Page 108 of Most Likely to Deny Love

When he finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against mine for a moment, eyes closed.

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, pressing one more brief kiss to my lips before stepping back.

“Okay.”

I watched him walk to his car, a strange hollowness expanding in my chest. As he drove away, I tried to convince myself this was fine. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t because our fake relationship had somehow become real to me. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

MIA

Jack had been gone for five days, seventeen hours, and approximately twenty-three minutes. Not that I was keeping track or anything. That would be pathetic.

I stared at his closed office door for the hundredth time that day, willing it to open and reveal him standing there with that half-smile that made my knees weak.

Intellectually, I understood that sometimes business trips came up suddenly. That sometimes places had bad cell service. That sometimes people got busy. But emotionally? Emotionally, I was a fucking wreck.

We’d spent Thanksgiving pretending to be engaged. We’d slept together every night, woken up in each other’s arms every morning. We’d made love in front of the fire like we were in some kind of romance novel. And then he’d dropped me off at home with a kiss and a vague “We’ll talk when I get back” before vanishing into thin air.

What did that even mean? “We’ll talk when I get back.” Talk about what? Breaking off our fake engagement? Ending whatever this thing between us had become? My stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

With a frustrated groan, I dropped my head to my desk, my forehead thumping against a stack of reports that I’d been pretending to read for the past hour.

“Are you practicing for a role as a human gong, or just trying to give yourself a concussion?” Emily’s voice pulled me from my misery spiral.

I lifted my head to find her leaning against my doorframe, one eyebrow raised in that uniquely Emily way that managed to convey both concern and judgment simultaneously.

“Neither. Both. I don’t know.” I rubbed my forehead. “Did you need something?”

“Just checking if you’re alive. You’ve been staring at Jack’s door so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t burst into flames.”

“I have not.” The denial sounded weak even to my own ears.

Emily snorted. “Please. You’ve been looking like a sad puppy all week. Why don’t you just call him?”

“I don’t want to bother him. He’s obviously busy.”

“What about a text?”

“Same thing. I’m not going to be that pathetic.”

“Carrier pigeon? Smoke signals? Magic mirror?”

“Very funny.” I closed the report I’d been pretending to read. “I think I’m going to head home early. I can’t focus anyway.”

Emily’s face softened with understanding. “That sounds like a good idea. Want me to reschedule your 3:30 meeting?”

“Would you? Just say I had a migraine or something.”

“You got it. Want to grab dinner later? I was thinking of ordering from that Thai place you like.”

“Sure, whatever.” I grabbed my purse and jacket, eager to escape before anyone else noticed the emotional train wreck I’d become. “I’ll see you at home.”

The drive was a blur, my mind racing with scenarios ranging from mildly concerning (Jack had lost his phone) to wildly improbable (Jack had been kidnapped by corporate rivals). Bythe time I pulled into my driveway, my head was pounding with genuine pain, making my earlier excuse to Emily uncomfortably close to the truth.

I was surprised to find Emily’s car already in the driveway. Apparently, she’d left right after me. Great. Now I’d have to make conversation when all I wanted was to curl up in bed with ice cream and pretend the world didn’t exist.

The moment I stepped through the door, the scent of freshly brewed coffee hit me. Emily appeared from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand.

“Figured you could use this,” she said, holding one out to me. “I added that fancy vanilla creamer you like.”

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