Fluke, page 14
I work my bottom lip between my teeth, a surge of fear racing through my veins. What do I do?
“Jess, I …”
My breathing is uneven as I inhale. The exhale is just as shaky. All I can do is be honest with him.
He stays still. He doesn’t move—not even a muscle.
How do I verbalize what I feel? What I fear? How do I tell this beautiful man the one thing stopping me from returning his sentiments is that I’m absolutely certain that a time will come when he changes his mind?
If there’s one person I don’t think I’d cope with seeing disappointment in me, it’s him.
“Disappointing people has such a negative connotation to it. But when you really think about it, sweetheart, disappointing someone probably means you stood up for yourself. If you never disappointed someone, then you’ve probably never made yourself happy either.”
Even if what Honey said about this is right, I don’t think it would be standing up for myself that would bring about that disappointment. It would be ensuring Jess gets what he deserves. So I have to speak the truth.
“It feels really unfair to return your sentiments when it’s a dead-end road,” I say softly.
“But do you feel the same way?”
There’s a hopefulness embedded in his curiosity that hits me in the heart.
“Does it matter?” I ask him. “I mean, really? Because for me, sharing how I feel with you now that I know how you feel would be like winning a ticket to paradise and knowing it’s closed.”
His chest rumbles with a suppressed chuckle.
“I don’t think this is funny,” I say.
“Sit up.”
Huh? “Why?”
“Sit up,” he says, nudging me.
I press off him, pulling the sheet up and tucking it under my arms to hold it up. It’s a childish act of defiance. But if he wants to be bossy, I’ll keep a little control, thank you very much.
He smirks, amused with my antics. “Let me make sure I understand what you’re saying.”
“Okay.”
“You feel the same way about me as I feel about you.” I lift a brow. “But for some reason, you think that you can deny all of that because you’ve conjured up some imaginary reason in your pretty little head that would make us impossible long-term?”
“Well,” I say, shrugging nonchalantly. “It really sounds simple when you put it like that.”
He laughs. “Because it is simple.”
“No, it’s not. You’re oversimplifying a complicated topic.”
“Okay, says the woman who decided she was some kind of a seer who can predict the future.”
I smack his leg.
He watches me with a cocky, thoughtful grin. I have no idea where this is going or what he’s thinking, but I know that the look on his face makes me want to sit on it.
Not now, Pippa. Focus.
“Once we settle this,” he says, pointing at me, “I want to know what thought just crossed your mind.”
“Okay, says the man who decided he was some kind of a mind reader.”
He knows he caught me, but he lets it go. “How about this—you give me this week, since we’re together anyway, and let me show you how good things between us can be?”
My stomach knots.
“Let me have a chance,” he says, his eyes shining. “At least give me a fair shot at winning you over.”
Oh, Jess. You already have.
I want to launch my body on top of his and have him hold me. I need to feel the warmth of his skin and the softness of his touch—the safety I only feel in his arms.
If I do those things, I’m giving in. But just how bad would giving in truly be?
My defenses are down. I’m in a state of post-orgasmic vulnerability that I know is dangerous. But when I take in his green eyes that beg me to give him a chance, I realize that orgasm or not—I’m fucked.
Jess is the only man I’ve ever thought I could be with wholeheartedly. He’s the guy who makes my heart skip a beat every time I see him—the one who makes any situation seem manageable.
There’s something special between us. I’ve always known it. And maybe it can’t last forever, but maybe I deserve to enjoy the beauty of it for a few days.
Besides, could I be any more in love with him than I already am?
This is going to hurt when it’s over.
And it will be over. I could never deprive this beautiful, amazing, caring man of having a family. That’s what it would be—depriving him. I just couldn’t do that.
“I already told you I’d give you a week,” I say.
He shakes his head. “No, you agreed to a week for fun. I want seven days. But considering the whole couples retreat, I’m your ex-husband scenario, I want you to give me seven days where you’re playing the part of my girlfriend.”
I blink.
“Date me,” he says. “Not as a show for other people because I could give a shit what anyone else thinks. But for one week, tell yourself that you and I are a thing. Let me treat you like you’re mine. Pretend we’re in a real relationship. Give me that.”
Oh shit. I gulp, knowing I’m in too far—but also in too far to back out.
“I’m serious,” he says. “I want a real chance to make you fall for me.”
“What do I get out of this?” I ask, unable to hide the unsteadiness in my tone.
He grins. “Besides the obvious?”
I look at him like I’m unimpressed.
“Fine. You get to walk away at the end of the week without me mentioning this again.”
He holds my gaze, silently pleading with me to say yes—to go along with his plan. And even though I know in the bottom of my gut that this is probably akin to emotional suicide, I can’t say no.
I can’t deny myself the opportunity to be loved by him—even if only for a week.
I lick my lips, watching as his eyes light up. “Fine. But I have one more condition.”
“Hurry.”
Grinning, I run a hand up his leg. “You have to kickstart this fake—”
“Real.”
