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This must be a pity invite. Matthew’s just being nice because that’s who he is. A nice guy.
There’s no point in denying that I’ve taken up too much space in his life.
“If this is all too much, we can call the whole thing off.” I swallow. Guilt swoops in as soon as I say it.
“It hurts my feelings when you bring that up.” Matthew looks at me, but I avert my gaze.
Great. Of course this is happening. I share the smallest part of my feelings, and I’m doing it all wrong. He’s just confirmed I’m hurting him.
“I’m not going to call off our arrangement, and I haven’t given you a reason not to trust me,” he says.
Arrangement. Right. The twenty-five million dollars he needs.
Because what person would actively choose to deal with all of this? With my family? With two weeks of putting on appearances and taking part in silly activities?
Who would choose me?
“I’m sorry.” I reluctantly pull away from him and head into the closet.
“Molly.” He follows me, not letting me hide. Must he do that? My teeth clasp around my bottom lip, and I hold back a heavy sigh. If he’d just let this go, then I could flip a switch and become the person who could make him happy. Not exhausted. “I’m doing my best, but I need a little time to recharge. To justbe. I’d like to do that with you. There are very few places where we don’t have to put on an act.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.” I slip on my Saint Laurent loafers.
He shakes his head, palming the back of his neck. It’d be nice to spend the day with him, but I can’t.
There’s no reason he should give up his time to rest because of me. I’ll cover for him if Lolita asks. That’s fine.I’m fine. The thudding in my ears continues as I stride toward the door.
“You’re leaving? Let’s talk through this.”
“I really have to go.” I fumble with the doorknob.
“Molly, are you not going to finish the conversation?”
“Sorry.”
The crease in my forehead deepens as I dash out of our suite.
* * *
Whack.
A stick pops free from my poorly assembled picnic basket and slaps me in the cheek. The stinging pain barely registers. My mind’s been so preoccupied with what happened.
Guilt claws at me for storming out on Matthew. I panicked. Full-blown, mountain-sized panicked.
Ugh. What was I supposed to do? Manipulate him into coming? Like my mother does to me all the time?
My frown deepens. He’s probably drafting up a contract termination as we speak. Okay. Maybe that’s excessive. We never signed a contract. But still.
I know he’s not committed to me. Matthew is solely devoted to his reforestation project.
He’ll divorce me as soon as he can. And what does it matter? That’s what we agreed to.
I just figured that after our kiss in the pottery studio, things would change. But for the last couple of days, he’s made no advances and showed no interest.
Who am I kidding?
Matthew doesn’t want me. Not the real me. I’ll never be good enough. I’ll never please everyone. Especially not by being myself. I have to keepthatgirl locked in a vault.
