Page 23 of Sweet Caroline
“What?” Fletcher almost laughs. “Why not?”
“Because I’m…” Once again, my gaze lands on the pair of blue eyes trained on me from across the room—the safest harbor in this storm. “Because I’m going with Miles.”
The silence hangs for an uncomfortable beat as we all process what I just said.
“What?” Fletcher turns, no longer ignoring Miles and instead pinning him with an incredulous glare.
Miles opens his mouth—probably to ask what the hell I’m talking about—then stops short when I paste on my bestplease-roll-with-thisface.
“This guy?” Fletcher asks.
Miles shakes his head with a rueful smile, clearly picking up on Fletcher’s derision.
“Fletcher, he?—”
“Yeah, actually,” Miles cuts in, stepping forward. He mocks Fletcher’s tone when he adds, “This guy. I’m taking her. That gonna be a problem?”
Their gazes stay locked for a long moment.
What the hell did I just do?
And what’s Miles doing?
I can’t decide whether to feel relief or panic that he’s going along with this. We don’t actually know each other and he has no idea what this fundraiser is for. We could be raising money in support of some abhorrent cause, for all he knows. Clear-cutting the rainforest. Giving more white men podcasts. Wearing socks with sandals.
Instead of taking the bait, Fletcher spins back to me, eyes narrowed. “Is this your brilliant idea, Care? Your PR scheme?” He laughs joylessly. “You think the public is gonna buy that you’re slumming it with some builder after being withmefor three years?”
Disgust ripples through me, and I sneer right back. “At leasthe’sbuilding affordable housing for families who need it! Making an actual difference. Unlike you. And it’s not like it’s inconceivable, Fletcher. I’m a grown adult. The public will deal with the fact that I have a new boyfriend.”
He huffs through his nose. “Oh, this is rich.”
What did Ieversee in this man?
Heck, maybe I never did see anything in Fletcher. Maybe it wasn’t me choosing him so much as him being chosenforme.
“What’srichis you thinking I want to spend any more time with you than absolutely necessary after what you did. So I’ll be there Saturday, and I’ll be polite and professional in front of the cameras, but that’s it. I’m done.” My words are confident—convincing and committed. No spluttering or uneasy hedging. EvenI’mimpressed with my own acting skills right now, because they’re all I’ve got masking the tornado inside my chest cavity.
“Care, I don’t know who this guy is, but our arrangement?—”
“Our arrangement is over, Fletcher.” I swallow, well aware I’ll be facing my father’s wrath for going rogue. “I never should’ve agreed to it in the first place.”
“Does Pete know about this little stunt of yours yet?” When I don’t answer, he adds, “Or was that as impulsive as it looked?”
I set my jaw. Obviously, my dad hasn’t been briefed yet on my harebrained scheme.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, then storms past Miles and out the door.
A shocked silence blankets the gallery as we both watch my ex climb into his Audi and peel out of his parking spot.
“I can explain,” I say in a rush when I snap back to the present.
Miles’ eyebrows are sky-high, but his lips twitch in amusement all the same. “Iwaskinda hoping you’d fill me in.”
“Okay…” I press my fingers to my temples and try to steady my nerves.
Where do Ieven begin?
I open my mouth to explain, but he beats me to it.
