by Lizzie Shane
She would play for him sometimes, often inviting him up to her apartment at the end of the day by playing the Beethoven Pathetique as soon as she heard him moving around downstairs. He would knock on her door before she made it to the second movement, without fail.
Everything felt lovely and real. No elaborate cinematic dates. They weren’t even allowed to be seen together in public or tell anyone they were seeing one another—which seemed to be harder on Mimi than it was on them. They were both perfectly content to stay in and just be together, but Mimi was fair to bursting under the pressure of the secret. Only Caitlyn’s repeated reminders of the dire consequences kept her mouth shut.
They spent most evenings together and most nights, though Caitlyn was grateful for the time away from him on the evenings he would spend with his family and on Tuesdays when she watched the show with Mimi. She worried he would get sick of her—and those times apart, even if it was only a day, gave their reunions a desperate, eager edge.
She woke up every morning dizzy with happiness. Life would have been perfect… if not for that lingering sliver of doubt, nagging at her like a splinter beneath the skin.
She dreaded Tuesdays.
Will thought Daniel had dumped her.
Every week the fear grew worse that he would see something or hear something and realize just what an idiot she’d been over Daniel and despise her for it. She couldn’t tell him how foolish she’d been without risking a lawsuit, but she hated the idea of him discovering she’d accepted Daniel’s proposal by watching the show. She had to tell him about the engagement—and the end of it—but she was haunted by their conversation about vow breakers.
Would he put her in that category? Would he think she was just like his ex-fiancé?
By unspoken agreement, they both very carefully avoided the details of their previous relationships. She had the excuse of a nondisclosure agreement, but Will’s face would turn to stone whenever she alluded, even accidentally, to his broken engagement.
And then it was Valentine’s Day.
A Tuesday, so normally one of her nights away from Will when Mimi would keep her from going pyro-girl while watching the show, but Ty had brought out the big guns in the Wonderful Husband competition, even hiring a sitter and making reservations, so Caitlyn was on her own.
Things were still too new with Will to expect that they would necessarily celebrate the holiday together—they hadn’t defined whatever it was that they were doing together or said anything about feelings, and it wasn’t like they could be seen in public together anyway, especially not on a night like Valentine’s.
Tonight’s episode was the last exotic date before the Meet-the-In-Laws dates. Spain. Pouring wine on the brazier. Daniel talking to her for the first time about what their life would be like after the show. Caitlyn wasn’t sure she wanted to see that. And she sure as hell didn’t want Will seeing it. Or finding out about it from his sisters, who she knew watched the show.
She wished for a giant eraser to rub out the entire event from her past. When other people made romantic mistakes, they could walk away without having to relive them on national television. Not for the first time, she wondered what had possessed her to sign on for this.
Mimi had been enthusiastic and the producers were beyond persuasive—unique opportunity, wonderful journey to find your soul mate. And she’d wanted to believe it all. She clung to that dream of the fairy tale romance as hard as only a girl from a broken family could.
Last week had been the episode with the lie detector test and Caitlyn couldn’t help but wonder what her results were. Had the test been able to tell that she was lying to herself? Daniel hadn’t opened them. He’d decided that he wanted to trust the women and didn’t need the results—dramatically burning them in front of the Suitorettes before the Elimination Ceremony.
But now Caitlyn was dying to know. What would have happened if he’d read them?
Lies and illusions. The show specialized in them. And tonight was a doozie. Spain. The flamenco show and the first time Caitlyn had told the cameras she thought she might really be falling for him.
Dread turned her blood to sludge.
Caitlyn went through her Valentine’s Day lessons on edge, her usual smiling rapport with her students feeling forced. Some of them had brought her Valentines and she let each of them raid the basket of chocolate hearts she’d kept beside the piano all week, telling herself it was a holiday for kids and greeting card companies and nothing more.
Then the roses arrived.
Her heart began a drum roll in her chest as she accepted the delivery and plucked the tiny envelope from the spear amid the blooms. They were gorgeous. Extravagant. And she shouldn’t have received them. Some enterprising reporter could track the purchase back to Will—
Except the card wasn’t one of Will’s little notes, the ones she’d begun to find tucked into random places around her apartment.
It was from another man.
Be my Valentine? I miss you so much. Love, D.
“Shit.”
In three weeks she had to fly out there for the live reunion show. She’d been avoiding thinking about him, worried enough about Will’s reaction that she’d let herself forget about Daniel. Forget his impressive ability to pine when he thought that was what he was supposed to be feeling.
The flowers sat on her café table, dwarfing it with their massiveness. There must be four dozen of the damn things. Overcompensating, Daniel?
She couldn’t even toss them in the dumpster because one of the many entertainment reporters who had taken to visiting the town might find them and make an entire front page story out of it. Suitorette Trashes Roses!
But if Will saw them…
He would know. The jig would be up. A veil might be a gag gift but eleven million roses on Valentine’s Day sent a certain message. A message like I agreed to marry that idiot.
Caitlyn stared at the Blooms of Doom. “Shit,” she said again, as if repetition might help.
