Chapter 20 #2
I grab his drink and take a big gulp. I’m going to regret it, but I don’t care.
Ollie’s eyes widen because I take a sip of Guinness from time to time but never a gulp.
Placing the glass on the low table in front of us, I stand and ask Daphne where she’d like us to stand.
We pose in front of a bank of windows with the ocean behind us.
Logan adjusts where we stand so we aren’t dark blobs against a bright background.
Thank goodness for his professional photographer’s eye.
“I’m sorry,” Ollie murmurs as we are directed to stand next to each other, Ollie’s arm around me with his hand on my hip, my arm around his waist, and resting my left hand on his chest to show off the ring.
“Okay,” I say. Smiling for the picture.
His chest rises and falls with his sigh.
“Smile, Ollie!” Daphne calls out. This is so awkward.
I glance up and see him trying to smile, but I see worry in his eyes. I hate that.
“Hey,” I whispered, waiting for him to drop his head. “I’m engaged to you. Not anyone else. I wouldn’t be doing this with anyone else. I wouldn’t want to.”
The worry fades from his eyes. “Same. Only you.”
“Yes!” Daphne calls. “That’s perfect!”
I wonder if she has any clue how many moments she’s ruined? I love Daphne, but her timing sucks. If we were really getting married, she’d call out something right when they say Ollie may kiss his bride and interrupt us before our lips could touch.
“Great, thanks, Daphne,” Ollie says, stepping away from me but reaching for my hand.
“Oh, that’s it?” she says sadly. I hate the disappointment in her voice.
Logan chuckles as he looks over her shoulder at the phone.
“Sunshine, they just officially got engaged,” he says dryly. “Hanging out with us was not how they planned on spending their day.”
“Oh. Oh!” Daphne says sheepishly. “Well, look at the pics before you leave, and let me know what I can share. I’ll send them to you too.”
We look over the gallery and approve the ones where we both have our eyes open and don’t look ridiculous. I love the last picture where we’re looking at each other. There’s a connection there, even though we have something we need to discuss.
We thank everyone for the impromptu engagement party. I hug everyone, and when it’s Stone’s turn, he whispers, “I like him. Always have. You’re right for each other.”
I blink back tears as I whisper my thanks and pull away.
Ollie is watching us with a neutral expression.
Ugh. Is Ollie the jealous type who’s going to be upset if I have guy friends other than him?
I’m not going to fall in love with every male friend I have, only him.
Not going to lie, part of me wants him to be jealous because that means he cares.
But the few true friends I have are precious to me, and I don’t want to have to choose between a relationship with Ollie and a friendship.
And I think Ollie and Stone could be close friends.
I don’t want to stand in the way of that.
Ollie doesn’t have many friends either, especially here, so I want him to make friends and not have me be the center of his world.
But I kinda want to be the center of his world. I’ve never been anyone’s center. I’m usually Pluto, accepted as part of the gang for a while and then discarded because I’m not enough.
We walk away from the group holding hands, but this time, it feels like it’s for show and not because we have a connection. I want to cry. Swallowing thickly, I stare at the closed elevator doors as we ascend to our floor.
Ollie looks down at me and sighs. The elevator doors open, and he releases my hand and walks ahead so he can unlock the door of his suite.
I enter and don’t know what to do. This isn’t the comfortable Ollie-and-Phoebe space it was earlier. Do I sit down in the living room? Go into the bedroom and change for dinner? I decide to walk to the window and look at the ocean. It’s always been a calming place for me.
Ollie joins me.
“No seals today,” he says.
“Nope.”
“Are there certain times they’re more likely to show up?”
I rest my forehead against the glass. I don’t want to talk about seals. But he asked, and I don’t want to talk about the real issue here.
“When they do show up, it’s either early in the morning or later afternoon/early evening. They winter down here to escape the harsher weather in Canada and the Arctic.”
He turns toward me and leans his shoulder against the window.
“What’s wrong, Phoebs? How can I fix it?”
I shrug. “Everything’s fine. Are we still going to dinner?”
He doesn’t believe me. I can’t see it on his face. This is the first time I’ve ever lied to Ollie, and I want to cry again.
“Yeah,” he says.
I step away from the window. “Cool. I’ll start getting ready.”
Those brown eyes I love reflect confusion and sadness, breaking my heart.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
I go into the bathroom and climb into the shower so the spray can disguise my sobs.
I thought this was going to be a wonderful day.
Being engaged to Ollie is what I’ve dreamed of, but it’s not real.
I can’t even pretend anymore. And then we go t picked for Pastry Pro because of our connection to the hockey team.
Not because we submitted a kickass audition video and created delicious, beautiful treats, but because of who we’re dating—or fake-engaged to.
I’m getting my cake and eating it too. Surprise, it has canned cat food between the layers.