Pretend We're Over

by Ella Miles

  Pretend We're Over

  A Fake Marriage Romance

  Ella Miles

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Sebastian

  2. Millie

  3. Sebastian

  4. Millie

  5. Sebastian

  6. Millie

  7. Sebastian

  8. Millie

  9. Sebastian

  10. Millie

  11. Sebastian

  12. Millie

  13. Sebastian

  14. Millie

  15. Sebastian

  16. Millie

  17. Sebastian

  18. Millie

  19. Sebastian

  20. Millie

  21. Sebastian

  22. Millie

  23. Sebastian

  24. Millie

  25. Sebastian

  26. Millie

  27. Sebastian

  28. Millie

  29. Sebastian

  30. Millie

  31. Sebastian

  32. Millie

  33. Sebastian

  34. Millie

  35. Sebastian

  36. Millie

  37. Sebastian

  38. Millie

  39. Sebastian

  40. Millie

  Epilogue

  Also by Ella Miles

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Millie

  I open my eyes, and I’m staring at the hottest man I’ve ever seen in real life. And he’s in my bed! Well, technically not my bed—we are in the honeymoon suite of the Paris Hotel. So not my bed, but it doesn’t matter because he’s naked and adorable, and any minute now I’m going to wake up and realize that this is all a dream.

  I pinch myself.

  But Sebastian King is still in my bed. I’m still staring at his muscled chest. A chest I could reach out and touch and—

  A blaring alarm goes off, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not ready for Sebastian to realize I’m awake yet. I need time to process—to put everything in order in my head.

  Everything is fuzzy at best. I remember coming to this hotel room with Sebastian to wait for our friends—Oaklee and Boden. This is their room. So how did we end up using it?

  I don’t know.

  But here we are. Two people, who are basically strangers, in bed together—strangers who turned quickly into enemies.

  We don’t belong in bed together. We don’t belong together period. Yet, here we are.

  I open my eyes, letting him know that I’m awake. And that’s when the accusations begin. I blame him, tell him it’s all his fault, even though I know it’s not.

  I just wish I remembered what happened. We couldn’t have fucked each other? I don’t do one night stands. I don’t do men in general. I’ve sworn them off for the time being.

  And yet, all the evidence points to us fucking.

  Us waking up in the same bed.

  Him completely naked.

  Me wearing his shirt and boxers.

  The opened condom wrapper.

  There is no denying that we fucked.

  I grip the shirt I’m wearing tighter. Of course, the first man I’ve fucked in forever, I can’t even remember.

  I sigh—this is just my life.

  I won’t let it get me down, though. The fucking isn’t the part I have a problem with.

  “I think you should put some clothes on,” I say.

  “Why? Are you hoping for a round two? Because I don’t—“

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “Then what? Does my naked body make you uncomfortable?”

  He hasn’t figured it out yet. There is one clue that he hasn’t found yet.

  I hold up my left hand, flashing the pretty rock that wasn’t there yesterday.

  He shakes his head, not understanding.

  God, he’s such an idiot.

  I point to the ring, pointing out the obvious.

  “Fuck, Millie, you’re engaged?”

  I roll my eyes. He thinks he fucked an engaged woman. I would never, ever cheat.

  “No. At least, I don’t think I’m just engaged.” I think a lot more than just getting engaged happened last night.

  “Is that Oaklee’s ring? Are you safeguarding it?”

  I shake my head. Oaklee’s ring is pink; this one is gold.

  “Okay…what am I missing?” he asks.

  I nod my head in the direction of his left hand, unable to find the words.

  His eyes follow my gaze.

  “No way,” he says, staring at the gold ring he’s sporting on his left ring finger.

  “No!” he says again.

  I wince but force myself to say the words. “I think we got married last night.”

  1

  Sebastian

  “I’m getting married tomorrow!” Boden yells through the heavy beat of the bass in the bar’s too-loud sound system. He slams down his shot glass before throwing it back.

  We all follow suit—all twenty of us. Ten males, ten females all gathered in one section of a strip club on the Las Vegas strip.

  This would be most men’s heaven. Half-naked women are dancing all around and over us. We have unlimited alcohol, and the only thing that will stop us is the night ending, which by the look of the happy couple, should have already ended. But it’s just past eleven at night—the night is still young.

  Boden, the groom, is getting handsier and handsier with the woman dancing all over him as he tucks dollar bills into her thong. While Oaklee, the bride, keeps getting more and more sloshed, pretending she’s completely okay with what her soon to be husband is doing. She’s not, but she won’t start her marriage by nagging.

  “Can I get you another drink?” A waiter wearing tight black shorts and a shirt that barely covers her double D boobs asks me. She picks up the shot glasses littering the table in front of me.

  Before I can answer, I feel all surrounding eyes on me. My brother, Kade, looks at me with suspicion. My sister-in-law, Larkyn, looks at me with pride in her eyes like she knows I’m going to say the right thing. My friend, Shepherd, looks at me nervously, like he’s going to be the one to pick up the pieces if I fall off the wagon.

