By admin Fake Dating My Ex’s Favourite Hockey Player Novel CH 15
EMILIA
For once in Zane Whitmoore’s life, he looks genuinely speechless.
And I can’t even blame him. I’m just as surprised at my own outburst as he is. Deep down, I know it isn’t just about him–it’s everything. The torment of these past few weeks, the exhaustion, the way I’ve been stretched thin. The normal Emilia–his pushover ex–fiancée, as he called me–wouldn’t have dared to speak to him like that.
From the storm in his eyes, I know he realises it too.
He clenches his fists and steps closer. “So it’s such a bad thing to check up on you?”
I shrink back, instinctively wishing I could take my words back. “It’s not, I just-”
He cuts me off. “You were my best friend for ten years. We have one disagreement, and now you treat me like this? Talk to me like I mean nothing?”
The words best friend hit me harder than I expect, like a slap to the face. Best friend. That’s all he thinks we were. Everything we had, everything I gave to him, everything we went through–it’s all been reduced to that?
The wound that had started to close rips open again, the sting fresh and
raw.
If he notices, he doesn’t care. His expression shifts into something unreadable. “And whether or not this bakery is yours, it’s still mine. I paid
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for it. I renovated it. I designed it. Why are you trying to bite the hand that fed you? You’re acting like this place would even exist without me. I have every right to come in whenever I want. Your feelings about it don’t matter.”
The fight drains out of me.
Just like that, I’m pulled back to then. To how it felt when we were together. This exhaustion. This drained feeling.
I exhale. “You’re right. But you still should have called. And you should be in Chicago right now.”
He sneers. “So I can’t travel anymore? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
But I know this game. We played it every day. I know exactly how to get him to say what I really want to know.
I sidestep his question, my voice is soft and tired.
“What are you doing here, Zane?”
Don’t you have a new woman to show off? To tell the world how she’s so much better, so much more wonderful than me? Your ex–fiancée, who’s so painfully average that for the past two weeks, I’ve been nothing more than a footnote in your story. A comparison to your shiny new toy.
I think it. I feel it. But I swallow it down, ignoring how bitter it feels. How my throat seems to burn at the thought of not screaming how I feel.
It’s not his fault I’m like this.
It’s mine.
If I were better, if I were enough, it wouldn’t be like this. I have no one to blame but myself.
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Zane’s frown fades as he takes in my expression, the quiet defeat in me. He must realize there’s no sport in kicking a dog that’s already down. He looks away. “You didn’t respond to the invitation.”
I blink. I didn’t?
I thought I had. But then again, I can’t recall actually answering any of his messages. I was too busy nursing my broken heart. Besides, wasn’t it a given that I’d be there?
Is that why he’s here? Did he fly all the way from Chicago just because I didn’t respond?
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer—and I’m grateful, because I truly have nothing to say.
“And then I saw everything on social media and-” He shakes his head, eyes flicking back to mine. The look of pity there makes me cross my arms, suddenly self-conscious.
“I’m so sorry about everything, Em.” His voice softens. “I can’t even imagine how you feel. I figured you probably couldn’t get back to me because of everything that’s happened. And I know you don’t use social media much, so… I came myself.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what to feel. I just stare at him as he closes the gap between us and pulls me into his arms.
It takes everything in me not to melt into his embrace, to not let muscle memory take over and bury my face in his shoulder like I used to. He still smells the same–so warm and familiar, like someone I once called home.
His cologne hasn’t changed. It’s the same Arabian brand I gifted him every year on his birthday. And for a fleeting moment, I wonder if Becca knows her fiancé smells like this because of me.
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I give in. Just for a second. I let my arms wrap around him, let the weight of the past few weeks sink into him, let myself believe–however foolishly -that maybe, just maybe, this means something.
That maybe there’s still hope. That I can still get us back.
Then he pulls away. And shatters the illusion.
“It’s fine, Em.” His voice is casual, almost amused. Then, with a smirk that sends ice through my veins, he says, “Besides, I can’t believe they actually think you’re with Liam.”
I blink. “What?”
He gives me a knowing look. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” His tone is smooth and patient, like he’s humouring a child. “I know you. Better than anyone else in this world.” He says it like an indisputable fact, like something neither of us could ever challenge. “And we both know you’re not actually with Liam.“.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. A strange, crushing weight settles in my chest, pressing down on my ribs.
Zane shakes his head with a small, almost wistful smile. “Liam.” He says his name like it’s sacred, like just the thought of him is enough to lift his mood. “He’s incredible, obviously. I get it. But you and I both know he’d never go for someone like you.”
It’s like being slapped in the face. And the worst part? He doesn’t say it with cruelty or malice–just certainty. Just confidence. Like he’s stating an objective truth.
I should be used to this. I should be over this. But it still knocks the air from my lungs.
How can he do this? How can he comfort me, hold me like I matter, and
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then turn around and strip me down to nothing?
But he isn’t finished. He keeps going, his expression shifting into something close to reverence as he talks about Liam.
I feel sick.
1
I’m back in college again, sitting in his dorm room, listening to him go on and on about Liam, wondering why he won’t just leave me for him.
“Actually,” he says, exhaling like this is difficult for him, like he’s confessing something. “I know I said I came to check in, but that’s not entirely true.” He drags a hand through his hair, flashing me a rueful smile. “Since you somehow know Liam, I figured you’d have his contact details.”
I don’t realise I speak until the words are already out. “What for?”
“To give him his own invitation.” His eyes gleam with something I don’t understand. “Maybe he can bring his actual girlfriend as a plus one.”