Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,101
we’re enemies again.”
It’s our worst-case scenario. The high stakes Tate was so confident about.
“Emmie, you were never my enemy,” he says softly.
“I know that now, but we’ve treated each other like it for so long. We have to figure out a way to move forward or move on.”
I’m not sure how I’d cope, but I’d have to throw on some military-grade bulletproof invisible armor at work if that became our new normal. I’d need to fake a whole new persona around Tate just to survive. Too much has happened between us, and everything has changed. Moving on most likely means one of us would quit Nuts & Bolts when we couldn’t take being around the other any longer, and I have a feeling I’d throw in the towel before he did. I can already feel the crack in my heart forming, preparing for that inevitable day.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Here. I want you to read all the texts I’ve exchanged with Natalie this past year.”
“What?”
“Read them. All the way back to when I started at Nuts & Bolts.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to know everything.”
“You’re serious?”
He shakes his head. “I could stand here and tell you that I’ve never taken care of someone the way I took care of you, that you’re the first woman I’ve had over to this apartment. I could tell you that I’ve never told anyone about my eighth birthday because I’m private to a fault. I could tell you that I’ve never let anyone in, except you.”
He types the passcode on his phone and hands it to me. “But that’s not good enough. I want to be open with you. I want to show you what you mean to me, Emmie.”
He’s weirdly calm now. I can’t figure out what’s going on.
I shake my head. “That’s got to be hundreds of texts. No way I’m doing that.”
“There’s fifty texts, max. I hate texting. I hardly ever do it. If it takes you longer than fifteen minutes to read all my messages with Natalie over the past year, I’ll be shocked.”
“But we spent the week after my surgery texting every day.”
He shrugs. “I hate texting. Except with you.”
My heartbeat takes on a fluttery rhythm. “You’re serious?” I repeat.
“Dead serious. Have a look. Sit on the couch if you want. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
He slides past me, our arms touching briefly. I move to the couch and scroll to his text messages screen. I can’t find Camille’s name there or in his contacts list. He was telling the truth. She hasn’t been on his mind or his phone in a long while.
I scroll through his texts with Natalie. The first exchange that catches my eye is from two months after Tate and I started working together.
Natalie: Just tell her the truth. She’ll understand.
Tate: Doubtful. I’ve been a jerk to her for too long. Nothing I say will fix that.
Natalie: Negatory. If she’s a sweetie like you say she is, she’ll understand.
Tate called me a sweetie to his sister all those months ago? Something next to my heart thumps. I skim the rest of her reply and scan the messages from a couple months after that exchange.
Tate: Fuck. She’s pretty. Goddamn it, she’s pretty. I can’t focus.
Natalie: Good god. Go on about it why don’t you.
The next few texts are comments about how difficult it is not to stare when he sees me. I blush. I had no clue he felt that way about me. He was always brooding and eerily quiet. I honestly thought he was funneling all his energy into keeping himself from snapping at me every day. My heartbeat quickens. I’m flattered, but I feel silly. How did I not pick up on any of this?
My finger slides down the screen to reveal another chunk of texts.
Natalie: So?? Did you get that creeper fired or not?
Tate: I did.
Natalie: Well??? Details! Come on!
Natalie: You’re the worst. You arranged the firing of the sexist creeper who’s been pestering the woman you’re crazy about, and you go radio silent on me the whole day?
Natalie: Have you told her you like her yet?
Natalie: Quit ignoring me.
Natalie: Okay, I can handle your annoying professionalism and refusal to give me details on this prick getting fired, but I’m not going to just sit here while you blow this opportunity. Come on! Tell her you like her!
Tate: Please leave me alone. I’m trying to work.
Natalie: You’ve never spoken about anyone the way you talk about her. Your face lights