Page 8 of Don't Forget Me
“Hmm… maybe you aren’t the total jerk everyone says you are.”
It should have hurt to hear everyone thought of him like that, but it didn’t. He shrugged, wishing she’d leave him in peace.
“Or maybe I’m the one who is wrong.” At his silence, she turned to go, taking the steps slowly like she thought he’d apologize again or say something to make it better.
He shut his door. The assistant was right. She’d had it wrong. Nick was every bit the jerk people claimed.
Nick hated ties.
He hated wearing a suit he’d never have been caught dead in growing up, hated the music that sounded the same at every one of these events—music played by an expensive band when that money could have gone to the charity they were supporting with their pricey purchase of tickets to the gala. What he didn’t hate was raising money for a good cause.
It was a gala for the Foster Foundation, providing life supports for children in the foster care system, a cause Nick felt was particularly important. Maybe if the foster system had more funding, they wouldn’t have left him and Stephen with parents who obviously cared nothing for them. The social worker who performed periodic visits practically said they couldn’t help every kid who needed it.
Nick’s agent told him about the gala soon after he took the part and knew he’d be in Florida filming for a couple months. He’d called up the organizers and bought tickets not only for himself and Sherrie but for the entire crew of the movie.
Most of them, unused to such events, stood at the back of the room, mingling only with each other, not sure of what they were supposed to do.
Nick wished he could join them and avoid everything that was expected of him as a celebrity guest. He loved his job, he loved escaping into another person as he acted, not having to be himself. What he didn’t love was the fame.
Or rather, the way the fame made the world treat him as if he was special, putting him on a pedestal he’d never wanted.
“Nick.” Sherrie slipped her arm through his and leaned in, her smile bright but her voice dangerous. “Smile, dear. We must keep up appearances for one more night.”
Right, one night and then they could reveal their impending divorce to the world. One night and he could breathe.
Sherrie wanted them to wait longer, a year or more, so the movie was already out, but he refused.
He couldn’t do this anymore.
Pasting on a fake smile, Nick let Sherrie lead him to their table. They were seated with a Florida representative and her husband. They both stood to shake his hand and dove in for some small talk. Nick listened to them intently, like he did everyone. Most people might consider him to be a jerk, but he did think listening was an important skill. Everyone deserved to be heard.
“You’re in the area filming, right?” Representative Morena asked, her smile genuine.
Nick nodded and cleared his throat. “We are. It’s going well.” As well as filming with his soon-to-be ex-wife could go.
Sherrie swatted his arm. “He’s modest. The movie is going to be fabulous.”
Representative Morena’s smile widened. “You two are just as adorable as you are in the press. A true Hollywood golden couple.”
Nick opened his mouth to speak, but Sherrie beat him to it. “Thank you. What can I say? We’re in love. If that makes Hollywood call us a golden couple, we can’t refute it.”
His stomach churned.
Sherrie stood, smoothing down her powder-pink silk dress, and extended one dedicated hand. “Dance with me, my love.”
With the eyes of everyone at their table on them, he couldn’t refuse. He held in a sigh and followed her toward the dance floor where a few other couples had already started the evening’s dances.
Truth time. Nick was a good dancer. A really good dancer. He’d had to learn for a handful of movies many years ago, something his brother always gave him grief for—though, Nick knew Stephen had loved dancing. That was the difference. Though he was good at it, Nick didn’t love it.
Sherrie slid her arms around his neck, locking them in a vice-like grip at the back before smiling brightly up at him. She was on her best behavior tonight, and she looked beautiful—as always. There was a perfection about Sherrie, a made-up, guarded beauty with never a hair out of place.
He wasn’t sure if it was just boring or sad.
Once upon a time, when he’d imagined his future wife, he saw a woman waking up next to him completely unkempt. He saw days lounging in sweatpants with no makeup and no one to impress. If he was being honest with himself, he’d wanted something that didn’t exist in the world he’d chosen for himself.
“What are you thinking?” Sherrie’s long lashes brushed against her cheeks, her eyes in the flirting mode he wasn’t sure she knew how to turn off.
“Just that I hate this tie.”
