Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“Then what were you fucking doing?” I demand. “Tell me, Damon. What were you doing when you created a fake job for me at your company? When you made me your Old Lady without telling me you’re a fucking billionaire? When you let me fall in love with you while hiding the biggest part of who you are?”
He opens his mouth. He closes it. And he opens it again. “I wanted you to love me for me.”
“I did love you for you!” Tears fall freely down my face, snot bubbles out of my nose, my face is blotchy and red, and I don’t even care.
“I loved the guy who drove me in his Uber when I was heartbroken. I loved the biker who introduced me to his grandmother. I loved the man who made me feel safe, seen, and valued. But that person doesn’t exist, does he?
He was just another character you were playing. ”
“That’s not true.” His voice breaks. “Marley, that is me. All of that is me.”
“How am I supposed to believe anything you say?” I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces together. “You trapped me. You made me your Old Lady, you claimed me in front of your entire club, and you did it while lying about who you are. Do you have any idea how that feels?”
“I didn’t mean to trap you.”
“But you did!” I scream so loud, I’m sure the neighbors can hear, but I don’t care.
“You made me fall in love with you. You made me trust you. You made me believe we had something real, honest, and true. And the whole time, you were keeping this massive secret. This massive part of your life that you just… decided I didn’t need to know about. ”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?” I laugh again, that same broken sound. “After we got married? After I’d quit my job, the job you gave me, and become completely dependent on you? When, Nitro?”
“I don’t know!” he shouts, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him raise his voice. “I don’t know, okay? I was fucking terrified of losing you.”
“Well, guess what?” I grab my bag from where I dropped it by the door. “You just did!”
His face goes pale. “Marley, please…”
“I can’t do this.” I back toward the door, putting distance between us because if I stay, I might crumble. I might forgive him before I’ve even processed what he’s done. “I can’t be here right now. I can’t look at you.”
“Don’t go.” He takes a step toward me, and I see it then, the fear in his eyes. Real, raw fear. “Please, baby. We can work through this.”
“How?” The question comes out as a whisper. “How can I trust anything you say when you’ve been lying to me since the beginning?”
“I never lied about loving you.”
The words hit me square in the chest, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
I want to believe him.
God, I want to believe him so badly it physically hurts.
But I can’t.
Not right now.
Not when my entire world has just been revealed as a carefully constructed fiction.
“I need space,” I manage. “I need time to think.”
“How much time?” His voice is barely audible.
“I don’t know.” I move to the door and begin to unclasp the bracelet he gave me. “I’m going to stay with Sage for a while.”
“Marley…”
“Please don’t.” I can’t look at him. If I look at him, I’ll see the pain on his face, and I’ll stay, and I can’t stay. “Just… give me some time.” I hand him the bracelet, and I walk out before he can respond.
I pull out my cell to order an Uber. The hallway is too bright, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry wasps. I make it to the elevator before the first sob breaks free, and by the time I reach the waiting car, I’m full-on ugly crying.
My hands shake so badly as I open the door of the vehicle.
Damon Blackwell.
He’s Damon-fucking-Blackwell.
The man I fell in love with is a billionaire CEO who’s been playing dress-up as a biker and an Uber driver. The job I was so proud of, the thing that made me feel competent, valued, and worthy was handed to me like a fucking consolation prize.
I slide into the back of the car, the driver looking at me like I have lost my damn mind. But he doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t put on eighties music to cheer me up. He doesn’t pull into a drive-thru to make me feel better.
He just drives.
And all I can think about is how I wish this driver were like the one I had the last time I was crying in the back of an Uber.
I wish this driver were Nitro.
But I don’t even know who Nitro is because he is Damon-fucking-Blackwell.
I thought we were past secrets.
I thought we had built something on honesty and trust.
But how can we have trust when he’s been lying about his entire identity?
And the job.
God, the job.
I love that job.
I love the work, the people, and the creative freedom.
I love walking into that office every morning and knowing I’m doing something I’m good at.
But it’s tainted now.
Every accomplishment, every win, every moment of pride, it’s all tainted by the knowledge that I didn’t earn it. That it was given to me by a man who was trying to save me.
Poor, pathetic Marley, who can’t take care of herself.
