Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“Most people decline and send a gift,” Oliver adds dryly.
“No, that’s just you,” Evie says, patting her husband’s hand. “Kismet brought you both together. I just helped her along.”
“Did kismet bring you and Charlotte together?” I could bite off my tongue. My head swims with thoughts. How I got here. How I got Evie’s wedding. And underneath it all, there’s that inexplicable swirling of jealousy.
Fin’s brow flickers, but I’m already turning away, embarrassed.
“We’re married,” I begin, without looking at any of them. “But we’re not in love.” Beside me, I feel Fin stiffen. “The whole thing was an accident—a freak accident. Sarai, she—” I halt, not sure why I’d defend her, given her role in this. “There were shrooms,” I add, my words halting and disjointed as I stare at my own palms, as though the rest of my explanation might be written there. “It was a mistake, and we can’t get out of it without a divorce.”
“Oh. I thought Matt said . . .” Evie’s words trail off.
“The media stuff was a shock.” I glance up, pasting on what remains of my professional smile. “And what has happened has the potential to ruin my business, so Fin has kindly offered to stay married to me for a little while. Which I think might help. Help me get back on my feet, at least.”
“That’s about the strength of it,” Fin ends, always ready with a quip.
I even allow him to take my hand between his, because the sudden silence in this vehicle is deafening.
Chapter 27
Fin
Mila is largely silent for the rest of the ride home as Evie and Matt pick up the conversation, filling the holes. I watch her from the corner of my eye as the sun lowers and the streetlamps flicker on and intermittently wash her in a sickly yellow light only to steal her from my gaze again.
Fuck, I wish I could read her thoughts.
The limo pulls to a stop at the front of my building. It’s gone ten now, but London is never really dark. Or silent. Even in the parks and the quietest streets, the hum of traffic is ever present in the distance. Not that I’d have it any other way. I love it here.
I invite my friends in for a drink, not blaming them one bit when they decline. The ride was awkward enough. I can only assume it was Evie’s idea to be at the airport. I expect she was ecstatic to hear the news of my marriage. She’s always teasing me, insisting my life would remain hollow until I found myself the love of a good woman.
My stock answer has long been that I was happy for bad women to fill those holes in the meantime.
Matt beats the limo driver to the bags, pulling them from the trunk before grabbing me in a hard, manly backslapper of a hug.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done,” he says, his arms still around me, “but I expect you’ll fix it, as per usual.”
“Everything I said on the phone was true,” I say, pulling away. “I’ve got it bad, but Mila . . .”
“Ah, jaysus,” he mutters accusingly. Then he eyes me as though I smell unsavory.
I glance at my shoes, feeling so fucking dumb. “I don’t even think Jesus is going to fix this one. Didn’t you hear her?”
When I told her on the plane I’d do this, that I’d fucking “pretend,” I said it was because she had more to lose than me. It was a lie, a great big fucking lie. Because I’ve lost my heart to her.
“You said I couldn’t make her love me, and I laughed it off, remember? Now that’s hubris.”
“Get out of it, you miserable fucker,” he says, dismissing my words.
“I mean it,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ve got nothing.”
“I’ve never known you to give up. Not without a fight. A dirty feckin’ fight.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if you were part of the same ride.”
“That’s the jet lag talking.” His eyes slide behind me, and I turn, following them to where Mila stares up at the imposing edifice of my apartment building. “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog. And that there is some scrappy wee terrier.”
My eyes cut sharply Matt’s way, because that is no dog. That’s my—
“Or to put it another way, the lady doth protest her disinterest a bit too strongly, I reckon. I thought she was gonna bite off your head when she mentioned that fame whoor Charlotte.”
“You think she’s jealous?” It’s probably more that she’s pissed by the implication harming her business plans.
“Cop on to yourself, man. Of course she’s jealous. Just get yourself a good night’s rest. Things will look better in the morning.”
“Sure thing, Uncle Matt.”