Page 94 of The Accidental Honeymoon

I glance at my phone, hoping for a text from her, something to give me a clue about how she's feeling. Nothing. She's busy at the shop, as usual, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Well, that and the growing stack of work I’ve been avoiding.

It’s just… what if we give it a real shot and it crashes and burns? Or worse, what if it works and I end up dragging her into this insane world of mine?

She deserves stability. She should end up with someone real. She shouldn’t have to deal with the circus that comes with being linked to me.

The doorbell rings, yanking me from my thoughts and momentarily saving me from my own internal tug-of-war. I jog to the door, half-expecting Calla.

Frankly, I hope that she’s as frustrated as I am and she’s come to talk things out. Instead, I find Will and Lana standing side by side, a united front. Will’s my publicist, Lana’s my lawyer.

Seeing them together is never a good sign. The tight-lipped expressions they’re sporting today? Especially ominous.

“Can we come in?” Will asks. His blunt impatience sets off alarm bells in my head.

I shrug and gesture them inside. “Did we have a meeting? I don’t remember scheduling anything.”

My mind races, trying to recall if I’ve missed an important note in my calendar. Not that it would be the first time, lately. My focus has been anywhere but on work.

“We need to talk,” Will says, his tone cutting through the air like a cold front.

“That doesn’t sound good.” I steal a glance at Lana, hoping for some indication of what I’m in for. She’s the more reserved of the two, so she just gives me a distant smile.

I close the door behind them. “Is this about the Q3 projections? I thought we were solid.”

Will waves me off. “The projections are fine. This is…different.” He looks around my house, taking in the decor like he’s searching for something. “Did you redecorate?”

“Yep. New wife, new furniture. But I’m you’re not here to discuss interior design.” Will never stalls. He dives in headfirst, consequences be damned. So why the hesitation?

We move to the living room and that’s when I notice that Lana is clutching a leather portfolio, the kind thatusually holds contracts or court filings. My gut tightens. I’ve been doing this long enough to know when I’m about to get served something unpalatable.

“Well?” I say. I gesture to the couch. “Sit down and tell me whatever it is you’re here to say.”

“If you and Calla are sticking together,” Will starts, his words slicing through the room, “we need her to sign a lot of post-nuptial agreements. This marriage has gone on longer than we expected, Jay. You have to protect your business assets. If something goes sideways, you could lose a small fortune.” Lana slides a ream of papers out of the leather portfolio and I avert my eyes, because I know what one of the forms must be.

A surge of anger washes over me. “Will, you work for me, remember? Not the other way around.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Are you in love with her? Then get her to sign the post-nuptial papers. If not, you need to get an annulment, ASAP.”

I’m supposed to tell him if I’m in love? If I can barely admit my feelings to myself, how am I supposed to reveal them to my publicist?

Will doesn’t wait for me to respond. He launches into his agenda with a practiced smile, the kind that never reaches his eyes. My eyes drift to the annulment papers in Lana’s hands. One signature and all this confusion goes away. One signature and I’m back on the path we set out, the path that’s supposed to lead to success and happiness.

But whose success? Whose happiness?

Will is still talking. He paints a vivid picture of the potential scandal if we delay. The tabloids speculating about our relationship, fans questioning my integrity.

Is it bullshit? I can’t tell.

“Will, it isn’t your job to tell me to annul my quickie marriage,” I blurt when he finally pauses for breath.

Will's lips press together for a brief moment, forming the kind of tight line you see on a kid who’s just been told ‘no’ for the first time. “I have your best interests at heart, Jay. As always.” His tone makes me wonder when he last believed in what he was saying.

I sit down in the armchair, crossing my arms, and study the two of them. Will and I have been through a lot. Crises, triumphs, more crises. His logic is usually airtight. I’ve come to rely on his ability to see around corners.

Lana, I don’t know as well. I can’t gauge whether or not to fully trust her.

Honestly, my gut is telling me that my best interests might not be the same as the PR machine’s interests anymore.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” Will continues after a beat. “To protect everything you’ve built.”

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