Page 77 of The Sweetness of Life

“Of course he did. His time zone is hours ahead of us, and you know he can’t help himself. He may have retired, but he can’t shut it off.” Kyle grins.

I chuckle, and finally, both Kyle and Michelle relax a little bit.

“I’m going to print the post and have her sign it tomorrow before she leaves,” Michelle adds.

“That’s a great idea, Michelle.” I nod, and she relaxes farther back into her chair.

“Dude, why aren’t you more excited? I’m trying to wrap my brain around this sullen behavior of yours, but it isn’t working. This isn’t you.” He waves his hand up and down in front of me, frowning. “You plan, you execute, and you win. Your general personality is more animated than this, and you’re freaking me out. This is the break we’ve been looking for, working for, and waiting for . . . for months.”

“I reckon so, and I am excited. It’s been a long two weeks, and I’m tired. Twinges of a headache are trying to move in, and I’m staying calm.”

“Well, one more interview, a few pictures, and this is over. She’ll go back to Charleston, and things will get back to normal for us.”

Over.

I don’t want it to be over, and I don’t know what to do or how to approach the subject with her.

“Yep, one more interview,” I say to pacify him, but deep inside it feels more like a finality that causes the dull pressure behind my eyes to throb.

Shit. I rub the back of my neck and open my drawer for some medicine. The stress of this situation along with a lack of sleep is catching up to me, and getting a migraine is the last thing I need.

“Well, I have to say, I honestly didn’t think you’d be able to pull this off with as much as you dislike her, but you turned on the charm and she played right into it. She never saw it coming.”

“I don’t dislike her, and I don’t know if that’s exactly how it happened.” I pop two pills in my mouth and reach for the sweet tea sitting on my desk.

I hate that how he’s summarized my relationship with Shelby—not that we have one, or maybe we could . . . I don’t know. I still need to sit and discuss this with her. Both of us have been avoiding the conversation so we didn’t ruin the time we have left, but hearing him talk so nonchalantly about her makes me feel like shit.

“It is! Zach, we talked about this the day after she got here, last week. Remember: strategy, game plan, execution. Win her over, get the post, and get more business.”

My stomach turns sour, and I want to yell at him and tell him not to remind me. She’s going to think I used her—and I did.

I hate this. Yes, it started out as a game, but it stopped being that days ago—for all of us—although it was never a game to her. She thought I was real, thought we were real.

And we were.

No, we are.

Everything about this is real. Every touch, every kiss, every glance—it all means something to me.

I should tell her. She wrote the post because she genuinely loves it here. I want to be able to share the success with her without feeling guilty over something that doesn’t matter anymore.

The door to my office, which was half closed, slowly opens, and all three of us turn to see Shelby in the doorway. Her arms are wrapped around her stomach and she’s looking right at me, eyes filled with hurt and accusations of betrayal.

No.

No. No. No. No.

Heat flushes straight up my back and into my face. I should stand, move to her, something, but I can’t. I’m frozen to the seat. Not one of us is breathing, and I swear I can hear her heart breaking from across the room—or maybe that’s mine.

“Did I hear that right?” she asks in a shaky voice, the sound slashing its way straight through my shoulders to my solar plexus. “You made a plan to have me fall for you so I’d write a blog post about your winery? You tricked me and lied to me for sales?”

My fingers curl into the fabric of my jeans, my blood starts torpedoing through my veins, and my heartbeat pushes harder behind my eyes. Hearing her say it like that, it doesn’t matter if I come clean or not about the plan; it sounds wrong. I don’t know how to answer her, so I don’t.

“Yes.” The single word comes from Michelle, and my head whips in her direction, shock flooding me as my jaw drops open.

“Michelle, no!” I jump up, but her eyes never drift my way, staying on Shelby. I understand they’ve become friends and Michelle did the right thing by telling her, but it could have been explained better. I should have been the one to admit to it. I just needed more time to figure out what to say.

“I see,” Shelby mumbles after a stalled pause, and I look back to find her staring at the floor, her chest heaving.