Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,95
into my line of view, and I pull on Tate’s sleeve. “One more slice. I’ll catch up with you in a sec.”
“Hurry back, or I’ll have to come looking for you.” He leaves me with a playful wink.
A dozen untouched squares sit on paper plates. I can’t believe more people haven’t eaten this delicious lemon crème concoction. I polish off once piece, then eye another. Tate can wait an extra minute; this cake is just too damn good.
I’m two bites in when a woman just a few feet away catches my attention. I freeze. Long, dark hair. Catlike brown eyes. Small button nose. Full lips. A similar tan shade covers her skin. This complete stranger looks almost exactly like me.
Despite there being a half dozen people between us, I zero in on only her. It’s like a magnet has captured my stare. We’re similar in stature and facial features—we’re even both wearing black dresses—but it’s not a long-lost identical twin situation. This stranger and I could pass for sisters, though. She’s objectively prettier than me. And her makeup is tidier than mine too. The cat-eye she managed to pull off is more polished than my rushed smoky eye. She’s a bit less curvy, and I think she might be an inch or two shorter, but it’s hard to say given she’s wearing wedges.
She turns, and all I can see is her back. Jaclyn races to her side, and the two hug. When a break in the music hits, I can hear Jaclyn speaking.
“You should see the girl Tate’s with,” she says, her unblinking eyes fixed on my doppelgänger. “She looks just like you, Camille. I mean, you two split up years ago. It’s so creepy.”
The last word is barely out of her mouth before everything clicks. It’s like a puzzle is being solved in my brain at lightning speed.
My look-alike, Camille, is Tate’s ex. Why didn’t he tell me she would be here?
Now I know why he rejected me when we met face-to-face all those months ago, why he spoke those biting words his first week of work, words I was never meant to hear. Because I bear a striking resemblance to the woman who broke his heart.
Jaclyn turns away to speak to someone else, and a familiar figure cuts in. Tate’s broad, pale form saunters up behind her, a smile on his face. And then it happens.
Tate’s hand on her arm, his fingers caressing her skin. He leans closer, pressing his lips to her cheek.
Then his mouth is on her mouth.
An invisible vise clamps around my chest, making it impossible to breathe. My hand rises from my side to the neckline of my dress, the thud of my heartbeat shaking my palm.
I fall back, hitting the cake table with my ass. I catch myself before falling, but the whine of the metal legs dragging against the gym floor causes everyone in the immediate vicinity to spin around and stare. Normally, I’d be mortified at nearly collapsing in front of several dozen people, but right now I don’t care. Nothing matters now that I’ve seen my boyfriend kiss his ex right in front of me.
I heave a breath and choke. If I stay in this gym a second longer, I will either vomit or scream.
The smattering of voices around me turns to muffled ringing. Every particle in my body seizes, and my throat begins to constrict. My sole focus is the bright red exit sign, my only escape.
twenty-five
One dim hall takes me to a short corridor, and when I shove open a set of heavy doors, I’m in what I assume is an auditorium.
I fall into one of the cushy velvet seats and stare at the floor beneath my heels. I’d crawl out of my skin if it were physically possible. Tate kissed his ex-girlfriend. In front of me. How the hell . . . why the hell . . .
A loud squeak causes me to twist around. Tate starts to head for me, but I hold up a hand to halt him.
“I can explain.” His tone is placating. I hate it.
I stand. “Don’t.” The whisper I manage is like a cannon of anger and hurt from my mouth.
I back away, hoping with each step that the ground will open up and swallow me. It would hurt less than to watch the man I care for betray me right in front of my eyes.
I call on every boss-bitch tip I’ve ever read, every technique I’ve ever employed to try and