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She looks up at me, and her eyes widen. She looks hurt.
What the fuck?
I step back, gauging her reaction. Her mouth falls, and I can feel her body sag against me. It’s like I just popped a balloon, all the joy and hope keeping it afloat escaping, making it now limp and lifeless.
This is not good.
She knows this is fake. This is not me breaking up with her, because, fuck, there’s nothing to break!
“It’s just business. We do have to act the part, though. That’s what I’m doing. It’d be nice if you did the same,” she snaps, but the words come out too sharply, almost like they’re piercing through her skin, causing her physical pain.
She tugs herself away from me and heads back to the planners. They continue to gab over whatever the fuck, and I’m standing there, feeling like I just got punched in the fucking gut.
She might be saying that this is just business and that she’s just playing along, but her body is contradicting her words.
Shit.I run my hands through my hair, frustrated that I let this fucking happen. In some respects, I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted her—fuck, I still want her. But only in the most primal way…right?
Yes, I’ve had fun with her. Ever since she got here…no, shit, even before it. She’s made my days so much lighter and, dare I say, fun. I’ve actually started to enjoy going to these events and becoming the King that I never thought I’d be.
But she can’t be confusing the two worlds, can she? I’m finding it hard to see where the real her ends and the fake fiancée begins, and that fucking terrifies, no, infuriates, me.
Why didn’t I see this sooner? We could’ve stopped fucking. Hah, yeah, okay, maybe not that, but we’ve could’ve at least discussed more ground rules.
Shit, there’s when it began. When she stopped giving me ground rules. I thought it was just because I was being so good…all the time.
I’m a fucking idiot.
Come out tonight! It’s been a fucking minute, man. All these pussies are drying up without you here. Scott’s text vibrates my phone, and I look down at it, and then look back at her. She side-eyes me and forces a tight smirk.
She looks pissed, but I can see her for what she really is: hurt.
I can’t let this go any further. And I should stop it before it’s too late.
It’s better to do it now than, say, the day before our wedding, when all this bullshit is waiting for us. That’ll be way too big of a scandal, one that I’m not sure I’ll be able to ease my way out of.
At least, if I fuck it up now, there’ll be smaller repercussions.
I text Scott back. I’ll be there. I need a fucking drink.
