by Lauren Layne
“Meow,” Riley said, her eyes flicking between Grace and Julie.
But Grace merely met Julie’s eyes steadily. “Don’t put this on me and Greg. This is about you and Mitchell and about how you let a man fall in love with you so that you could impress your boss.”
“Oh, God.” Riley buried her face in her drink.
“Mitchell is not in love with me,” Julie insisted.
“You sure about that?”
Yes. More sure than I want to be. “I’m not his type,” Julie replied. “Not even close. Deep down he knows that. Knows that I’ll never be what he’s looking for.”
“Then why hasn’t he kicked you to the curb yet?” Grace asked.
Julie faltered. It was a good question. Why had Mitchell stuck around when he’d made it clear from the first that he thought she was fake and manufactured?
“I don’t know!” she wailed, throwing her hands in the air in desperation. “This is why I have to end it. Everything’s gotten too complicated.”
Riley sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I can’t believe I’m saying this, since this was my idea and all, but you don’t have to write it.”
Julie shot her an exasperated look. “I wish you’d thought of that before you sold me out in the staff meeting. I was trying to back out of it, remember? But now that Camille knows the details, she can’t stop talking about it. Not only do I have to write it, but I have to make it good.”
“Camille would understand,” Grace said. “Just explain the situation. Tell her that emotions have gotten involved.”
Julie’s head shot up. “Tell her I’ve compromised my undercover research? I might as well just wrap a bow around my benefits and hand them to Kelli.”
Grace gave her a sad look, and Julie hated that they’d been friends for so long. She could read what Grace was too kind to say out loud: You get Mitchell or the story. Not both.
“What if you explained the situation to Mitchell?” Riley said, helping herself to a sip of Julie’s now abandoned drink.
Julie gave her a look. “And say what? ‘Hey, sorry I lured you into a fake relationship so that I could write all about it’?”
“He’s going to know that anyway when he reads the article,” Grace pointed out.
“Sure, but then he’ll read it. I won’t have to tell him.”
I won’t have to look into his eyes.
Groaning, she tipped forward and banged her head gently on the table. For the first time in her life, Julie really and truly hated herself. Not only for her selfish deception, but for the absolute cowardice that was now crippling her.
“It would be like ripping off a Band-Aid,” Riley said, knocking lightly on the back of Julie’s skull. “Just explain to him that it started off as harmless curiosity, but it’s turned into something more and that you want to be straight with him. He’ll probably be mad at first, but he sounds like a mellow guy. Eventually he’ll appreciate that you came clean. You could even give him the opportunity to read the story before it goes to press, and you can cut anything he doesn’t like. Hell, maybe he’ll like being famous.”
He won’t.
“I can’t tell him,” she said, not looking at her friends. “Not yet.”
“It’ll come out eventually.”
“I know,” Julie snapped. “You think I don’t know that? But I need to get my feelings untangled.”
“So they are tangled?” Grace asked, pouncing on the word choice. “I was right, wasn’t I? He’s not the only one who’s falling in love.”
Julie scowled. Grace didn’t have to sound so triumphant. As far as she could tell, falling in love sucked.
If that was even what was going on here.
Gawd, she wanted out of this. It was too messy, too painful, just too damn much. She wanted to go back to the way things were. Back to before Mitchell, when her life had been simple and the men had been harmless.
She needed …
Julie sat up slowly, inspiration striking.
“You know what I need?” Julie said. “I need a date.”
Her friends frowned in confusion. “I thought you were just talking about cutting the cord. Maybe you should let that vodka ease out of your system and see Mitchell tomorrow.”
Julie gave an impatient wave. “No, not a date with Mitchell. That’s how I got into this whole mess.”
Grace narrowed her eyes. “Then a date with who?”
Julie shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Could be anyone. One of you guys can fix me up. Or I’ll ask Jamie for a number from her Bible-sized black book.”
“Jules, what about Mitchell?”
“What about him? He’s too … close. He’s eaten a bagel in my bed, for God’s sake. I need some perspective. And maybe some distance will be good for him as well. Remind him that he never wanted to be in a relationship with me in the first place.”
“Or it’ll break his heart,” Grace said angrily.
Julie gave a sad smile. “Or maybe I’ll save his heart.”
Grace shook her head, and even Riley looked vaguely horrified at Julie’s date idea. But Julie decided she was sticking to it. A little harmless flirting with a new guy would help clear her head. It would help remind her this was a story, not a life-or-death situation.
Her heart twisted a bit as she considered what Mitchell would think. But Riley was right about ripping off the Band-Aid. She could hurt him a little now to spare him a big hurt later.
What about your pain? her heart wailed.
Julie ignored it. It was too late for that. And she deserved whatever she got.
Chapter Thirteen
The date had been a colossal mistake.
Not just the man. Although he’d certainly been a mistake too.
Somehow she’d managed to hold it together throughout an overpriced five-course meal at one of the city’s new celebrity-chef restaurants. A place that even she wouldn’t have been able to get reservations at had her date not been the chef’s cousin.
