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As always, Dean knew her better than anyone else and immediately responded to her unasked question. He turned slightly in his seat to face her. “You keep talking about all the things I’m giving up because of this.” He gestured back and forth between them. “But I know you and I know that being in one place, being stuck in my townhouse with nothing to do is probably going to kill you.”
She dropped her gaze to her lap and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “It’s more complicated than what I want.”
Dean hooked a finger under her chin forcing her to look him in the eye. “What you want is my top priority.”
A wave of emotion washed over her, the realization last night that the feelings she’d had in high school resurfaced and were far stronger than before still so fresh and leaving her already aching heart raw. He had no idea the impact of those few words.
She swallowed back the lump that had formed so quickly in her throat and put on a smile she hoped appeared far more carefree than it actually was. “You’re aiming for BFF of the year aren’t you, Sparky?”
He winked and smirked, then climbed out of the car before answering. In the handful of seconds it took him to round the hood she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Having sex with Dean might have been the biggest mistake she ever made. With damn near anyone else she could have fallen into a friends with benefits relationship easily. It made sense for her in nearly every aspect.
But Dean was the one person it couldn’t happen with and she should have known better than to try.
Before she was ready, he yanked open the door and held out a hand to help her out of the low riding vehicle. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had that particular award in the bag for at least twenty years.”
He laced his fingers through hers and tugged her toward the glass front door. If she tried, she wasn’t sure she could count the number of times they’d held hands, but deep within herself she noticed a change. One she was positive was one-sided, but present nonetheless.
And in that moment she wasn’t sure she could survive the end of their supposedly fake marriage that was currently far too real.
“So, what’s the plan here, Sparky?”
He opened the door, released his grip on her, and rested his hand lightly on her lower back as he entered the room a step behind her. “You’ll see.”
She pressed her lips together, her eyes darting around the space to try to solve the mystery in her head.
An older man with a receding hairline and expanding waistline approached them with a wide grin and stuck out a large paw toward Dean. “Hey, you did come.”
Dean shook the other man’s hand in a brief shake. “I told you we were coming.”
“I didn’t think you were actually serious about that. Who the hell shows up at a place like this the day after they get married?”
Dean looked down at Jillian, put an arm around her waist, and pulled her close to his side, her body fitting his perfectly and her heart shredding just a little more. “We aren’t your normal, average couple, are we, Jillybean?”
We aren’t a couple at all, although I am fairly certain I would give damn near anything to make this real right now.
The vehemence of the thought even shocked her and she struggled to paste a nonchalant smile on her face. For once she was grateful for cotillion and etiquette classes and the ceaseless lectures from her mother to always put on a happy, genial face, no matter how much she was dying inside.
As much as she could, she ignored the storm of emotions raging havoc in her and dutifully followed the man, whose name she still didn’t know, and Dean as they led her behind a set of heavy metal security doors.
“So Jillian,” the man said as he led them down a corridor, “you ought to know that Dean brags about your work with Doctors Without Borders all the time.”
She nodded and some of the turmoil swirling inside her settled. Her work was something she loved, something she was passionate about, and was far more than a simple career choice. She believed with every iota of her being that this was her purpose in life, helping people by actually helping and not slapping a sad picture on a fundraising poster. Although, shortly after she began working, she gained a measure of gratitude for what her mother did. Funding was definitely always needed.
Dean was right. Staying at home for the next eighteen months might kill her.
She looked up at Dean as the man turned to the left and pushed open another set of doors. “You two have known each other for a while?”
A small smile curled Dean’s lips as they all stopped just inside the large room. “I’ve changed a bit while you were gone.” His voice was soft, and it was as if they were cocooned in their own small world. “Sam and I have worked together for a couple of years now.”
“Dean has been a huge help in working with some of our people and helping us get started.” Sam—she was grateful to finally know his name, but annoyed when his voice cut through, breaking the magic spell that had descended over them. He held an arm out and turned in a half circle, encompassing the entire room in one sweeping gesture.
Jillian drew her brows together as she took in the mountains of medical supplies piled on tables around the periphery of the expansive space. Her gaze darted from the massive hoard to Sam, and then finally rested on Dean. “I don’t understand…”
Her best friend, who lately she was feeling as though she might not even know anymore, laughed lightly. “I figured for a girl like you, there would be no better honeymoon activity than helping out at Sam’s community outreach.”
Dean led her to the various tables stocked with syringes and masks and gloves. “Sam and a couple of other doctors in the area have begun a privately funded and privately owned project to help provide those who are homeless or low income with free vaccinations and some basic supplies to protect them while they are out.”
The other man nodded, a shadow of concern crossing his face. “The state has clinics set up for people to go to, but not everyone feels comfortable in a government run setting. Some avoid being on the radar like the plague. Here we don’t ask for real names or any form of ID. We keep track of who is who on our own, but we just offer safety and help.”
