Chapter 5
CAROLINE
I’m on guard even before he pulls the door open. “Fletcher. What’re you doing here?”
“A better question is: what’s he doing here?” He tilts his head at Miles like he’s a thing rather than a person.
My confusion quickly morphs into understanding.
Right. Everyone and their dog has seen that photo by now.
Fletcher heads straight for me, holding a loaded, assessing kind of eye contact with Miles as he passes him. Neither man appears to like what he sees.
“Hey, Care-bear.” Fletcher leans in to press a kiss to my cheek and I stiffen.
I flick a brief glance at Miles, whose expression hardens slightly, reminding me of the one he wore when that moaning weirdo approached me at the gym.
“Do you want me to…” Looking conflicted, Miles gestures over his shoulder and backs up a few steps toward the door. “Like, want me to take off? You seem busy. I can come back later or something.”
“No,” I blurt out, louder than I meant to. The last thing I want is to be left alone with Fletcher. Plus, my ex has gotten what he wants far more often than he deserves; I’m not letting him chase Miles off. “Don’t go. Please.”
He checks the time on his phone and I breathe easier when he gives me a small nod.
Fletcher shifts his frowning gaze between us and turns his back to Miles. “Look, babe, I happened to be in town and wanted to stop by and check in about the fundraiser on Saturday. You never answered my texts.”
“There’s nothing to check in about,” I say, taking a small step backward, trying to hide my disgust at how Fletcher called me babe again. With all the political schmoozing he does, it’s like he can’t turn it off. But I refuse to be schmoozed.
“And why aren’t you wearing your engagement ring?” he asks, jerking his chin toward my bare ring finger. “If we’re gonna squash this story—”
“I forgot.” It’s a lie. And, I have to admit, the impulse to reveal the truth—that I’ve been wearing it as little as humanly possible because I’d rather swallow broken glass—is strong. “And I’ll see you there. On Saturday.”
He clenches his jaw. “No, I should pick you up. It’ll look better if we arrive together.”
I balk, but catch myself.
Don’t make a scene, Caroline.
Squaring my shoulders, I say, “That won’t be necessary.”
He laughs, ugly condescension in his voice. “Don’t be ridiculous. We always go together. The media will drag us over the rocks if they get wind of anything, and we need to nip this little”—he glances over his shoulder at Miles—“rumor in the bud. Pete was clear about our arrangement, Care.”
“I know.”
“Speaking of which, Linda’s firm arranged the photographer for Friday.”
My stomach churns at the reminder of the PR scheme proposed in Dad’s email.
Fletcher continues, “They’ll meet us at the restaurant and follow us to the hotel for some candid shots. You know, romantic evening away kind of deal.”
A weight presses on my chest. Gritting my teeth through dinner is one thing, but being trapped in a hotel room with Fletcher overnight would be hell. Even thinking about it nauseates me.
I can’t do this…
Scrambling for escape, my mind conjures up an image.
A way out. What if, instead, I showed up Saturday with the same guy from the photo, so it would look real?
Like an actual relationship—not just a fling.
The prospect shimmers in my mind like an oasis in a desert, and I flick my eyes to the man who saved me from a jerk once before.
Could we pull it off? Could he?
“The photos will be leaked to the press,” Fletcher drones on, and the oasis evaporates into thin air. “Discreetly, of course. That should take care of this unfortunate situation you’ve gotten us into.”
Revulsion crawls up my spine.
“No.” The word comes out before I realize what I’ve said.
“No?” Fletcher echoes, throwing his arms out at his sides like he’s never heard the word before. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not going with you,” I say, my voice flat. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tuck my shaking hands into the fluffy folds of my sweater. “I’m not doing the restaurant or the… the romantic hotel thing.”
Panic and courage battle for control in my chest.
What am I doing?
“And I’m not going with you to the fundraiser Saturday, either.”
“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 best please-roll-with-this face.
“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 with me for three years?”
Disgust ripples through me, and I sneer right back. “At least he’s building 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 I ever see in this man?
Heck, maybe I never did see anything in Fletcher. Maybe it wasn’t me choosing him so much as him being chosen for me.
“What’s rich is 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. Even I’m impressed 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. “I was kinda hoping you’d fill me in.”
“Okay…” I press my fingers to my temples and try to steady my nerves.
Where do I even begin?
I open my mouth to explain, but he beats me to it.
“So, he’s your ex, obviously.” The wheels turn behind his eyes like he’s making sense of what he just witnessed. “And, y’know, a self-important, dickhead, pretty-boy type. Gathered that much. But what was all the stuff about an arrangement and a hotel and shit?”
I can’t seem to find the words, yet my shoulders almost sag with relief that Miles sized Fletcher up so quickly.
“That photo of us,” I finally manage. “Me and you, I mean. It was bad timing for my dad. Fletcher and I hadn’t gone public about breaking up yet.
We were trying not to rock the boat. For the campaign. ”
He nods. “And the photo rocked the boat.”
“Exactly,” I say, both grateful he gets it and momentarily distracted by the way the light catches on a small scar at the corner of his mouth.
“Anyway, Dad’s PR firm suggested we double down on being seen together as a couple.
Overnight in a hotel… I guess it would make us look like a stable, happy family?
” It’s the image my father has always held dear—carefully curated for public consumption.
“And now?” he asks. “Is pretending I’m your boyfriend gonna help smooth everything over somehow?”
“Well,” I say, begging myself to play it cool, “I guess it wouldn’t seem like something so… casual?”
“Okay, yeah. Makes sense, I guess.” He nods again, contemplating me as a long silence settles between us. “What’d he do? To you, I mean.” He seems to catch himself and his eyes widen. “Sorry, that’s a super personal question. Didn’t mean to be that asshole. Forget I asked.”
“No, it’s fine. I roped you into this mess; it’s only fair I explain why.
” I pause, trying to shrug off the stress of standing up to Fletcher.
“We weren’t…” I shake my head, then start again.
“I mean, my family approved. Our relationship was good on paper.” I puff out an exhale, hating how that sounded—and the way it made Miles grimace.
“But then I found out last month he’d been cheating on me. ”
Miles clenches his jaw, his expression falling.
“Repeatedly,” I add.
He looks out the gallery window, then lets out a long sigh. “Well, now I kinda wish I’d punched him before he left.”
A surprised laugh bubbles up from my chest, pulling a smirk to Miles’ lips when he faces me again. “Now that would be a PR nightmare.”