Pretend We're Over (Pretend 2)

“I’m sorry your honeymoon was ruined, but if I can give you a piece of advice, don’t let this ruin your relationship. He’s a keeper.” She winks at me and then leaves without checking on any of my vitals or asking me any questions. Does that make her a terrible nurse or just skilled at sensing what people need? Because right now, I just want a moment alone with Sebastian.

I run my hand through his fluffy hair that still is coated with saltwater and sand from our dip in the pool.

“This didn’t ruin anything. If anything, it stopped me from doing something stupid that I’ll end up regretting.” A kiss is intense enough. If I let this go any further, there is no way I’d survive it; no way I wouldn’t fall for him. And me falling for handsome men like Sebastian King would ruin me.

Sebastian’s eyes open. I don’t know if he heard my confession or not, but when he looks at me, really looks at me, with all the emotion in the world, my confession doesn’t matter.

I want to jump his bones.

“Mills, you’re awake.”

I nod, realizing that I still haven’t spoken out loud to him.

“Thank God.” If my heart wasn’t a crumbled mess before, it is now. He climbs up into the bed next to me, cradling me against his chest as we both exhale a deep breath. For a split second, this feels real. Like it would have really mattered if I had died, and wouldn’t just be an inconvenience he had to deal with.

The way he presses my head against his heart, I know that he’d mourn me far longer than any other acquaintance.

What does that mean? Does he have feelings?

He can’t. He’s already said he doesn’t feel things like that. And we haven’t known each other long enough to catch feelings. Being in a hospital like this just does something to people. No matter what, it would have been traumatic watching me swell up like a balloon, about to die at any second.

But the reality hits me, and I feel tears in my eyes. Our life may only stay connected for six months, but I will forever owe my life to him. He saved me. He ran on an injured ankle to save me.

“My superman,” I whisper, blinking back my tears.

He pulls away; his expression falls into one of twisted agony.

“I’m not your superman. I’m the arrogant playboy who just wants to get into your pants. Just ask the nurse, I hit on her earlier.”

I take a deep breath. “Jerk.” Even though he’s the farthest thing from it.

“That’s me, sweetheart.” His knuckles brush over my cheek. “I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel to play doctor and nurse.” The twinkle returns to his eyes.

This is who he thinks he is. Or maybe this is what he thinks I need per our arrangement.

But something changed here in Hawaii. I saw a portal to a different side of him. I saw the man willing to go through hell to save me. No man has ever done that for me before.

Sebastian tries to pull away, to climb off the bed. I know once he does, that he’ll go back to pretending. That’s all we do with each other—pretend. I just don’t know when we are pretending and when we are being real.

He doesn’t fight me as I pull him back. He doesn’t touch me either, though. I don’t need him to touch me. I need to look at him. I need to thank him.

I try to stare into his eyes when I say the words, but my eyes fall to his lips, the part of him I need connected to me.

“Thank you.” I don’t say what for. I don’t think he would accept me getting mushy on him right now. We are both in too vulnerable a state to go expressing anything genuine right now.

I think he’s going to pull away again. I think the moment is over.

Then he gives me another shock. He fills the gap between us, his lips carefully sweeping against mine. I could almost not even classify it as a kiss, that’s how gentle he’s being.

For a second, our lips are just brushing as we both breathe in each other’s souls. Somehow this is more intimate than either of our previous kisses. We aren’t touching anywhere except our lips.

And then like lightning, we both strike at the same time. We each deepen the kiss, turning it into more than just a thank you, more than just a sweet moment of understanding that we can brush off.

This kiss hints at feelings that both of us promised we would never have. It breaks all the rules we set. This kiss isn’t about remembering what lead us to be married. It isn’t a gut reaction after a near-death experience.

This kiss is the realest thing in our fake marriage.

We separate, at least our lips do. But I stole a part of him with that kiss, and he stole a part of me. Which part, I’m not sure, but I’ll never be fully alone again.