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“Details.” He moves closer to me, but not too close. I could almost fool myself into thinking he’s being respectful of the boundaries I've drawn between us, but, of course, it’s not that. “I ordered wisteria for the arches.”
I can barely look at him as he answers the question I’d had when he placed the order; he remembered. “Why?” The word slips out, sounding as miserable as I feel.
“Because it's your favorite.” His gaze holds mine.
Great. Just what every woman wants. To make the decorations for her own wedding. “You shouldn't have.”
“But I did.” A half-smile plays on his lips, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Of course, he’s proud of himself. But there’s a sadness in his eyes that I can’t quite understand. He’s getting what he wants. Why does he look defeated?
I want to stay angry, to remain detached. But lying to myself is much harder than lying to him. I do want this. I want him. Despite the lies, despite everything. He’s awful, but I’ve loved him since before I knew what romantic love was. I’m stupid and I’m going to wind up hurt.
“Remember, this is all an act. Nothing more.” I say the words, watching his expression.
“Of course.” He plants both palms on my bed, reminding me that we’re here in my space after an intimate moment. “Just an act.”
I nod, trying to convince myself more than him. But deep down, I know better. How can I pretend I don’t feel anything for him while acting like his wife? How do I keep the lines between acting and reality from blurring?
“Good.” I stand, needing to put physical distance between us again, and adjust my pants. “Then let's keep it professional, like business partners.” Since it is my business he’s messing with, after all.
“Always professional,” he agrees, but the way he looks at me tells a different story—one where professionalism is the last thing on his mind.
This is going to be harder than I anticipated.
“Look, I know you're mad,” Fredrick's voice cuts through the silence like a knife, sharp and painful.
What does he know, really? “You manipulated me and my business.” Mad doesn't begin to cover what I feel. How does he manage to betray me worse and worse every time I see him?
He sighs. “Yes, I did. And I'm sorry. But trust me, I have a reason.”
“Feel free to share the reason,” I say, knowing full well he has no intention of that.
He stands and takes a step closer to me, hands outstretched, palms up in a gesture of peace. “I’ll help with Grace and look for Emma, too.”
A sudden flash of agony fills me.
“I won't stop until we find her,” he says.
“What, do you think that makes you noble?” This has to be a joke.
“Concerned,” he says, correcting me quietly. His brow furrows, eyes offering a sincerity I want to doubt but can't. “She's your family. That makes her important to me.”
“Because of this fake engagement?” I don’t want to play pretend; I want to call things like they are.
“Because I care,” he says softly. His gaze locks on mine. “Despite everything, I do care, Lila.”
I let out a harsh laugh, then swallow hard, the knot in my stomach tightening. “You have a strange way of showing it.”
He steps back, giving me space. “I'm here. For you, for Grace, for Emma, for whatever comes next.”
“What if I can't stand the sight of you?” My arms cross over my chest in a protective gesture.
He nods his head. “We’ll get through this, Lila.”
Sure. But would we stay whole, sane, and survive? Because I barely survived the last time he up and vanished. If he does it again... I don’t know what will happen.
But I’m not going to let him hurt me again.
I did this for my family, for my business.
