Pretend Love Romance by Penny Wylder
Claire
It’s been three days since my nearly nude picture ended up on every tabloid magazine sold in stores. Going to the drug store or gas station or even the salon, is impossible without being recognized. Somehow I’ve become just as big of a celebrity as AJ. I tried to buy up all the magazines in front of the coffee shop I like to go to every morning so I don’t have to change up my routine, but each time I think I’ve gotten rid of them, ten more will replace them by the next morning. This whole debacle has upended my perfectly anonymous life. Before this, I barely existed outside of my own little world. Like most doctors, I’m a creature of habit, and those habits have been demolished. It was bad enough when I moved from across the country to Chicago. I’d just finally slipped into somewhat of a comfortable stride, and again, poof, all of that is gone.
I try a different coffee shop today on my way to meet AJ. He said it was urgent so I rushed out of my apartment. He promised me my job was safe, but these days I’m not certain of anything. So when he says something is urgent, I run.
It’s bad enough that the dynamic has changed with me and my co-workers. Some have become overly nice to me, trying to form those tricky friendships in order to get gossip from the source; I imagine that could be a big payday if sold to the highest bidder. While others, who had once respected me and believed in me, are now treating me like the gum on the bottom of their shoe. Despite my experience and credentials, they assume I’ve slept my way to the top.
I order my usual latte, and I’m surprised how much better it is at this new coffee shop than the old one. I hope that means this is a sign of a halfway decent day, though I’m not going to hold my breath for that one.
After jumping on the train and chugging my coffee, I meet AJ at the address he specified in his text. I’d typed it into the GPS on my phone without bothering to look up the location. I’d assumed it was somewhere private, like a diner where we could talk.
I stop short when I see him standing in front of a high-end jewelry shop. I look at my phone to check the address; perhaps there is something else in the vicinity that would make more sense. But there’s not. The address is for the jewelry store.
His smile is so goddamn beautiful I want to slap it right off of his face. No one has the right to turn my life upside down and look that good doing it. I start to regret my choice of holey jeans and baggy sweater. This messy bun on top of my head and tennis shoes aren’t helping the look. I’m dressed for an outing at Walmart, not whatever this is.
“I got here as soon as I could,” I say. “What’s going on?”
“We have an appointment,” he says cheerfully. But there’s something mischievous about that cheerfulness.
“What kind of appointment?” I can’t help the skepticism coating my words.
“Follow me.”
He leads me inside the jewelry store, and trust me, this is no Kay’s Jeweler in a downtown mall. This place has a small army of buff security guards, glitz and glamor in every corner. The ceiling drips with gold and crystal dangling chandeliers. Everything shines. Everything except for me. I’m about as dull as oxidized paint.
There are several long counters. A smartly dressed woman stands in front of us with her hands behind her back, smiling at us as though she’s been waiting. I guess she has since AJ said we had an appointment.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” she says to me with a mouthful of gleaming white veneers. Her gaze darts to my disheveled appearance, but her smile never betrays her thoughts.
“Thank you,” I say and turn a subtle glare at AJ. I get he wants to make people think we’re engaged, and a ring is important for that, but we could have gotten something cheap off Amazon and called it a day. This seems a little excessive.
“Would you like to see some options?” she asks.
I’d love to say “no” and shock the smile off her face—more to embarrass AJ than anyone—but the caffeine has finally kicked in and I’m not feeling as ornery as I had been when I first woke up this morning.
She disappears into the back of the store. AJ and I take a seat on one of the comfortable-looking couches arranged near the cases.
“This is a little much, don’t you think? I don’t need some fancy ring. What’s their return policy?”
He folds his hands in front of him and looks at me, amused. “My fiancée deserves the best and that’s what she’s going to get.”
I glare at him, but I have to admit, I don’t hate the word when it comes out of AJ’s mouth. With anyone else, a hard “no” would sit as solid as jail bars around the thought of marriage. Why are you betraying me? I ask myself. I’m a little shocked when a series of thoughts pop up to answer: Because he’s different, he respects you, he’s loved you most of your adult life when you couldn’t even get a pet to stay loyal.
I drop my head into my hands and close my eyes. Oh my God, shut up, I tell myself.
When I glance at AJ, he still has that amused smirk on his face as though he’s reading my thoughts. I try not to let him see it on my face. The last thing I want him to know is that I’m falling for him. And I certainly don’t want to admit it to myself.
The lady comes out with a clear glass box. “I hope you like some of these choices. I’ve chose some more subtle pieces and a few more extravagant ones.”
The “subtle” ones are about as inconspicuous as a neon light pointing at my finger, and the extravagant ones look heavy enough to anchor a yacht. But there’s one that seems to sparkle more than the others. It’s not subtle by any means, but it is a little daintier than the others, and damn, it’s stunning.
“This one is quite beautiful,” AJ says, pointing. And again, as though he’s reading my mind, he chooses the one I would have. I have a feeling he knows there is no way I am going to pick out a ring without knowing he can get his money back. This is all on him.