Right on cue, she heard the first creak and thud of Will downstairs. Her fingers flexed. On any other day, she would force herself to wait a minimum of sixty seconds before rushing to the piano and playing the Pathetique. But this was a Tuesday. And Valentine’s Day. And an invitation on Valentine’s meant something—even a musical one—and if he did come upstairs, like Dear God she really wanted him to, then he’d see the Blooms of Doom.
He might come up anyway. She was pretty sure she’d mumbled something about not spending the evening with Mimi when he’d slipped out of her bed at the crack of dawn this morning. God, why couldn’t she remember what exactly she’d said? It was possible she’d already invited him and he was even now showering—do not get distracted by thoughts of him showering, Caitlyn Marie Gregg!—and getting himself spruced up to come upstairs.
He could not come upstairs.
She would cut him off at the pass. Go downstairs. And if he had no intention of seeing her on Valentine’s and she completely embarrassed herself, so be it. As long as he didn’t see the Blooms of Doom.
She wasn’t ready for her house of cards to come falling down just yet. One more night of happy. Please God, give her that.
Will dropped the plastic Walgreens bag on the counter and began stripping down, intent on grabbing a quick shower and making himself presentable, but keeping one ear open for the Pathetique. His response to that song was downright Pavlovian. Instant hard-on and instant disregard for everything other than getting to her as fast as possible.
He didn’t hear the music and even though he desperately needed a shower and shave, part of him was disappointed. Did she not remember her sleepy invitation for him to come over tonight? Or maybe he was in the doghouse for forgetting Valentine’s Day. He’d completely spaced on the holiday—though he supposed he should have noticed an increased number of idiot teenage boarders trying stupid tricks to impress girls and needing to be med-evaced during his ski patrol shift.
He wouldn’t have even known he’d screwed
up, except Claire called him to bitch about the fact that Don had the audacity to suggest they try a romantic holiday dinner with their children, since they’d both forgotten to arrange a sitter in advance. Will had lied and told her he had a ski patrol shift for night skiing to get out of being conscripted as babysitter—and then made a frantic last minute run to Walgreens to raid the novelty candy aisle.
He’d sent a belated Happy Valentine’s text to Caitlyn before driving home. No response.
She didn’t seem the sort to get pissed about stuff like the proper way to observe couple holidays, but his sisters were proof that perfectly rational females could turn psychotic with very little provocation on the infamous V-Day.
He’d just pulled on a pair of dark slacks and a blue sweater Laney insisted made him look like a stud—according to her friends, because ew—when a tentative knock struck his door.
Caitlyn didn’t usually come to him—though the memory of the last time she had was enough to get him half-hard. He smoothed a hand through his still-damp hair, grabbed the heart-shaped box of chocolates and went to open the door.
He had a momentary flicker of concern that it might not be her—Jesus, if Tria has the gall to show up today—but when he opened the door it was all Caitlyn, wearing one of the skirt-and-blouse outfits she taught in and nervously twirling a lock of red hair around one finger. He thrust the chocolates at her. “Happy Valentine’s.”
“Oh!” She took the candies, cradling them like they were more precious than gold—which made him feel like even more of an ass for the rush job. Especially when he noticed the price sticker still clinging to the back.
“Crap.” He reached out and peeled the sticker off, crumpling it in his hand. “Sorry. I almost forgot about Valentine’s entirely. Bad boyfriend?”
Her expression of shock made him replay what he’d just said. Smooth, asshole.
She blushed. “I… I didn’t… uh… get you anything either.”
“Friend,” he amended, too late. A slow flush crept up from his collar. “I guess we haven’t talked about—a little presumptuous—”
“No,” she cut him off. Then she launched herself at him. Will grunted, catching her and staggering back into the apartment as she kissed the living daylights out of him.
Somehow he managed to shut the door and get them to the bedroom. The chocolates landed somewhere in the middle of the living room. The stud sweater didn’t last any longer than her sexy little skirt and blouse. Then she was kneeling, tugging at his belt buckle.
Okay, so boyfriend. Good word. Very good word.
Half an hour later he was back in the shower. This time with company.
“I know we can’t officially be together,” he said, enjoying exactly how together they were at that moment. “It just sort of popped out.” She snickered and he swatted her bottom, which only increased her laughter. “The boyfriend thing. I mean if you aren’t ready…”
She shut him up with a hand over his mouth, then replaced it with her lips. “I liked it,” she said when they both came up for air. “And I love that you said it first. Remind me to send your sisters a thank you note for putting you in touch with your feminine side.”
“I’ll show you my feminine side,” he growled.
She squealed, laughing. “Or maybe a nice fruit basket. When we’re able to tell people.”
And there it was, his stupid heart catching air because she alluded to a future… to a time when there would be no restrictions and they could just be together. Open. Honest. The sneaking around felt wrong—like he was making it with someone else’s girl, even though he knew she was only his. He’d never really cared about advertising his relationship status before, but it would be nice when they could be public about it. When he could put his arm around her in town and everyone would know she wasn’t that Marrying Mister Perfect girl. She was his.
Soon.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Wow. That is a shit ton of roses.”
