by Penny Reid
“You okay? You sound funny. Is your mom totally stressing you out?”
“No, um—I mean, a little, but no, I’m fine.” She should probably tell her anyway. Just in case she did care. Come clean, put all her cards on the table, face the music…and a bunch of other clichés she couldn’t think of right now.
“You want me to stage an intervention? I can come help you entertain her this afternoon.”
“No!” Melody said. “I mean, thanks, but I’ve got it. I wouldn’t want to put you through that. Enjoy your Sunday.”
“Okay.” She could practically hear Lacey’s shrug over the phone. “You wanna get dinner this week? I’m off Thursday.”
“Definitely. We should definitely do that.”
“Cool,” Lacey said. “I’ll call you later in the week.”
“Great! Bye!”
Melody groaned and buried her face in a pillow.
It was her mom’s last full day in Los Angeles, so after Melody dragged herself out of bed and showered, she took her to The Grove.
Melody hated shopping malls, but her mom loved them, so there they were, wandering around a mall that wasn’t all that different from any other mall in America, except at this one there was a slightly increased chance of spotting a C-list teen pop star or supporting television actor.
Her mom was pawing through the sale rack at Tommy Bahama like a professional shopper when Jeremy’s name lit up the screen of Melody’s phone. Her heart stuttered to a stop.
“Is that Jeremy?” her mom asked in a singsong voice, leaning over for a peek at the screen. “I’ll just give you two a little privacy, shall I? Catch up with me at the UGG store.”
Melody waited until her mom was out of earshot before answering. “Hey,” she said unsteadily. She was torn between feeling relieved he’d called and afraid of what he might be calling to say.
“Hey.” The sound of his voice made her stomach twist into knots. “I was just calling to check on you.”
Melody’s brain was jumping up and down, waving its arms and screaming, What was that kiss? Please explain, but all she said was, “Oh.”
“How’s it going with your mom today?”
Melody stepped away from a gaggle of noisy middle-aged ladies and ducked under a potted palm. “Pretty good, I guess. We’re at The Grove.”
“When’s she fly back?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
There was a pause. “She’s not going to think it’s weird that I’m not around today, is she?”
“I told her you had plans today. It’s fine.”
“Good. As long as you don’t need me.” She couldn’t get a read on his tone at all. Was he relieved? Disappointed? Indifferent? Ambivalent? She didn’t have a clue.
Melody chewed on her lower lip. “No, I don’t need you.”
There was another pause, longer this time. “Well, I better let you get back to your shopping. I just figured I should call, since that’s what boyfriends do.”
“Thank you for last night,” she said. “Really.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was nothing.”
That was her answer, then.
It was nothing.
She was right. It had all been fake.
When Melody caught up to her mom, she was trying on a pair of hideous fleece boots she’d only be able to wear three days out of the year in Tampa. “What do you think?” she asked, spinning in front of the mirror.
“I think they’re ridiculous. You’ll never be able to wear them back home.”
Her mother looked up at her and frowned. “Everything okay with you and Jeremy, baby?”
“Yep,” Melody replied with an over-wide smile. “Everything’s great.”
Chapter 17
“That looks suspiciously like a bribe,” Melody said, eying the coffee and blueberry muffin Jeremy had just deposited on her desk.
Nearly two weeks had passed since The Kissing Incident, and they were both doing an excellent job of not talking about it. They’d settled into an unspoken mutual agreement to act like it hadn’t meant anything. Which, clearly, it hadn’t.
Melody was absolutely fine with this. She 100 percent did not want to talk about their supposedly fake kiss that had felt a lot more real than fake—a kiss she had never managed to tell Lacey about, by the way. Not dealing with it was her preferred mode of dealing with it. If Jeremy was fine with pretending it never happened, then so was she.
So fine with it.
“That’s hurtful,” he deadpanned, dropping into the spare chair she’d started to think of as his since he was the only one who ever sat in it. “Why do you think I need an ulterior motive to bring you coffee?”
“And a muffin,” she pointed out. “Which you have never brought before. Not once.”
He gave her a challenging look over the top of his coffee. “Maybe I’m feeling extra nice today.”
She responded with a raised eyebrow.
“All right, fine. I need a favor.”
“What is it this time?” She gave the coffee an experimental sniff. It was a vanilla latte—her usual go to.
Leaning back, he stretched his legs out in front of him and rested his coffee cup on his thigh. “Remember when your mother came to town and you begged me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”
Melody felt herself stiffen and covered it by reaching for the muffin. “I seem to recall you volunteered for that assignment,” she said in something approximating a breezy tone. “But do go on.”
“I need a date for this party next weekend.”
The piece of muffin she was holding crumbled to bits in her fingers, sending a shower of crumbs across her desk. “I find it hard to believe you’re hurting for female companionship,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady as she swept the crumbs into the trashcan.
“It’s Drew and Charlotte’s engagement party,” he said, lowering his eyes. “It’s awkward enough I have to toast my best friend’s future happiness with my ex-girlfriend, but Lacey’s going to be there, too. With Tessa.”
