Fake Dating 48

Chapter 48 

“Left side it is.” 

I don’t look at him. 

Because if I do, I might just change my mind. 

This is the right thing. I’m making the right decision. 

I should protect my heart, save myself so I’ll never experience what I did with Zane ever again. 

Especially with Liam. 

Someone with his reputation. 

He doesn’t ‘do relationships’, I’m not delusional enough to think I can change him. 

If there’s one thing I learnt from Zane Whitmoore, it’s that you can’t change people. Period. Especially when change is the last thing on their mind. 

I just don’t know why it feels like I just lost something. 

I slip under the covers, facing away from him, hoping the space between us will be enough to settle the mess in my head. But I can still feel him beside me-the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. 

Silence stretches between us. 

Then, his voice is softer now. “Em?” 

I close my eyes. “Yeah?” 

A pause. A long one. 

Then, just when I think he’s going to say something serious, he leans in slightly and whispers, “I’m totally stealing the blankets tonight.” 

I whip around, eyes wide. “Don’t you dare!” 

He grins. “Try and stop me.” 

And just like that, the tension from earlier is gone, replaced by laughter and playful shoving. He does try to steal the blanket, and I do fight him for it, but in the end, somehow, we both end up tangled in the sheets, laughing like we don’t have a single worry in the world. 

I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what it means. 

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But for tonight, I don’t think I want to figure it out. 

We’re deep asleep when the phones start going off. 

It’s relentless. A sharp buzz. Then another. Then another. 

Tessa calls so many times my phone dies. 

I barely stir, lost in the warmth of the bed, until Liam shakes me awake. His grip is firm but careful, his voice low and 

serious. 

“Em. Wake up.” 

I groan, burying my face into the pillow. “Five more minutes.” 

“Not an option.” 

Before I can protest, he shoves his phone into my hands, the bright screen nearly blinding me. 

Then I see it. 

The headline. 

My name. 

Splashed across the screen in bold, capital letters. 

My stomach twists. A sharp, cold dread shoots through me. 

I’ve never been seasick in my life, but suddenly, I’m scrambling out of bed and sprinting to the bathroom. 

And for the first time ever, I empty the contents of my stomach at sea. 

Who’s real? Who’s not? Emilia Janice Carter, the poor bakery owner, or Emily Margaux Vanderbilt, the estranged daughter of billionaire couple Genevieve and Andrew Vanderbilt? 

The headline loops in my mind, over and over, like a bad dream I can’t wake up from. 

My stomach twists violently, and I hunch over the toilet, retching. 

Liam is right beside me, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on my back, the other holding my hair away from my face. His touch is steady and reassuring, but I can hear the worry in his voice. 

“Breathe, love. Just breathe.” 

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t breathe. 

Because it’s out now. 

The truth. 

The secret I’ve spent years protecting. 

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Exposed for the whole world to see. 

Liam helps me up and I stand in front of the mirror, leaning onto the sink for support. I open the tap, rinse my mouth and face. My movements are automated and I can vaguely feel Liam let go of me. 

Then I hear the sound of the toilet flush. 

My chest tightens. 

The air feels too thick, too heavy, like I’m drowning in it instead of breathing it in. 

I clutch the edge of the sink, but my hands are shaking so badly I can’t hold on. My vision tunnels, black spots creep- ing at the edges. The headline-those awful, damning words—keeps flashing in my mind, looping, taunting. 

I can’t breathe. 

I can’t- 

A sob rips from my throat, the sound is raw and broken and takes me off guard. 

Liam’s hands are on me in an instant, warm and steady. One presses against my back, the other cups my cheek, tilting my face toward him. 

“Em,” his voice is soft, but firm. “Look at me.” 

I try. God, I try. But my body won’t listen. My breaths come in quick, shallow gasps, my chest rising and falling too fast, too hard. 

“Breathe with me,” Liam says, his forehead pressing gently against mine. His breath is slow, steady. “In for four. Out for four. Just follow me, love.” 

I shake my head. “I-I can’t-” 

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.” 

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