The woman’s smile brightens. “It’s a show stopper, isn’t it? A one of a kind, hand made by one of our best jewelers in Italy.”
It’s a full band of diamonds and rose gold with a large, glinting stone in the middle. With it is a separate wedding band, thicker than the engagement ring, also encased in diamonds.
“What do you think?” AJ says.
I mouth the word Amazon. The woman doesn’t see it and so she seems confused when he laughs.
“It’s by far the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen, but—”
AJ interrupts me. “We’ll take the set.”
My eyebrows pull together in confusion. Why would we need a wedding band as well when we plan to separate long before the sham of an engagement comes to a head?
“Wonderful!” the woman says.
She plucks the ring set out of the case and sets them on a small velvet mat in front of us. Before I can pull away, he slips the engagement ring on my finger. To my surprise, it fits perfectly. Instead of letting go of my hand, he continues to hold it. I feel a fullness in my chest as I look at it. Something heavy sits in my throat and tears well up in my eyes.
“Oh yes,” the woman says thoughtfully. “That’s definitely the one. That’s the reaction we like to see in here. I’ll be right back to ring those up.”
She takes the wedding ring, but leaves me with the engagement ring on my finger. When I look up at AJ, I feel scared and vulnerable and … no. That’s not love I feel. It can’t be. We had sex. Incredible sex. But still, it’s just sex. I’ve never developed feelings from a sexual encounter and I’m not about to start now.
But even as I tell myself this, those feelings start to pool in my stomach. I try to tell myself that this is just a temporary, hormonal reaction. But what I tell myself and what I feel are at war with each other.
I look down at the blank screen of my phone and sniff. “I have to go. There’s an emergency at work,” I say quickly. It’s a lie, but I have to get away.
“Can I give you a ride?” he says, sounding worried. I forgot that the Hope Center isn’t just an investment to him. He actually cares about the patients. Damn him. Why does he have to be so perfect, especially when I haven’t quite secured the walls I’m building around myself specifically to keep him out?
“No, I’ll catch a cab.”
And with that, I leave. There is no emergency. In fact, I have only a handful of patients to see today. Small things like a sprained ankle and a jammed finger. They are things I could have the nurse take care of, but right now I just need to dive into my work and forget about everything else.
* * *
Every time I put on gloves to touch a patient, I can’t help but think how tragic it is to have to cover up this ring. I can’t help but constantly look at it.
It’s been a week since AJ gave it to me. I haven’t seen him since, and he hasn’t tried to contact me except for a handful of work-related texts. I’m grateful for the distance. It’s given me some time to get myself together.
I’m no longer mad about the photos. I’d blamed him, which was selfish and stupid of me. It’s not his fault. It’s all mine. I’m the one who lost control. I knew he was a giant celebrity and being seen with him would get chatty mouths to start talking, but I wasn’t thinking. I wanted him that night, despite all the flashing red warning lights in my head. He had some kind of hypnotic pull on me and I’d given in. Scratch that. It was as much me as it was him.
As I stare at the ring, gleaming in the overhead lights of my office, an office that once made me feel so proud, I feel the walls closing in around me.
There’s a sudden loud rap at the open door. I hurry to hide my hand behind my back. My heart simultaneously leaps and drops when I see AJ standing there, a slight smile on his lips. My mind wants to resent him, but my body remembers everything that’s happened between us. There’s no way I can resent him after that.
He looks me up and down. I feel myself blush until I see the confusion in his expression.
“Did you forget about the photoshoot?” he asks.
“No. My clothes are in the closet. I’m just finishing up.”
I’d agreed to the photoshoot earlier in the week when AJ’s agent called my office and brought it up, saying it would be best for both of us if the engagement seemed more authentic. I’m starting to regret it.
“Let me just change and grab my things,” I tell him.
“I’ll meet you in the car.”
He leaves and I go into the bathroom to change into yellow dress I bought for the shoot. I pull my hair into a sleek ponytail, dust on a light layer of powder, mascara and lip stain, then put on the heels that are way too tall and kill my feet after a full day of work.
With a deep breath and slow exhale, I go out to meet AJ.
Only, once I make it outside, I realize that AJ never made it to his car. He’s standing at the front entrance of the hospital. A crowd of fans gather around him. All six-foot-six-inches of him towers over their heads, so he easily spots me when I’m walking out of the hospital.
“There’s my girl,” he says, his smile gleaming. All eyes turn to me and I have a slight panic moment from all the attention.
AJ comes up to me and takes my hand in his. He doesn’t let go as he talks to his fans and answers their many questions. This is why everyone loves him so much. He’s so approachable and doesn’t carry a single bit of arrogance like other sports stars of his caliber. Why does he have to be so damn charming? I even find myself being pulled into it.
He only lets go of my hand to take photos with his fans. Most of them want me in the picture, too, after all the publicity our engagement has gotten.
After he’s made sure everyone has their selfies and autographs, he tells them thank you for their support and we leave.
“No wonder your fans love you,” I tell him. “You’re good to them.”
“If you think I’m good to them, you should see how good I am to the people I love.”
