Pretend We're Over

by Ella Miles

  “You mean you wouldn’t want to give up. You’re the only one who cares about the business.”

  “Read it. It protects the healing and recovery center too. She could get half otherwise.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. My life’s work—Millie could take part of it. She could demand it since we are legally married, even if everything else is fake.

  Kade holds the paper against my chest, begging me to take it.

  “And if she signs it, you’ll leave us alone. You will accept our marriage. You won’t secretly be betting on when it will fail. You won’t tell me I told you so if it does.”

  Kade nods.

  I snatch the papers and head home, intent on getting Millie to sign them, but end up mindlessly driving around for a while to blow off steam.

  Millie will sign them because she doesn’t give a fuck about my money. And this is all fake, I try to calm myself as I drive.

  But Kade is right. Eventually, this marriage will end, in less than six months in fact, and whether he says it or not, he’ll be thinking it.

  When I get to my apartment several hours later, I have every intent on having Millie sign it. On finding a way we can stay friends and put the physical part of our relationship aside.

  And then I see her, standing in my kitchen in nothing but a towel, her hair wet from a shower.

  I forget about the prenup.

  I forget about how weak my heart is right now.

  All I want to do is fuck her.

  28

  Millie

  I should have expected Sebastian to walk in. It’s six in the evening. That’s when most people get off work.

  But for some reason, it didn’t register with me. I wasn’t planning on letting Sebastian see me standing in his kitchen in nothing but a towel, and yet, that’s exactly what happened.

  “What are you doing?” are the first words out of Sebastian’s mouth.

  My heart flutters because even though his words are an accusation that I shouldn’t be standing here, tempting him, his eyes are filled with desire. The tightness in his body tells me he’s holding back, standing in the doorway because if he comes any closer, he’s going to do something he regrets.

  “Am I not allowed to shower?” I ask as I feel my pulse beating in my throat.

  “You’re allowed to shower. Did you come home from work early?”

  “No.”

  He blinks, not expecting that.

  “Did you just finish working out?”

  “No.”

  His eyes slide down my body, taking in the swell of my breasts over the towel, the curve around my hips, and then down my bare thighs. I relish in the feel of his heated gaze over my body, how he appreciates every bit of my body, and I remember exactly what he did to it.

  Only one night.

  That’s all we get. Those were his words. I try to remind my body of that, but he’s turned on a desire that I don’t know how to turn off.

  “Why are you only now showering then?” His voice is low and deep, but I think it’s more out of lust than anger. He’s trying to make sense of me, trying to understand why I’m standing here in a towel tempting him.

  “Because night time is when my day usually starts.”

  His forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean your day usually starts now?”

  I shrug. “I’m a night owl. I work at night, not during the day. Hawaii was the opposite of my normal life.” Everything about Hawaii was out of character for me.

  He nods like he understands, and I suspect everything about Hawaii for him was also out of the norm.

  “We should talk,” I say.

  He nods again but doesn’t speak. His eyes stay locked on my body. He doesn’t look like he wants to talk. He looks like he wants to devour me.

  Finally, he speaks. “Go get dressed. Then we can have dinner together.”

  I nod and hurry to my room to get dressed. Mostly so I don’t do something stupid like jump into his arms and kiss him against his will. It’s clear that he still finds me attractive, but is just as much of an ass as I thought.

  I gathered the rest of my things from the apartment that I shared with Oaklee, which wasn’t much. I left my bed at Oaklee’s, so it was mainly just a bit more clothes and toiletries. I select a pair of jeans and stretchy top and put them on before combing my wet hair, but I don’t bother blow-drying it. Then I head back out to the kitchen.

  I assume Sebastian will order takeout for us, or he has a chef who cooks for him, so I’m surprised to find him standing in his expansive kitchen behind his large stainless stovetop cooking.

  “You cook?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says, offering nothing more than a one-word answer.

  “I thought we were going to talk. That means you have to say more than one-word answers.”

  “We will.”

  Great, now we are onto two-word sentences. We are never going to get through this night.

  Sebastian continues to face the stovetop as he cooks. We are going to need some alcohol to get through this night. I’m going to need it to tell him about my past and keep my desire for him at bay. And he’s going to need it to loosen him up and stop making him such a giant prick.

  I glance around the room but don’t spot a bar or place where he keeps his alcohol. I head to the fridge, hoping he has some white wine or champagne chilled as both are my favorite.

  His fridge is perfectly organized. It looks like a celeb’s fridge who his giving a house tour for Architecture Digest. Like it’s been organized and cleaned for a special occasion. But there is no way it is; he didn’t know that he’d be bringing back a wife when he went to his friend’s wedding.

  I easily scan the fridge filled with lean meats, vegetables, fruit, and water. There is nothing unhealthy in his fridge. But then I spot what I’m looking for. There is a single bottle of white wine chilling in the fridge. I remove it and then go in search of wine glasses. I open almost every cabinet before finding two wine glasses pushed far into the back of a cabinet.

