Pretend We're Over

by Ella Miles

  10

  Millie

  The brunch was hell. Going on a honeymoon is going to be like burning in an inferno. Resisting Sebastian to win a bet and keep my pride is going to be unbearable.

  The hotel had our bags brought to this room, so Sebastian and I have been spending the last hour getting ready before our flight and avoiding each other. Well, I’ve been avoiding him. He’s been as obnoxious as possible, trying to get me to fuck him in this bed before we leave.

  Not going to happen.

  And as beautiful as this hotel is, if I was going to use my one night in the sack with Sebastian, I wouldn’t use it now, I’d wait until I get to Hawaii.

  Nope—get those thoughts right out of my head. Sebastian and I are not happening. I’m not fucking him again. The first time was a mistake. If I fucked him again, it would mean I’m a screwup. And I finally have my life together. I’m not going to let a man take me down a dark path again.

  I pull the zipper on my backpack after changing into my own clothes of shorts and a tank top.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting Oaklee to be calling with more details about my honeymoon. She’s my closest friend. She lived with me. I don’t know how she thinks Sebastian and I have been having a secret relationship for months now. She’s delusional if she thinks Sebastian and I belong in the same room, let alone married to each other.

  I freeze when I see the text isn’t from Oaklee.

  An unknown number flashes on the screen.

  No.

  No.

  NO.

  This can’t be happening. I was free. I was…

  I click on the text message and open it, even though I know better. I should just delete it.

  * * *

  Unknown number: Where R U?

  * * *

  My body reacts immediately to the threat. It may not seem like a threatening text message, but I know better.

  Chills worse than I would feel in an old mansion filled with ghosts dance down my spine.

  My ribs constrict around my lungs, rocking them with fear.

  Sweat drips down my neck as anxiety spreads.

  Not again.

  I swipe the message, deleting it before I toss the phone on the bed. If I stop touching it, it can no longer have an effect on me.

  I close my eyes and take several deep breaths as I wash the images out of my head, scrubbing my brain clean like I’m Cloroxing a bathroom, that’s how hard I force the dangerous thoughts out of my head.

  Sebastian opens the door from the bathroom as he sings a Justin Bieber song about how yummy I am and then switches to how his only intentions are to get me into his bed.

  “You know you are combining his songs, right? And when Bieber sings those lyrics, he’s being sweet, not an asshole,” I ask, keeping my eyes closed.

  “I’m just improving his lyrics.”

  I open my eyes and see his crooked grin as he dries his wet hair. And then I make the mistake of glancing down and see that once again, Sebastian is completely naked.

  “Goddammit, what is it with you and not wearing clothes?” I cover my eyes with my hands.

  He chuckles. “Don’t pretend that you don’t like what you see. And we are married after all. If I can’t prance around naked, what benefit is there to being married?”

  “Can’t you wait to dance around naked with your next wife?”

  “This will be my only marriage, so I have to take full advantage.”

  I lower my hands to look at him. He can’t be serious. Yet, the playful gleam in his eyes is gone. I may not know Sebastian King very well, but I doubt his statement was anything but honest.

  “Just get dressed and packed. The car will be here in ten minutes to take us to the airport.”

  His lazy eyes run down my body until they land on the bottom of my short shorts that barely cover my ass. Shorts that I think are a little too short, but Oaklee says I look smoking in. I just wear them because they are comfortable, but now that Sebastian sees me in them, I regret packing them. I can’t read him. I don’t know if he finds my ass attractive or if he thinks it’s too large.

  His pregnant comment still stings. Even though he defended me in the room during brunch. He thought I was pregnant. He basically called me fat. And now he’s staring at my ass in the same way.

  He tilts his head. “What are you thinking?”

  “That you now have eight minutes to get dressed and packed before the car arrives for us.”

  He shakes his head slowly as he walks to me. “Liar. What are you thinking?” His voice is soft and dreamy, like melted chocolate. He’s trying to caress me with his words to pull the truth from me.

  And why not tell him? We are going to be stuck together for the next week.

  “I’m thinking that you think my ass is too big.”

  His brow furrows, his jaw tenses, and his eyes darken. “Look at me, Millie.”

  I do.

  “No.” He cups my chin, dragging my eyes down his naked body to his rock hard cock.

  I bite my lip to keep from saying something stupid.

  “I’m hard because of you. I’m extremely attracted to you, Millie. All of you. Your natural beauty. Your freckles. Your sparkling green eyes. Your full breasts. Your curvy hips. And your ass—god, your ass might be my favorite part of you. I wish I could remember how it felt in my hands.”

  My mouth falls open.

  And he takes a step back, his hand falling away from my chin. I don’t know if he’s stepping back because he wants me to get a better look at his body or because he needs to put distance between us, so he doesn’t jump me.

  Silently, he turns and gets dressed. I do my best not to stare. Not to crave him. Not to want him.

  “Moron,” I whisper under my breath.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, moron.”

  He buttons his jeans. “You called me a moron, why?”

