Pretend We're Over
Page 8
She glances down at our now separated hands.
“Millie, I like you, but I don’t want to be married to you. I’m sorry if you think there is something going on between us but—“
“No, I don’t think there is anything between us. I think you are an arrogant jerk. Trust me, I don’t think we fit well together.”
I narrow my eyes. “Okay, then I don’t follow your logic. If you are afraid of what everyone is going to say when we go home, I think we can just play it low for a few months and then announce that we quietly separated. Our only shared friends are Oaklee and Boden, who we can tell the truth to if you want. And then we can just bury ourselves in our work and tell Oaklee in a few months to say we rushed into marriage too fast and just decided to remain friends. It can’t be more embarrassing than Oaklee running out at her own wedding.”
“I’m not worried about being embarrassed. Trust me, having people find out the truth is one of the least embarrassing moments of my life.”
“Okay…” I rub the back of my head, not understanding.
Her eyes go to my shirt that has risen up, and her eyes sink into my abs, getting lost in my body for a moment. I welcome her heated stare, except I’m worried that my body is why she wants to stay married.
“Do you think staying married is the only way I’ll bend my rule and fuck you again, because I already told you, I’d gladly wave my rule and fuck you again. I think we both deserve a do-over,” I ask after I put my arms down.
She shakes her head. “You’re so full of yourself. I’m not fucking you again.”
“Are you trying to get me to fall in love with you?” trying to figure out her reason.
“No.”
“Only believe in sex after marriage?”
“No.”
“Need to be married to get a promotion?”
“No.”
“Need to be married to inherit?”
She sighs. “This isn’t about money.”
Good, because baby, you aren’t getting any of mine.
I pull out a piece of gum and start smacking it, knowing it will help my antsy body.
I rub my chin, trying to figure her out. Millie Raine isn’t like any woman I’ve ever met, though, so I don’t know how to figure her out.
“Why?”
She looks out the window again, all joking gone. There’s a reason. She just doesn’t want to tell me.
Well, too bad, if she wants me to stay married to her, she better damn well tell me why.
“Don’t you want your first marriage to be with someone you love?” I ask.
She snaps her head with a soft chuckle, but it’s hiding pain. Her green eyes dilate; her eyelashes blink faster, trying to keep the pain inside.
“Don’t you?” She throws my question back at me.
“Since this will be the only time I’m married, that’s not an option for me.”
“A good looking guy like you only thinks he’s going to be fake married to me for however long I convince you to stay married to me, and doesn’t expect to be taken by some Miss America, living in the dream house with the two-point-five kids and golden retriever? I’d bet that you’ll be married to the woman of your dreams in the next two years.”
“I’d say I’m way more likely to win my bet than you are yours.” I lean closer to her and watch her squirm away in her seat, knowing that if I so much as breathe on her, she’s going to be begging me to help her join the mile high club.
I nod at her with heated eyes. “My point taken. Now, you didn’t answer my question, you deflected. Don’t you want your first marriage to be with someone you love?”
She looks down at her nails. I notice they have little flecks of black nail polish still on them that she’s obviously picked off instead of removing with nail polish remover.
Finally, she looks back up at me with determination in her eyes, like how she answers this one question is going to persuade me to stay married to her.
“I won’t marry again after this, either.”
I freeze. No way is this woman planning on not getting married. She’s not conventional. I expect her to tell me that she’s a musician or a travel blogger instead of a school teacher or medical professional or lawyer like most of the women I know. But every woman I know wants to get married. Hell, every man I know does too. Except, maybe Boden.
“What do you mean?”
Her chest rises as she takes a deep breath and looks me dead in the eye, like she’s trying to talk to my soul.
“I mean—I’m just like you. I don’t want to get married. This, whatever this is, will be my last marriage. I’m not a romantic. I don’t believe in happily ever after. I believe marriage only works between two people who want it to work, usually because of their children. I don’t want a house. I don’t want children. I’ve gotten by pretty well on my own. I’m happy. I don’t want to get married. You and I may differ on a lot of things, but we don’t differ on this.”
“Then why did you think Oaklee and Boden should get married? You wanted them to get back together.”
“Because despite what I believe, I thought that’s what they wanted. I thought they might be the exception to my rule that everlasting love doesn’t exist. I was wrong about their marriage, but not about this. Love isn’t real. Love is just lust well hidden.”
Her words hit me like a bullet. I’ve said those exact words to Larkyn before when she asked why I didn’t want to get married. Larkyn and Kade are my exception just like Oaklee and Boden were hers.
“So why do you want to stay married to me if you don’t believe in marriage?” I ask, sitting on the edge of my seat, entranced that no matter how different we are, I may have just found the one woman on the planet who feels the same way as me.
