Fake Marriage Box Set

“Let me take you out to dinner sometime,” I told him. “How much longer are you here in Hawaii?”

“Just until tomorrow, unfortunately,” Jeff said, shrugging a little. “Have to get back to the grind. But you know, Boston isn't that far away from New York. Maybe you'll make it up to see me sometime. Give me your number, and I'll text you my address.”

“That would be great,” I said, already pulling out my phone so that I could punch in his digits as he reeled them off.

I went back to my hotel after that and flopped down across the bed with my shoes still on, feeling drained but happy at the same time. It was such a relief to have finally made up with Jeff, after so many long years of fighting with him. The first thing I wanted to do was call Gretchen, but I knew she had a slew of appointments that afternoon in the aftermath of the holiday; lots of people were going home that week so they could get back to work once the new year started.

When I picked up my phone to text her anyway, the thing started ringing. It was Paul on the other end.

“Hey man,” he said. “Gotta keep this short because I'm actually on my way to a meeting with some of our guys in Asia,” he said. “But I was just wondering if you'd booked your flight home yet. Some of our investors have been asking, and it would be great if we could put out a press release for a planned press conference in the new year featuring you.”

I tried to keep from groaning out loud. “I've looked at flights,” I told him. “But I haven't booked anything just yet. Waiting to see if the prices fluctuate at all. Or if there are any last-minute deals that I can take advantage of.”

“You know things don't work that way around holidays,” Paul said, the frown clear in his voice. I knew he knew I was just delaying, but he didn't know the reason for it. “Is everything okay over there? You haven't blown through your millions already, have you?”

I forced a laugh. “No, of course not,” I told him. “I just haven't figured out which flight I want to book yet, that's all. But I promise you. I'll be there in New York by mid-January at the latest.”

“We need you sooner than that, I think,” Paul said grimly. “If you can't be here on January 1st, I think January 4th is the latest that we could set things and still keep our investors happy. And you know what happens when we have happy investors.”

I suppressed a sigh. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, okay. I'll make sure and book a flight in the next couple days, and I'll send you the details once I have them.”

“Thanks, man,” Paul said.

We talked briefly about our Christmases, and then Paul had to go into his meeting. I hung up feeling as though there was a lead weight in my stomach. I couldn't believe that I would be leaving so soon. I was going to have to find some way to share the news with Gretchen. I could already see the tearful look that she would give me. I could already feel my heart ache at the pain I was about to cause her.

But it was unavoidable, and I'd known that from the start. We both had. So, there was no one really to blame here.

Chapter twenty-eight

Gretchen

I went over to Christian's hotel right after breakfast, marching up to the door and knocking firmly enough that I knew he could hear it.

When he came to the door, he looked as though he'd just tumbled out of bed. “What are you doing here so early?” he asked around a yawn.

I clapped my hands together. “Come on, get dressed,” I urged him. “We're going surfing today.”

It was worth it for the grin on his face alone. He immediately looked much more awake. “Cool,” he said. “You know, in all the time that I've been here, I still haven't set aside time to learn how to surf.”

“I know,” I said. “That's why I figured today might be a good day. I looked at the wave forecast, and apparently, there are a few spots over by Turtle Beach where things are a little calm, still with great waves, but ones that a beginner can ride. Or at least attempt to ride.” I winked at him. “Come on. Get some board shorts on, and we'll go!”

When we got to the beach, he looked dubiously out at the waves, which were cresting probably taller than I was and spilling over into frothy whitecaps. “Are you sure about this?” he asked me. “I have never surfed before.”

“I know that,” I told him, grinning. “Trust me. This is going to feel like nothing. Anyway, I'll guide you through all of it. Worst you're going to get are a few bruises; don't worry.”

“Oh, just a few bruises,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Well, do you want to learn or not?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

I watched him stare out at the waves for a moment longer, and then he finally sighed. “Okay,” he said, letting me lead him over to a board rental shop. I had a couple of boards in my quiver, but none that would suit a beginner, and especially none that were made for someone so much taller than me. Still, I knew Jessica, the owner of the shop, so we were able to get a pretty good deal on the day-long rental.

A little while later, he had already mastered the ability to ride out to the waves, and we were able to sit out there looking for the best waves to approach.

“What about that one?” he asked, pointing toward one off to ou

r left.

“Too far over,” I said, shrugging a little. “With your muscles, you could probably reach that before it crested. But for me, I may be in pretty good shape, but that wave would be gone by the time I reached it.”