  It’s been over ten years—over a decade of sobriety. And still, everyone thinks that I’m one mistake from falling back into my old ways. I’m not a twenty-something alcoholic anymore. I’m not addicted to drugs. I’m sober. I’m clean.

  I haven’t put one toe out of step this entire time, but the way all of my friends and family are acting, it’s clear they think I am one wrong choice away from turning into the old Sebastian—the fuck up. The boy who was hell-bent on destroying my own life by drinking away the pain.

  They’re right. That’s the life of an addict. I’m always one wrong choice away from throwing away all the work I’ve done, but that’s why I live the way I do. I don’t put myself into these situations often. I don’t go to bars, strip clubs, or anywhere with temptation.

  The only reason I’m in the most tempting place of all is because my best friend is getting married—the last of my friend group to do so. I wouldn’t miss it, even though he chose the worst place in the world for a recovering addict like me.

  When Boden told me, he was the only one not concerned that I might slip into old habits. He doesn’t understand that for an addict like me, I’m either drinking or recovering, there is no middle ground. It’s something I’ve learned running a healing and recovery center with Larkyn—you are either doing the program, or you’re an addict. Once you stop, it’s all over.

  “Just a club soda with lime, thanks,” I say.

  The waitress smiles at me before getting Shepherd’s order.

  “See, told you he wouldn’t slip up,” Larkyn says, giving me a wink
as she snuggles into Kades’s shoulder.

  He looks at me with a tightness in his jaw and a squint to his eyes like he doesn’t believe me. But then, he never does. He’s my older brother, he’s married, has three children, and an empire to run. He still looks at me as the screwup. I’m single and work for my sister-in-law, not exactly grown-up in his eyes. He thinks the only way I can be happy and show that I’m an adult is if I live my life like him—married with kids.

  He doesn’t realize that’s exactly what would cause me to fall back into old habits.

  The waitress returns with our drinks, and I take my drink that looks like a mixed vodka drink. I don’t usually care to order drinks that make me feel like I’m drinking, but here in this club, I just want to fit in with as few questions as possible.

  Oaklee stumbles over onto the couch I’m sitting on. We all turn our attention to her. She’s wearing a white dress complete with a sash that reads ‘bride’ and a sparkly tiara. Her outfit is screaming for attention, but her eyes keep cutting over to Boden, whose buttoned-down shirt is now open as a woman dances over him with her tits in his face.

  “So, are you ready to get married tomorrow?” Larkyn asks her.

  “Of course, I’ve never been more excited,” Oaklee answers, pretending to look at Larkyn, but still staring at her fiancé.

  “What about you, Sebastian? When are you getting married?” Val, one of the bridesmaids, asks, as she sits on Shepherd’s, her husband’s, lap.

  I frown at her but notice that her question has even gained the attention of Oaklee. So I guess it’s worth it to make Oaklee feel better while, Boden, my best friend, makes an ass of himself. Oaklee seems cool, but she’s not that cool. She may not bring this up for years to come, but someday, she will. When they are fighting about whose turn it is to cook dinner, or why he bought another bottle of fancy liquor when they can barely afford to pay for little Oaklee’s dance classes, this will come back up. And on that day, Boden will wish he had listened to me when I told him having strippers at a joint bachelor and bachelorette party was a bad idea. There is one male stripper, but other than one obligatory striptease, Oaklee hasn’t let him anywhere near her. While Boden has been attached to one stripper or another all night.

  “Not anytime soon,” I chuckle and give her a wicked grin making it seem like I like playing the field. Really, it’s just self-preservation keeping me from getting married. Every person here is married, or is about to be married, except me. We are in our mid-thirties. That’s what happens. I’m the only lone wolf left, and it’s going to stay that way.

  Val rolls her eyes at me as she strokes her husband’s face. “You just don’t realize what you’re missing. Still such a boy.”

  I take a deep breath to stop from bulldozing over her and telling her that I’m not a boy. I’m all man. Choosing not to get married doesn’t make me a boy. She thinks I spend my nights plowing into any girl I can get into my bed. Sure, I fuck often, but I treat every woman I’m with well. I’m not a playboy. I just don’t want to get married.

  “What about Simone? I thought you two were getting serious?” Oaklee asks, looking at me with big red-shot eyes, slurring her words. I stare at the drink in her hand. She’s had more than enough to drink tonight, but she has no intention of stopping anytime soon. This is her last night of freedom. Her last night to party before marriage, and she’s not going to let her soon to be husband outdo her, even though we all know he can drink her under the table.

  “Nah, we weren’t serious. We only dated two months,” I answer.

  “For you, that’s a long time.”

  I stiffen. Don’t let her comment bother you. She doesn’t mean anything by it.

  “I think Simone’s already engaged to Reece,” Larkyn says, trying to cover for me, but she’s only going to make it worse.

  Simone and I stopped ‘dating’ last month. The fact that she’s already engaged makes me look worse, not better.

  “When did you and Simone break up?” Oaklee asks.

