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Asher, Jeremy, and Oliver are all waiting out on the sidewalk.
“Leaving so soon, Scarlett?” Asher teases.
“I don’t usually loiter around apartment buildings,” she replies. “Where are you gentlemen headed to?”
“Crew’s bachelor party,” Asher replies. He spins hisBest Manbaseball cap around so she can see the front. “I know you lovebirds decided to limit the crowds up front, but I couldn’t resist.”
“Cute,” Scarlett comments.
Ialmostsmile.
“You should come,” Asher suggests.
Scarlett clears her throat. “What?”
“Crew is way more fun to be around when you’re here.”
I shoot Asher a sharp glare for that comment. This isn’t a wide-eyed socialite he’s baiting. In two days, the woman beside me will be my wife. There’s a line, and he’s crossing it.
“Let’s go, Asher.”
He shrugs. “Sure. This will be a challenge for us anyway. Let alone a woman.”
I close my eyes and mentally call Asher every name I can think of. My best man just ensured my fiancée will be at my bachelor party.
The rock gym is crowded when we arrive. I’m surprised; the number of people here demonstrates a higher interest in the activity than I expected it to have.
This is exactlynotwhat I thought my bachelor party might be like: climbing fake cliffs with my fiancée in tow.
Scarlett heads for the small store attached to the gym, probably to swap out the six-inch stilettos she’s wearing for shoes with a flat bottom. She says nothing to me before she leaves, keeping the void of silence that’s hovered between us intact. It stretched the whole drive here, interrupted by polite small talk, mostly between her and Jeremy. I think she’s lying about remembering him from the class they supposedly shared and I hope that means one of my closest friends doesn’t know more about my fiancée than I do.
“I can’t believe you,” I tell Asher, as he pulls out a pair of what are apparently rock-climbing shoes I’m sure he bought just for this occasion. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything. Then you planthisand inviteher?”
Asher smirks as he tugs off his sneakers and yanks on the shoes that look like rubber socks. “One, this will be fun. I came with Charles Goldsmith last month and it was a blast. Two,you’re welcome. Your blushing bride will barely look at you, and it’s obviously bothering the shit out of you. Youlikeher.”
I scoff. “What are you, ten? I don’tlikeher; I’mstuckwith her. My father would permanently disown me if this marriage doesn’t happen. Doesn’t last. It has nothing to do with Scarlett. Although…” I glance at the display of climbing shoes visible through the glass wall separating the store from the gym itself, where Scarlett is talking to a sales associate. “It doesn’t seem like it wouldkillher to act like it’s less of an inconvenience.”
“What did you expect? You’ve said for years this is just business.”
“It is. And she’s making it harder than it needs to be by acting like this is personal, not professional.” Although I started it, I suppose. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more than I did in that library.
“Maybe she’s worried it is.”
I contemplate that for a few seconds. Then dismiss the possibility. “I thinkresignedwould be a better adjective. She wants to live separately, for fuck’s sake.”
“But you aren’t. I had to shove twenty boxes aside to get into your place.”
“Not by choice. Hers ormine.” I emphasize the final word, because Asher seems to think I’m excited about this sham of a marriage. The only part I was looking forward to seems to be on a permanent hold. After our encounter in the library, I had my doubts about a traditional wedding night. Following the surprise trip to Paris she just sprung on me, I’m harboring no hope.
“You agreed to move into her place.”
“It was that or go another round with the lawyers. If she wants to stay in her penthouse so badly, I don’t really care. It’s probably just as nice.”
“It’snicer, actually.” Scarlett’s voice sounds behind me. “There’s a private entrance for the penthouse, and I have my own doorman. I spent five minutes waiting to talk to one of yours before you popped up like some sort of Crew-in-a-box.”
I’m glad my back is to her. It makes it easier to hide my smile at her made-up phrase. When I do turn around, it’s to discover Scarlett has made her outfit as rock-climbing friendly as possible. Her long hair is pulled up in a ponytail, exposing the elegant column of her neck and the hollow of her throat. The pink heels are gone, replaced with a similar style to what Asher is wearing, and the sleeves of her white blouse have been rolled up.
“A whole five minutes?” I drawl. “What a devoted fiancée you’ve turned into, honey.”
