Page 90 of Married to the Frenemy

His expression falls as he drops his hold on me, averting his gaze. “Actually, I can’t make it.”

“Oh. Okay. Maybe some other time.” I smile, but can’t shake the unsettled feeling in my gut. “I should head out and get her,” I tell him, even though I don’t have to leave for another hour. “I need to run a few errands. Should I expect you for dinner?”

He pinches his lips together, conflicted.

It’s a simple question. One I’ve asked countless times.

But today, it feels like I’m asking him to decide between two impossible choices.

“Haley,” he sighs, running a hand over his face. When he finally manages to return his gaze to mine, my heart squeezes at what I see within.

“What’s going on, Beckham?” I ask nervously, although I’m not sure I want to know the answer. “And don’t tell me it’s because of stress at work.”

He pinches his eyes shut before dragging them up to meet mine. “Grady will no longer be selling the vineyard to me.”

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach, all the oxygen whooshing out of me. This doesn’t make sense. A few weeks ago, we were celebrating that Grady agreed to sell to Beckham. And now he’s changed his mind? I can only think of one reason for his sudden about face.

“Did he find out?—”

Beckham holds up a hand, cutting me off. “It doesn’t matter why. All that does is he’ll no longer be selling to me.”

I blink, my limbs heavy, my stomach turning sour.

“Where… Where does this leave us?” I ask timidly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“With no sale, there’s no reason to stay married.” His tone is neutral, but his eyes betray a hint of sadness over the prospect.

“Won’t Grady get suspicious if we split up now? You wanted to stay married for six months after the sale went through so he didn’t know it wasn’t real. The same could be said for now,” I argue, grasping onto any shred of hope that might give me a little more time with him.

I thought we had another year. Now I’m just supposed to be okay with walking away and pretending the past few months never happened?

“He already knows, Haley.”

“Knows what?”

“That it’s not real.”

“Is that… Is that why he won’t sell? Because I…” I trail off, attempting to get my thoughts in order.

“Because what?”

I meet his eyes, debating my next course of action. I can just let it go. I should let it go.

A few weeks ago, we agreed we’d take it one day at a time. That we wouldn’t make any grand plans for a future. I didn’t think we could have a future, not with all the baggage we still carried.

But if this is potentially our last day together — hell, our last minute — I need to put it all out there, let the chips fall where they may.

“It’s real for me, Beckham,” I admit.

“Haley…”

“Maybe it wasn’t in the beginning,” I continue, ignoring the warning in his tone. “But right now, it’s real.” I move closer and bring my hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. “And I know it is for you, too.”

He closes his eyes as he leans into my touch. But his moment of tranquility is fleeting, quickly morphing into painful realization. He jerks away from me as if the feel of my skin is a searing brand on his flesh.

“We agreed this would eventually come to an end,” he declares.

“We also agreed to take things one day at a time. And I don’t want this to end. Not anymore. I don’t want to walk away just because things have changed. We’ve amended our agreement before. Let’s do it again.”

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