Page 94 of Robbin’ the Rich

There was no way. I pressed a hand against my forehead. There was absolutely no way. Maybe I'd misunderstood.

Maybe there was another Micah. A bizarre coincidence involving two awkward blonde men with glasses and an unhealthy obsession with Star Trek. Like a Parent Trap twins separated at birth thing.

The explanation was ridiculous, I knew that. But it still made more sense than the truth. Because the truth meant the man I'd spent weeks falling for was the son of Pastor Nottingham. The truth meant every conversation we'd had about Ascension Fellowship had happened while he was a part of that family. The truth meant I had walked into that room completely blind while everyone else knew something I didn't.

The truth hurt.

"Robin!"

The sound of his voice cut through the noise of the parking lot.

My entire body locked up for one terrible second, instinct urged me to keep walking. I was going to get in my car and leave… only, fuck, I didn’t drive. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call an uber.

I looked up and there he was.

Micah. The man who made French toast in my kitchen. Who pointed out constellations and sent me terrible jokes before eight in the morning.

For a moment, looking at him almost made it worse. Because he looked exactly the same. He looked like nothing had changed, but everything had changed.

He stopped a few feet away, breathing hard from running after me. His expression was a mess of panic and regret and something that looked suspiciously like fear.

"Please," he said. "Please let me explain."

The words cracked whatever restraint I had left.

I laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound. "How could you possibly explain?"

His face fell. "Robin⁠—"

"No. Seriously." I spread my hands. "Go ahead. Explain. Because I'd love to hear this."

"I wanted to tell you."

The answer came immediately like he'd been rehearsing it. The realization stung.

"You can't have wanted to tell me too bad."

His shoulders sagged.

"Please, Robin. I did. I tried so many times."

I shook my head. Every word out of his mouth felt wrong. Everything he said was a lie. Everything I felt was a lie. I didn't know what to believe anymore.

The certainty I'd felt around him was gone, replaced by something sharp and unstable.

"I’m not like them." The plea in his voice was obvious. Heartbreaking, even.

Under different circumstances it might have worked. Maybe yesterday it would have worked. Today it only made me angry.

I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him. "Oh, really?"

His mouth closed. The silence felt like an answer enough.

"Then tell me Micah, who are you? Because I don’t know who the fuck you are."

The words landed exactly where I intended them to. I watched him physically recoil.

“Yes, you do. You know me better than anyone.”