  “Just ensuring that I win our little bet.”

  He laughs hard. The muscles in his belly contract, drawing my attention to them, until I see his smile that reaches up to his crystal blue eyes.

  He takes my breath away; that’s how good looking he is.

  “Jerk,” I say.

  And it makes him laugh again.

  “You are something else, Millie Raine.”

  I blush but don’t respond.

  He grabs a T-shirt and finally puts it on. Then he finishes his look with a worn-out baseball cap. He zips up his bag and then turns to me.

  “Where is your bag?”

  I pick up my backpack. “Right here.” I sling it over my shoulder.

  He frowns. “That’s your suitcase? How are you going to survive a week in Hawaii?”

  “I only packed enough for two overnights, so I didn’t need much.”

  He holds up his rolling suitcase on wheels. “This is a normal size suitcase for a weekend trip.”

  I shrug. “I travel light. And all I need when we get to Hawaii is a swimsuit anyway.”

  “Hopefully one of those red thong bikinis that cover practically nothing?”

  I laugh. “Nope, a full wetsuit that covers every bit of me.”

  His smile drops before he recovers. “That’s okay, I like the catsuit look as well.”

  He rolls his suitcase out while I carry my backpack. We take the elevator down, both of us staring intently at the numbers as we descend. The doors finally open on the bottom floor, and we both exhale a deep breath at the same time and then laugh at how ridiculous we are being. We were trapped in an elevator for all of two minutes. It wasn’t a big deal.

  As we walk to the lobby, cheering starts in along with bubbles floating all around us. Apparently, the wedding party has decided to wish us well on our way.

  Before I realize what’s happening, Sebastian takes my hand in his. Just like the last time he touched my hand, there’s a spark followed by a warmth spreading through my body.

  It’s just because our hands fit together so wel
l, that’s all. There is nothing else to read into.

  Sebastian leads me through the weave of people as we make our way through the lobby. We get outside to the waiting car that says ‘Just married’ on the back.

  Just married.

  I still can’t believe those words.

  “Kiss, kiss, kiss,” the crowd starts chanting again.

  Sebastian hands our bags to the driver, and then he flashes his signature grin showing off his white teeth. This smile is fake, unlike the other ones I’ve seen from him. He’s putting on a show for the crowd, and I prepare myself for an untimely kiss.

  But maybe if he finally kisses me, I’ll get over him. I’ll realize he’s just a man, and I’m just horny. It’s nothing some quality time with my vibrator can’t fix.

  He flicks his baseball cap off and then leans in. I part my lips waiting for his kiss. At the last second, he puts the cap over our faces, hiding them from the world as he leans in as close as he can get without kissing me.

  “Are you begging yet?”

  “Are you done being a prick yet?”

  He smirks. “Keep calling me names, Millie. It only means I’m getting under your skin and getting closer to winning.”

  I exhale my breath—a mistake because it means I have to inhale, and all I breathe in is him.

  The hollers grow louder, and eventually, Sebastian lets go of me. He opens the door to the car, and I slide in. He follows after, and then we are driving toward the airport.

  There will be no more people to put on a show for. We are all alone. We don’t have to pretend anymore. We could even change our flights and head home early, and no one could stop us.

  We are silent as we both get lost in our phones. Until the texts start in again…

  * * *

  Where r u?

  * * *

  Call me.

  * * *

  I need you.

  * * *

  You can’t hide from me.

  * * *

  I’ll find you.

  * * *

  Delete all.

  “Shoot,” I breathe.

  Sebastian looks at me. “We don’t have to go to Hawaii, you know. No one would know.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “But maybe we should. We could both use a break.”

  “And the trip is already paid for, nonrefundable. It seems silly not to go.”

  “So, we’re going.”

  “We’re going.”

  “I, uh, talked to my lawyer,” he says while I fidget with my phone, thinking about the deleted messages.

  “He said that he could get our marriage annulled before we get back. I’ll cover the costs of the legal fees.”

  My mind is racing with so many thoughts. Could being married to Sebastian save me from my past?

  I glance up at Sebastian, who is oblivious to the thoughts in my head. I have to tread carefully, to get him to agree to my plan.

  “About that…”

  11

  Sebastian

  “What do you mean you don’t want me to use my lawyer?” I ask as we stand in line to board our plane.

  She runs her hand through her hair, making it look even more wild and untamed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she had a quick fuck in the bathroom before boarding. But the look is just Millie—a little wild, a little messy, and probably an animal in the bedroom. Too bad I can’t remember.

  We are headed to Hawaii for an all-paid, week-long vacation. I’m going to win our little bet. I’ll get my one night yet. One that this time, I’ll make sure I don’t forget.

  Millie mumbles something under her breath that I don’t catch.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  “Sir, your ticket,” the flight person says. I hold out my phone, and she scans it, then scans Millie’s.

  “Have a nice flight,” she says.