“—relationship by burying your face between my legs.”
The heat in his eyes nearly burns me. “Lie back and spread ’em.”
So I do.
16
PIPPA
“You look glowy today.” Shelly leans against the doorway to my office with a vase of bright pink roses in her hand. “Have a good weekend?”
If I wanted to pretend I wasn’t on cloud nine, I couldn’t.
“Something like that,” I say, unable to wipe the smile off my face. “How was your weekend?”
“Considerably worse than yours, it seems.” She walks in and sets the vase on my desk. “I saw these in the reception area when I walked by, so I grabbed them for you.”
Damn you, Jess.
“Do you have a new guy in your life, or are these from the ex-husband?” she asks.
“The ex-husband.” I take the envelope out of the blooms. “We had an interesting weekend.”
“If you get flowers and a glow like that—tell me where I can get that kind of an interesting weekend. In my world, interesting weekends are when you have a funny smell in the refrigerator and aren’t quite sure where it’s coming from.”
I laugh and open the card.
Pippa,
I hope you have an amazing day.
You’re beautiful.
I’m thinking about you.
I can’t wait to see you tonight.
Jess
This man.
My heart sings. I could twirl around my office like a character on a silly musical—holding out my arms so little animals can hop on them and harmonize with me on a catchy melody.
“Did things change between you when you asked him to go on the retreat?” she asks.
“Something like that.”
“Well, I’m jealous. I haven’t had a man in my life for months now.” She sighs. “I wonder sometimes if you can go too long without a man. Like, is this the start of turning into an old maid? At what point do I start yelling at people to stay off my lawn?”
I laugh. “I think you have a while to go before you’re swatting a broom at the neighborhood kids.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been eyeing kittens at the shelter.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Cats are always a part of the old maid storyline,” she says. “It’s long hair, a broom, usually a wart on the nose, but I’d like to forgo that detail, if possible. There’s also a small garden with pie plates hanging to scare away the birds and a cat.” She furrows her brow. “You know, if there’s a cat involved, why do they need the pie plates? Wouldn’t the cats keep the birds away?”
I snort. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Not your ex, that’s for damn sure.”
My ex.
Jess made it abundantly clear that he’s not to be referred to as my ex-husband anymore. He can be my boyfriend, my man, or my lover. For the next seven days, we are the fakest real item the world has ever seen.
I must admit that it’s fun. He’s leaned all the way into his new role with a gusto that’s been lacking in my life. He gave me a massage, cooked me carbonara for dinner, and watched an episode of my favorite show—well, most of it. I ended up giving him a blow job before the show was over to repay him for the oral he expertly delivered earlier in the night.
And when it was time to go home, he lobbied for me to stay. If we were really dating, he said, I’d already have half of his closet filled with my things. So in all fairness, I should just sleep over.
Except there was more talking, laughing, and kissing than sleep. But who’s complaining?
Chuck. I smell his hyena stench well before I see him. I make a face, unable to control my visceral reaction to the odor. Shelly’s confused until Chuck stops at the door.
He’s returned to his no-tie life, and the bags under his eyes are dark. He focuses his attention on Shelly.
“I just sent you an email with ad copy for the Whistler campaign,” he says. “There are a few tweaks since the earlier draft, and marketing needs it by lunch. Could you take a look at it as soon as you can?”
Shelly’s brows shoot to the ceiling. “Um, sure, Chuck. I’ll look at it as soon as I get back to my desk.”
“Thanks.”
He glances at me warily before giving me a curt nod and disappearing out of sight.
Shelly checks the hallway before coming all the way into my office and shutting the door. “What the hell was that?”
I grin mischievously.
“I mean, Chuck was almost nice,” she says, baffled. “And he managed an interaction without saying something shitty to you? What the hell? Did he run over someone on the way to work this morning or what?”
My hand flies to my mouth, covering my laughter. “That’s not funny.”
She throws her hands in the air. “Explain it to me then. Because that’s not Chuck. That was almost a regular person.”
I drop my hand and grin.
The satisfaction of seeing him put in check is better than I even imagined. But knowing it was because Jess went to bat for me without being asked to? I don’t think I could’ve imagined a better scenario. I know I’ve put Jess in the not going there basket, but have I really had blinders on for so long that I’ve missed how genuinely nice he is?
Except when he’s denying orgasms.
And giving Chuck his walking papers.
“What?” She narrows her eyes. “What happened? What do you know?”
“Nothing.”
“Pippa—don’t you lie to me.”
I twist my lips to keep from smiling, but it’s futile. “Fine. I was with my friend, Kerissa, on Friday night, and Chuck and his wife just happened to frequent the same establishment.”
She gasps.
“Naturally, Chuck decided to stop by our table to say hello. But he was bringing extra pissiness due to the meeting on Friday, and I was bringing extra sass thanks to La Pachanga’s coconut lime margaritas. We were about to square off once and for all when Jess happened to walk in at just the right moment.”
