Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
He puts his arms around me, hugging me into silence. “It’s all right.” His voice is tender affection.
“It’s not okay. I’m fake dating Jake Waterford when I’d rather be fake and real dating you.”
“I know that, Phebs,” he whispers, and his loving gaze bathes me. “You don’t have to convince me. I know . . .” He looks me over in a heavier sweep. “I know you.”
My heart swells, and our love is an unspoken light between us, radiating among the darkness of our many lives and lies.
It has always been unspoken. Rocky has never needed words to see how much I love him. He’s never asked for them. But he deserves to hear them. He’s already said them to me. He’s told me, verbally, he loves me.
But I haven’t . . . and this is the time.
This is it.
To tell him how much I love him. To tell him exactly the depth of what I feel. I open my mouth, and as his fingers brush against my cheek and our lips near, those three words completely escape me.
Something else replaces them instead, and very softly, I whisper, “I’m your Phoebe.”
The purest emotion brims his eyes. “I’m your Rocky.”
Forty-Two
Phoebe
Jake. Jake. Must. Find. Jake.
And thoroughly break up with Jake.
Unfortunately, I was going to call in sick to work like Hailey, but Chelsea begged me for the extra hands since half the staff are no-shows and likely nursing hangovers from Halloween parties last night.
Two birds, one stone: I told Jake to meet me at the country club.
I’m an hour into my shift, and I haven’t seen any sign of the Konings’ third heir. I’m antsy as a lady with pearl earrings peruses the drink menu, keeping me hostage.
“I’ll give you a minu—”
“No, no, no,” she refutes with the wave of a hand. “I just about have it.”
She does not.
Patience. I inhale a little breath and remember Ms. O’Neil is a sweet older woman who spends most of her time doing crossword puzzles. I’m being prickly, and she doesn’t deserve that.
“Can I help make it easier?” I ask her. “What are you looking for?”
“That drink.”
This time, her vagueness makes me smile. “A tea? A spirit? A soda—”
“It’s a soda.”
Great. One step forward. I try to subtly scan the dining room for Jake. It’s packed this afternoon, nearly every chair occupied, and Chelsea is practically sprinting from table to table.
“My daughter was talking about it yesterday. It’s new.”
“Pepsi? Coke? Fizz?”
“Fizz!” She catches my wrist, remembering. “That’s right. It’s called Fizz Life.”
I frown. What? “Uhh, I know we have a lot of Fizzle products stocked, but I’m not sure if I’ve heard of Fizz Life.”
“It’s new,” she assures me, letting go. “My daughter said it’s healthier than the diet stuff. I’ll take one of those.”
“Okay, I’ll check to see if we have it.” Doubtful. “Can I get you anything if we don’t?”
“Just the Fizz Life, dear.”
All righty then.
With this, I spin on my heel, and what do you know—Jake is leaning against the dining room bar and chatting with Katherine, of all people.
At least he’s here.
At least he’s right next to the bar where I need to be.
Without wasting another second, I hightail my ass to the bar, and as I approach, Katherine air-kisses his cheeks in a polite goodbye. She side-eyes me on her way out, and it’s disturbingly familiar to Jake’s side-eyes.
I let it go and try not to come in super hot. “Do you know anything about Fizz Life?” I ask him, resting an elbow on the bar like him.
His brows crinkle. “You mean Diet Fizz?”
“Nooo, Ms. O’Neil was adamant there’s a drink called Fizz Life and that we have it.”
Jake takes out his cell. “I’ll look it up.”
So I think we should break up, like, today. Now. Right now. That shouldn’t be a tough request considering our breakup fell through yesterday.
I’m nervous about his reply since he seemed . . . relieved when I left the pool party last night and our fake relationship was still intact.
“She said it’s new,” I tell him.
He scrolls on his phone. “It’s an aspartame-free soda.”
Holy shit. “It exists?” I peek at his phone. He’s reading a news article.
“It’s not being unveiled until January,” he explains. “She must’ve heard about it through her social circles.”
“So we don’t have it,” I realize.
He pockets his phone. “No. Not unless you have a time machine.”
Dammit. I round the bar and open the fridge. Grabbing an ice-cold Diet Fizz, I pop the can, but before I pour the drink into a glass, I stop myself.
She won’t know the difference. It’s not like she’s ever tasted Fizz Life.
The deceit sits more strangely. After Hailey brought me here for a reason, after the doubt surrounding our parents and what they could’ve done, I realize I still want to try and live a more honest life.