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If she’ll even talk to me after how I acted.

I’m still pissed about how things went down, but it just makes playing pretend that much easier.

Because I won’t get too close. She’s nursing a broken heart… and most days, it feels like I don’t even have one.

And if she can’t have her dream wedding, at least she can plan one and have her article.

And I get my anniversary special feature.

It’s a win-win.

What do I have to lose?

Rushing back to the restaurant, I can see her still at the table, writing furiously in her planner. She’s completely engrossed in her work.

I guess it’s time to propose… a truce.

Chapter 7

Lucy

In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve lost it all. My fiancé. My article. Hell… even my one-night stand. And if I’m not careful, my business will be next. If that fails, the farm my dad put up as collateral—nope, not going there. I do the only thing I know to do when I feel like the world is crumbling in on me and I’m losing control.

I make a list.

And then another.

Appointments I need to cancel.

Vendors I need to call.

I’m just starting on a grocery list when I feel someone standing over me.

I look up just in time to see Beau sliding back into the seat across from me.

“Thought maybe you could use a fresh drink.” He waves over a waiter, who sets down a mimosa for me and a fresh black coffee for him on cue. I really should order some food, but the nerves swarming my stomach like mosquitoes protest.

“Come all the way back just for that? You do realize I’m capable of ordering my own drink.”

“I see that.” He nods at the empty flutes to my right. I’m certain the evidence would have been cleared away by now, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure my tears kept the waiter away.

I ignore him and bring the glass to my lips, sipping the bubbly juice before setting it back down.

“So let me get this straight. You don’t have a fiancé?” Beau’s incredulous voice cuts through the air, and I can feel the weight of his judgment—or maybe it’s amusement. I really can’t tell with him.

I’m still shocked that the passionate stranger I spent the night with is the same businesslike man sitting across the table staring at me.

“I did—” I really don’t know why I need to say more. But he nods for me to continue, and I oblige. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can head back home to Magnolia Grove. “I did, but then he, uh, dumped me,” I admit, feeling a pang of embarrassment wash over me.

“When?” he asks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

“Yesterday,” I mumble, unable to meet his gaze as I put my head down, wishing I could disappear into the floorboards and grab my pen to scribble in the margin of my notebook.

“So, you get dumped by your fiancé, check in to the honeymoon suite at one of the best hotels in Savannah, drown your sorrows in champagne, and then use me for rebound sex?” Beau’s words sting, and I flinch at the harshness of his accusation.

“Please, keep your voice down,” I shush him, glancing nervously around the crowded dining parlor, hoping no one overhears our conversation. “But, yes, most of that is accurate.”

“I see.”