Chapter 6
Harper
“I’msorry I fucked up and you’re stuck in the middle of it. Truly.” He looks over me once and then his eyes drift out toward the water. “If I knew another way…”
We’re sitting on the deck of a burger place under the awning off in a corner. I’m mostly just praying he’s not recognized because I’m not ready for that side of things yet—maybe never. But especially now when I have a cut and bruised lip that I don’t feel like showing off, I’m extra cautious. I glance back toward the inside of the restaurant and everyone seems lost in their own worlds and conversations so I’m not too worried, but it still makes me nervous.
“The owner here won’t let anyone bother us. She’s a good one.”
My eyes snap back to his, realizing he can read my thoughts. I don’t like the little whisper of curiosity I have at how he knows the owner or how she’s a “good one”. I can guess. Probably the same way he knows most women in his orbit.
“And she’s a married friend of my sister’s. So don’t get fuckin’ ideas.”
I frown at the fact he’s read my mind twice in the same number of minutes.
“Stop reading my mind,” I grumble, eating another French fry off my plate.
“Stop being obvious about what’s on it.”
I glare at him for half a second for being right and then look out at the water.
“How is the lip, anyway?”
“It’s fine. A lot better than it was. How’re the knuckles and the side?”
“Fine. Nothing I don’t get most weekends anyway.”
There are a few moments of silence then, as we both eat our food and watch people walking down the pier.
“So how does this work anyway?” I ask finally, wanting to know what my fate’s going to look like if this is a thing we’re doing.
“I’m gonna talk to Drew and my PR team later after we’re done here. Let them know the situation. I’m sure they’ll have thoughts.”
“That’s good, minus the Drew part. I’m not looking forward to that.”
“So you’re sure you want to tell him this is fake?”
“Yes. Better that than telling him it’s not and having him find out. Let’s go the route of least humiliating for me, shall we?”
“As you wish.” He smirks, and I give him a look.
“So what does this look like in practice though, between us? We just have to go out on dates a few times and be seen or whatever?”
“Something like that. I did a stint a few years back with some actress that was coming up because my publicist Sam thought it would be good. It was basically that. Just going out. Doing some couple things. Making sure cameras saw us.” He shrugs.
“Okay.”
“I have a few things we can do. A friend’s bar is opening and there’s another fundraiser event this week. Then I can get you tickets to the first game.”
“This week? Okay.” This week sounds soon. Too soon.
“If there’s anything you want me to go to with you, just let me know.”
“I can’t think of anything at the moment, but I’ll let you know.” Anywhere I would be going is no place for him, but it’s thoughtful of him to offer.
“We’re gonna have to be able to do other things though. For the cameras.” He sits back in his chair, draping his arm over it.
“Like?” I raise my eyebrow.
“Touch. Kiss. Look like we actually like each other.”
That all sounds like danger. Especially for me and my as of yet uncontrolled stomach flips and heart palpitations.
“I like you just fine. Maybe we’re just not PDA people.”
“You ever seen a tabloid cover of a couple where there wasn’t some PDA involved?”
“No,” I grump, realizing he’s right.
He looks at me like he enjoys my revelation, and then takes a sip of his drink.
“But we need to have boundaries.” I point out the obvious. He’ll want them too. I doubt he wants me in his business acting like a real girlfriend would.
“Like?”
“It can’t go farther than that. Whatever we have to do publicly to have people think we’re a couple as long as it’s within reason, fine. But beyond that, we should keep our distance.”
“Worried you’re going to fall for me, Saint?”
Terrified is more like it.
“Worried people will get the wrong impression.”
“Can’t have that. So that’s your boundary then?”
“Yes,” I answer, but then immediately wonder why he asked. If that’s his way of implying it’s not one he cares about.
He nods, pursing his lips a little as he does it. “That’s fair. My boundary is that you aren’t dating or talking to anyone else.”
“What?” I scoff.
“You heard me.”
“I’m recently divorced. There’s lost time to make up for.”
His brow furrows. “I’m not having headlines saying you’re cheating on me.”
“Unlike some people, I can be discreet.”
“That’s my boundary, Saint. I’ll respect yours. You respect mine. That’s how we keep it from getting messy, right?”
“Great. So now I have to waste even more time.” I shake my head, a sarcastic laugh coming out as I do it.
