Faking It Read Online Free

morning.”
    “Promise?” I sniffle.
    “They always do.”

Chapter 4
    I do…NOT want 2 marry U
     
    The text arrives the next morning, waking me with its ruthless bling. I grab my iPhone and stare at the message on the screen. It’s from Nathan.
     
    I can’t abide liars. Therefore, I must insist on a termination of our impending contractual relationship.
     
    Heart racing, I quickly tap out my response.
     
    I love u Nathan. Won’t u pls let me explain?
     
    I hold my breath and wait for his response.
     
    No. My trust in you is irreparably ruptured. It is over, Vivia. Goodbye and good luck.
     
    I let out a strangled cry.
    Fanny comes rushing into the room, carrying two steaming paper cups with the Teavana logo on them. She has slipped out to bring me my favorite Samurai Chai Maté. Fanny hates tea. She deposits the tea on a box and comes to sit beside me.
    “What is it, Vivian? Did you hear from Nathan?”
    I nod, and tears spill down my cheeks.
    “What did he say?”
    I hand her the phone. Fanny reads Nathan’s text and her lips press together to form a sharp slash across her face. It’s her angry look.
    “ Bâtard! ” Fanny directs a barrage of French oaths at the iPhone before switching to English. “He speaks of your engagement as if he were negotiating one of his mergers. What sort of man ends an engagement through a text? Was he born without a heart?”
    I shrug because I can’t think of a response. It’s as if someone has jammed a needle into my brain and injected it with Novocain.
    “I’ll tell you what sort of man,” Fanny snaps, punctuating her words with sharp jabs and wild waves of her manicured hands. “A sanctimonious mouth-breathing cave dweller who is more concerned about what the other knuckle-draggers will think of him than your feelings!”
    I scoot to a sitting position and stare at my best friend through my thick tousled bangs. Her outburst stuns me, not because she is immune to such displays of violent emotion—quite the contrary—but because she has never expressed a negative opinion about Nathan.
    “ Je suis desolée , Vivian.” Fanny draws a deep breath and exhales. “But this is typical of Nathaniel Edwards III, is it not?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, ma chérie ”—Fanny ducks her head until she catches my gaze behind my bangs—“Nathan cares only for himself.”
    “That’s not true!”
    “Be honest, Vivian! Think of all the times he disregarded your feelings, your wants, because they did not fit neatly into his agenda.”
    “That’s not fair.”
    “Really?” Fanny pushes up her sleeves.“Don’t you remember the night you met Nathan at Snob to plan your honeymoon?”
    I arrived with a stack of glossy travel brochures of the art capitals of Europe. Paris. London. Rome. Vienna. I bounced through the bar, as buoyant as Kate Upton’s boobs. Nathan listened, nodded, and then went out the next day and booked a bike and wine tour through Provence and Tuscany. A rigorous bike tour. Not like the time Fanny and I visited her Grandma in Normandy and rode pink Schwinns to a café for hot chocolate and croissants.
    I throw back the covers and bring my knees up under my chin. Nathan’s expensive musky cologne floats around me, a ghostly reminder of his absence. I am ashamed for thinking of the man I love in less than charitable terms.
    “Okay, so he booked a honeymoon that catered to his interests instead of mine, but that doesn’t make him a selfish son-of-a-bitch. Does it? A honeymoon in Europe is still a honeymoon in Europe. Did it really matter if we filled our days cruising on the Seine or biking through the French countryside?”
    Fanny stands and walks to where she deposited our tea, grabs a cup, and holds it out to me like a peace offering.
    “I am sorry, Vivian. I should not have jogged off at the mouth like that.”
    “ Run .”
    “What?”
    “Run off at the mouth, not jogged.”
    The spicy scent of chai teases my nostrils, and I take a sip of