My (Mostly) Fake Wedding - Penelope Bloom Page 0,7

a gut feeling that there was still more to the story?

I slid into an Uber outside JFK airport back in New York. It was chilly, overcast, and by all accounts should’ve been a highly depressing return home. Except there was a buzzing, ill-advised hope still churning along inside me. I knew it was supposed to be meaningless, but there was no changing that I’d just had the best sex of my life in a cramped, gross airplane bathroom a mile above sea level. I’d also felt a sort of effortless connection with Chris, and that was the part I was scared of.

It’s what I did all too well. I gave my heart to the wrong people, and I was too stubborn to take it back even when everything in the world said I should. I shouldn’t have been surprised. The first man I see after Lance is the one my brain wanted to turn into Mr. Perfect.

My driver ended up right behind Chris’ SUV, which wasn’t doing wonders for my plan to stop thinking about him as soon as possible. We had talked on the flight back, almost as if nothing had happened. His “goodbye” had been a greedy fistful of my ass under my dress and a wink before we got off the plane. That was it.

It should’ve been simple. We both got what we apparently needed, and our lives would go on.

Except twenty minutes later, we were still directly behind Chris. It had the feeling of fate, even though I wasn’t a firm believer in that sort of thing. Could you really feel that kind of a connection with someone and have it just fizzle apart? Or was there some sort of universal magnetism two people could form—like an invisible rubber band that would only snap them together with more force the harder they tried to move apart?

My worry was ratcheted up a few decibels when I got out of my Uber only to see that Chris was walking into the same building I was. I could practically hear the cosmic snap of our rubber bands colliding.

I glanced up at Rose Athletic Representatives and felt the gears click into place for the first time. That last minute gig I’d accepted via a hasty email from my phone after the blow up in Texas? The wedding for some high-profile client I was planning to dive head-first into? The woman I’d been in contact with had been reaching out on behalf of Damon Rose. As in the brother of the guy I just had a one-time fling with on my flight. As in the guy who had mysteriously told me he was going to be off the market once he got back in New York.

I felt like I’d just had the twist at the end of a movie laden with hints revealed, and now my backtracking mind could see all the obvious clues I’d missed.

I followed him into the building in a daze, not quite wanting to let the full picture come together because I already instinctively knew I wasn’t going to like it.

I passed through the elaborate lobby that was practically a trophy case to show off Damon Rose’s success as an athletic agent. Every extravagance that could be bought appeared to have been purchased and put on display, from glistening, polished stone floors to the stern, almost humorously huge portrait of Damon Rose himself hanging behind the front desk.

I chose a different elevator from Chris, who hadn’t so much as glanced back my way since getting out of his car. A few people crowded in with me, all carrying something from lattes to briefcases.

Running was an option, wasn’t it? After all, I’d run all the way from Texas to New York practically overnight. Who said I couldn’t run just one more time? Just one last indecent escape?

But the thought tasted sour in my mouth. Yes, I was probably about to head into a face-first dose of embarrassment and awkwardness of the highest order. Wasn’t this exactly the kind of opportunity I needed, though? Wasn’t it a chance to grow a spine, walk through the door, and not give two shits about anything except getting the job done?

Brave thoughts, Belle.

My hands didn’t feel brave while they clenched so tight that my fingernails dug into my palms. My knees didn’t feel brave when they were threatening to turn to jelly at a moment’s notice. I guess it was like they said: bravery was only possible in the presence of fear.