“So the article, the board story, everything was all just some massive scheme made by you so you could corner me into being your fiancée? I can’t even leave you right now. Not after all of New York attending our engagement party. You were trying to trap me, Beck.”
“No. Never. I was just trying to have a shot with you. That’s all this was ever supposed to be.”
“It doesn’t feel like that. It feels wrong and fucked up.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes for you to trust me. I love you, Margo. I love you so much that I would ruin everything I’ve ever created just to call you mine. I’m so fucking in love with you.”
She sobs. Mascara smudges her face, ruining the makeup that’d been meticulously painted on her skin. I feel like I can’t fucking breathe when she pulls her hand from mine. In one gentle motion, she pries my fingers open and sets my grandmother’s ring in my palm.
“Please don’t,” I beg, my voice going hoarse. “Please don’t do this.”
She closes my fingers around the ring. “This isn’t love, Beck. Love shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t be based on a lie.”
“Don’t give up on me.” My fingers tighten around the ring in my grasp. “Let me fix this, baby. Please.”
Her eyes are red from crying so hard. “I should’ve never agreed to being your fiancée. I should’ve never had anything to do with you after everything happened with Carter.”
“Don’t bring him into this.”
She scoffs, pulling her headband from her hair and throwing it to the ground. “You know you’re just like him. I knew not to trust one Sinclair brother, I just hadn’t expected I couldn’t trust the other.”
Her words take me so off guard I take a few steps backwards in shocked hurt.
“I want you to leave, Beck.” It’s like she’s pouring salt in an already gaping wound. I can’t do anything but grant her wish.
With my heart shredded in my chest, I look at her through bloodshot eyes. “I’ve only ever loved you, Margo. I couldn’t help it. I’ve always loved you uncontrollably. Maybe a little too much, but everything I’ve done was always out of love.”
It’s not the same sleeping alone. I toss and turn all night, unable to turn off my mind with the questions soaring through it. The night wasn’t supposed to end the way it did. We were supposed to come home happy. I wanted to finish what we’d started in the limo. To make do on the promise of me wearing nothing but the heels for him.
I roll over in bed to grab my phone off the nightstand. I look at all of the missed notifications. It seems like a lot more people than I’d expected saw how off I was after the encounter I had with Carter. A lot of people were reaching out to check in. The only people I respond to are Winnie and Emma in our group chat.
WINNIE
How are you feeling this morning, Margie?
EMMA
I’m feeling hungover. I thought fancy champagne wasn’t supposed to make you feel like shit?
WINNIE
I didn’t ask about you. ;）
EMMA
I was trying to make Margo not feel awkward about leaving. Thanks for blowing my cover, Winnie Boo Boo.
I laugh at the nickname for Winnie. She hates it when we call her that, but neither one of us can help ourselves. She makes it too easy. My heart twinges with disappointment that I didn’t get to spend as much time with them last night as I’d wanted to. I’m a terrible friend for flying them out here and then ditching them.
MARGO
I’m fine! I just let Carter get to me more than he should have. What are you two up to?
EMMA
He’s a dick. It seemed like Papa Sinclair laid into him though. They left with things looking very heated between them.
My eyebrows raise at that bit of information. I’ve always liked Mr. Sinclair. He was always kind to me. It seemed like his boys loved him, even if they didn’t seem to love each other. I wonder what all he knows about Carter. If he knows how off he acted last night.
EMMA
I bet Beck reminded you why he was the better brother last night. ;）
WINNIE
We’re currently eating room service breakfast. Well I’m eating. Emma is complaining that the smell of pancakes is going to make her throw up.
It’s hard not to feel sad reading Emma’s text. It’s an innocent statement. We should’ve had the best time ever last night. Instead, I locked myself in my old room and refused to come out. I need some space from Beck, to think about everything I was told by each brother and decide who I believe. I need to figure out the truth, the problem is it’s buried so deep between both of their lies that I don’t know what the real truth even is.
MARGO
Would you want to grab lunch somewhere?
WINNIE
We’d love that!
EMMA
Obviously, bitch. What time?
Once we plan to get together in a few hours, I feel better. Part of me wants to tell my friends everything that’s happened, to get their advice on it all. But I know I signed an NDA. I don’t want to get in trouble. More so, I don’t want them to think badly of Beck. I’m still protecting him because deep down I want to believe every word he told me last night. I want to know that getting me to agree to be his fake fiancée wasn’t some sick scheme of his to get back at Carter. I much prefer the reason he gave for all of this. That he simply wanted me and he’d do anything to have me.
My heart wants to believe he loves me because I know without a shadow of doubt I’ve fallen in love with him.
Letting out a deep breath, I get up out of bed. I’m tired, my limbs not wanting to move as I make my way toward the bathroom. It feels off to do a morning routine in here. It feels too quiet. I’m too used to listening to Beck take work calls as I get ready or hearing him listen to some boring podcast while I try to distract him in the shower.
It all feels off and I hate how attached I got to him. It all happened so quickly, despite me swearing I wouldn’t let a man become my life again like I had with Carter.
With Beck it hadn’t seemed bad because he was just as obsessed with spending time with me as I was him. It seemed healthy. It seemed perfect. In hindsight, maybe it was too perfect and maybe I should’ve known that all along.
My stomach growls, proving I can’t stay holed up here for much longer. Luckily, because it’s Sunday, I don’t have to go into work with Beck. But we do live together. I’m going to have to face him if I want to eat.
I may have a stash of Twizzlers in one of my bags in my closet. Maybe I could live off that for sustenance.
Groaning, I know I need to get it together. I’m going to have to face him, even if my heart is broken from the betrayals of last night.
I yank open the door, thinking of how wrong of a turn last night went, when I come face to face with Beck.
His smell assaults my senses immediately, wrapping me up in a familiar advance. I never want to smell bergamot and jasmine again. Or maybe that it’s I never want to stop smelling his signature scent again, becoming all too addicted to everything that is him.
“Good morning,” he says gruffly, his eyes scanning my face.
Why does he have to look so good even when he looks so rough? I take in his simple pair of jeans and sweater. He might be dressed nicely, but his eyes are bloodshot and his hair is so disheveled it looks like he’s been constantly running his fingers through it. I’ve never seen him look so worn out.