Will notices my triumphant expression and turns his face to see where my gaze is landing. And I can feel the moment all the dots connect for him. His body stiffens slightly, and when he looks back to me—his face is a little too void of emotion. “That was the guy, right?”
I don’t need for him to expound. “Yes.”
He nods a few times. “Nice. I think you successfully made him jealous,” he says in a low voice so the rest of the table can’t hear.
“No, Will, that’s—”
“It’s exactly what I would have done. Great job. All this practicing is paying off.” He gives me a smile that feels so fake I want to wipe it off his face. I hate that smile. That’s not his smile. That’s a shielded self-preservation smile. And it only serves to remind me that Will doesn’t want me to know him. He promised me from the beginning that this would never be anything more than practice, and he’s reestablishing those boundaries now.
I hate practice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Will
It’s been a few days since the kiss in the bar that completely shook me. No, I’m not being dramatic, and no I’m not exaggerating. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about a kiss for longer than twenty minutes after the fact. But Annie’s kiss…that one soft, vulnerable kiss, has been playing through my head for three days now. It was perfect in a way that I can’t describe. I know that public attention is hard for her, so to have her initiate that kiss because she wanted it was too much.
But then she looked over my shoulder, and a jealousy I’ve never known gripped me. It was for show. And of course it was. She didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, like I told her, it’s exactly what I would have done if someone I would want to make jealous was nearby. I just wish I could say it didn’t sting to realize it meant so much to me, and was only part of a maneuver on her end.
I thought…never mind. Doesn’t matter.
Postkiss, I went to the bar for a beer. But if I’m being honest with myself, I went to meet the jerk sitting at the bar who had the audacity to leave Annie in the middle of a date.
And I know he’s a jerk because when I walked up and ordered a beer, he asked me if Annie and I were exclusive. For a long minute, all I could do was stare at him. Stare at him and imagine punching the shit out of him because he only wanted Annie after he saw her make out with me in public. He’s not the kind of man who’s going to savor her or treat her well or peel back her layers to gain her trust. He’s looking for a quick good time with her, and that’s too much to stomach.
But if that’s what Annie wants, it’s not my business to get in her way no matter what I think about him. So I was honest. “Nah—it’s not serious. I’ll most likely be leaving at the end of month.” And for some reason, saying that last part had every muscle in my body tensing.
His eyebrows had gone up in a look of anticipation that made me hate him more. “Really?” He smiled as he took a drink of his beer. “Cool. I guess I misjudged her.”
And then I hated myself in that moment, too, because I felt like a disrespectful asshole for talking about Annie without her present. For throwing her to a shark all because I’m terrified to admit that holding her in my arms is the closest I’ve come to feeling truly happy in a very long time. I didn’t even know I was lacking happiness. But now that I’ve realized it, I can pinpoint it with scary accuracy.
I don’t know what this means for me now or where to go from here. Nowhere, maybe?
And that’s why I’ve been hiding and avoiding her the last few days. I invented a bogus fan threat and told Annie I needed to stay parked outside of Amelia’s studio while she worked, and that we couldn’t go into town. Even Amelia didn’t question it because this kind of thing happens from time to time. Our agency keeps a close watch on her known stalkers, and we get alerts when they are in a certain radius to her. Do I feel bad about adding potential unnecessary worry to Amelia’s life by suggesting said stalker is nearby, no. Because I’m not the good guy—even though spending time with Annie makes me feel remarkably close to one.
Today we’re headed into town, though. I couldn’t keep up the pretenses of a potential threat much longer. Currently I’m escorting Amelia down the sidewalk toward The Pie Shop. The paparazzi sightings have been pretty minimal lately, and even now I can only spot one carrying a long lens on the opposite side of the square, but I spoke with my agency last night, and they predict a steep rise over the next two weeks leading up to the wedding.