Memphis Eve smiled toothily at Ida. “I’d be delighted to! Especially now that I have someone to test them out with.”
Ida handed her a business card. “Call me,” she said.
Harris patted Mark on the back after Memphis Eve left. I was still sweating and anxious.
“Don’t worry Mark,” his grandfather said. “You have Brea. The girl in your bed is better than the girl on Instagram.”
Mark choked again, and Ida handed him her drink. When he took a sip, his eyes started watering, and he grasped for his water glass.
“What is that?” he rasped.
“The house Long Island tea,” Ida said. She sniffed the drink. “I think it’s a little weak though.”
* * *
Mark kissedme sloppily as the town car pulled up in front of my apartment.
“I think I’m too drunk for this,” I told him. “I’ll probably fall asleep halfway through.”
“You don’t want to model your latest corset creation for me?”
Cut him off!the last scrap of the ethical, rational Brea screamed internally.Cut him off before you hurt him.
Tonight had been too close a call with Memphis Eve. For Mark’s sake, I couldn’t keep this fake relationship going.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked. His blue eyes were warm in the light from the streetlamp.
I wanted to see him again. I wanted to spend time with him. But…I couldn’t. I shook my head.
Mark gave me a questioning look. “Are you working? I could just come hang out with you.”
In the hoarder apartment? Dump him. You have to, now, before he gets even more attached.
“Mark,” I rasped.
He leaned over to kiss me, but I pushed him away.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“What, going out on double dates with my insane grandfather? I agree.”
“No,” I said in a small voice. “I mean us. It’s not really professional.” I was trying to come up with good excuses. “I just don’t think that we’re going to actually work out.”
“I thought we were going to give it a shot.” Mark’s body was still in the low light.
I took a deep breath. “We did give it a shot, and it’s not going to work.”
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. The hurt on his face made me feel like a raging bitch—no, lower than that: like chewed gum on the bottom of the shoe of the raging bitch.
“We should just limit our time together for the wedding planning.”
“I thought we were pretty good together,” Mark said, brow furrowed, mouth downturned.
Just put this—whatever this is—out of its misery already.
“We weren’t,” I said bluntly. “Sorry, Mark.”
I opened the door and rushed to the front door of the building. I didn’t look back. I knew Mark was watching to make sure I got in safely.