“Maybe I just want to pretend that love exists for a little while longer before I return to being cynical.” Her words are a lie. I know it, she knows I know it. But her words strike me. Like a blow from a sword, they weaken me. They may not be true for her, but they are true for me. For once, it would be nice to not live in my perfect bubble with my perfect routine and life all planned out. It would be nice to pretend that I could be like everyone else. That I could believe in love even if that love isn’t real.
I stare at Millie. She stares back and lets me see a flicker of her pain behind her green eyes.
The reason Millie wants to stay married to me is serious. It’s hiding her pain. I want to know why. And someday, I’ll know why, but not today.
Today, I just have to decide if I’ll go along with her plan even though all I’ll get out of it is spending more time with her in hopes of winning my bet and getting to fuck her again. I get to get everyone off my back about getting married. When this is all over, I can say if a marriage couldn’t work between me and Millie, a woman who is lovable in every way, then how could a marriage between me and anyone work?
I don’t know all the details. I don’t know what is expected of me.
All I know is that with a single look, my entire world just changed. I will do whatever this woman wants, something I thought was only reserved for Larkyn and Kade and their kids. But for some unexplainable reason, I want to help Millie.
“I know it’s a lot to ask. I think we should stay married—“ Millie starts rambling, but I’ve already made my decision. I don’t need any more persuading.
I lean over and press Millie’s lips together to get her to stop talking. And then I give her my answer, letting her know that I’m all in.
“How long?”
12
Millie
“Are you seriously considering doing this?” I ask.
“I’m not considering; I’m doing this.”
I lean in close, too shocked to remember that it’s a mistake getting near this man. His scent is like honey to a bee, except he’s the honey and the bee. If I fall for him, I’m going to get stung.
“You are?”
He chuckles. “I want details, Millie. Not more questions. How long?”
“One year?” I ask.
He cocks his head with a sly look. He can sense my fear. I know he’s dying to know the truth, why I want to stay married to him, but I’m not revealing anything.
“Six months,” he counters.
“Deal.” I’ll take him for as long as I can get. Six months gives me plenty of time to figure out a solution.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“I share an apartment with Oaklee.”
“Then I guess you are moving in with me. There is no way in hell I’m living with Oaklee. She’s a diva.”
I laugh, thinking about all the makeup and hair products everywhere in our apartment. Her needing her sparkling water and special protein shakes every morning. And how she complains about me being messy.
“She’s definitely a diva. Where do you live?”
“I have my own apartment downtown. On 9th street. Does that work for you?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good, I have plenty of furniture. So you can either keep your stuff at Oaklee’s or put it in storage. I’ll make sure there is closet space for you.”
“How generous of you.”
“Own any pets?”
“No, you?”
“Nope. I don’t have a spare parking space.”
“I don’t have a car, so I won’t be needing one.”
“Night owl or early riser?”
“Night owl.”
He frowns.
“Let me guess; you’re an early riser?”
He nods.
“What is your rent?” I ask.
“You don’t need to worry about paying rent.”
“I want to. Oaklee can easily cover the rent on the old place. And after our marriage is dissolved, I won’t be moving back anyway. So I can cover my fair share. It’s the least I can do since you are agreeing to this.”
“Really, it’s not a problem,” he tries to assure me.
“Will you just tell me what your rent is?”
“Two thousand.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard. I can easily cover that.” The old rent was fifteen hundred between Oaklee & I, so it won’t be much of an increase.
Sebastian grips the armrests, his jaw set tightly, and his eyes flicking to the flight attendant who is now going through the first-class cabin pouring wine. He must really be a nervous flyer by the way he keeps tensing and glaring at the flight attendant. I know he has a monster of a hangover like me.
“You know I’ve heard that sometimes if you drink a little in the morning, it can cure a hangover,” I say.
“I’m good,” he practically growls at me.
Okay—I won’t make the mistake of trying to be nice again.
He runs his hand through his unruly hair and then looks at me as he lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just…”
“A nervous flyer? A crabby hungover monster? Or just naturally a jerk?”
He smiles. “Hungover. Do you want some wine?”
I shake my head.
“More coffee?”
I nod.
We wait until we get more coffee in our systems before we finish our conversation.
“So we agreed to six months and that we will live at my place, what else do we need to discuss?” he asks after he drinks half of his new cup of coffee.
“Sex,” I blurt out without thinking. The older woman sitting next to us gives me a scowl around her husband, who is smiling at me.
Sebastian grins. “My favorite conversation.”
I roll my eyes. “I just meant that you need to know I won’t be fucking you just because we are staying married. Nothing has changed.”
“I think everything’s changed. But I will definitely fuck you again before our time is over. Not because we are married but because I have every intention of winning our little wager.” He leans in again, in what is quickly becoming his signature move. He likes watching me squirm. He knows how badly my body craves his. If I let my guard down for a single second, I’ll be fucking him, which is a horrible idea.
Why is it a bad idea again?
It just is, I tell my inner conscious. It just is, for so many reasons.