  I give Larkyn an annoyed glare before turning sweetly to Oaklee. “We were never really together.”

  She smirks. “So, you just fucked?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it, yes. We fucked. We weren’t ever in an emotionally committed relationship. We were always free to see other people.” In fact, we only fucked once. That’s my rule. One night of fun and then move on. It just took me a while to get to the one night with Simone. She kept holding out hope that if we dated a while first, by the time we had our one night together, I would want more.

  “You’re such a slut, Sebastian. You’re thirty now. When are you going to stop sleeping with other people’s wives?”

  My lips fall. “Simone wasn’t married. She wasn’t engaged. She—“

  “She was clearly dating this man if she’s already engaged while you two were fucking. You could have ruined something special. Maybe Simone thought she had a chance to change you, to get you to propose.”

  I run my hand through my hair and then sip on my bubbly water. For the first time all night, I wish it was spiked with something so I could deal with these women.

  Simone knew what she was getting when it came to me—amazing sex. That’s it. That’s all I ever offered her.

  “Actually, I think Simone rekindled an old relationship right after she and Sebastian stopped…well, whatever they were doing. They realized they weren’t getting any younger, and wanted to get married right away,” Larkyn says, once again trying to save me, and once again, putting her foot in her mouth.

  “Exactly, at our age, you should want to get married and get settled down. That’s the mature, proper thing to do,” Oaklee says smugly before looking dreamily over at her almost-husband who had his hands down a lady’s thong.

  “Charming,” I say under my breath.

  “What did you say?” Oaklee asks, turning back to me.

  “You heard me. Not everyone is cut out for marriage. I just happen to think that it’s mature to realize you shouldn’t get married before you pop the question.”

  Oaklee pouts, full lip out, and I swear there are tears behind her eyes.

  Shit.

  I was too harsh. I shouldn’t have said that to a woman who is clearly having doubts about getting married tomorrow. I know my best friend. He’s a good guy, just an idiot when it comes to reading other people.

  I lean over and pull her into a hug before I whisper into her ear, “Boden’s a good guy. You two are great together. You found one of the good ones; I’m just not like Boden. I’d make a terrible husband.”

  I hear her sniffle into my shoulder. Fuck, is she really crying?

  I try to glance down without pulling her away and exposing her tears, but I can’t. All I hear are her gentle sobs.

  Larkyn and Kade stand up and walk over to us. “The sitter called. We have to go,” Larkyn says.

  “Oaklee, did you hear that?” I ask.

  More soft sobbing.

  “Um…okay. I’ll get a ride back to the hotel soon. And um…Oaklee, we’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.

  Kade just shakes his head at me, and I can read his silent words. You’re the asshole who made the bride cry the night before her wedding. You figure out how to get out of this mess.

  Larkyn squeezes my shoulder as if to say good luck. Get her a drink, Larkyn mouths at me.

  I raise my eyebrows. Really? This woman doesn’t need more alcohol. She needs a bed and to sleep it off.

  Larkyn smiles sweetly. “Have a goodnight, Oaklee. I can’t wait until tomorrow.” She strokes Oaklee’s hair and then is gone.

  The rest of the bridal party gets back to doing shots, sloppy dancing, and lap dances. Leaving me alone with Oaklee, who I swear has turned from sobbing to snoring.

  “Oaklee?” I ask, trying to unglue her from my shoulder.

  “Hmm.” She rocks back.

  “What are you drinking? I should get you another drink. Why don’t you go pull that fiancé of yours onto the dance floor?”r />
  Her eyes light up. “I want another one of those fizzy drinks that light up.”

  I smile. “Can do.”

  Then I turn to her fiancé, who thankfully is done with the lap dances. “Dance with your fiancé!”

  He grins, and I push Oaklee into his arms, while I carry my own drink toward the bar to go buy Oaklee another drink. Not that she needs it, but it gives me something to do until I can leave. I don’t have the excuse of kids like Larkyn and Kade do. As everyone pointed out, I’m single. I’ll be expected to close down the club with the rest of them.

  I’m walking toward the bar when I’m ambushed from the side, a swish of hair, makeup, and freckled skin knocks into me, jarring my glass from my hand. Some of it splatters onto my dark jeans, but that’s the thing about not drinking, it’s just water.

  I look up, expecting to see a drunk woman wearing nine-inch heels, a heavy cast of makeup, and a tight skirt. What I get is jeans, a black tee with the name of some band I’ve never heard of, and off-white sneakers. Her makeup is tame compared to all the other women here. The only thing I got right was her mane of strawberry blonde hair in thick waves around her face. Her hair isn’t highlighted or cut in professional layers; her hair is as wild as the twinkle in her green eyes. The only thing that tells me she’s part of our party is the sash she’s wearing across her body with the word ‘bridesmaid’ on it.

  “Oh my god! I’m so sorry,” the woman says. She starts trying to brush off the liquid on my pants with her hand, like that is somehow going to magically soak up the splotches of club soda on my pants.