Cole and Declan were right, too. The thought makes me cringe, gritting my teeth. They were right, and I didn’t listen to them. Any of them.
I need to put some space between us, before it’s too late.
Olivia is still talking—about the wedding, now. “I was thinking about what your mom said last night. About the wedding planning. I’m a little nervous about it, to be honest. Like… I know it might make things easier to accept her help, but?—”
“Trust me,” I say reflexively. She looks surprised that I’ve cut her off—I’ve been quiet for the past few minutes, I guess. “It won’t be so bad.”
She purses her lips, then sighs. “Yeah, I guess not. And I can see what your father means—it does have to be a bit of a spectacle, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Before I can change my mind, I decide to start establishing that distance now. “But don’t worry. We can count on our contract. We can both walk away from this after six months are up, no harm, no foul. Go back to our regular lives.”
I watch Olivia’s face carefully for any signs of disappointment, but her expression is suddenly mask-like. She nods in agreement. “Yeah. That’ll be a relief.”
I exhale quietly. “Yeah.”
It’s silent between us for a long moment—possibly even several minutes. I feel a little bad for bringing up the contract, since it definitely took the wind out of our sails, but it was necessary. It was a reminder of what we’re doing here, a reminder that this is temporary, and that no feelings are supposed to get involved.
After a while, Olivia speaks up again. “So what does our schedule look like for the rest of the week?”
With this topic of conversation, I can feel the distance start to settle. I feel a pang of guilt at pushing Olivia away, but at least she picked up what I was putting down. I tell myself that it will be easier this way. Much easier.
I clear my throat. “Well, I have a fairly busy week at work, but I know that PR is going to want at least a couple of public appearances from us. Probably a dinner out on Friday. And, of course, you have the wedding planner at the country club tomorrow.”
I’m expecting Olivia to pull a face at that—she’s going to attend that meeting with my mother, and I know she’s dreading it. But her expression remains neutral. Professional.
“Right,” Olivia says. “I have it down in my calendar, don’t worry.”
“A driver will come to pick you up for it.”
“Sounds good.”
We lapse into silence again. Eventually, Olivia stands.
“It’s getting late,” she says. “I’m off to bed.”
“Yeah, me too. Probably for the best.”
She starts down the hallway, toward her bedroom. I want nothing more than to follow her; for a moment, I’m sorely tempted to give up on the careful space I’d created, and rush after her. Scoop her up in my arms. Throw her down on the bed.
But instead, I turn to my room. Before I’m halfway down the hall, I hear her door close.
No sex tonight. Frustration prickles beneath my skin.
I almost regret it. But a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Declan reminds me:it’s for the best.
Olivia
The meetingwith Cecily weighs heavily on my mind for the entire next morning. Reed’s reminder last night wasn’t necessary; I hadn’t fully been able to put it out of my mind, despite my best efforts.
I sit on the couch by myself, knitting and doing my best not to let the turmoil of my thoughts mess up this sweater. Cecily and the wedding planner are my foremost concern, but I also can’t stop thinking about how strange Reed was acting last night.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he seemed uncomfortable. He was colder than usual, and I can’t figure out why.
When the intercom buzzes, it makes me jump. I’ve never been alone before when someone has come calling. Confused, I shuffle over to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hello, Miss Quinn,” Henry replies through the speaker, his voice cordial. “There was a package delivered to the two of you. Would you mind coming down to pick it up?”
“Not at all. I’ll be down in a minute.” I slide on my slippers, which are on the floor next to the elevator. I guess if I’m home by myself, the least I can do is pick up Reed’s mail.
