Chapter Twenty-Six
MARLEY
I’m drunk.
Not tipsy.
Not pleasantly buzzed.
Drunk.
The kind of drunk where the world tilts sideways when I stand up too fast, and Sage’s apartment looks as if it’s underwater, all wavering edges and blurred corners.
The wine bottle sits empty on the coffee table. When did we finish that? There’s another one somewhere. Or maybe we already drank that one too?
I can’t remember.
I can’t think.
I can’t do anything but sit here on Sage’s sofa and feel everything all at once while simultaneously feeling nothing at all.
“You should eat something,” Sage says from somewhere to my left. Or maybe my right. Space is weird right now.
“Don’t wanna eat.”
“Marley!”
“I wanna drink.” I reach for my glass, but my hand misses, and I knock it over instead. Wine, red wine, spreads across the coffee table like blood. “Oopsie.” I giggle.
Sage sighs and disappears, returning with paper towels. She’s been so patient with me this past week, so understanding, letting me crash here, cry here, basically fall apart here.
I’m a terrible friend.
A terrible everything.
“He lied to me,” I say, not for the first time tonight. Probably not even for the tenth time. “He looked me in the eye and lied.”
“I know, babe.”
“For weeks. Months. However long we were together.” The timeline is fuzzy right now.
Everything is fuzzy.
“He let me believe he was Nitro. Just this normal guy who drove Uber and played flute and made me feel special.”
“You are special, babe.”
“But he’s Damon Blackwell.” The name tastes bitter on my tongue. “He’s a billionaire, Sage. A fucking billionaire who was slumming it with the fat girl from advertising because what? It was fun? Because it was different?”
“That’s not…”
“He probably has a real girlfriend somewhere. Someone thin, beautiful, and appropriate for a man like him. Someone who doesn’t have to shop in the plus-size section or wear glasses or—”
“Marley, stop!” Sage’s voice is sharp, cutting through my rant. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m allowed to spiral!” I push myself off the sofa, stumbling slightly. “My boyfriend, my fake boyfriend who became my real boyfriend, is secretly a billionaire who lied to me about his entire identity. Surely, I’m allowed to be upset about that!”
“You are. You’re absolutely allowed. But you’re not allowed to talk about yourself like that.”
I wave my hand dismissively, nearly losing my balance. “Whatever.”
Sage watches me with worried eyes. “I need to run out and grab some food. We haven’t eaten all day, and you need something in your stomach besides wine.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re absolutely not fine. You haven’t been fine since you found out.” She grabs her purse and keys. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
“Can’t promise that.”
She gives me a look but leaves anyway, and suddenly I’m alone in the apartment with my thoughts, my wine, and my shattered heart.
I love him.
God, I love him so much it physically hurts.
That’s the worst part.
Not the lying, not the betrayal, but the fact that even knowing everything, even understanding that our entire relationship was built on a foundation of lies, I still love him.
I still want him.
I still miss him with an ache that feels as though it’s eating me from the inside out.
My phone sits on the coffee table, screen dark and silent. I’ve blocked his number. Returned everything he gave me. Cut off all communication because staying in touch would only make this more complicated.
But right now, drunk, hurting, and so incredibly lonely, all I want is to hear his voice.
I pick up the phone before I can talk myself out of it.
Not Nitro.
I can’t call Nitro.
But Derek.
Derek will understand.
Derek was in a long-term relationship with me.
Derek knows what it’s like to lie to someone, to betray them, to hurt someone who trusted you.
So, I find his number in my contacts, my finger hovering over the call button.
What the hell am I doing?
This is a bad idea.
I know it’s a bad idea.
Derek is the last person I should be calling right now. He’s cruel and manipulative, and he’s the one who started this whole mess by body-shaming me and kicking me out.
But I’m drunk and broken, and I need someone to talk to.
Someone who’ll understand.
Someone who won’t judge me for still being in love with another man who lied to me.
So, I press call.
And he answers on the third ring. “Marley?” His voice is surprised, pleased in a way that should set off alarm bells, but doesn’t because I’m too drunk to think straight. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“D-Derek.” My voice cracks, and suddenly I’m crying again. “I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”
“Hey, hey… slow down. What happened?”
I take a shaky breath, wiping at my face with the back of my hand. “Remember that guy? The one I brought to the gala?”
“Your boyfriend? The biker?” There’s something in his voice, curiosity tinged with disdain.
“Yeah, him.” I laugh, but it comes out broken. “Except he’s not just a biker, Derek. That’s the problem. He’s been lying to me this whole time about who he really is.” I hiccup at the end.
“I don’t understand. Wait! Marley, are you drunk?”
I wave him off, even though he can’t see me. “Might have had one wine…” hiccup “… anyway, his name isn’t just Nitro. It’s Damon. Damon-fucking-Blackwell.” I wait for recognition, and when it doesn’t come immediately, I clarify, “Of Blackwell Entertainment Group.”
There’s silence on the other end. Then Derek’s voice is sharp with interest. “Damon Blackwell? The billionaire?”
“Yes!” The word is bitter on my tongue. “The same one. He’s been pretending to be some regular guy this whole time.” hiccup “Driving Uber, playing it off like he’s a normal man when he’s actually running a billion-dollar empire.”
“Jesus, Marley. That’s—”
“Insane? Manipulative? A complete violation of my trust?” My voice rises. “Yeah, Derek. It is. And I fell for it. I fell for him. The whole fake-dating thing? It started as this arrangement to make you jealous at the gala…” hiccup “… but then it became real. At least I thought it was real.”
