Page 195 of The Art of Almost Losing It
She looks at me, bursts into tears, and collapses on the floor.
35
DANI
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
Ugh, and the evening was going so nicely, then I blew it.
“It was a fake evening with a fake boyfriend.”
It was stupid, all that talk of marriage.
“You’re so dumb,” I hiss at myself as I try to peel the super-sticky Costco tape off my chest. I have not drunk enough for it not to hurt when I rip out the little hairs on my boobs.
“God, I hope those just sprouted this morning, because if those were there when Graham was sucking on them the other night… ugh, this is embarrassing.”
Last night was embarrassing. My life is embarrassing.
Who am I kidding? Even if Graham had seen me with my boobs all taped up like a weirdo, he’d have seen that I take too much work to even be a passable billionaire’s girlfriend.
Sure, it’s one thing to have sex with me. According to Gran, men will fuck anything even remotely hole-shaped.
But he doesn’t want a future with me.
The worst of it was that until I almost flashed the tape at him, it felt so real. It was everything I always dreamed of as a girl—thecoming home from a fun, fancy evening, the handsome husband, him being sweet and doting all evening but still thinking I’m desirable.
It felt like love. Like the kind of love you get in books or movies. The kind of love that happens to other people. For one magical evening, it felt like, wow, maybe it could happen to me too.
I pick the last of the tape off in the shower. I’m showering in Graham’s room because I’m not ready for the death of the dream.
My parents are right. This is the closest I’ll ever get to happily ever after, and it’s just a story I plagiarized off of fanfiction.net.
I slip his shirt on and button the top two buttons.
I debate about just lounging on his bed until he comes back in, but then I decide I do want some of those leftovers.
If he just wants me for sex, then that’s fine. Sex is good; sex is nice. If I only have five weeks with him, then I’m going to make the most of it. I’ll tell all my future dog and cat children about that time I was a billionaire’s fake girlfriend.
It’s too bad Graham’s standing in the kitchen, shirtless, baby-talking to my dog.
He would be a good father.
The thought punches me in the ever-expanding gut, and I collapse on the floor, wailing. A complete mess.
I’m never going to have this. It’s so cruel to be shown this shadow of love then have it snatched away.
Graham silently crouches down next to me, cupping my face. He lifts my chin with two fingers and says, “Tell me who I need to destroy.”
“You’re not destroying anyone.” I sniffle. “Stop playing.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
“I have a kidnapped girl in my penthouse. I think I’m qualified.”
“Just ignore me.”
“Is it Kraig?” The deep voice sounds murderous.
“No, it—”
