“How have you been?” What an original lead in. He felt like some high school kid talking to his crush for the first time. He’d come here with the intention of talking to her, and getting his feelings out in the open. But if she continued to glare at him that would never happen.
Belle straightened the skirt of the light pink dress over her knees. Her hair was down, the curls a temptation unto themselves.
“Keeping busy. I saw that you reached 271 yards against the Vipers. A few more games like that and you’ll be in the record books,” she said.
“I had a good game.” He’d been focused on getting her out of his head. It wasn’t a fruitful endeavor, at least with forgetting Belle. As for his game, it felt damn good to feel successful at something. “Well, I had a great game.”
Silence stretched between them, the crew moving throughout the back of the stage the only sound.
“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” he asked. They were adults; they should be able to talk.
She furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “I’m talking to you now.”
He arched his foot and planted his heel on the carpeting, impatience creeping into his calm. “We’re not really talking.”
Belle lifted her hand and made a sweeping motion with her fingers. “We’re on set. There are mics everywhere. Cameras and people, all watching us. Since we’re going to be ending this soon, we might as well look as miserable as we feel.”
“I’m not miserable.” Liar. He was miserable without her, not the situation.
She fiddled with the charm bracelet with the engagement ring charm. Was she wearing it just for the show or had she been wearing it the entire time? “That’s because you didn’t have to go wedding dress shopping, or shoe shopping, or venue shopping. Why this all falls on women, is…is…”
“Sexist?” he asked. She’d accused him of being sexist on numerous occasions. Mostly in jest. He tried never to be but something about Belle brought out every flaw in him. Or perhaps he was paying more attention because he was self-conscious.
“Yes, very sexist.” A touch of her old humor had returned, her lips curving slightly at the edges.
The sight gave him a touch of hope. Time to run with it or get left behind. “Then we’ll get married in Vegas. No fuss, no muss, just two people and an impersonator.”
“Howler got married in Vegas.” She spun the charm with more speed, her nails short and devoid of polish. The action spoke of agitation, not the direction he ached to steer the conversation.
“See, he’s a smart man,” he said, hoping to appeal to her lighter side. It had been what he liked most about her. That and how smart she was, how every curve of her body fit into his hand, how she snorted sometimes when she laughed. In essence, he loved everything about her.
“He was drunk and married a near stranger on impulse.”
“But he’s still married.” If he could get past her reservations, he might end up in the same spot as Howler. Married to the woman he loved. It didn’t have to be right now but he wanted Belle in his life.
“He fell in love with his wife. We’re not in love. We’re not engaged. We’re not even seeing each other. We’re—"
Darius returned to his chair. “Okay, the dress segment is almost over.”
Erik wished Darius would go away. Her words stung like a son of a bitch but at least the turn of conversation had brought him down the path he’d been trying to find, to discuss his growing feelings for her. This show was getting on his last nerve.
The voice in his ear warned that the show was about to come back. Darius held up a hand and counted down. “Well, I hoped you enjoyed Belle’s shopping trip. Please, don’t forget to go to our website and click on your favorite gown for Belle. The gown with the most votes will be the gown she’ll wear on her special day.”
Under normal circumstances, Erik would have rolled his eyes if not for a simple fact. Yes, it was ridiculous that every part of the wedding would be chosen by audience participation. Except a huge part of the audience had seen what he’d felt, a real connection with Belle. Call him crazy but he’d never felt this way about a woman before and he’d tell her before the day was over. He had to. His future happiness depended on it.
Chapter Forty-Five
Painful didn’t even begin to describe what it felt like for Belle to sit next to Erik and pretend everything was perfect. It was far from perfect. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was bordering on obsession and it frightened the crap out of her. Two weeks of catching her breath every time an email came through from him. Or watching him on television while he played in California and then in Nevada. She was on pins and needles, finding it hard to sleep.
Because when she did. She dreamed of him.
“I can see why you want to keep the dress a secret from Erik. You looked stunning in all three.” Darius leaned his elbow on the arm of the red chair, his impeccably tailored black suit and white shirt enhancing his dark skin.
“I have to admit, it was a toss-up. That’s why I’m glad to get help from the audience. It makes life so much easier to have someone else make that decision for you.” Bull. Shit. It sucked to have someone make such a personal decision for her. Anger surged inside all over again. This was all Erik’s fault.
Except she’d been a willing participant. The same argument echoed inside her head and she had no clue how to get it out. Absence was supposed to be her friend but it hadn’t made a damn bit of difference.
“Second to the dress, is the cake. Since Erik was on the road and couldn’t be a part of the tasting, Belle and her friend Kendra went cake tasting.” Darius faced the camera once more. “Let’s look and see our cake choices.”
