed right now. Things open around ten in the morning.”

”I know,” I say, “but I don”t have time in the morning. My flight leaves at 7:20 a.m.”

”I see,” he says, ”So how can I help you?”

”Do you happen to know anyone in my size who might be willing to part with some of their clothes? I have cash!”

”Let me see,” he says, picking up the phone, ”Petra,” he begins, and the rest of the conversation is in Spanish, so I”m lost.

”Petra is my sister,” he says when he hangs up the phone. ”She”s not as tall as you, but I think her clothes might fit you. She will bring you an outfit and some sandals. She wears a size nine and a half in shoes. Will that work?”

”Yes!” I say, ”Thank you, thank you.”

I wait in the lobby, and fifteen minutes later, I see a teenage girl walk through the door. She”s carrying a plastic bag, and after talking to Pablo for a couple of minutes, she heads in my direction.

”Hi, Miss?” she says, ”I”m Petra.”

”Hi, Petra,” I say, and then I burst into tears. I can”t help it. My predicament is so pathetically sad that it”s laughable, except that the only emotion I feel right now is true sadness.

”I”m sorry, Miss. Are you okay?”

”I”m okay,” I say, ”I just can”t believe this is happening to me.”

”Do you need a hug?” she asks, walking over to sit beside me. She puts her arm around my shoulder and lets me cry. I cry into my hands, feeling anger, sadness, and embarrassment.

When I”m done, she smiles and hands me the large bag. ”There”s a new bra and underwear still in the package,” she says. ”Also, some toothpaste, a new toothbrush, shorts, and an almost new T-shirt. I hope everything fits. The sandals are in a separate bag down at the bottom.”

When I open my purse to give her some money, she turns it down. ”Please,” I say, ”take it.”

”Miss,” she says, ”You needed help, and I”m able to help you. I”m not helping if I get paid for it. I want to help.”

”Thank you,” I say, ”Thank you so much. Can I at least pay for the gas it took to come here?”

”No,” she says, ”I was coming anyway to pick up Pablo. His shift is over at midnight.”

I look at my phone and see that it”s midnight, and I have seventeen missed calls and seventeen voicemails.

”Thank you,” I say, squeezing Petra”s hand. ”God will bless you abundantly for your generosity. Thank you.”

I go to my room and shower before slipping under the covers, allowing exhaustion to overtake my disappointment, pain, and anger.

When I get up four hours later, I have a new resolve to put all this behind me. I shower and change into the clothes Petra gifted me—God bless her and her brother. Everything fits, including the sandals. The clothes I was wearing, including the dress and shoes, go in the trash.

I go downstairs, check out, and wait for my Uber to take me to the airport. I”ll be there at five, which gives me plenty of time to drink some coffee and call my sisters. Mom and Dad? I”m not ready to talk to Dad about Sam. That”s not going to be an easy conversation.

”Hi Katherine,” I say.

”What happened?”

”I wish I could tell you,” I say, ”I honestly don”t know. One minute, I was happy, enjoying what I thought was the beginning of a romantic relationship with who I thought was my best friend. The next minute, he”s kissing his ex-girlfriend, and he”s been lying to me about her identity since we got here.”

”He called late last night,” she says. ”After you talked to Adam.”

”I don”t want to know,” I say. ”Honestly, I don”t want to know.”

”Okay,” says Katherine, ”but are you okay?”

”No,” I say, ”I”m not okay. I”m confused, hurt, and angry, and not okay.”

”I”m sorry, Sweetie,” she says. ”We love you.”

”I know,” I say. ”I can”t wait to get home.”

I end the call and dial Loren.

”Laila,” she says as soon as she picks up, ”Adam called this morning to let us know you were coming home.”

”I”m so sad, Loren.” The tears start to flow, and I can do nothing to stop them.

”I”m sorry, Sis. I”m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?”

”I wish I had never met him.”

”You don”t mean that,” she says. ”There has to be some logical explanation no matter how bad it looks.”

”It”s pretty bad,” I say. ”He lied to me, Loren. How can I ever trust him again? He broke my heart.”