She leans back. “Jess?”
“The ex-husband.”
You could hear a pin drop in my office as Shelly’s eyes bug out. All I can think about is how Jess would promise a smack on the ass if he heard me call him that.
I should remember to address him like that tonight.
“This is like a fairy tale.” Shelly shakes her head in disbelief. “Keep going. Tell me there’s an alpha moment in this story, dammit.”
I laugh, unable to contain myself. “Girl, if you could only see the way Jess came up behind me, wrapped his arm around my waist, and put Chuck the Fuck in his place.”
Her eyes twinkle.
“Jess was like—now that you know I exist, if you ever approach Pippa like that again, I’ll take it as a personal insult.”
Shelly leans dramatically onto my desk as if she’s collapsing.
“I know,” I say, sighing happily. “And that’s really what … you know, brought us together this weekend.”
Admitting out loud that we’re together—even if for a week—turns a little nugget of worry in my stomach. Every time I consider how poorly this might end, I shove it out of my mind. I refuse to give it any ground to grow.
Jess promised me that, no matter what, we would always be friends. That if I decide in a week’s time that I was right and that this is a terrible idea, he will never walk away from me.
And I want to believe that. My lord, I want to believe that.
I want to believe that he would never change the way he sees me. I hope that I’ll never be judged because I want, or don’t want, certain things in my life. I pray there’s never a day that I see regret in his eyes.
We’re one day in, and I already know that would destroy me.
No. I trust him. He’s the best man I know.
A knock on the door makes Shelly jump. She stands straight and smoothens out her skirt.
“Come in,” I say.
Bridgit opens the door and steps inside. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“No, ma’am,” Shelly says. “I was just bringing her flowers that I saw as I walked by the front desk. Chuck stopped about the Whistler campaign, so I’m off to address that.”
“Thanks for bringing me the flowers,” I say.
She winks. “Talk soon.” She shuts the door snugly behind her.
Bridgit drops a few files on my desk before dropping herself into a chair across from me. “You know, when I was younger, I lived for Mondays.”
“Really? Because when I was younger, Mondays often came with a hangover.”
She laughs. “Well, I came from a family where work came before all else. There were no parties and drinking and fun, really, of any kind. It was work, work, work.”
“That sounds like no fun.”
“It wasn’t. I mean, look where I am now—CEO of Bloom Match. I can’t complain. I just look back on my life and wonder if I could’ve had more fun.”
I sit back in my chair and take her in.
Bridgit’s hair is perfectly highlighted, blown out, and coiffed. Her nails are manicured with fresh French tips. Her signature navy suit has been tailored to hug her curves and her pumps have red soles which means expensive.
She’s the walking, talking, flexing woman who so many want to be. Who knew that she was thinking about having more fun?
“Has Chuck given you any trouble today?” she asks.
“No, actually. He’s been well-behaved.”
She looks impressed. “I expected him to have a tantrum. I’m not sure if I’m happy about that or if I’m sad I don’t have a reason to fire him.”
I snicker.
“I shouldn’t be saying that to you,” she says. “But I suppose if I can’t be honest with my senior staff, then I’m among the wrong group, right?”
Senior staff. I sit a little taller as pride washes over me.
“Do you know what my favorite thing about you is, Pippa?”
“No.”
“You don’t take any shit. You know what you want and aren’t scared to go for it. No one better get in your way.”
Really? “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”
My mind scans through all of the things in my life that haven’t felt that way at all.
Choosing to forgo med school. Telling my parents. Telling Greg. Taking a job with a matchmaking company even though I had no background in the field and it didn’t pay extremely well.
Moving to Kismet Beach and into a small apartment that needs more work than I can put into it. Putting myself out there with the project proposal at work.
The fear of giving things with Jess a try.
I don’t know who Bridgit thinks I am, but I have to disagree.
“Have you confirmed the details for the retreat?” she asks.
“Well, yes and no. I’ve talked to my ex-husband, and he’s willing to give it a try.”
She grins.
I turn toward my computer screen. “I’ve been playing around this morning with different options to see what makes the most sense.” I open a spreadsheet and enlarge it. “The leading contenders are Silver Springs, like we talked about, or this little place outside of Miami.”
“What are you leaning toward? I personally liked Silver Springs. It’s centrally located and there are a lot of different options we can explore.”
“I agree. But here’s the catch …” I highlight two columns. “Everything in Silver Springs is booked for a month, more or less, starting this weekend. Carrington, the place by Miami, has options available next weekend.”
“Oh.”
I swivel around to face her. “This won’t be a problem once we solidify our packages. I’ve been in contact with a few proprietors in each area, and they’re more than willing to work with us on reserving rooms as needed. But, for right now, this is what we’re looking at.”
She places her elbow on the armrest and thinks. “I really think Silver Springs is the way to go.”
I shrug.
“Are there openings this week?” she asks.
“Yes. All week until the weekend.”
