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“Seriously? You don’t think you’re the sellout, Jenson? You work for an ever-growing healthcare analytics company. You’re a city boy.”
The words are scathing and I can’t help biting back at her.
“If I am, you are, too, Mel. Don’t forget why you’re doing this.” I hold up two fingers and rub them together in the universal sign for money. “You don’t have art up on these walls, do you?”
It’s a cruel remark, and I regret it immediately.
Mel stalks away, back toward the entrance of the museum where the bus is leaving in twenty minutes. I turn to follow her, but glance back at the photograph.
Maybe we’re both just caught up in memories of better times.
Chapter13
Melanie
Two more days. Two more days and I can spend the weekend in my apartment, decompressing, just being myself—and not as Jenson Sharpe’s fiancé.
The thought makes my head and heart hurt as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Mel? Does that sound good?”
Dave is looking at me worriedly. I smile and nod, only vaguely aware that I’ve agreed to join a group hike in an hour. Jenson smiles tightly and squeezes my hand, a supposed show of affection, but it just feels like pressure.
“I’m going to try and fit in a half hour in the sauna.” It comes out in a fake happy voice, but I keep up the facade anyway, excusing myself and heading down the beautifully stained wooden boardwalk toward the spa.
As the cedar buildings come into view, steam rising from the roofs, I take a quick turn off the path and step into a wooded area.
A gasp escapes from my mouth, surprising me. Then the tears follow. I can’t help it, and I angrily dash them away, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.
No…not suddenly. This whole two weeks has been stressful, a push-and-pull nightmare of acting like Jenson and I are in love while maybe…just a little bit…
“No,” I gasp, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. “No, no, no.”
“Mel? Are you okay?”
I turn to find Jenson stalking toward me off the boardwalk, concern and annoyance on his face. Immediately, my body goes stiff. We keep at least two feet of space between us. The pressure has gotten to both of us, apparently.
“I’m fine.”
“Well, you don’t look fine.”
I swipe angrily under my eyes. “You don’t know what ‘fine’ looks like on me, Jenson.”
It’s not true, of course he does. He knows me better than anyone, except Aunt Jodie.
There’s an awkward, heavy silence. Jenson steps toward me. It’s not threatening, but I have this indescribable urge to pull away and I can’t meet his eyes.
“If this is getting to be too much for you,” he says in a low voice, “you need to tell me. So we can figure something out. Some story…something about how you have to be away for a bit until the wedding.”
“The wedding?” A surge of surprise and fear goes through me. “I never agreed to—”
“I know.” The words come out harsh. He’s out of patience, his normally light gray-blue eyes a storm. “There won’t be a wedding, Mel, but we need to make people believe there will be. But like I said, if this is too much for you—”
“Jenson? Mel?”
We both turn, Jenson shielding me with his body. I have to crane my neck to look over his shoulder. Roy is standing on the boardwalk, a robe draped over one arm. He looks concerned.
“Are you two okay?”
