Pretend We're Over

by Ella Miles

  “No luck?” Sebastian asks.

  “Nope.”

  I look past Sebastian into the room for the first time, but it’s not just a room. It’s a whole series of rooms.

  I’m speechless. I know my mouth is hanging open, but I don’t care.

  Sebastian opens his mouth to say something, but I just hold a finger up, silencing him.

  He’s quiet while I take in the suite of rooms. Everything is decorated in red and gold accents, making me feel like I just stepped into a royal palace. Every room has its own chandelier perfectly designed to fit each of the three bedrooms. There is a baby grand piano, a wet bar, and a room that holds a jacuzzi tub as big as a kingsized bed.

  But that isn’t what takes my breath away. It’s the roses scattered on the bed—the chocolates. The romantic note lying on the bed from Boden to Oaklee, that I promise to myself I won’t read no matter how much I want my heart to swoon at his beautiful words.

  And then I see the most romantic part of all—the Eiffel Tower view out the window.

  “Wow,” I say, taking in the beautiful view right out the bedroom window.

  Sebastian, who has been following behind me wordlessly, finally speaks.

  “You know it’s fake, right? The real Eiffel Tower is in Paris. Does that squash your fairy tale?”

  “Of course I know it’s not the real Eiffel Tower. But it is a real structure, and it’s still beautiful.” I flip him off.

  “Did sweet Millie just flip me off?”

  “I did. And I’m not sweet.”

  Sebastian leans forward until his lips are right over my ear, and I can feel his hot breath on my sensitive flesh.

  “How about I kiss you and find out just how sweet you are?”

  If my mouth hadn’t already fallen open, it did with his words. I clear my throat and step away before I do something dangerous to my health like fuck him in this bed—a bed that Oaklee and Boden are supposed to be fucking in.

  “Maybe you should try calling Boden; see if he answers you.”

  Sebastian pulls out his phone and starts texting.

  “I said call.”

  “I’m aware, Bossypants. But since the last time I called Boden was after his grandmother died, I think it’s better that I text. He might respond to a text; he won’t answer if I call.”

  I nod, he’s got a point. I quickly pull out my phone and send Oaklee a text as I walk back to the living room, realizing that the bedroom is dangerous.

  “So what should we do while we wait? Someone should call and let the minister know what’s happening,” I say.

  “I already called Kade and told him to tell everyone that Oaklee is sick, so there won’t be a wedding today. They should enjoy the food and drink if they want, though.”

  “Good, that’s good. Even if they reconcile, they probably won’t want to get married at the chapel still. We should look into places they can get married around here.” I pull out my phone again.

  “Or, we could use one of the dozen bedrooms in this place while we wait.” Sebastian winks at me.

  “First, there are only three bedrooms, not a dozen.”

  “You got me there.”

  “Second, unless you plan on napping in one of them until they get back, the bedrooms will not be getting used.”

  “Yes, Bossypants.”

  “Will you stop calling me that? I’m not bossy.”

  He chuckles. “Yes, you are. You are also adorable and beautiful and so damn sexy.”

  “Just stop. You’ve already apologized for calling me fat. No need to continue trying to flatter me.”

  “I never called you fat.”

  “No, you just assumed I was pregnant.”

  He frowns at his loss for words. Hurry back, Oaklee. I can’t stand to be here much longer.

  I spot the wet bar and walk over to it. I’m going to need a drink to get through this wait with Sebastian. And because I’m nice, I decide to make a drink for Sebastian too.

  “What are you drinking while we wait?” I ask.

  He looks at me with a stern expression I don’t understand. My mouth goes dry. How is serious Sebastian sexier than flirty Sebastian?

  I’m in trouble.

  7

  Sebastian

  An alarm blares in my ear. I don’t remember setting an alarm, but I don’t remember falling asleep either. I don’t even remember what I’m supposed to be doing this morning.

  I reach over to my nightstand to hit it off like I always do. But when I wack the alarm, it keeps blaring.

  Dammit.

  I force my eyes open, even though I don’t want to wake up. My body is begging me to go back to sleep. When I open my eyes, I realize I’m not in my bedroom.

  I’m somewhere far fancier.

  I blink rapidly, assuming this is a dream. I would never stay in a hotel this foo-fooie, but every time I look around, red and gold accents are staring back at me.

  I grab the still-blaring alarm and find the switch to turn the bastard off. Then I flop back and look up at a bright chandelier staring down at me.

  Where the hell am I?

  I glance down at myself—I’m naked, which is normal. I always sleep in the nude. When I shift in the bed, my back creaks. This mattress is far too soft for me, and I know when I stand up, I’m going to have a massive crick in my neck and back.

  But that won’t be the only thing hurting. I turn my head just slightly, and the pounding headache I’m rewarded with terrifies me.

  Not because of the pain. I can handle a little pain. But because what the clues all lead to—the headache, the tiredness, the loss of memory. They all point to one thing—I drank last night.

  That’s not who I am anymore. I thought I was past this part of my life.

  I turn my head, and the culprit of my drinking snores next to me—Millie Raine.

