Page 44 of The Expiration Date

“That sounds perfect, Hales.” I give her a small kiss on her forehead and place my pillow down on the ground.

“Do you want to hear another secret?” She turns to her side and clutches the pillow as a way to almost anchor herself. “Well, technically it’s two more secrets.”

“Go on.” I could listen to her talk all night.

“I love the way you look at me.”

Maybe I haven’t been so guarded with my own emotions. I don’t want to be guarded with Haley and part of me is glad that she has noticed my genuine reaction to her presence.

“And?” I egg on.

“And what?” She is barely holding on, nestling her head in the pillow. I want her to get rest, but selfishly, I want her to tell me her other secret.

“You said there were two secrets. What was the second?”

“I love that you call me babe. It makes this whole thing seem real.” She finally drifts off to sleep, creating a soothing cadence with her breathing.

It is a bittersweet confession. No actually, I feel dejected in every possible way. It brings me back to the reality of the situation. Our deal. She clearly doesn’t know how I really feel. Even after the kiss we shared at the bar, she still doesn’t believe that this is starting to become real for me. In her defense, we did start this whole relationship based on the pretense that all of this is fake, any romantic notion we display is for the sake of appearances, and we are doing this to fulfill some other agenda.

The thing about plans and deals? They sometimes change.

And that is definitely the case with our deal. I just hope I can convince her that everything has changed–at least for me.

24

The waves crash against the shoreline. Haley is getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. She’s been recovering after her wild bachelorette party night for most of the day, so she finally wanted to take a shower and slowly get ready since she’s still a little hungover. (I’m being nice. She is extremely hungover.) I told her I needed to check some emails and look at a script Chris sent over to me a couple hours ago. I’m sitting in one of the wooden chairs on the deck, overlooking the ocean.

“Is this seat taken?”

I look up. Surprisingly, Anna is standing next to the empty chair. She’s holding two small disposable cups of coffee.

I click the side button on my phone and give her my full attention. I gesture to the chair. “Nope, all yours.”

“Thanks.” I notice her hair is curled and it seems like her makeup is done. She is already ready for her own rehearsal dinner. Minus the outfit. I doubt that Anna is going to show up to her rehearsal in cut-off jean shorts and a white tank top. Or maybe she would. What do I know?

She extends one of the cups to me. “Coffee?”

That’s probably a good idea. I have a feeling I am in for a long night.

I accept the cup from her. “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

She finally takes a seat next to me.

“So how are you feeling, bride-to-be?”

“Oh me? I am just dandy.” She smiles and sips her coffee.

“No nerves yet?” If I were getting married in 24 hours, I would be a nervous wreck. Not that I don’t want to get married. I actually do. I want the whole gamut. A wife, kids, a house, a huge yard for Ginny and any future pups. The nerves would stem more from my fear of fucking everything up. My schedule as an actor is insane, yet I would want to be there for every moment with my family. I really need to find the right woman to share this crazy life with. That’s probably the first and most important step.

Anna squints out at the water. “I don’t know if I would call it nerves. I think it’s more excitement than nervousness. I’ve been waiting to marry this man for almost fifteen years, that’s probably why. Anyway, I am here on official best friend business.”

Oh god, where is she going with this?

She looks me dead in the eye, and in an oddly flirtatious but accusatory tone she says, “Aidan Stone, I know your dirty little secret.”

Shit.

“And I am telling you right now: if you hurt my girl, I am going to hunt you down and have Dan kick your perfect little ass, okay?” She smiles after her threat.

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