He squeezes my hand and looks pointedly at me. A lump swells in my throat. Is he trying to say he loves me? I quickly look away, afraid of what he’s trying to tell me. When I do, a sleek black limousine pulls up in front of us. The driver gets out and opens the door.
I look up at AJ surprised. All of this for photos? He ushers me in.
I once rode in the back of a limousine that my parents got for me and all of my friends in middle school for my first big dance. The limo was from the seventies with red vinyl seats that were cracking and questionable white stains on the headrest. That car was nothing like this one. I could live in this one. The leather seats are nicer than the couch in my apartment. There’s a mini fridge, champagne on ice, thin little biscuits with caviar crème fraîche, and chocolate covered strawberries.
“Wow,” is all I can think to say.
He slides in next to me and tries to take my hand once more. This time I don’t let him. Holding my hand is part of the public act. He doesn’t get to do that when we’re alone. I don’t trust myself around him when we’re alone.
We ride to the studio in silence. I watch the scenery pass, feeling the heaviness of the silence crushing me.
It must bother him too because eventually he says, “I’m sorry.”
I continue to stare out the window. “How’s your knee?” I ask, not only to change the subject, but also because I’ve been worried about it.
He sighs. “It’s fine.”
I don’t believe him for a second.
* * *
Carson greets us when we get to the studio. My first impression of AJ’s agent is he seems genuine and seems to have AJ’s best interests at heart. He shakes my hand, giving it an extra reassuring squeeze as if he knows just how awkward all of this is for me.
“This big lump might be a prodigy on the field but he ain’t the prettiest thing to look at,” Carson says teasingly as he pats AJ on the arm. He points at me. “You’re the only thing saving these photos. Beauty and the Beast.”
AJ rolls his eyes and laughs. They must joke like this all the time because AJ gives it right back and neither seem to take it personally. Their banter cuts down on the tension and I feel myself start to relax. I wonder if there’s anyone AJ doesn’t get along with. He has such a good natured and natural rapport with everyone he meets.
I keep glancing over at the photographer who sets up his equipment. He has several assistants running around, checking every little thing to make sure it’s perfect. It feels intimidating, like a modeling shoot with all the lighting and cameras at different angles. My stomach is in knots. What am I doing? This is all so crazy.
“All right,” the photographer says loudly, startling me a bit. “Are we ready to start?”
I choke on my breath. I’ve always hated being in the spotlight, literally and figuratively. I hate getting my picture taken, the stiff posing, the fake smiles. I’m livid that I even allowed myself to get wrapped up in all of this in the first place. I have got to start making smarter choices for myself.
AJ takes my shoulders, causing my entire body to stiffen. He leads me toward the photographer who gives us directions.
“Relax, just be yourselves. Show me the love,” he says. His enthusiasm is infuriating and makes me feel the opposite of relaxed and loving.
I’m frozen at first, not sure what to do. Then AJ touches the small of my back. It’s a simple touch but it makes me feel warm all over. He leans into me, my breathing quickens as his fingers trail down the skin of my arms, raising goosebumps.
“That’s it, that’s perfect,” the photographer says.
As AJ’s lips just barely graze the side of my neck, I forget there are six people in the room with us. Right now, it’s just us. He barely touches me, but it feels so profound, so intentional. His large body against mine makes me feel safe, like none of the chaos and scandal can reach us. I lean my head back to look up at him, barely registering the rapid clicking of pictures being taken.
The photographer makes excited sounds as AJ leans in to kiss me. AJ’s eyes sparkle in the light like bright jewels as he looks deep into mine. There’s just the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. He looks at me like he knows all my secrets, like he can see through all the smoke and bluster, like he can see through the walls I’ve tried to build around my feelings.
The logical part of my brain thinks it’s best to pull away, but I’m not thinking with my brain at the moment. Only my body is in control of my actions right now. The crazy thing about being such a guarded person is that once those walls come down just a bit, it is so easy for a torrent of feeling to sweep me away.
Before I know it, the photographer announces that he has the perfect shots and that the shoot is over. I blink as if coming out of a deep sleep. How long were we posing like that? It seems like time stood still.
We’re called over to a monitor to review some of the shots taken, and oh my God, they’re beautiful. I wasn’t sure how they would turn out with me working an eight-hour shift right before, but they are amazing. The ring stands out on my finger as we hold each other. The way we look at each other is … unexpected. I’m surprised by the way I’m looking at him, how real it looks, how in love we look.
“You can’t tell me those don’t look believable,” Carson says triumphantly. “That looks like one hell of a happy couple to me.
“I need to go,” I say, feeling like the walls are closing in around me once more.
I start to walk away. AJ stops me.
“I’ll go get the limo,” he says.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll call for a car.”
“Please, just let me take you home. It’s the least I can do.”
The worry on his face is disarming. I nod. “All right. Thank you.”
We thank the photographer and say goodnight to Carson before leaving. The thought of being alone with AJ in the limo makes me nervous. But so does not being with him at all. My head is more confused than ever.