  I always knew a woman would be my downfall. I just didn’t expect sweet Millie Raine to be the one to take me down. But apparently, she did.

  I smile, looking at her drooling on her pillow as she sleeps soundly, most likely sleeping off her own hangover. For a moment, she looks peaceful and happy. And falling off the wagon almost seems worth it since I get to wake up next to her this morning.

  I got Millie Raine in my bed. What could be better? The only problem is I don’t remember what happened last night. I don’t remember our first kiss. I don’t remember how her body felt in my hands. I don’t remember what thrusting inside of her felt like. I don’t remember my one night with Millie. And as badly as I want it, there won’t be a second night. That’s my rule, and it’s kept me safe thus far.

  Millie is the reason I’m drunk; I remember her offering me a drink. I remember Oaklee pushing me to drink in the limo. Women are my downfall. And as much as I want Millie, I need to get as far away from here as possible. I can’t have a second night where I get to remember. Hopefully, with time my memory of tonight will come back, and I can relive last night over and over. But for now, Millie is off-limits.

  Suddenly, Millie’s eyes fly open as if she knew I was staring at her.

  She smiles at me at first, like she’s happy that I’m here in bed with her, but it won’t last. The rational side of her brain will return soon, and the happy memories will disappear.

  Her smile drops suddenly, and she sits up quickly before realizing that might not be a good idea. She grips her pounding head.

  I sit up slowly next to her.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “Like I got run over by an elephant. My head is pounding. My body aches everywhere. I’m afraid if I breathe too hard, whatever poison is in my stomach is going to explode everywhere.”

  I laugh. “Same.”

  Her eyes turn to me as she takes in my naked chest. Her eyes run over every ridge, every hard line, every muscle.

  I hold my breath as she examines me, but I can feel the heat bouncing from her eyes. Her fingers are itching to touch me, and if I let myself breathe, I know I’m going to let h
er. That is the absolute last thing I should be doing.

  Finally, her gaze meets my eyes, and she blushes.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She clears her throat, but it does nothing to reduce the blush to her face. “So, uh, what happened?”

  “What happened?” I cock my head, making her spell it out.

  “Did we…?”

  “Did we, what?”

  “Did we have sex?” She finally gets the words out.

  I smirk. “I’m completely naked. And you are wearing my shirt and boxers.”

  She stares down at herself for the first time, taking in my clothes she’s wearing.

  “What do you think?” I ask smugly. I got Millie into my bed. Except you can’t remember fucking her, you asshole.

  Semantics.

  “Oh god,” she flies out of bed and then starts running her hands up and down her body and then grips her head. “Why can’t I remember last night?”

  “Because we got drunk.”

  She frowns. “I’ve never blacked out drunk before.” She grips her body like she’s trying to hug herself.

  I understand the feeling. It doesn’t feel good to not remember. Unfortunately, I’ve had too many of those days myself. It’s a scary thought, not remembering moments of your own life.

  “You—did you put something in my drink?” She accuses me with a glare.

  “What? You really think I put something in your drink?”

  “Yes. I’ve been drunk plenty of times before, and this has never happened to me. It has to be because of you.”

  I jump out of bed, ready to fight back.

  Her eyes drop, and I remember I’m naked. Well, I’m not going to back down now.

  “I didn’t drug you!”

  “Yes, you did. You drugged me and raped me!”

  I chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn’t need to drug you to have my way with you. From the way you are staring at my cock, it wouldn’t take much to convince you to ride me.”

  This time her face turns bright red as she rages at me. “I would never fuck you!”

  I shrug. “Too late to make that statement, sweetheart. Seems like you already did.”

  She huffs, flipping her hair off her face as she does. “I don’t believe you. What happened last night?”

  I sigh and cross my arms to mimic hers. “I don’t remember either.”

  “What?”

  “I. Don’t. Remember.”

  She narrows her eyes.

  “You don’t remember what happened?” she persists.

  “Nope, just like you don’t.”

  She grips my shirt she’s wearing tighter. “So we…?”

  “Fucked? Most likely. Unless you usually allow men to sleep naked next to you who you haven’t fucked?”

  She shakes her head, her big green eyes staring at me all innocent-like. Damn, I wish I remembered. I have a feeling it was a night to remember.

  “And I’m guessing you are sore. Most women are after I fuck them.” I wink.

  She rolls her eyes before she collects her thoughts.

  “Did we use protection? Are you clean?”

  “I’m clean.” And I search the floor for evidence. Our clothes are scattered haphazardly around, and then I see the glint of foil that I’m looking for. I pick up the ripped square and hold it up to her.

  She gasps like this is a mystery novel, and I just found the murder weapon.

  “I’d say we fucked. Unless you can think of another use for a condom.”

  She looks away, like she’s embarrassed.

  “It wasn’t…” Now I’m the one at a loss of words.

  “It wasn’t?” She smiles at me because she knows what I’m afraid to ask.

  “It wasn’t your first time, was it?” It’s another one of my rules. I don’t fuck women more than once, and I don’t do virgins. Sure, it makes me sound like an asshole, but it’s all about self-preservation.