Melody pursed her lips in sympathy. “Oh.”
“I just thought—it’ll be easier to face it with a friend. Someone who’ll keep me from doing anything stupid, you know?” He looked up at her with hopeful eyes. “So, what do you say? Want to be my date for what is absolutely guaranteed to be a miserable evening—and before you answer, please remember I brought you a muffin.”
“I’d be happy to,” she said, powerless in the face of his big doe eyes. Even if she hadn’t been a sucker for those blue eyes of his, she owed him.
“Thank you.” Jeremy exhaled in relief, his shoulders slumping forward. “I really appreciate it.”
Melody focused on the remnants of her muffin and tried to keep her tone casual. “So…this isn’t so much me pretending to be your girlfriend as just being a friend you happen to be bringing as your date, right?”
“I guess, yeah.”
She kept her gaze locked on the muffin, concentrating on breaking the rest of it into bite-sized pieces like she was performing brain surgery. “Because it might be weird, otherwise. You know, with Lacey there. I wouldn’t want to—”
“No, of course,” he agreed. “That would be bad.”
“Right.” Melody nodded absently at her devastated muffin. “As long as we’re on the same page.”
Melody’s apartment didn’t have a full-length mirror.
All the other apartments she’d lived in had always had one—usually tacked to the back of the bathroom or closet door by some long-lost tenant decades past.
But this apartment was newish, and no one who’d lived here had ever seen fit to hang a full-length mirror. Or maybe they’d all owned free-standing mirrors. That was what people with money and nice things had, right? Matching bedroom sets with a big mirror in a fancy wooden stand?
Melody didn’t have one of those. She had a mattress and box springs on a plain metal frame and a pair of mismatched nightstands from Goodwill.
Which was why she was c
urrently standing on top of her toilet, frowning at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
This dress certainly made her boobs look fantastic, but did they look too good? The last thing she wanted was to look cheap or slutty. Or, god forbid, like she was trying too hard.
Drew and Charlotte’s engagement party was being held at the Marina Del Rey Yacht Club. Melody had never been to a yacht club before. She wondered if the men would all be wearing navy blue dinner jackets and white captain’s hats like Mr. Howell on Gilligan’s Island.
Maybe not.
Anyway, in honor of the occasion, she’d put her contacts in for the first time in months, and wrestled her hair into a fancy up-do she’d learned from a YouTube tutorial. She’d also splurged on an expensive designer dress and shoes, which had cost more than most of the furniture in her apartment. She figured it was an investment in her new, professional adult life. In theory, it would be the first of many occasions in her future that would require a fancy dress. She’d tried to pick a style that was versatile and classic, so it would last her a while.
Melody hopped down from the toilet and slipped into her new shoes. They were Louboutins, just like the stars wore on the red carpet. She’d assumed outrageously expensive designer heels would be more comfortable than the cheap ones. Not so much. She’d been wearing them around her apartment for the last week to break them in, but they still felt like instruments of torture. Outrageously expensive instruments of torture.
She’d hoped maybe she’d feel more confident tonight if she were armored in designer duds. But even with her expensive new accoutrements, she still felt hopelessly out of her league. More like a little kid playing dress-up than a grown woman prepared to spend an evening rubbing elbows with the upper crust.
When she’d told Lacey she was going as Jeremy’s date—strictly as friends, of course—and confessed she was nervous about fitting in, Lacey had snorted and told her not to worry about it. “Half of them are snobs who won’t like you no matter what you do, and the other half are jumped-up trash so busy pretending to have class they won’t even notice you. And you don’t have to worry about my family. We’re all a bunch of rubes who’ve never been to a yacht club either. I promise you’ll look great standing next to my Aunt Flora.”
At the knock on her front door, Melody took a deep, bracing breath. That would be Jeremy—and only five minutes late. Ready or not, here I go.
His eyes went wide when he saw her, and his mouth fell open.
“What?” she asked anxiously. “Do I look okay? I’m not overdressed, am I? Or am I underdressed? I wasn’t sure how formal it would be.”
“No, you look great.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Better than great. You look stunning, actually.”
“Oh.” She felt her cheeks redden. “Thank you.” It would have been more of a compliment if he hadn’t seemed so surprised, but she would take what she could get.
Jeremy waited while she locked her front door, then offered an elbow for her to hold onto. He smelled especially good tonight. He looked good, too, but then, he always looked good, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him in an impeccably tailored suit before—it was his standard workday uniform.
“You ready for this?” she asked as he escorted her to the car.
His smile faded into a grimace. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He was driving a sporty black BMW coupe tonight instead of the Jaguar sedan he’d used to drive her mother to dinner. Melody was dying to ask how many cars he actually owned, but one look at his taut expression made her think better of it.
“Is there anything in particular you need me to do tonight?” she asked instead as he pulled away from the curb. He’d helped her through that mega-awkward dinner with her mom like a champion, and she was determined to do the same for him.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. “Don’t let me drink too much. Or say anything shitty to anyone. If I start to act like an asshole—I don’t know, drag me away or tell me to shut up or something.”
“You’re going to be fine,” Melody said. “It won’t be that bad. You’ll see.”