Poor, stupid Marley, who fell for every damn lie.
I’m halfway to Sage’s apartment when my phone rings. Nitro’s name flashes on the screen, and I silence it.
It rings again.
And again.
On the fourth call, I turn it off completely.
The car pulls up, I jump out without saying a word, and walk toward Sage’s apartment. Sage opens her door on the second knock, takes one look at my face, and pulls me inside. “Oh, babe,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “What happened?”
And I tell her everything.
Sage’s apartment is small and cluttered in that comfortable, lived-in way. Vintage band posters cover the walls—Nirvana, The Smiths, Fleetwood Mac. Empty coffee mugs crowd the counter, and there’s a stack of photography magazines on the coffee table that’s taller than the table itself.
I’m curled up on her couch with a throw blanket wrapped around me like armor, a box of tissues on one side and a rapidly emptying bottle of wine on the other.
“So let me get this straight,” Sage says from her spot on the floor, legs crossed, wine glass in hand. “Your biker boyfriend is secretly a billionaire CEO. He owns the company you work for. And he created your job, specifically for you?”
“Yes,” I say miserably into my wine.
“That manipulative son of a—” Sage stops herself, takes a breath. “Okay. Okay. Let’s break this down logically.”
“There’s nothing logical about this.”
“There’s always something logical.” She takes a sip of wine. “First question… do you still love him?”
The question hits me like a sucker punch. “That’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.” Sage fixes me with that piercing stare she gets when she’s being serious. “Because if you don’t love him, then fuck it, walk away, problem solved. But if you do love him, then we need to figure out if this is something you can work through.”
I stare down at my wine glass, watching the deep red liquid swirl. “I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“That’s different from not loving him.”
“Is it?” I look up at her. “How can I love someone I don’t trust?”
Sage is quiet for a moment. “Did he lie about how he feels about you?”
“I don’t know. He says he didn’t, but…”
“Has he ever made you feel unsafe?”
“No.”
“Has he ever hurt you? Before tonight, I mean.”
“No.”
“Has he ever made you feel small or worthless or less than?”
I think about Derek. About the way he’d criticize my clothes, my body, my ideas. The way he’d make me feel as if I should be grateful he was with me at all.
Nitro has never done that.
Nitro makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. Like my ideas matter. Like I matter.
“No,” I whisper.
“Then maybe…” Sage says carefully, “… he’s not Derek. Maybe he’s just a guy who made a really fucking stupid mistake because he was scared of losing you.”
“He lied to me for months, Sage.”
“I know.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “And that’s not okay. I’m not saying it’s okay. But I am saying that people make mistakes, even people who love us. Even people we love.”
I want to argue.
I want to be angry, righteous, and justified in my hurt.
But underneath the anger, underneath the betrayal and the pain, there’s something else.
Love.
I still love him.
And that might be the worst part of all.
My phone, which I finally turned back on, buzzes with a new message. I glance at the screen.
Nitro the nice Uber Guy: I’m not going to push. I’m giving you the space you asked for. But please know that I love you. That’s never been a lie. And I will wait as long as it takes for you to believe that.
I read it three times before setting the phone face down on the sofa.
“What did he say?” Sage asks.
“That he loves me.”
“Do you believe him?”
I close my eyes. Think about the way he looks at me.
The way he touches me, like I’m something precious.
The way he listens when I talk, really listens, as if every word matters.
The way he saved that crumpled-up burger wrapper from the first night we met, keeping it in his wallet like it is some kind of talisman.
“I don’t know,” I say.
But that’s a lie.
I do believe him.
I just don’t know if love is enough when trust is broken.
“Stay here as long as you need,” Sage says, curling up next to me on the couch. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
I lean my head on her shoulder, the weight of the day finally catching up to me.
Damon Blackwell.
My Nitro is Damon Blackwell.
And I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do with that information.
All I know is that tonight, I’ll sleep at Sage’s.
And tomorrow, I’ll have to figure out if the man I fell in love with is real, or if he was just another beautiful lie in a long line of beautiful lies.
The thought makes my chest ache.
Because despite everything, despite the anger, the hurt, and the betrayal, there’s a part of me that already knows the answer.
He was real.
He is real.
And that’s what makes this hurt so damn much.