“Hold on. Back up. Fake dating?” Derek’s voice sharpens with interest, and through my wine-soaked haze, I miss the predatory edge entirely.
“I was upset about you moving on so fast,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
“About seeing you with that prissy blonde at work. So, when I ran into Nitro again at a coffee shop…” hiccup…
“… Sage suggested I bring him as my date to make you jealous. He agreed. We practiced. We got our story straight. But somewhere between the practice dates and the real thing…” hiccup “… it just… stopped being fake.”
Derek lets out a small laugh. “You fell for him.”
“Like a damn idiot.” I reach for my wine glass, forgetting it’s empty.
“I fell so hard, Derek. He made me feel beautiful. Special. Like I mattered. He looked at me as if I were the only person in the world worth seeing. And the whole time, it was all built on lies.” I wave my glass around like a madwoman and violently hiccup.
“What kind of lies?”
The question should sound sympathetic. Instead, it sounds calculating. But I’m too drunk to notice, too desperate to get it all out and off my chest.
“Everything! His whole identity. He let me believe he was just this guy who drove Uber to clear his head… hiccup “… who played flute at retirement villages, who was trying to live a normal life. But he’s Damon Blackwell. He’s a billionaire playing dress-up as a regular person.”
“Why would he do that, Marley?”
“I don’t know!” The frustration bursts out of me.
“He said something about wanting to be seen for who he is, not what he has. About his parents dying and leaving him this empire he never wanted. About the club being his real family.” I hiccup again, tears streaming down my face.
“But none of that excuses the lying, Derek. None of it excuses letting me fall in love…” hiccup “… with someone who doesn’t even exist.”
“The club?” Derek’s voice sharpens. “What’s his association there?”
“Las Vegas Defiance MC.” I know I should stop talking.
Some small, sober part of my brain is screaming at me to hang up, to stop giving Derek information.
But the words keep coming, unstoppable. And what is with these hiccups!
“He’s the VP. Has been for years. It’s his real life, his real family.
The billion-dollar business is something he inherited. ”
“So, he’s living a double life. Biker by night, billionaire by day?”
“Something like that.” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, inelegantly and not caring.
“He kept it all separate. Had different names for different worlds. And I was so stupid, I didn’t even question it.
When he said his name was Nitro,” hiccup “… I just accepted it. When he showed up at company events in expensive suits, I thought he just cleaned up well. I never put it together.”
“How did you find out?”
“He tried to explain,” I say, my voice thick with tears.
“Said he wanted to tell me, but didn’t know how.
That he was scared I’d see him differently.
That he needed someone to love him for who he is, not what he has.
” I laugh bitterly and hiccup. “But how can I love who he is when I don’t even know who that is anymore?
Is he Nitro the biker? Damon the billionaire?
Some combination of both? He lied about his entire identity, Derek.
His name, his life, his entire existence.
” hiccup “How am I supposed to trust anything he said was real?”
“You can’t,” Derek says, and his voice is so gentle, so understanding. “He manipulated you, Marley. Made you think he was one thing when he was really another. That’s not love. That’s deception.”
“I know. I know that. But I s-still…” My voice breaks. “I still love him, Derek. Even knowing all of this, even understanding that our whole relationship was built on lies, I still love him. How pathetic is that?”
“You’re not pathetic.”
“I am pathetic! Just like you said. Too fat, too boring, too ordinary for someone extraordinary.” The words tumble out, wine-loosened and bitter.
“At least you were honest about why you didn’t want me.
Nitro, or Damon, or whatever the fuck his name is…
” hiccup “… he just kept lying. Kept pretending.”
“You’re not pathetic,” Derek says again, and his voice is so gentle, so understanding, that I almost believe him. “You’re hurt. There’s a difference.”
“I still love him.” Repeating the confession breaks something open inside me. “That’s the worst part. I know he lied, I know I should hate him, but I still love him.”
“Of course you do. You can’t just turn off feelings like that. I’m glad you called me. And Marley? For what it’s worth? He doesn’t deserve you. Anyone who would lie to you like that doesn’t deserve you.”
His words should comfort me.
Instead, they make me feel hollow.
We talk for a few more minutes, Derek saying all the right things, being supportive in a way he never was when we were together.
When we finally end the call, I feel simultaneously better and worse.
Better because I got it all out, told someone everything I’ve been holding in.
Worse, because talking about Nitro makes me miss him more.
I curl up on the couch, pulling Sage’s throw blanket around me, and let the wine drag me down into something that’s not quite sleep but isn’t quite consciousness either.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice whispers that I’ve made a terrible mistake.
That calling Derek was the worst possible thing I could have done.
But I’m too drunk, too tired, too heartbroken to listen.
I want to stop feeling.
I want to stop hurting.
I want to stop loving a man who isn’t who I thought he was.
And as I drift off, Nitro’s face swims behind my eyelids. The way he looked at me that first night in his car. The way he held me when we danced. The way he said my name, like it was something precious.
The way he lied.
I love him.
I hate him.
I miss him.
I never want to see him again.
The emotions war inside me, contradictory and consuming, until I can’t tell where one feeling ends and another begins.
All I know is that I’m broken.
And I have no idea how to put myself back together.
When Sage comes back twenty minutes later, arms full of takeout containers, she finds me on the sofa, my phone still clutched in my hand, tear tracks drying on my cheeks.
She sets the food aside, covers me with another blanket, and settles into the chair across from me, keeping watch.
Because that’s what best friends do.
They stay.
Even when you make terrible decisions.
Even when you’re falling apart.
Even when you’ve just made a mistake that might cost you everything.
What have I done?