Nathan cares deeply about the world and the people in it. He dedicated his life to charity and kindness, not to impress anyone, but because that’s what he’s called to do. He’s a protector. A provider. Someone who gives freely. Who sees the best in people even when they do him wrong. He’s dedicated to his family and strives to make life easier for everyone. He does what’s right, even when it’s hard. When you meet the man, the whole man, the human being who has good days and bad days instead of the caricatures of him you see online, he will inspire you to live as your best self because that’s what he’s doing every day.
I thought the hardest thing about pretending to date Nathan West would be making people believe I liked spending time with The Prince of Darkness.
Turns out the hardest thing is that I fell head over heels with a wonderful man, and when push came to shove, I’m not sure I deserved him.
I ask all of you to rewrite what you think you know. When you see the name Nathan West, don’t think about a playboy or a villain or a trust-fund-asshole.
See the man for who he is:
A philanthropist dead set on leaving the world better than he found it.
FORTY-THREE
Nathan
Nick’s missing. My girlfriend is a liar. My cousins won’t talk to me. And everyone at work keeps staring and whispering when they think I’m not paying attention. Life took a hard right turn and I fucking hate it. I want to go back to a week ago when everything was beautiful, and I thought I was healing and falling in love with the woman of my dreams. Except maybe it never was fine, at least according to Dom, who’s gloating like a motherfucker while pretending he’s oh so sad to have been right about Mina’s motivations. Even Rita had a hard time making eye contact this morning and I’d pegged her as unflappable.
Mina hasn’t texted since Saturday, probably giving me the space I said I needed. The petulant child that lives in my head swears it’s proof she was using me. That she’d fight harder if she genuinely cared. The adult knows she’s being respectful of my wishes.
I’m the reason we haven’t talked.
I just can’t deal with it all right now.
I’m simmering in stress.
The Nick situation would be enough on its own. But to find out he’s missing the same day my nemesis told the world my relationship was fake? Only to find her in Mina’s bedroom the next day?
It’s too much stacked on too much stacked on too much.
I’ve lost the respect of my family. My colleagues. I can’t talk to Micah or Angela or my brothers or sister about it. I can’t even think about Nick without a jolt of panic scattering common sense.
I’ve lost Mina.
Or maybe I haven’t.
One conversation might solve everything, but therein lies the problem. I don’t trust her anymore. What if Dom is right to gloat? What if Mina being friends with Fallon Mae was just the tip of the iceberg. What if she was pretending to love me because of her mom’s medical bills? Being my girlfriend would be a hell of a solution, either because she applies for assistance through ROF and asks me to grease the wheels on the application, or I just pay the damn things off myself.
I should talk to her.
I miss her.
But worse than not trusting her, I don’t trust myself. I’ll hear what I want to hear, not what she’s actually saying. Just like I did with Blossom.
I am too gullible for my own damn good.
But I should have called her days ago. Letting this drag on so long is an asshole move.
I’m better than this.
I groan, leaning my elbows on my desk and threading my fingers through my hair, begging to get off this damn merry-go-round. “Come on, West. You’re here to work. Buck the fuck up and work already.”
Lifting my head, I stare at the email I opened who knows how long ago. I’ve read it four times and still have no idea what it says. I scrub my face, realize I probably should have shaved before coming in this morning, then lean in for one last attempt at reading when my phone pings. An alert on my name…from Fallon’s blog.
Damn it.
She had the balls to post another article?
Really?
Has she not done enough damage?
Seriously, what did I do to her?
I tap on the alert and the blog opens to the article, but you know what? I don’t have the bandwidth to care. My thumb moves to close the browser, but I pause when I see Mina’s name. With my heart in my throat, I read the first few lines, then the whole damn thing, then sit back, chewing my bottom lip. Before I’ve had time to figure out how I feel, my office door opens.
“Mr. West?” Rita crosses her arms like a palace guard. “Your interior designer is here.” She places an unusual amount of emphasis on Mina’s job description.
My jaw sets.
I’m not prepared for this. I still haven’t processed her apology—assuming that’s what that was. She never actually said the words, but they were strongly implied. But what was Mina’s motivation for the article? Was she genuine? Does she want something? Fuck me. I should have stayed home.
I scrub my face again because damn it, I need to get a grip. All this whining and ‘what-ifing’ is a waste of energy.
“Would you like me to tell her where exactly she can go?” Rita asks, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.
The ferocity in her eyes brings a ghost of a smile to my lips. It’s quite possibly the first time I’ve not frowned in the last three days.
“There’s no need for that.” I wave off my self-appointed bodyguard. “I appreciate you for looking out for me, but go ahead and send her in.”
