Right. Of course, he wants to get the words out. I glance at the edge of the platform and see my brother, Gabe, with his camera rolling. The upside of growing up in show biz is that there’s always someone to capture life’s major moments.
Nick clears his throat again, so I put my hand down and command myself to be patient.
“Just last week, I signed the title on eight acres west of Denver.” He smiles and a flush of pride moves through me. Building a rustic resort in Colorado has been on his bucket list forever, and I’m thrilled I’ll be by his side as he makes that dream come true. “As part of that project, we’re building a new a state-of-the-art performing arts center.”
This part is news to me, but okay. It sounds amazing, and I can’t wait to hear more. But come on, let’s get this show started.
Nick meets my eye like he’s psyching himself up for something. I offer an encouraging smile as he takes a deep breath. “Right now,” he says, “I would like to formally ask Laurence Judson to m—”
“Yes, I’ll marry you!”
Oh, shit.
All the blood drains from my head as I realize what he’s just said.
Laurence Judson?
My humiliated heart claws for explanation. Like maybe he’s seeking my father’s blessing, even though it’s patriarchal and outdated and—oh, God now my dad is striding toward the platform.
But everyone’s staring at me.
Everyone.
Literally, everyone.
Shame rushes icy and bitter through my veins as I square my shoulders and refuse to fucking cry. Refuse to meet anyone’s eyes as my throat squeezes tight and all those eyeballs drill into me. Disgrace tastes bitter on the back of my tongue, and it’s all I can do to stay upright, to balance on these mile-high heels and hold my head up as I quietly die inside.
How could you be so stupid?
My father grabs the mic and launches into a speech about the new Laurence Judson Performing Arts Center and his business venture with Nick. Surprise! They’ve kept it under wraps for weeks because—honestly, I stop listening because my ears are buzzing with the heat of humiliation. I fix my eyes on a potted plant in the corner, blinking back waves of embarrassment.
Do not cry. Do not cry.
My mother steps into my line of sight, her face filled with pity and concern and the tiniest hint of I-told-you-so. She’d never say it out loud.
She doesn’t have to.
Nick’s talking again, explaining how he plans to move to Denver for a year to oversee the project personally. Moving, for God’s sake. The opposite of proposing.
And the fact that he never mentioned it, never said a word to me about relocating to Denver…well, I think it’s safe to assume I’m not part of his plan.
I tilt my chin up and keep my eyes on my dad. Nick’s wrapping up his speech and I applaud so hard my hands sting. Now Dad’s saying something and oh my God is this almost over?
And then, it is.
And then, the man of my dreams is walking toward me.
I swallow hard and try to force my face into a smile. My mouth won’t cooperate, so I settle for balling my hands into fists and fixing him with a shark stare. Flat-eyed, no emotion. It’s what I do best.
Nick stops dead in his tracks. “Hey, Lauren.” He drags a hand over his head the way he does when he’s not sure what to say. “Uh—so I guess I should have warned you about that. About—well—”
“Moving a thousand miles away? Planning a project with my dad?” My voice sounds cool and calm, which surprises me. “That’s your business, isn’t it?”
Nick looks unsure for the first time I’ve known him. “You want go somewhere and talk?”
“About what?” I sound like an idiot, but I can’t help it. Maybe we can pretend this didn’t happen. Maybe we can go back to—
“I think maybe we’re on different pages, Lo.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, the distance between us a big, gaping hole. “Uh, marriage and all. It’s not really where I’m at right now.”
Like that wasn’t fucking obvious. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
Everything is not fine, which he can clearly tell from my tone.
Nick’s brow furrows. “Look, uh—I’m gonna be gone a while on this project.” He pauses, choosing his words with care. “I assumed since you’re starting that new film, you’d be glad about having time to yourself.”
If there was any doubt Nick and I are on different pages, he just snatched the book and lit the damn thing on fire. I take a deep breath, insides quivering from the effort of keeping emotions in check. “Of course.”
Good God, I need to get out of here. I need this conversation to be over so I can run to the bathroom and sob like a pathetic little girl.
But Nick’s still talking, still hammering nails into my heart. “You’re amazing, Lo. It’s not about that. It’s just—”
“Let’s call it quits.”
Nick blinks. “What?”
At least he’s not misunderstanding. He knows I’m not talking about heading home to watch Netflix in our PJs with a bag of Ruffles. He hears what I’m saying.
My palms feel sticky and I can’t get enough air because my heart bangs against my ribs like it’s fighting to get out.
But I slam the door on that motherfucker and look Nick square in the eye. “We need to split up.”
***
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Acknowledgments
My eternal gratitude and fangirl admiration go to Susan, to Joel Gregor, PsyD; and to Adam Fenske, PsyD and MFPC (that’s the professional acronym for “My Favorite Psychologist Cousin,” right?) Your feedback, tips, and insights into Mari’s professional world have been invaluable, and I can’t thank you enough. Any errors or liberties taken with the psychology aspects of this story are mine alone.
So much love and thanks to editor Susan Bischoff not only for the awesome dev edits, but for the kickass brainstorm session that made all the difference in the world. After 35+ published rom-coms, you’d think I’d have learned before now that it’s smart to plan ahead. Who knew?
Thanks also to Lauralynn Elliott for the copy edits, to Meah Cukrov for being a fabulous assistant, and to Amy Pinkston for the awesome graphics. You ladies rock!
Big thanks to Fenske’s Frisky Posse for the ARC reviews, character names, typo hunting, and general moral support. I’m especially grateful to Regina Dowling, Nicole Trudeau Westmoreland, Tina Hobbs Payne, Becky Claxon, and Cherie Lord for eagle-eyed ARC reading. I am so damn glad to have the best street team any author could wish for.