Page 42 of Strictly Pretend

“I can’t believe you.”

“What?” he asks, sounding confused.

“I was away for five minutes. Maybe even less. And you were already flirting with another woman.” I shake my head. “I can’t believe I thought this would work. I’m such an idiot.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“She was holding your damn tie,” I tell him, my eyes wide. “I saw her. What would have happened if I didn’t come back? Would she have sat in your lap?” My throat feels tight. It’s stupid, but I almost feel worse now than I did when I saw Will’s bare behind thrusting into Mia’s cousin.

I’d trusted Brooks. And I shouldn’t have. I’m so bad at playing in the big pool. The kids are mean here.

It’s only when he squeezes my hand that I realize he’s still holding it. I snatch it back.

“Emma,” he says, his voice low. “Try to breathe.”

“Iambreathing.”

“Okay, try to breathe slower.”

That’s when I realize I’m hyperventilating. Don’t let me have a panic attack in the middle of the poshest restaurant in town. Not in front of this man who can’t even pretend he’s in love with me.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I say.

He presses his lips together, his gaze taking me in. “We weren’t flirting. She asked me where I got my tie from. She wants to buy one for her fiancé.”

I blink. “That’s a new one.”

“It’s true. There was no flirting going on. And even if she was trying to flirt with me, do you think I’d flirt back? I’m here with you. Nobody else.” His jaw is tight. “I’m not Will. I’m not going to embarrass you. If I’m with you, I’m with you.”

I inhale raggedly.

“And I get you were hurt by him,” he continues. “I saw how hurt you were that day. But you can’t blame me for what he did.”

My mouth feels dry. I take a sip of water and swallow it down. My face feels like it’s beet red, which isn’t the best combination with my hair.

“It is a nice tie,” I say and he laughs. “I’m sorry, I just…” I shake my head. “I’m so bad at this. It’s not going to work. I’m not a good actress.”

“Seriously?” He’s smiling again and it’s doing weird things to me. “You’re the best actress. The way you acted all jealous? It was perfect. Did you see the way she scurried back to her friends?”

“I acted jealous?” I repeat, mostly because he’s got it all wrong. I wasn’t acting. Iwasjealous. I wanted to rip her hair out.

“You did. You were great. And you’re going to be great at the wedding, you’ll see. Just keep acting like that and everybody will believe we’re in love.”

His eyes catch mine. And I know it’s an act, but the way he’s looking at me makes my breath catch. His gaze is soft, his lips open. He looks like he’s hungry and not for dinner.

“You really think we can do this?”

“Yes, I do.” He nods. “More importantly, I think you have to do this. For you, not me, or your granddad, or the shop. I think you need to do it to regain your confidence. To show Will and Jemima and everybody else that you’re way above them.”

“You think I’m above them?” I whisper.

“I know you are.”

He’s lying again. But I’m enjoying it. If he can be like this through the wedding – supportive, kind, fake loving, even – maybe we can make it through the weekend without everybody finding us out.

“I like you like this,” I tell him.

“Like what?”

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