Caitlyn grimaced at the first words out of Mimi’s mouth when she showed up on Wednesday to watch the DVRed episode. “Will you take them? They’re from Daniel and I need to get them out of the apartment before Will sees them.”
“The ex is trying to drown you in flowers, huh? Sure, I’ll take ‘em off your hands. I can tell Ty they’re from my secret admirer. Keep him on his toes.” She held up the grocery bag she’d brought, bulging with Ben & Jerry’s. “Chunky Monkey or Phish Food? When I saw in the promos that this episode featured Elena in a bikini, I thought we might need reinforcements.”
“Bless you. Open both.” She waved Mimi toward the television. “I’ll get spoons.”
“You know, I’m starting to see why these shows are so messed up,” Mimi said, wagging her spoon thoughtfully. “If you only saw the pieces he was with you, it would be the perfect romance. Or the pieces with Samantha. Though Elena’s segments would look more like a porno. But it isn’t until you see them back to back that you realize what a dick he is.”
“I don’t think he’s a dick.” Oddly, now that she was no longer engaged to the man, she felt much more inclined to defend him. She could almost feel sorry for him. “You don’t know how persuasive the producers can be. They’re in your ear twenty-four-seven talking about exploring opportunities and going with the moment. It can be hard to get a sense of how you feel about a person when you’re constantly being told it’s possible to love everyone.”
Mimi considered that for a moment, then shook her head, hot pink streaks sliding through her black hair. “Nope, I’m pretty sure he’s a dick. None of the producers made him tell both you and Samantha that you’d make the perfect mother to his children. That isn’t the kind of thing you just throw around on a date.”
“I’m not sure he even wants kids,” Caitlyn admitted. “He thinks he does, but I get the sense he’s pretty confused about what he really wants right now. I think being Mister Perfect has really gone to his head.”
Did Will want kids? It was the kind of thing they hadn’t really talked about. She knew he had wanted them with Tria, but did he still or was he leery of making that kind of commitment with another woman? He’d said he was her boyfriend—which still gave her little shivers just thinking about it—but that wasn’t exactly wedding bells and baby booties.
Caitlyn wasn’t sure where they were heading, but she didn’t have to be. They didn’t have to work out all the details by a certain date. No love-on-a-clock here. Things could develop between them at a slower pace—though the chemistry sure wasn’t slow.
But right now, she would live in the moment. And the moment was good.
As long as she didn’t look at the Marrying Mister Perfect-shaped ax hanging over it all, waiting to fall.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Will stepped out of his post-work shower and tipped his head as a shriek of feminine laughter carried down from the apartment above. Another Tuesday night. Mimi would be up there, watching Marrying Mister Perfect with Caitlyn. He was almost tempted to turn on the television and see what was so funny, but he’d avoided the show so far and didn’t want to break his streak now.
His sisters would be watching. Only two more weeks until the live reunion show, according to Caitlyn. Was this the episode she got voted off?
Another burst of laughter filtered down to him. Mimi, by the sound of it. Caitlyn’s laugh was quieter, like she wanted to hold the amusement close to herself rather than releasing it all into noise.
Most other Tuesdays he’d either picked up an extra shift or had a family dinner to attend, but last week had been Valentine’s and this week he was on his own, straining for a trace of Caitlyn’s laugh. He liked Mimi, liked that Caitlyn had someone to watch with. He wasn’t jealous of their time together but he realized he was a little jealous of their friendship.
When was the last time he’d laughed like that with a friend? Probably before the Wedding That Wasn’t. With Andy.
Shit. He really had cut himself off from the world. While Caitlyn had bee
n throwing herself out there in the biggest way, he’d been burrowing into his cave and become a full-on hermit. He wasn’t ready to call Andy and make amends—not even close—but he was overdue for some male bonding.
His sisters would be watching Marrying Mister Perfect. Which meant Dale, Bryan and Don would be free to grab a beer at the Lodge pub.
Will reached for the phone.
“Mrs. Gregg, I know I’ve only known your daughter a short while, but feelings can develop very quickly in a journey like ours and if she’s the one standing beside me at the end of all this, I just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t have your blessing before I got down on one knee. Would you give me the honor of your permission to ask your daughter to be my wife?”
Another Tuesday, another train wreck.
It was the night of her Meet the In-Laws Date, when she showed Daniel around Manhattan and took him to meet her mother. Caitlyn sat with Mimi on the couch, watching with unmitigated dread as he gave her mother almost the exact same speech he’d given Elena’s papa and Samantha’s parents—though there hadn’t been any such speech with Yasminda’s parents. Spoiler alert.
“He’s smooth,” Mimi commented.
Caitlyn’s stomach churned.
Watching the episode had been nauseating on several levels. It wasn’t just that he seemed to have the same level of sincerity when he was talking to each of the parents and gazing soulfully into the eyes of each hopeful Suitorette. It was the way they looked back at him.
Elena, with that knowing I’ve got you, chico look of hers that was both sexy and possessive. Yasminda with desperate adoration. That was bad enough, but it was the way Samantha looked at him that was the worst. Hopeful. Yearning. With that first little flicker of faith, as if he’d given her back a dream she’d almost stopped believing in.
