Pretend We're Over (Pretend 2)

“Where were you last night when Boden had his tongue down some slut’s throat?” Oaklee releases my hand and storms toward Sebastian; her anger deflected off Boden for a moment. “Where were you?” She pushes a finger against Sebastian’s hard chest. He doesn’t move an inch; he doesn’t seem bothered by the red hot female unleashing all her rage on him.

“I’m not your fiancé’s keeper,” Sebastian says.

She laughs. “Of course not. You’re just his bad influence. Because, to answer my question, you were right next to him, sticking your tongue down another woman’s throat instead of telling him to do the right thing. You’re no better than he is.”

My mouth falls open as I watch Oaklee storm towards the limo and climb in without looking back at the two idiots. Well, one is an idiot, the other is a cheating asshole.

I can’t believe Boden cheated on Oaklee. She had to have gotten that part wrong. Or he had to have been manipulated in some way. Boden and Oaklee are perfect together—both so strong and fierce. He rocks the business world; she rules the courtroom. They have the perfect life. There is no way I’m watching it fall apart.

Both of the men are still staring at the door to the limo, like Oaklee might come back any second. Like this is all one big lie, and any second she’s going to just walk back out, laugh this off, kiss Boden, and then they are going to go back into the church and get married.

But I know Oaklee—she’s as stubborn as she is smart. And whatever Boden did, she won’t forgive him easily. As much as she loves him, she won’t marry him until she’s forgiven him.

I climb into the back of the limo and find Oaklee has made her way to the midsection, where the bar is stocked with a chilled bottle of champagne and two flute glasses. She’s working on getting the cork off, but each time she tries, she just ends up breaking off another piece of cork with the cheap knife she’s using.

“Here, let me—“

She snarls at me, and I snap my mouth shut. Okay then.

I sit next to her while I wait to see if the guys are going to get their acts together and climb in before Oaklee orders the driver to leave.

“Get your ass in there,” I hear Sebastian shout.

Interesting—I would have thought for sure he’d abandon his friend by now. Or at least told him to give up on fixing his marriage. He was there when Boden was sucking face with a woman who wasn’t his fiancée. Sebastian was probably kissing a married woman—ruining two marriages in one night.

I feel my chest constrict as I imagine Sebastian kissing another woman after our fight. I spent my night tossing and turning, replaying our conversation over and over, while he was out kissing some floozy, not giving me a second thought.

“Get out!” Oaklee and I shout at the same time.

“No,” Sebastian says, shoving Boden in the car. Boden just slumps in the back, staring out the window. Sebastian closes the door, and then I hear the driver start the limo.

“I’ll just drive around the neighborhood until you give me more clear directions,” the driver says before rolling the divider up.

We start moving, and all of us fall silent for a second, not sure what to do next.

Oaklee is still fussing with the champagne bottle, trying to get it open.

Boden is staring out the window, but I don’t think any thoughts are playing in his head.

And Sebastian is staring at me with intense eyes.

Sebastian takes a deep breath before breaking his gaze from mine and looking back and forth between the unhappy couple. He breaks the silence first.

“Now, I’ve been to a lot of counseling sessions. Not a ton of marriage sessions, but enough to know that nothing will get better if you two don’t talk to each other. No matter if you decide to get married today or not, you won’t be able to move on with your lives until you talk to each other. So who wants to go first?”

He’s been in a lot of counseling sessions? For what?

Sebastian looks between Oaklee and Boden, waiting for one of them to speak, but it’s clear they don’t want to talk.

“Oaklee, you seemed to have plenty to say before, would you like to start? Tell Boden why you are upset with him,” Sebastian tries in a surprisingly calm voice. Is he a therapist? No, there is no way. I’ve never seen a therapist in as good of shape as him, or one as cruel as him.

Oaklee hisses at him.

“Okay, Boden, why don’t you start? Tell Oaklee why you’re upset? Or maybe apologize for what you did?” Sebastian tries again.

Nothing.

“Good job, Dr. King. It doesn’t look like your little therapy session is going to work,” I say.