Page 36 of The Jellybean Dilemma

Greg’s shoulders dropped several inches, and his hands released from their fists. A ragged sigh escaped his lips. “What was your question?”

Why does the sight of my skin piss you off? “You think you’re an open book?”

His forehead crinkled. “Yeah, I do.”

It was all I could do not to snort.

“You don’t agree?”

I shook my head. “I’ve known you for”—I paused to count—“eight years now and last week was the first I’d heard of your sister. It wasn’t until you saw Carrie that you thought to mention her. Hell, I didn’t even know you grew up here until a couple days ago.”

The waitress showed up with our glasses of wine, and I thanked her. After she left, I lifted my glass. “Another detail I just learned.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up. “Your mom actually got me into wine.”

Liquid almost spewed back out of my mouth, but I managed to swallow it. It’d be a shame to waste good wine. “What?”

He brought his glass of pinot grigio under his nose, inhaling the bouquet before taking a minuscule sip. “Not bad.”

The man knew how to taste wine. All he was missing was the aerating swirl before the taste, but I was surprised he’d done that much.

“You probably remember when I lived in the carriage house at your parents’ for a couple years?”

I nodded. He’d move in there when I was sixteen, so of course I remembered. My friends were all jealous that I had a hot chauffeur at my disposal, but I didn’t see it at the time. He was gangly and awkward. Plus, he was my friend and way too old for my taste.

“I was in the kitchen while your mom hosted a wine tasting for one of her events, and I got roped into giving my opinion.” His mouth quirked up in a fond smile. “I’d never tasted wine before, but I was told I had an innate sense for what paired with what.” Greg lowered his voice as if sharing classified information. “I became her secret weapon, and a wine connoisseur to boot.” He took another sip of wine. “Pinot grigio is one of my favorites.”

“Mine, too,” I said eagerly. “Though a dry riesling has been right up there lately. Have you been wine tasting in Michigan at all?” He’d driven me and my friends all over the countryside on our various excursions, but had he ever experienced it himself?

He shook his head, his smile dimming a bit. “It’s not something I wanted to do alone. My family is more into beer.”

Oh. “Maybe…” Did I dare put myself out there again?” “Maybe we could go sometime. When you could taste, too.”

He studied me for a long minute before he simply said, “Maybe.”

It was better than a hard no. Tension uncoiled in my chest, tension I hadn’t realized was there.

“You three musketeers were quite the crew on those trips.” He chuckled. “Do you see much of Yolanda or Fawnda anymore?”

A pang shot through me at the thought of my former best friends, and I took a big drink of my wine as if I could wash it away. “Nope. Once I broke up with Kevin, well, Fawnda made a play for him and Yolanda…” I trailed off thinking of her harsh words when I’d rejected another invitation to a party with a bunch of rich snobs. She’d told me I wasn’t the same person, that she understood what Kevin meant about me being frigid. That he was better off without me. “Our priorities shifted. She wanted to keep playing the party girl, and I was done. I needed more.” Hence the reason I was here with Greg in the first place.

The waitress showed up again, this time with our food. I couldn’t fault her timing. I held up my empty wine glass. “Another, please.” Somehow, I’d drained it in that last painful confession.

I stared down at my plate, marveling at the beautiful presentation. But my appetite had disappeared.

What am I doing? I’d gone from playing at life and pretending everything was perfect, to facing the truth because of my brother and his new girlfriend. I’d caught a glimpse of real love, real purpose, and I wanted it for myself. The cupcake standard I called it, the bar I set for myself and what I wanted.

But here I sat across from my pretend boyfriend, playing make-believe all over again.

Chapter Eleven

Tears fought to surface, and I scooted back in my chair, excusing myself to rush to the bathroom. It was a battle, but I maintained my composure. I stuffed my feelings back into the trench where I kept them, burying them beneath happy thoughts of Derek and Avery.

The fake part with Greg wasn’t permanent. It was a foot in the door, a sliver of a chance to grab hold of the man I’d wanted for a long time.

Once more in control, I practiced my smile in the mirror until it looked real again. Then I reapplied my lipstick for good measure. I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath and returned to our table. Only to find Carrie had taken up residence, going so far as to pull up a chair.

I approached from the side. Greg’s face was angled away from me, and I saw what she couldn’t. His leg jiggled beneath the table while one fisted hand sat on top of his thigh. She tilted her head back in a tinkly laugh, showing off pearly white teeth and reached out to brush his arm. He froze, so I quickened my pace.

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