Page 30 of Never To Be Mine

Patricia must have noticed her hesitation because she leaned in and said quietly, “Don’t worry, it’s not really one of his.”

My head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

Patricia looked at me. “What? It looks like the real thing. That’s all that matters.”

“Why not have her drink the real thing?”

“We didn’t think that was necessary.” Patricia shrugged. “We don’t want a reaction like at the health expo.”

Juno crossed her arms. “I don’t want to drink it at all. Real or otherwise.”

“My smoothies are really good,” I insisted, feeling frustration bubble up. “People love them. If you actually try one, you’d like it.”

Juno and Patricia had moved on, already talking about the script and ignoring me. I sat down in my assigned chair, trying not to sulk like a child. It was difficult not to be annoyed when people crapped all over something I had worked on for years.

Juno stayed in her seat across from me. The small table between us held the knockoff smoothie and some glasses of water.

Toby raised his camera again, positioning himself off to the side. Patricia stood behind the main camera operator, ready to guide the conversation.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Patricia said.

I looked at Juno. She was sitting with perfect posture, hands folded in her lap. Professional. Controlled. But she did not love any of this. She didn’t want to be here any more than I wanted to be here.

Great. This was off to a fantastic start.

“All right, we need some photos for the press release first,” Patricia announced, gesturing us toward a backdrop that had been set up in the corner of the conference room. “Just stand together, look friendly. No yelling.”

I walked over to stand in front of the backdrop and plastered on my most professional smile. Juno followed but her smile reminded me of a viper, ready to strike.

Patricia grabbed a camera and positioned us side by side. “A little closer, please.”

Juno shifted an inch toward me. I could smell her perfume. I realized we were both wearing citrus scents.

Great minds…

“Closer,” the photographer insisted.

We moved incrementally nearer until our shoulders were almost touching.

“Great. Big smiles!”

I turned my smile up a notch, tilting my head slightly toward Juno like we were old friends. Through my teeth, keeping my expression frozen in place, I said, “Just pretend you don’t hate me for a few more minutes.”

“I don’t hate you,” she murmured back, her own smile never wavering. “I just don’t like you. And I certainly don’t trust you.”

The camera clicked several times in rapid succession.

“You’re not my favorite person either,” I said pleasantly, still grinning like an idiot. “Who yells at a stranger the way you did?”

“Who records it and puts it online?”

“Literally anyone with a phone.”

Click, click, click.

“It was still a shitty thing to do.”

“You started it,” I pointed out.