Page 41 of Strictly Pretend

“Water is fine.”

“Two waters,” Brooks says. “And a glass of champagne.”

I lift my brow at him and he widens his eyes back at me.

“What are we celebrating?” I ask him sweetly.

“That you came out to dinner with me. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” He reaches out and takes my hand across the table, sliding his fingers between mine. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

His thumb presses against my palm, rubbing circles into it. It’s surprisingly distracting. I feel like I’m getting the full-on Salinger charm and I don’t know how to deal with it.

“Dusty.”

He grins. “I love the way you love your books.”

The waiter brings over our drinks. “A toast,” Brooks says, holding his glass of water.

“To what?”

“To us.”

Oh. I lift the champagne glass to my lips and drink. I can’t do this. I can’t keep playing girlfriend. I’m terrible at it.

“I’m just going to head to the bathroom,” I tell him. “You can order for me if you’d like.”

“Anything?” he asks.

“Just nothing with veal.”

“You worried about the baby cows?”

“Something like that.”

I hurry to the bathroom and close the door behind me. It’s one of those single cubicles, and the entire room is made out like a boudoir. Gold-framed mirrors, gold taps, even the light is a chandelier. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Rita really did a good job with my makeup. And the dress she chose is perfect.

But it’s all a sham. And I can’t even do it for a few minutes, let alone a whole long weekend. I’m going to make an idiot out of myself. I widen my eyes at myself in the mirror and shake my head.

I’m such an idiot. Why did I even agree to this?

I’m going to go back to the table and call it off. Tell him I’ll call Cassie and explain that we’ve broken up or something. Even if the thought of doing that makes me want to hurl.

With my mind made up I walk out of the bathroom and turn the corner, ready to tell him he’s off the hook. But then I see he’s not alone. A woman is standing next to him. A beautiful woman with the kind of dark glossy hair I used to dream of having when I was a kid and everybody used to call me carrot top. She’s wearing a black dress that stops just above the knee, and her face is perfectly made up. But that’s not what’s garnering my attention at the moment.

What I can’t take my eyes off is the fact that she’s holding his tie between her fingers. Almost stroking it.

It’s like a kick in the gut. I thought I was the one who couldn’t pretend we were together, but here he is, flirting with another woman. An elegant, suitable other woman. A wave of fury washes through me and it feels good compared to the not-good-enough vibe I expected to feel.

My jaw is tight as I walk back to the table. “Sorry, darling,” I say, my voice thick and husky. “I took a little longer than I expected. I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

He looks up, a brow lifted. His expression is almost amused.

“Oh hello,” I say to the other woman as I sit down at the table and put my hand out on the cloth expectantly. When he doesn’t take it right away I wiggle my fingers. That brow lifts higher as he slides his hand into mine.

“Hi.” She offers me a smile and I don’t smile back. “Um, thanks for that,” she says to Brooks.

“No problem.” He gives her a warm smile and I want to wipe it off his face. “I hope it works out for you.”

“Well bye then.” She lifts her hand in a wave and walks back to a table of women. I turn to look at him, my eyes narrow.

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