26. too perfect
too perfect
MARLEY
“So, how did it go?” Othello asks. We are on the way back to Grand Palms.
This time, we aren’t in a helicopter. We’re being chauffeured in the Cadillac Escalade from last night. The scenic views are just as pretty as I watch the tropical paradise environment blur through the tinted windows.
“It went well. I really like her. She’s a lot cooler than I thought she’d be.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. We’re officially doing it. Carina and Gavin will be on the cover of Mod this spring/summer. ‘A Love Worth Celebrating.’ It’s a working title, but I’m excited.”
“Wow, that’s great,” Othello exclaims. “Congratulations.”
I thank him, beaming from the inside with a thousand volts of excitement. The exposure alone can change everything for the magazine. And working closely with Collette is the kind of opportunity most journalists dream of. I’m still processing how quickly we’ve collaborated.
Collette and I spent the afternoon discussing everything from creative direction and photography concepts to timelines and the overall story she wanted to tell.
I couldn’t help but notice that Carina wasn’t present for any of this.
I didn’t think she’d be the type to skip a professional meeting.
Especially one revolving around not only her but her wedding.
Collette’s excuse was that Carina was busy with wedding festivities and bridal duties, but I wasn’t entirely convinced.
The more we conversed, the clearer it became that Collette was in control of her daughter’s wedding story.
I almost felt like I was sitting with a version of my own mother. Another woman whose love for her daughter translated into managing every detail of her life.
“But are you okay with it?”
Othello’s question interrupts my thoughts.
I turn my eyes from the window and look at him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I guess ‘cause this trip is a sharp turn from your vacation agenda in part to me already. Now you’re basically working when you’re supposed to be relaxing.”
I sigh and then shrug.
“You’re right, my vacation is not going as planned. But when you love what you do, it’s not really work, right?”
Othello’s eyes collide with mine, and he reaches over, taking my hand in his. That familiar jolt of electricity shoots through me the moment our fingers touch. His thumb rubs over the back of my hand, and I press my knees together, trying to ignore that throb between my legs.
“That’s exactly why you’re so good at what you do,” he says, his voice dropping to a comforting murmur.
“Your passion is rare, Marley. Don't apologize for that. Just promise me you won’t burn yourself out before the trip is over. You’ve already taken a big detour for my sake, tying you up with all this. ”
He pats my thigh.
“Let’s make a deal. You can chase your story in the morning, but the afternoons and nights belong to enjoying Maui. Deal?”
“Deal,” I answer bashfully.
“Cool.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close to him. The woodsy citrus scent of him is mesmerizing. How good would this feel if it were true? I push off of him, sitting upright.
“Othello, we don’t have to, you know…pretend when we’re alone.”
“Who says I’m pretending? I’m genuinely happy for you. This is going to be great, and I think you are going to kill it.”
My heart flutters at that. “Thank you,” I murmur softly.
He looks away from me, turning to stare out the window, but I don’t miss the disappointment on his face.
His cell phone buzzes with a notification, and he pulls it from his pocket. His eyes scan the screen after he unlocks it, and he shakes his head.
“The guys are reminding me to meet them in the lobby in an hour. I forgot we’re scheduled to go fishing on some boat.”
“Fishing in Maui sounds like some good bonding time. Have you and Gavin talked?”
“Nah, not yet.”
“Are you waiting until he asks you for the wedding rings?” I tease.
Othello laughs at this. “Nah, I just… I don’t know.”
“You can’t exactly avoid the groom, Othello. You are the best man.”
“I’m aware.”
“Do you, though? By the way you’re acting, I thought maybe you forgot,” I tease.
“I haven’t forgotten. Trust me,” he drags out. “I guess I’m waiting for it to happen naturally. Or for him to approach me first. I wasn’t the one who lied.”
I give a tight-lipped grin.
“What?” he asks bashfully. “I mean, you’re right. I can’t keep avoiding this. And I’m not. Between you and Jerome, I’m feeling a little more level-headed.”
“Are you really?” I test him.
“Yeah, I know I’ve been holding onto the past a little too hard. I’m ready to put it behind me and start showing up again.”
“You’re welcome.” I lift my shoulder to my cheek and smile. “As your fake girlfriend, that’s what I’m here for. Your emotional support.”
Othello chuckles. “That fake girlfriend title is getting harder and harder to believe. It’s beginning to feel anything but fake.”
He holds my gaze, and the words linger in the air between us. I feel exactly what he means, but I won’t agree with him. Not out loud. Because I’m already standing too close to the edge of something I promised myself I wouldn’t fall into.
“Why did we agree to this shit again?” he asks.
His visceral reactions crack me up. “Othello, we didn’t originally agree to this. You pulled me into this fake dating circus.”
“Circus? Damn, I don’t think it’s been that crazy. I’ve actually enjoyed this time with you. And to be honest, I wouldn’t mind putting this whole charade to the side.”
What he says catches me by surprise, making my heart stumble in a chaotic beat. To stop playing this game with him would mean letting something real take its place. And as much as I’ve wrestled with the idea, we absolutely can not.
My relationships always start out like this. Pining during the spark stage where everything is bubbly and giddy. Men playing with my emotions while I fall too soon and too fast for their sweet charm. Me not seeing their intent being for a good time, not a long time.
It’s all butterflies and lies.
And every moment I’ve shared with Othello has all been too good to be true.
It could be the environment. Where we are.
Here in Maui with these magical moments in paradise.
It’s all just too…magical. And that’s not real.
It’s a facade. Blinders to get me caught up.
Everything about him and the way he makes me feel is all too familiar.
All too perfect. And perfect makes me nervous.
Othello’s finger slides beneath my chin, lifting my face towards his, and pulling me back into the moment.
“What are you overthinking now?” he asks, searching my eyes intently.
“I’m thinking that we can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is all temporary. This trip...us.”
“It doesn’t feel temporary to me.”
“We can’t,” I tell him. “That would be breaking rule number four, and we said we wouldn’t cross any lines.”
“Do you honestly think we’re still behind that line?”
His gaze is latched onto mine, and I tear my eyes away. In the distance, I can see the resort looming ahead.
“It doesn’t matter what I think, Othello. Everything I’ve endured in the last 72 hours has been stressful enough. Why make it more complicated by crossing that line?” I argue. “The rule was set to protect us. That’s why I set it.”
Othello rears his head back. “You mean protect you? I don't need protection from you, Marley.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut. The wall I’ve set up feels so fragile right now, ready to cave in. But I hold myself against it, refusing to let it fall.
“Othello...”
“Listen,” he says, his voice sincere. “The only reason I agreed to those rules is because I respect you, but don't confuse my respect for self-control. The truth is, I’ve been completely unraveling since the day I met you, and a rule you made up isn't going to stop me from falling.”
Falling?
The word steals my breath from my lungs. As if on cue, the SUV comes to a halt, stopping in front of the Grand Palms. I don’t even wait for the chauffeur to open the door. I just let myself out, my heart beating violently against my ribcage.
“Marley,” Othello calls as I exit the vehicle.
I keep walking, head and emotions high. Othello catches up with me, grabbing my wrist and stopping me in my tracks.
“Can you talk to me for a second?” he asks.
“I need to call my team.” I twist my wrist from my grip.
“Marley, wait,” Othello calls after me again. But I don’t turn around. I keep walking, scared that if he sees the look on my face, he’ll see the truth. And the truth is, I’m not scared of crossing the line. I’m scared I already have.