Page 24 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

“I’m engaged.”

I peel my eyes off the worn, rusted body of the car and dart my focus

through him in the form of long, slider blades. “What did you just

say?”

“Leah,” he sighs, exasperated. “I’m engaged. I’m getting married to

Farrah.”

I swallow the bricks on the back of my tongue and nearly choke on

the air. “What? Seriously? It’s… it’s only been…”

“I know it’s fast, ladybug. But, when you know, you know. Four

months is nothing. Her father wants to plan the wedding for next

spring, so that’s still a handful of months away. I know it in my heart

now that I’m meant to marry her. It just feels right.”

It feels right.

More than ten years together with me.

Four months with her.

And it feels right to marry her—and not me.

Not that I’d walk down the aisle towards him now, but maybe I’d

consider it if he wasn’t such a selfish, unbelievably egotistical

narcissistic scum of this planet with…

I digress, calming my rambling, furious thoughts while I bite on my

tongue until I taste fucking blood. “Congrats, I guess.”

He smiles gently, not in a ha, I’m getting married to someone who

isn’t you kind of way, but in a thank God that’s over kind of way.

I guess I can appreciate that rather than hearing about it in the paper

or from town gossip. If there’s a redeeming quality about my ex-

boyfriend, it’s that he’s taken the time and the consideration to tell

this to my face. While I may hate him and consider undoing every

spark pull on his car so he can’t help but pay me to fix it, I can at the

very bare minimum appreciate him telling me in this setting.

“Thank you for that, Leah. I know it’s probably hard for you to grasp