  She bats her eyelashes at me, eyelashes that still have a thin layer of smudged mascara on them from last night.

  “No,” she finally puts me out of my misery.

  I let out a long breath. “Good. We can move on then. We had our one night together; now we can go back to Santa Barbara and continue on with our lives.”

  Millie stills as if my words hurt her.

  Jesus, is she one of those women who will date a man no matter how clearly wrong he is for her just because she slept with him? Instead of admitting that sometimes she likes to fuck men just to fuck them?

  I rub my neck, and her eyes fall to my dick again. “Can we just admit the sex was great, but that we don’t belong together? That we shouldn’t waste each other’s time dating?”

  “I think you should put clothes on.”

  “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?”

  She holds up her left hand like that’s supposed to mean something to me.

  I shake my head, not understanding.

  She points to her ring finger, where a large diamond sits.

  “Fuck, Millie. You’re engaged?” I don’t fuck engaged women. Or married women. That’s where I draw my line. Except apparently, I do fuck taken women. I need to know who she’s engaged to so I can apologize and let him punch me, which I clearly deserve for fucking his fiancée.

  “No, at least, I don’t think I’m just engaged.”

  She’s talking gibberish. “Is that Oaklee’s ring? Are you safeguarding it?”

  She shakes her head; that isn’t true either. Oaklee’s ring is pink; this one is gold. I was with Boden when he picked it out.

  “Okay…what am I missing?” I ask.

  Her head nods in my direction. I follow her gaze to my left hand, where a gold band sits.

  “No way,” I say, staring at my ring that wasn’t there last night. My gaze lifts to Millie’s ring, that now that I think of it, also wasn’t on her hand last time I checked.

  “No!” I say again.

  Millie winces but forces herself to say the words. “I think we got married last night.”

  8

  Millie

  “What do you mean we got married? Why would we do that?” Sebastian asks, finally picking up his suit pants and putting them on.

  I’m happy not to have the distraction anymore, but Jesus, do I wish I could remember getting fucked by that cock. I’ve been soaking wet and ready the entire time he’s been standing naked in front of me.

  “I don’t know. But we are both wearing rings that weren’t there last night, so it’s just a guess.”

  He frowns as he stares at his ring, trying to remember last night. I try to remember last night too, but it’s all a fog. We must have really hit the alcohol to not remember anything after we stepped foot inside this suite.

  We hear buzzing, and we both kneel down to search through our clothes for our phones. We both find ours at the same time, both ringing.

  Oaklee.

  Kade.

  “Fuck, do you think they know?” I ask.

  “No, we don’t even know what happened. I’m sure they don’t.” Sebastian answers his phone.

  So I hit accept and put my phone to my ear, not having a clue what I’m going to hear when I answer. “Hello?”

  “Millie! Oh my god! How was the wedding night sex?” Oaklee shouts at me.

  I gulp. This doesn’t sound good. “Um…wedding sex?”

  “Oh, don’t even act like you two didn’t do it.”

  “Umm…” How do I respond to her? How do I make this go away?

  “Eek, I just can’t believe it! I want to hear all the details when you come meet everyone for brunch! You are not missing brunch. I don’t care how good the sex was last night, get your ass down here in the next twenty minutes before everyone arrives and quizzes me about why Boden and I didn’t get married last night.”

&
nbsp; “But you’re going to get married today, right?”

  Now it’s Oaklee who has gone silent.

  What am I missing?

  “Just get your cute butt down here. You saved my ass. You’re all anyone can talk about.”

  Shit.

  Oaklee ends the call before I can ask anything more. I stare at my phone a second in a gaze, and then I see Sebastian standing in the entry to the living room in the same way.

  “So everyone thinks we’re married,” Sebastian says, looking from the phone to his ring.

  “No, we can’t be. There would be a marriage license. I’m sure these rings are fake, worthless. We must have gotten them in a vending machine or something.”

  Sebastian walks over to me and grabs my left hand with his calloused fingers. Fingers that have touched my body, but I can’t remember what they felt like. If the electricity in my hand is any indication, the sex last night was like fire racing through my body.

  “The rings don’t look fake to me,” Sebastian says, running his thumb over my diamond.

  I pull my hand out of his grasp so I can think clearly. “Then we can get it annulled. It will be like it never happened.”

  He nods. “That’s a good idea.”

  We are both silent as our minds go somewhere else.

  “What about brunch?” Sebastian asks. “We could hide up here until our flight this afternoon.”

  As much as I want to, I won’t do that to Oaklee. I don’t know what’s going on between her and Boden, but I need to see her. And our friends might have some insight into what happened last night. Surely, we didn’t actually get married. It was probably some act to distract from the pain Oaklee is feeling if she isn’t married.

  “No, we have to go,” I say.

  “And say what? We don’t know what happened last night.”

  Sebastian follows me back to the bedroom—the scene of the crime.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, as I walk into the closet.

  I pull out one of Oaklee’s dresses and khakis and a button-down from Boden’s suitcase—luggage they had brought up when the room was ready yesterday. “Here, put this on.”

  “I’m not wearing Boden’s clothes.”