My gaze flicked to the more formal dress further along the closet rail, but then I remembered what Dane had said to me yesterday before I left o-Verve …
Don’t dress as my PA. Wear what you’d wear to go on a date, not what you’d wear to go to a business dinner.
I looked back at the black dress I was holding and gave it a firm nod. Yes, this would do. I’d throw on a light layer of makeup, add some jewelry, maybe curl the ends of my hair and leave it down. First, I needed to shower.
Blowing out a breath, I put a hand to my fluttering stomach. First dates were always nerve-wracking. But this wasn’t a real date, so I technically had no need to feel nervous. There was no pressure to impress, no worry that this might end up being a waste of my time, no need to stress over whether or not my date would like how I looked. Plus, this wasn’t a stranger. I knew him fairly well.
And yet, I was a bag of nerves.
Well, it wasn’t every day that a girl went on a fake date with her soon-to-be fake husband.
It wouldn’t require any acting skills on my part to seem attracted to him. I just hoped he believed it was an act, because I didn’t want him knowing about the little crush that I’d done an amazing job of hiding so far. And how did I know he was clueless about it? He hadn’t found a new PA. Dane did not keep women around who mooned over him.
Hopefully I’d do just as good a job of hiding it when we were living together. God, was I really going to marry Dane? Was I really going to stand in front of an officiant with him in six weeks’ time? Was I really going to be his fake wife for an entire year?
Yes, apparently, I was.
Twelve months seemed like a long time but, really, a year could fly by. Every time Christmas came around, I often couldn’t believe it was already—
A knock sounded at the door. Figuring it was most likely Ashley, since no one had buzzed me through the intercom, I carefully laid my dress on the bed, padded out of the room, and made my way to the front door. I looked through the peephole out of habit. Tension zipped through me, but I just kept on looking. Because I had to be hallucinating. I had to be. There was no way he’d have found out where I lived and then trudged over here.
Owen knocked again, adjusting his tie with his free hand.
I stepped back and raked my fingers through my hair. I couldn’t imagine what would bring him here, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I could ignore him, of course, but he’d only come back. Owen was tenacious that way.
I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Owen’s mouth curved. “Hi, Vee.”
“How did you get in the building?” I asked, not feeling all that welcoming.
“I was about to buzz you when someone opened the main door to leave the complex. I slipped inside before it could close.” He took a slow step forward. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Talk?”
“Can I come in?”
“I have somewhere I need to be soon.”
“Ten minutes. Please. Or maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow.”
Meet? Lunch? Fuck that. It seemed simpler to just find out now what had brought him here. I opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Ten minutes.”
He walked in like he owned the place and glanced around. One corner of his mouth canted up. “So, you’re still all about the clutter.”
I gave him a Dane-like “Hmm.” I gestured at the sofa and then sank into the armchair. “What can I do for you?”
He perched himself on the edge of the couch and braced his elbows on his thighs. “I just …” He licked his lips. “It was a shock seeing you again the other day. I had no idea that you worked at o-Verve. I deliberately didn’t look you up over the years. I didn’t want to know if you were married.”
“I heard you are.”
He pulled a face. “Tiffany and I have actually filed for a divorce. People change as they age. We grew into people who still get along well but who are more like housemates. Well, housemates and colleagues—we work at the same company.”
“I see. Well, I’m sorry to hear you’ll be divorcing. It can’t be