Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,89

deal with.”

“He’s doing it again,” Ethan said, as if I wasn’t sitting right here.

“I know,” Dad said.

“I’m doing what?”

“Bottling everything up,” Ethan said. “I can practically see you doing it. It’s like you’re shoving every emotion you’ve ever had into the deepest, darkest recesses of your psyche. You did the same thing when Mom left.”

I didn’t reply. Just took a sip of coffee, keeping my eyes anywhere but on my dad and brother.

“It’s not healthy,” Ethan said. “Come on, you can talk to us.”

I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to go to work where I could focus on something else—anything but Everly. I had a company to run. I couldn’t wallow in hurt feelings because my fake girlfriend had been keeping a secret.

“There’s nothing to talk about. We had an agreement. It’s over.”

“I don’t know how she put up with you,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. “If Grant was this emotionally stunted, I’d have gone crazy a long time ago.”

“She doesn’t have to put up with me at all, because it’s over.”

“And clearly you’re fine with that.” Ethan’s voice was full of sarcasm.

I took a deep breath. “No, I’m not fine with it. I feel like shit and not because I’m hungover. I was going to…” I paused, shutting my eyes for a moment. “I was going to ask her to stay. But it turns out, she’s no different than any of the other women I’ve dated.”

“Have you met Everly?” Ethan asked. “Because I’ve met a few of the women you dated. They were all… well, like Svetlana. Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s all right,” Dad said. “I should have known better.”

“Do you remember when Dad had the heart attack scare, about five years ago?”

My brow furrowed. “When it turned out to be severe acid reflux?”

“Yes. Who were you dating at the time? What was her name?”

I thought back. “Ava Sinclair.”

“And where was she while you were in the hospital, waiting for news?”

I cleared my throat. “At the spa. Or getting her hair done. I don’t remember.”

“What about when Grant got a promotion and Dad threw him that big party. Hadn’t you been dating that woman, Megan something, for a year? But you came to the party alone.”

“I remember her,” Dad said. “Vaguely.”

“Yeah, I’d been dating Megan for about a year. And she didn’t come with me to Grant’s party because she was getting Botox. Paid for with my credit card.”

“See?” Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Everly showed up for you when I was in the ER. She’d never even met me.”

I couldn’t deny that. She had.

“And she went above and beyond with this whole fake girlfriend thing. I have a hard time believing it was all a maniacal plot to get you to jizz in a cup for her sister.”

“I trusted her,” I said. “I trusted her with a lot, and she kept this from me.”

Ethan opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Dad stood. “I’ll see who it is.”

I waited, straining to listen while Dad answered the door. A moment later, he led two men into the condo. They looked familiar, but I couldn’t place them.

Why were they glaring at me?

Dad cleared his throat. “Movers. Here for the rest of Everly’s belongings.”

That was why they looked familiar. They were the same guys Everly had hired when she moved in.

Groaning, I leaned my head back against the chair. “Fuck.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Dad said.

“Did I drink all the whiskey?” I asked.

“No, and I’m tempted to let you spike your coffee at this point,” Ethan said.

One of the movers came in and picked up the bean bag chair.

“Careful with that,” I barked at him. “It’s her favorite.”

He glared at me again.

“Are they friends of hers?” Ethan asked, lowering his voice.

I shook my head. “No, they’re just the guys she hired when she moved in here. But basically everyone Everly meets becomes her new best friend, so…”

“Of course they do,” Ethan said. “Everly’s delightful.”

I shot him a look.

“Sorry. Not helpful.”

I got up and shadowed the movers as they packed Everly’s things and took them out of my condo. Neither of them spoke a word to me. Dad kept Ethan company in the kitchen while he cooked breakfast, and I acted like a lunatic, barking at the guys moving my former fake-fiancée’s belongings.

This wasn’t me. I didn’t pace. I didn’t yell at people. I wasn’t intimidating because I was loud. It was my silence that made people jump to do what I