“I’ll fuck you, because you want me to. You can fight it. Actually, I prefer it that way. I always enjoy a good chase. But no matter how much you tell yourself that we shouldn’t, in the end, it will happen because it’s the best damn idea either of us have ever had.”
My entire body flushes, not just my cheeks. My nipples pebble. My panties flood. My breath catches. My heart races.
Damn him. He knows exactly how to push my buttons. He thinks he’s going to win, and maybe he’s right. But if he wants a chase, a chase he’ll get. He’ll be begging for me long before I’m begging for him.
I purse my lips and let out a long slow breath to try and calm my raging hormones. And then I throw it back at him.
I lean over in his seat, pushing him back with the air between us. Neither of us touches each other, but it doesn’t matter. We know the game we’re playing. The first to beg, the first to touch, loses.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip and watch his eyes watch my lips. I let my thumb pull down on my bottom lip and then let it fall down my body, my neck, stopping just above the curve of my breasts.
He’s practically panting as he watches me.
“Game on, Mr. King.”
When I say his name, I know I just won this battle. The large bulge in his pants confirms it.
I laugh and fall back into my seat.
“I’m going to enjoy being married to you, Mrs. King,” he finally says, when he’s caught his breath again.
“You are going to have the worse case of blue balls ever.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
Which makes me frown. “Um…that leads me to my next term.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Which is?”
“We can’t fuck other people while we are married. I know we won’t be fucking each other. I have no right to ask, but I just…” I can’t handle being married to a cheater. I can’t handle anyone finding out that Sebastian fucked other women while being married to me, even if our marriage isn’t real.
“I don’t want to fuck anyone else. Just you. If I have to be celibate for six months in order to get you once, it will be worth it, sweetheart.”
I swoon at his words. How is a guy like him not taken? I know he’s cocky, and he sometimes says the wrong thing, but when he says the right thing—oh my god, he’s the perfect man.
“How does this end?” I ask, knowing this is the last major point we need to figure out.
“How do you want it to end?”
“I want it to be believable, but I don’t want either of us to be at fault.”
He nods. “Well, everyone seemed to believe that we were together easily enough. It should be easy enough to convince everyone that it just didn’t work out, that we decided we are better off just friends. That I wasn’t suitable for marriage.”
We both aren’t suitable for marriage, but I don’t tell him that.
“We need an event. Something where we can stage a fight or show off how well we don’t work together,” I say.
“Larkyn’s birthday is just shy of six months away. We can stage a fight. We can pretend we’re over, that we didn’t work. Then when we announce we’re getting divorced a few weeks later, it won’t come as a shock.”
I nod. Six months—I have six months of protection. Six months to pretend that my life isn’t what it really is. Six months to escape my own reality.
I glance over at the sexy god sitting next to me. Maybe I should enjoy my time with him, enjoy the escape. If I’m smart, I’ll start pretending it’s over now
, before my heart does something stupid, like fall for him. A charming man like Sebastian King is easy to fall for—that’s the real reason I can’t have sex with him. If I fuck him, I’ll want to keep him forever, and he’s not mine to keep.
13
Sebastian
“Here is your suite, Mr. and Mrs. King,” the manager says as he holds the door open to us.
“Holy shit,” Millie and I both say at the same time when we enter top floor suite that Boden and Oaklee reserved. Boden has money like me; I’m just surprised he sprung for this nice of a suite and didn’t cancel, or at least try to get his money back. If I was a better man, I’d offer to pay him back, but I’m not going to.
“Your luggage is already in the closet. There are champagne and chocolates for you by the minibar. Do you need anything else, Mr. and Mrs. King?”
“No, thank you.” I tip him as he leaves, and then we are alone in a beautiful suite with an incredible view.
“Can you believe this? Have you ever stayed anywhere so nice before?” Millie runs out onto our private balcony, complete with a jacuzzi tub.
I’m silent. I don’t want to ruin the moment.
But Millie’s big eyes don’t miss a beat. “Oh my god. You have, haven’t you?”
I nod but don’t elaborate.
“Well, don’t ruin this for me. I may never stay anywhere this nice again.”
I walk over and lean against the railing next to her. “I won’t ruin anything. And even though I’ve stayed in hotels this nice before, I’ve never been to Hawaii.”
“You’re going to love it! It’s one of my favorite places I’ve ever been to.”
“You travel a lot?”
She nods but doesn’t elaborate either.
We both stand next to each other in silence, enjoying the ocean breeze and sun on our faces. I may not have realized it before we came, but this is exactly what I need. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone on a vacation or been out of my normal routine. One week here with Millie might finally prove to myself that my life is perfect and that I can handle a week vacation a year.
“We should go snorkeling! And hiking to the volcano. Oh, and surfing! You know how to surf, right? If not, I can teach you. And dancing! I love dancing.”