Page 26 of Hate To Love You

I don’t want to like him.

I don’t want to be attracted to him.

It’s too late in the day for surprises. It’s evening already. That would make the surprise seem a touch too romantic because the sun is so low and golden, and in a few hours, it will be sunset time. They’re so glorious out here. I don’t want to be charmed by them. Surprises can be dangerous.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave our dads alone. They need constant supervision.” That might be true, but it’s also true that after a few days together in the house, we all could use a break, even if it’s just for a few hours.

He does the casual shoulder-shrug thing that looks so natural on tall guys. He actually pulls it off as though he means it, not like it’s a gesture that says you’re probably right. If we leave, who knows what will happen here? “They’re getting along.”

“Extremely doubtful. They might end up in the pool again.”

“If they do, it will only be for a swim.”

“They might engage in another card game,” I counter.

“I’ve removed all cards from the house.”

“They might…get a sunburn while tanning outside and then blame each other for it and start another decades-long feud.”

He doesn’t sigh in my face. Is it even possible to make this man lose his composure? He’s still all twinkly-eyed and hopeful. And then he grins at me, and it seals my fate. It’s not a grin at my expense. It just promises all sorts of fun that I’m going to one hundred and ten percent like.

“I just don’t want to.” There. I say it. I push it out, and I even manage to make it sound legit.

It doesn’t work. Apollo bats that away with a swat of his hand and a blink of his eyes. He knows I’m as good as a cat right now, and my curiosity is killing me. I always said I hated surprises.

I have a surprise.

“Why do I feel like this is actually a trap?”

“Live a little, Patience. Take a chance. You might just find that there are good things left for you in this life after all. So many good things.”

“The best thing is yet to come.”

His brow curls up. Now he’s on guard. “What’s that?”

“The day we end this fake marriage.”

“That’s great.” He rolls his eyes and sighs at me, but he’s back to grinning in three-point-seven-eight seconds. Damn it, it’s like he knows me. Adult me and childhood me and everything in between that he couldn’t possibly know. It’s like he knew before he even walked in here that I’d end up saying yes because I couldn’t not end up saying yes.

My face is probably doing funny things. It’s probably doing the transparent thing where it lets everyone read every single thought and emotion I’m having. I frown, wince, pull odd expressions, try and channel my inner demons, and summon up a whole lot of shade. Negative, negative, Nancy. I don’t want to be excited. I don’t want to look like I’m excited. I don’t want him to see that it matters to me that he’s apparently done something even the slightest bit special.

Growing up was hard without him. High school was hard without him. After I graduated, I worked with my dad, and every single day was hard. When you own a business, you don’t work nine to five. You work twenty-four hours a day. And you’re always worried about it. You live it constantly, without breaks.

“It’ll be fun.”

Gah, the magic word. Fun. My life hasn’t had a lot of that in it lately. Or for, like, the last decade. I can barely suppress a shiver.

“I’d have to—”

“Everything’s taken care of,” he reassures me.

“I was going to say have a shower, change, and get myself together.” I’ve been quite…frazzled while our dads have been here. Looking good wasn’t high on the list of priorities. Putting myself between murderous glares, starey staredowns, and simmering tempers hot enough to roast a person clean out of their skin in a matter of seconds has been my regular sunup to sundown for the past forty-eight hours, and I’m exhausted.

“You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“I’m not going out like this.” I pull on my T-shirt. It’s vintage, and I love it, but it does have a stain near the bottom at the back, and I know for a fact that I tore a giant hole right above the knee of my leggings today when I caught them on the edge of the patio table outside.

“We’re not going out.”

---