  Seems strange for a bachelor. Most men I know who live alone have their alcohol on display or in the easiest cabinet. He must just not be a wine drinker.

  I pour us both a glass, and I take a sip as I watch him work at the stove in his jeans and T-shirt that says something about healing on the front. It’s not what I expected. I expected him to be wearing a suit when he returned to work. Instead, he’s wearing casual clothes. Not that I’m complaining, his ass looks great in his dark jeans, but it just goes to show how much we need to have a conversation. I have no idea how he made the millions he obviously has to own an apartment like this.

  Sebastian plates the food he’s been hard at work at and then finally turns to see what I’ve been doing. He frowns when he sees the wine glasses I’m holding.

  “I’m sorry if you were saving this bottle for something, I’ll buy you a new one,” I say as a vein pops out on his forehead.

  “It’s fine, I just don’t usually drink wine on a Monday.”

  “Oh, I just thought the alcohol was needed for us to get through this conversation.”

  I follow Sebastian to the small two-seater dining table that I doubt he ever eats at. That is until he pulls his chair back, and I see the scuff marks on the floor where he’s obviously pulled out his chair on a regular basis. When I pull my chair out, I see no such marks.

  “Do you usually have dinner at this table by yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  Back to one-word answers.

  I sigh, deciding we both need some food in our systems and definitely lots of wine. The food Sebastian cooked is delicious and simple—grilled chicken, asparagus, and a green salad.

  “You’re a good cook.”

  “Thank you.” And then he looks up as if he knew what he was going to see when he did. “Look.” He nods in the direction of the skyline behind him.

  I turn, and my breath is taken away by the view of the sun setting behind the skyline.

  “Wow.”


  “This is why I sit here to eat my dinner every night. It’s peaceful and reminds me that life is precious and beautiful. That I deserve to live a life that is full of wondrous things. And I should protect my body so I’m able to enjoy such wonders.”

  I turn back, realizing what Sebastian just did was more incredible than the view. He let me into a part of his soul. And he did it without a drop of alcohol needed. He was brave.

  Maybe this conversation will be easier than I think.

  “What do you do for work?” Sebastian asks. It should be an easy question for me to answer after he bared his soul to me. And yet, it’s one of the hardest. It’s embarrassing for me to say.

  But I need to tell him. I lift my wine glass, needing liquid courage to be brave like he was. I open my mouth to speak, when there is a knock at the door.

  My eyes shift from Sebastian to the door.

  “Are you expecting someone?” I ask.

  He sighs and gets up, making it clear he knows who it is. I stay in my seat as he goes to open the door. It doesn’t shock me when a skinny blonde looking model waltzes into the room. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out who this woman is—someone who has shared a bed with Sebastian. Someone who might have shared multiple romps in his bed with him.

  The woman stops dead in her high-heeled shoes and skin-tight white dress when she sees me. “Oh, did I interrupt something? I was just coming over to drink my wine and enjoy the sunset with you. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  Sure, you didn’t.

  I fidget in my seat as Sebastian wordlessly enters the room. We agreed that we wouldn’t cheat while we were married to each other, but that was before we had our one night together. Before we returned to reality. Before hot neighbors showed back up in our lives.

  I don’t know how to introduce myself to this woman. If she is someone who Sebastian might want to see again after we get divorced, then I don’t want to insert myself as his wife. So I wait for Sebastian to decide how to handle her.

  “Chloe, this is Millie King,” Sebastian says, stepping around the woman and helping me out of my chair.

  He used his last name as mine, Chloe and I realize at the same time.

  After a long pause, he puts the final nail in the coffin. “My wife.”

  Chloe gasps as shock rolls over her red lips, blue eyes, and curled blonde hair. She shifts her weight nervously. “I didn’t realize when we were together that you were seeing someone else.”

  Her voice sounds hurt. She must be a recent conquest, and my heart breaks for her a little.

  “I didn’t cheat. Millie and I’s relationship started recently, and we fell hard. I just knew I wanted to be with her forever.” His fingers tangle with mine, and I feel like we are one. It’s the first time I’ve ever had that feeling when a man holds my hand.

  “I didn’t realize you were looking for a wife. If I’d known, I would have wanted more than one night,” Chloe says.

  Sebastian shakes his head. “I wasn’t looking for a wife.” He turns to look at me before he says his next words that capture my heart. “I was looking for Millie.”

  Yep, my heart is his.

  It’s all an act. He’s just saying this to make our marriage look more believable and get this woman to leave.

  I look over at Chloe, and I see tears in her eyes. It’s clear that Chloe had feelings for him, whether or not there was ever a hope of Sebastian returning her feelings.

  “I’ll, uh, just go then. It was nice meeting you, Millie.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” Sebastian says, putting his hand on the small of her back as he leads her out.

  My jealously grows, watching the small gesture. He just told her I’m his wife, that he wanted me and no one else, and yet him touching her is what is pushing me to the edge. I grab the bottle of wine and pour myself more. I look at Sebastian’s still full glass.

  He returns as I hold the glass to my lips.

