Me: Oh. What did she say?
I don’t have to ask. I know Paige. Whatever she said, it wasa lie, carefully constructed, to make herself look like the real victim in all this.
Gwen: Who cares. I deleted it without even listening to it. Fuck her. Growing up is realizing my big sister was never boring. She was just never afraid to be herself. Good night. ILY
Even though nothing could be further from the truth, I don’t correct her.
Me: I love you too, Gwenie.
Hitting send, I set my phone down just as the bathroom door opens. Hair still damp, wearing another pair of cashmere sleep pants, Dean appears in the doorway a second before he turns off the light. Offering me a bland smile, he skirts the end of the bed where he lays the watch I gave him on the nightstand next to his phone, before pulling back the covers and settling in. “Night, Mills,” he mumbles without bothering to look at me. Before I can even answer him, his lamp is clicked off and we’re plunged into darkness.
Laying down, I stare at the ceiling until I can’t stand it anymore. Finally ready to scream, I roll over to face the Dean-shaped lump on the other side of the bed, as far away from me as he can get.
“Dean.”
He doesn’t answer me but his shoulders go stiff under the blanket so I know he heard me, he just doesn’t want to talk to me.
“I’ll reimburse you,” I promise quietly. “I have some cash with me. Maybe not enough to cover the full amount but as soon as we get backto?—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rolling over, onto his back, I can see the scowl he aims at the ceiling. “Reimburse me for what?”
“The anklet.” Thinking about how much he paid for it, I feel my stomach roll again.
He sits up to glare down at me. “The fuck?” he barks out on a harsh humorless laugh. “Are you for real right now?”
“I—” Suddenly at a loss, I stare up at him, heart pounding in my chest because I insulted him. I know I did—I just don’t know how. “I know you only bought it for me because we’re pretending to…” Even though I’ve mostly gotten over my aversion to saying it out loud, the warning sound Dean makes in the back of his throat tells me now is not the right time to say the wordfuckout loud.
“Oh, isthatwhy I bought it for you?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “So, glad you explained it. I was confused.”
“I had no idea it was so expensive.” Since I have no idea on how to respond, I decide to just stick to the script. Say what I planned and then let it go. “I thought it was just?—”
Dean has other plans. “Some cheap, gift shop trinket?”
“Well…” Suddenly uncomfortable with the way he’s looking at me—like I just spit on him—I nod my head against the pillow. “It just never occurred to me that you’d?—”
“Let me make sure I’m understanding the situation—youcan give me a watch worth more than some people make in a goddamnedyear, butIcan’t give you a fucking anklet that barely amounts to lunch money for someone like you?” When all I can do is stare up at him, he gives me one of his smirks, this one caustic around its edges. “Yeah—that seems fair.”
Sitting up on a strangled sound, full of frustration, I turn to face him head on. “I don’t know why you’re so angry all of a sudden. All I did was offer to?—”
“You wanna know why I’m angry? I’ll tellyou—” Dean leans into the space between us, his features suddenly pulling into sharp focus in front of me. He’s not just angry. He’s livid. “because no matter what I do, I’m never gonna be—” He stops himself before he can finish, his mouth snapping shut so hard, I can practically feel his teeth clack together. Reaching up, he swipes a hard hand over his face like he’s trying to smother himself. “Jesus Christ—what the fuck am I doing?” Turning away from me, Dean begins punching his pillow back into shape. “It’s fine, Mills. You wanna pay me back? Go ahead. Matter of fact, you can take it off and chuck it in the motherfucking ocean, for all I care.” Lying down, Dean gives me his back, plunging me into silence and abruptly ending the argument between us.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him quietly because I don’t know what else to say. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Like when I said his name earlier, Dean’s shoulders go stiff against my apology. “Don’t flatter yourself, Princess,” he tells me on another dry chuckle. “You didn’t even come close.”
THIRTY-TWO
I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
Even after she started in with her nonsense about paying me back for the anklet I bought for her, and how angry her insistence made me, I still couldn’t fall asleep until I had her in my arms.
Since the morning I pulled her into my lap and fucked everything up, I made a habit out of sneaking out of bed so I can sit on the deck and watch the sunrise over the ocean. I tell myself I’m enjoying my solitude. I’ve lived alone for the last several years. I don’t have a roommate. I don’t let women spend the night. I don’t even have a houseplant to keep me company and having uptight Millie Blackwell in my face every time I turn around is getting on my nerves.
That’s what I tell myself but it’s a lie.
What I’m really doing is preparing myself for a day full of touching and kissing Millie like she belongs to me when I know she really doesn’t. I have to sit there and stare at the ocean and build a wall so that when she wakes up and joins me at the table for breakfast, I can be the version of me that she’s gotten to know over the last few years. The version that calls her stupid, made-up names and teases her about how many bikinis she packed because that’s the version of me she’s comfortable with. The version of me that knows better. Sees this whole thing for what it really is and understands that all he is, is a way to get even.
Seriously? This was your idea, asshole. You’re the one who suggested that the two of you put on a show for her social media followers. And let’s be honest—your public image hasn’t exactly suffered, has it?