His name was Keith, and he was perfectly nice. Actually, better than nice. He was downright charming and completely gorgeous. He had that floppy blond hair that only strong-featured men could pull off without looking juvenile, and his smile was wide and white. He even told good jokes.
But her laugh had been brittle. Her smile strained. Her appetite forced.
She would have killed to be curled up on Mitchell’s couch with a baseball game and mediocre takeout.
What was wrong with her?
When Keith suggested they hit up the nearby Brandy Library for a nightcap, she’d meant to say yes. Instead, she blurted out what she’d been thinking ever since she’d gotten on the train that morning for work: “I want to go home.”
Keith gave her a knowing wink and paid the bill without a word. She was aware of what he was thinking: that it was all part of the game, that cutting the date short would leave him panting for more.
Hadn’t she played that very game with Mitchell just weeks before?
Only Mitchell hadn’t played. Her chest tightened. Mitchell.
“So can I see you again?” Keith asked as he set a hand on her waist and escorted her out of the restaurant’s waterfall foyer. Julie waited for the zip, the sizzle she’d felt when Mitchell had put his hand in that same spot and sent fireworks up her spine.
Nothing.
“That’d be nice,” she heard herself say as she lifted her hand to hail a taxi. “Call me?”
“Absolutely, babe.”
Babe. Blech.
Julie lunged for the door handle as soon as the cab pulled to a stop in front of her, but Keith moved too fast, gently grabbing her hand and sliding another hand up her back. His eyes fixed on her lips, and for a moment the old Julie felt a little thrill of triumph. Landed this one in your sleep, didn’t ya, old girl?
But the new Julie felt like barfing.
She didn’t know this man. She certainly didn’t want to be kissing him.
“Goodnight, Keith,” she said, giving him a firm sh
ove on the chest. She tried for a saucy wink, but she assumed from his puzzled frown that it might have looked more like a grand mal seizure.
Julie gave the driver her address without glancing back at Keith. She hadn’t bungled a date that badly in years. She waited for the stab of regret and the sense of failure.
Nothing.
The restaurant was mercifully close to her apartment, and within minutes Julie was throwing a twenty at her cab driver, not bothering to wait for her change.
I need to get inside. Why had she thought she’d be able to handle this? Today of all days. A strangled sob escaped. She should have listened to Riley and Grace and given herself the day off. She always took June 30 off. Off from work, off from dating. A day off from living. It was the one day of the year where Julie allowed herself to wallow.
She fumbled through her purse for her keys. Crap. The sheen of tears made the contents of her purse one big blur. She was totally about to lose her shit in the middle of the sidewalk.
She thought of calling Riley and Grace, but she was determined to stick it out alone. She always went it alone. No need to burden anyone else with her baggage.
“Julie.”
The voice was so unexpected that her shaking hands dropped the purse to the ground, sending everything scattering.
She knelt down without looking at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been calling you. Your phone’s been going straight to voicemail all day. I’ve been worried.”
“Did it occur to you that it went to voicemail for a reason? That I didn’t want to talk?” Her nasty tone was intended to scare him off. Go away. Don’t see me like this. Nobody’s allowed to see me like this.
But instead of walking away or snapping back, Mitchell crouched beside her to help her pick up her purse as though he hadn’t noticed her waspish tone and bitchy words. He scooped up her keys before she could snatch them and held them out of reach. “Let’s get you inside.”
She wanted to dig her heels in. Wanted to tell him that he had no place here. That she didn’t need him. Didn’t want him. But when he took her hand and gently pulled her forward, she let him. And when he opened the door to her building and to her apartment and ushered her inside, she let him do that too.
And when she collapsed into tears the second the door had closed behind them, she let him take her in his arms, holding her tightly as though he could put her back together again.
Maybe he could.
Julie had no concept of how long she sobbed on his shoulder, one of his big palms moving over her back in soothing strokes while the other cradled her damp face to his neck.
Eventually her wet sobs turned to dry hiccups, and, like the kindest of friends, he washed her face with a warm washcloth and rummaged through her drawers until he found an oversized T-shirt and her ratty boxers.
Gentle hands peeled off her tight, slinky first-date dress and dropped the soft shirt over her head, not making a single comment about the sexiness of the dress.
She stood there like an exhausted child as he pulled the covers back and tucked her gently into bed. Julie tried to say thank you. Tried to say she was sorry. Nothing came out but a dry croak.
“I’ll get you some water,” he whispered, his hands playing with the tips of her hair before disappearing to the kitchen.
Julie closed her eyes, which were so dry they wanted to crack, and curled up on her side. It was like this every year. Every year she told herself that this would be the year she wouldn’t cry. That this would be the year she’d handle it like an adult. This was not to be that year.
Although it did mark one very unexpected first: it was the first time she hadn’t gone it alone.
Mitchell came back into the room, and she eagerly accepted the water, its cool wetness easing the rasp of her throat. He watched her drink and then quietly took the empty glass from her, setting it on the nightstand as though she were a sick child needing to be coddled. And maybe for tonight she was.