“You’ll live.” He gives me a tight smile.
“Fine. The same goes for you then. No women. Anywhere. Anytime. Not in real life. Not in your texts. Not in your DMs.”
“Okay.” He lifts his shoulder nonchalantly.
I roll my eyes. “I give it a day.”
“Can’t wait to surprise you, Saint.”
“I’m going to check up on it. Don’t think I won’t.”
“Just let me know what you want to see. You can look at my phone anytime.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“What?” He looks at me like he’s confused.
“Like you didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“That he cheated on me. I assume you’d have been his wingman in that. No other way he’s getting girls fresh out of college to date him.”
“He cheated on you?” His voice has taken on a frosty tone.
“You don’t have to pretend you didn’t know. I spent way too long doing that.”
“I didn’t know.” There’s an insistence that makes me want to believe him.
“You didn’t help him?”
“He never touched another woman around me. I would have had his balls for it.”
The way he says it, I almost believe it.
“With the way orgies follow you around, he never fell in one? No trips to Paris for the two of you?” I laugh because it finally amuses me to think of Drew running around after him, and the laughter doubles as I imagine him trying to hit on young college-age women. Alex looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Sorry, I just… oh god. I’m just imagining him trying to chase your leftovers around. Trying to pick up the women who are usually after you in his fucking loafers and dad bod. I feel sorry for the women, honestly.”
“You thought I’d help him cheat on you?” He almost sounds insulted, and I really don’t know why.
Before me, Drew had been as much about that lifestyle as Alex still is. I guess he really never quit considering the cheating. But they’d been each other’s wingmen in college, and I assumed Drew would be excited to pick back up where he left off. Having a professional football player as famous as Xavier as your best friend certainly improved your prospects.
“Didn’t you? You never seemed thrilled that we got married. I honestly figured you might have been half the reason he finally agreed to the divorce. That you might have lured him with the promise of nights out and trips on yachts with lots of women. Except then you said you didn’t know. Which is still strange. I assumed that you would have thrown him a post-divorce sex party.”
“No to fucking all of that.” He looks oddly grouchy, and I don’t know what I’ve said that’s offensive. “Is this why you’re radiating fuck-you energy?”
“I guess it’s a part of it.” I shift in my seat because now I feel a little silly.
“Then let’s clear this up right now. I didn’t know he cheated on you, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t have helped him. I didn’t know you had problems. Though I could have guessed with the way you two were acting at that last party. And like you already know—he didn’t tell me you were divorced. But you’re right. I wasn’t thrilled you got married because I didn’t think it would end well. I know Drew, probably better than anyone, and I didn’t think he was good enough for you.”
“Oh,” I say softly, feeling like I’ve been put in my place ten times over.
“I’m not the greatest guy in the world, Saint. But I’m not that much of a fucking asshole. Christ.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought with you two being close…” I trail off, staring down at the table and feeling about two inches tall.
He scrubs through his hair and stares out over the water again.
“Being close doesn’t mean we’re anything alike. And frankly, I don’t know how close we are anymore anyway. We were close once and then stuck together because of our contract. Now though… I don’t know. If he’d cheat on you when you did nothing but worship the ground he walked on, fuck knows what he’d do to me.”
“You do have a weirdly competitive friendship,” I acknowledge.
“Yeah. Something like that…” he trails off and he looks past me into the distance like he’s thinking about something. I don’t want to press this conversation any more than I already have. I feel bad that I might have inadvertently hurt his feelings, and I hate that he was trying to protect me last night and I’ve been so prickly. Guilt suddenly washes over me.
“Alex… I’m sorry. For everything. For being what got you into this mess and for thinking you would have done those things. Maybe we can try to start over. Try to be friends if we’re going to be stuck like this anyway?” I try to offer a white flag.
His eyes come back to mine. “I got myself into this mess. I could’ve handled shit better than I did. I just reacted too quickly when I saw your face… But yeah, we can try that.”
He gives me a small half smile that doesn’t feel entirely sincere, but it’s at least better than the grouchiness from before. He downs the rest of his drink and then pushes his chair back.
“You ready?”
“Yeah.”
As we leave the place I can feel the eyes on us, a few whispers and smiles, as we walk past tables to the exit, and I wonder if this is just a taste of what it’s going to be like pretending with him.