She’d make sure of it.
Jeremy’s hand glued itself to the small of her back as soon as he helped her out of the car, and it stayed there as he ushered her inside—directly to the bar.
Drew’s father knew how to throw a fancy shindig, that was for sure. Or more likely, he knew how to hire a team of professional party planners to throw a fancy shindig for him.
The ballroom at the yacht club was lit by literally hundreds of candles tucked into mossy, woodland-themed floral arrangements covering nearly every surface in the room. Combined with the garland-bedecked chandeliers sparkling overhead, and the view through the large picture windows of the moonlight reflecting off the water, it was like stepping into a fairy realm.
Once they were properly armed with drinks, Jeremy surveyed the room like he was girding himself for battle. There were no captain’s hats in evidence, Melody noted with some disappointment. There were, however, one or two celebrities she recognized. And probably a few more she didn’t recognize. Given Drew’s dad’s job, it was safe to assume a lot of the people in the room were involved in the film industry to some extent or another. It was a little exciting.
For about five whole minutes.
Rich people, Melody quickly discovered, were insanely boring. Jeremy’s attention was monopolized almost immediately by a series of people intent on treating Drew’s engagement party like a networking opportunity. Everyone he talked to seemed to have something to sell or some agenda to promote beneath the veneer of small talk. If they weren’t looking for investors to finance their latest movie project, they were pushing a political initiative or their pet charity project.
Jeremy dutifully turned on his patented charm and played the game right along with them. It was strange, watching him flip a switch and transform into this whole other person who was confident, flirtatious, and, to be honest, a bit smarmy. She didn’t like this version of him as much, although she could respect the skill—and the need for it.
Melody did her best to follow suit, plastering a smile on her face and nodding along with the conversation, despite the fact that most of the people made no attempt to include her past the introduction stage. Since she wasn’t the one with the big fat checkbook, they seemed to have no use for her. She tried to pay attention, but it was all so boring—and faintly nauseating—listening to the barefaced posturing, pandering, and maneuvering of the rich and powerful. Not a single one of them said anything that sounded the slightest bit sincere. After a while, it all faded into a monotonous buzz of white noise.
What made it even harder to concentrate on the conversation was the fact that Jeremy kept resting his hand on the small of her back, like he wanted to let her know he hadn’t forgotten she was there. It was sweet. The thing was, though, her dress had a plunging back, which she’d thought nothing of in the store. But now, standing in a roomful of Hollywood movers and shakers with Jeremy Sauer’s palm pressed against her bare skin and his thumb idly caressing little circles against her spine, it was…distracting. Like, tingly, goose-bumpy, all of her nerve endings on fire distracting.
“Looks like you’re in need of a refill,” Jeremy said to her when there was a pause in his conversation with a red-faced gentleman from the Los Angeles Business Council. “Excuse us, won’t you, Charles?”
Melody exhaled as Jeremy led her over to the bar again.
“Sorry,” he said, relieving her of her empty wine glass and signaling the bartender. “I know this must be boring for you.” Now that it was just the two of them again, he’d switched off the reflexive charm, and she could see the signs of strain in his expression.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.” She had a better understanding now of the burdens he’d shouldered and how they weighed on him, and she was all about making tonight easier for him. She wasn’t there to have fun; she was there to be a
good friend and give him whatever he needed.
“If it’s any consolation, it’s just as boring for me.”
Of that, she had no doubt, but before she could reply, Drew appeared behind Jeremy and clapped him on the shoulder. “I should have known I’d find you at the bar, man!”
“Hey, there’s the guest of honor, finally!” Jeremy pulled him into one of those bro hugs that involved a lot of hearty backslaps. “I was beginning to think you’d skipped out on your own party.”
“Don’t think I didn’t consider it. This bash is a major snoozefest.” Drew’s eyes drifted to Melody, and he raised his eyebrows slightly.
“You remember Melody,” Jeremy said, slipping his arm around her waist. Which, okay, felt like something you’d do with a date-date and not a friend-date, but Jeremy was the one driving the bus tonight, so she went with it.
“I sure do,” Drew said, grinning like he’d just been let in on some private joke. “Nice to see you again.”
Melody gave him the polite smile she’d been perfecting all evening. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”
The bartender dropped off their drinks, and Jeremy passed Melody a fresh glass of wine.
“Speaking of, where’s the soon-to-be ball and chain?” he asked Drew.
Drew snorted. “Oh, man, don’t let Charlotte hear you saying something like that.”
“Don’t let Charlotte hear you saying something like what?” asked a gorgeous, dark-haired woman who’d come up behind him. The infamous Charlotte Lopez, Melody guessed from the way she wrapped her hands possessively around Drew’s arm and directed a cold glare at Jeremy—and the fact that she looked like a taller, thinner, frownier version of her sister.
For a split second, Jeremy went rigid, but then he fixed his billion-dollar smile back in place and beamed it at Charlotte. “I was just trying to tell Drew I didn’t think you’d appreciate being referred to as the old ball and chain,” he said, blithely throwing his best friend under the bus.