She waited for the questions to start.
What was that about? PMS?
Want to talk about it?
She didn’t. She didn’t talk about it with anyone, not even Riley and Grace.
But the questions didn’t come. He just quietly watched her, his blue eyes silently asking what he wanted to know. Stay or go?
She should tell him to go. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Instead she reached out her hand, letting the tips of her fingers brush his.
Stay.
Wordlessly he stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and crawled into bed behind her. He drew her back against his firm chest, the front of his thighs cradling the backs of hers. A tiny sigh of contentment slipped out, feeling as though it had been ripped from the deepest, most private part of her.
It’s not like she hadn’t slept over with a guy before. She had. Once.
But never before had she slept with a man without sex. This was the first time that cuddling had been for comfort instead of post-coital habit. Julie was surprised by how right it felt. She’d always thought that if she let someone try to take care of her, it would feel like pity.
Instead it felt like she’d found a sense of home in someone else.
The last time she’d felt that was twenty years ago today, when her mom had lovingly pulled Julie’s hair into its little-girl ballerina bun and sent her off with her ballet carpool, with the promise that she and Daddy and Addie would be watching her from the audience.
It was a promise her mom hadn’t kept. The police had shown up instead.
Every year since then, on the anniversary of her family’s death, Julie had spent as much of the day and night as possible alone, determined that nobody would ever lure her into a sense of false promise.
Rationally she knew, of course, that it wasn’t her mother’s fault that she hadn’t kept her promise. The car accident hadn’t been anyone’s fault, really. But rationality didn’t stand a chance against self-protection.
Julie didn’t realize she’d spoken everything aloud until she felt Mitchell stiffen briefly behind her before he pulled her even closer, his hand splaying over her stomach before it slid up between her breasts.
Over her heart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair.
The rightness of his simple response rocked through her, and she almost sobbed with regret at the way she was treating him. Not only had she dragged him into a sham relationship, but she’d gone on a date with another man as though what they’d shared was disposable.
She swallowed nervously. That last part, at least, she could come clean about.
“I went on a date tonight,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
The hand that had been idly stroking her hair paused for the briefest of seconds, and she braced herself for him to pull away. To leave her. Instead, he resumed his slow, comforting strokes on her head.
“Say something,” she begged.
“Did he kiss you?”
She licked her lips nervously. “No.”
“Did you want him to?”
Julie started to turn to face him, but he held her still. “No!”
“And you came home early. Alone.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then I’d say I have nothing to worry about.”
“But Mitchell—”
“Shh. Go to sleep now.”
Julie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sheer kindness of this man. And when she thought she heard him whisper “I love you,” she blocked that out too.
Because he couldn’t love her. Or at least he wouldn’t. Not for much longer, anyway.
Chapter Fourteen
Julie padded quietly out of her bedroom, her eyes so puffy from a night of crying and fitful sleeping that she could barely see.
She halted when she registered that Mitchell was in her kitchen. He was wearing the same dark jeans and gray polo shirt he’d had on the night before, but his hair was damp and she smelled her
own cucumber soap. He’d showered in her bathroom.
For some reason, the thought made her heart do a little happy dance.
His hair was curly when it was wet. It should have made him look completely rumpled, but other than the unrulier-than-usual curls, he looked completely tidy and polished. She felt a rush of affection for the sheer orderly perfection of him. It was strange to think that the same structured persona that had drawn her to him for professional needs now appealed to her in the most personal of ways.
“You’re a nice guy, Mitchell Forbes.” She walked into the kitchen and slid an arm around his waist as she nuzzled the hard plane between his shoulder blades.
He tilted his head down, adjusting his glasses to look at her. “I certainly didn’t feel like a nice guy when I copped a feel at six a.m.”
Julie gave a slow grin. He’d copped a feel and then some. “I liked it,” she said quietly.
He planted a quick kiss on top of her head. “Sit. I got us bagels.”
Julie shook her head and accepted the foil package he handed her. “This is what I mean. Nice guy. You hold me when I cry, don’t bat an eyelash when I tell you I went on a date with someone else, and then you go and fetch me breakfast.”
He unwrapped his own bagel sandwich without looking at her, his expression unreadable. After a long moment blue eyes flicked up to hers. “I didn’t sleep much last night. All I could think about was you. With someone else. I didn’t like it.”
The bite of bacon, egg, and cheese that had tasted deliciously greasy seconds ago turned rancid. She forced herself to chew methodically and then took a small sip of the coffee he’d set in front of her. She should have known she wouldn’t be let off the hook that easily. Just because he was sweet didn’t mean he wasn’t human.
“It didn’t mean anything.” It sounded weak even to her own ears.
“Then why’d you do it?”
Julie fiddled with the foil, her appetite completely gone. Do it. Confess now. This is your chance. She knew now that she had to tell him. But she kept hearing his whispered words as she drifted off to sleep: I love you. She couldn’t hurt him. Not yet. She wanted these last few precious days before she had to ’fess up.