  We walk down the ramp. Me pulling my carry on, Millie still sporting her backpack that somehow fits a weekend’s worth of clothes. I’m okay with her not having many clothes. It means she can spend more time naked around me.

  “Window or aisle?” Millie asks when we get to our seats in first class. Boden really went all out for this honeymoon. I texted him in the limo, but he never responded to me. I don’t know where he is. I just hope he’s taking the breakup as well as Oaklee is.

  “Aisle,” I say.

  Millie smiles. “Good, I prefer the window.”

  We both take our seats after I put my bag in the overhead compartment, and Millie squeezes her bag under the seat in front of us. We look like a happily married couple, which is why you should never believe appearances. They can be faked.

  “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. King. Can I get you some champagne before we take off?” our flight attendant asks.

  “No!” Millie and I both answer at the same time, equally emphatically that we don’t want any champagne.

  “Hungover?” he asks us.

  We both nod.

  He chuckles. “How about some coffee then?”

  “Yes, please,” I answer.

  Millie nods as well.

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks, Mr. and Mrs. King.” And then he leaves us.

  “Do you know that you do this blinking and wincing thing every time someone calls us Mr. and Mrs. King?” Millie asks.

  I turn my head toward her. “I don’t think I do.”

  “You do.”

  “Is that a problem? We aren’t really married.”

  “Actually, we are.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine, we’re married, but not by choice. And we won’t be for much longer. As I said, I spoke with my lawyer—“

  “Why do you have a lawyer? I don’t have a lawyer who I can call when I get into trouble. Why do you?”

  I sigh and look down the aisle to where our flight attendant is preparing our coffee. Hurry up, man, I’m going to need it to survive this flight.

  My legs start bouncing up and down, and my heart races—all the familiar signs of a craving starting. Now, I really want that coffee.

  “Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. King.” We are both handed our coffees, and I grip mine like it’s the only thing keeping me from raiding the liquor cabinet for bourbon, my liquor of choice.

  “Thank you,” Millie says brightly when I don’t say anything. Our flight attendant returns my smile and leaves us.

  “Are you rude to everyone like that?” she asks.

  “I wasn’t rude.” I grip my cup tighter.

  “Yes, you were. And now the vein in your forehead is popping out. The one that pops out when you’re mad.”

  I shake my head. “Can you stop overanalyzing me so we can talk about our situation, and then I can put my headphones on and spend the rest of my flight watching the latest Fast and Furious movie?”

  She makes a disgusted face.

  “Really? You don’t like Fast and Furious? It’s like we weren’t meant to spend the rest of our lives together.”

  She chews on her bottom lip.

  “What? Spit it out.”

  “Um…I just don’t want to get lawyers involved.”

  I sip on my coffee again.

  Millie puts her hand on my forearm like she’s trying to calm me, which only makes my breath fly. I glance at the couple sitting next to us, sipping mimosas and enjoying life. And suddenly, I want a mimosa.

  No, it’s just the addiction talking. I don’t want a damn mimosa.

  I turn back to Millie.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  Millie looks at me nervously—she’s serious.

  “I told you I’d pay for legal fees. That includes your legal fees.” There is no way I can get this annulled or even divorced without a lawyer. Kade would kill me. I don’t know if I should trust Millie or not yet, but if she finds out how big my bank account is before the annulment or divorce goes through, I’m going to be out a lot of money. Not that I care, but I’m not going to let a complete stranger take half my money.

  “It’s not tha
t…” Millie looks out the window like she’s lost in thought as she once again mumbles under her breath, talking to herself. If I didn’t work with mentally ill people all day, if I wasn’t mentally unstable myself, I might think Millie is losing it.

  I let her be for a moment, even though I want to quiz her about what’s going on in her head. The flight attendant collects our mugs, and then we are asked to turn off our cell phones before takeoff.

  Millie turns hers off like she can’t turn it off fast enough and then practically throws it into her backpack. I assume that Oaklee or our friends have been texting her with a million questions about our relationship the same way my friends have been.

  Then we are taking off, my fingers now dancing on the armrest.

  Millie stares at them. And I think she’s going to ask another question about why I’m behaving this way. I’m sure she’ll find out I’m a recovering alcoholic at some point, but I’m not in the mood to share my life story right now.

  Instead of asking a question, though, Millie simply takes my hand and holds it. I stare at our interlocked fingers that just fit together, and I feel calmer and electric at the same time. Like I’ve just been plugged into an outlet, and I’m charged, ready to fire but also grounded at the same time.

  The plane begins to take off, and Millie squeezes my hand three times like she did with Oaklee. I realize that she must assume I’m a nervous flyer.

  “What does that mean when you squeeze my hand three times? I saw you do it with Oaklee.”

  She smiles at me softly but doesn’t answer. Which is okay because I don’t want to talk too much either. She would just force me to talk too.

  “I think we should stay married,” Millie hits me with words I never expected to hear. From her. From anyone.

  I blink over and over, making sure this isn’t a dream. And then I remove my hand from her grasp because maybe she thinks there is something between us that isn’t there.