  “I met her in the elevator.”

  I smile. “Is that how you pick up all your women?”

  He ignores me, and I swear he can see down to my anxieties about that woman. “I brought her back here and fucked her.”

  I wince.

  “I had my one night with her, and then I was done with her.”

  “It didn’t look like you were done with her.”

  “She lives on my floor and works similar hours to me. She comes over twice a week, and we share a meal together, nothing more. She’s just a woman I can talk to, but I only fucked her the one night. I didn’t change my rules for her.”

  He sets my wine glass down on the table and takes my wrists in his hands.

  “I wasn’t finished with that,” I say breathlessly.

  “I’m not finished with you.”

  29

  Sebastian

  I grip Millie’s wrists in my hands. I can feel her pulse racing. But I don’t need to feel her pulse, watch her breathing, or see the way her pupils dilate to know what she’s thinking—the same thing I am.

  Millie wants me. Just like I want her.

  But we both feel an air of apprehension. Me, because I know what having her again will do to me. And her because she sees Chloe as a threat.

  I can’t do anything about my own apprehension, but I can do something to fix Millie’s.

  “She means nothing. She was nothing but a good fuck. She meant so little to me that I didn’t even remember that Monday nights are the night she usually comes over because all I was thinking about is you.”

  She swallows so hard that I can see her throat bob. “You’re allowed to have feelings for her. This is all pretend.”

  Her words are a knife to the gut, but I know they aren’t true. She feels something when I hold her like this, when I kissed her, fucked her. If not, she wouldn’t be jealous of a woman who means nothing to me.

  “I know I am, but I don’t. The only woman in the world I could possibly have feelings for is you, Millie.”

  She sucks in the tiniest of breaths. She doesn’t want me to notice her reaction, but it’s there. I notice everything about her. There is no way I’d miss her reaction to me telling her that I feel more for her. What, I’ve yet to figure out, but definitely more.

  “Me too,” she says, telling me she has feelings but no way to put them into words.

  I nod solemnly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t supposed to feel anything. But no matter what feelings we have, it won’t change the result. We will eventually get divorced. It’s what’s for the best, for both of us.

  “Where do you work?” Millie asks as we stand inches apart, our heated breath warming each other, her wrists still in my grasp.

  “I’m half owner of a non-profit that focuses on the healing and recovery of addicts.”

  She smiles softly. “Such a sweetheart. You really aren’t an asshole at all.”

  I smirk and pull her tight to me. My lips hover over hers, but not giving her the kiss that she’s begging for. “I can still be an asshole when I want.”

  Her eyes gleam.

  “What do you do?”

  She takes a deep, steadying breath. “A little of everything.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m a wanderer who hasn’t found her calling yet.”

  I frown at her non-answer. “What was your last job?”

  “Security guard.”

  “Security guard? And the job before that?”

  “I’ve also been a bartender, a photographer, a driver, and an event planner.”

  She really is a wanderer. Full of life and adventure. She’s free. I can’t handle that kind of disorganization in my life. I need order.

  “My last real relationship was in college. Other than that, I just fuck women once and then move on to the next,” I open myself to her.

  “In the past, I’ve only done real relationships, no one night stands, until you. But I think you’ve changed me on that. I want more one nights and fewer relationships. All of my rel
ationships have ended in heartbreak.” I can feel her wounds as she speaks. I may not get all the details, but I can still feel the pain.

  “I’m a control freak. I need order and the same routine every day.”

  “I’m messy. I like the freedom of not being tied down to any one person or job.”

  “I can’t fuck you.”

  Her hands drop out of mine, and she backs away. I don’t know if I let go, or she pulled them out at my admission. She grabs for her wine glass, like that might dull the sting of my words.

  “Ask me,” I say, stepping back into her space even though she shifts, begging for me to release her from this conversation. “Ask me why.”

  She clears her throat, but it comes out raspy anyway. “Why can’t you fuck me?”

  “I’m an addict.”

  Her eyes widen with surprise but no judgment.

  “It used to be drugs and alcohol.” I step closer again, and this time she doesn’t retreat.

  “I’ve been sober for over ten years. But I’m worried I might fall back into addiction again.”

  She opens her mouth to speak.

  “I think I’m addicted to you.” With my words, I pull her into a kiss—a desperate, heart wrenching, addicting kiss. One that I know there is no stopping. One where I will kiss and kiss and kiss until I’ve taken everything I need from Millie, but I won’t stop until I’ve taken more than she’s willing to give. That’s the life of an addict.

  I used to think it was alcohol’s fault. In reality, I’m just addicted to pleasure, to joy, to life. That’s why my life is regimented. But once Millie entered my life, I realized all the things I was missing.

  Right now, I can’t think about my addiction. All I can think about is feeding it.

  Millie gasps when I let her breathe again. She’s the only one with the power to stop me.

  “I should stop you then,” she pants heavily.

  I nod. She should. I will only destroy her.

  She thinks for a second then grabs onto my neck with one arm as she kisses me so hard our teeth clash and our tongues battle.