Fake Marriage Box Set

I reached out for her hands, but she refused. "We both know it was more than that. And it was more than you feeling empathy for me and my family. There's something else. I'm sorry for all the rest of it, but I'm not sorry for that."

"You're not sorry that you slept with me just to get me out of your system?" She snorted and started off down the path to the beach gate.

"You really think that's all it was?"

She stopped, but did not turn around. "Then what was it?"

I didn't know how to say it. It felt like it buzzed in the air, louder than a cicada in August, but I couldn't get the words to form in my mouth.

Corsica half-turned and gave a sad, little sigh. "It doesn't matter. You'd always think I was just a gold-digger; you'd always be suspicious of me."

"I don't care about the money. I don't care about 'equal footing' or whatever that nonsense was." My voice was raspy.

"But I care where I stand."

Something crumpled in my chest, and I couldn't stand it anymore. "Fine. You want to try to keep your high ground by maintaining this drama, then go ahead. I'll call a car to take you back to Santa Cruz, and I'll cut you a check for your summer rent. You're right, our deal is done, and we should be, too."

Corsica looked at me, her blue eyes as shadowed as the midnight folds of her ball gown. I held my breath, hoping her next words wouldn't hurt. My lungs burned and my chest ached, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she turned and slipped through the beach gate, down the steep dunes to the ocean.

I stood there for what felt like a century until a voice startled me. "Did I just miss Corsica? Is the whole show over?" Phillip strolled up and handed me a double whiskey.

"The whole thing was a lie. We were never engaged. It was just a one-night stand that turned into a weekend getaway that turned into the biggest mess I've ever made."

Phillip clinked his glass against mine. "You love her. Of course things got messy. They always do when one person has nothing and the other person has, what should we call it? Your father's touch?"

I scowled at him and knocked my drink back in one go. It burned like hell, but I liked it. The whiskey felt like the only thing that would melt the glacier covering my chest.

"I wouldn't have been the one with the problem," I grumbled. "I'd give away all my money if that's what she wanted."

Phillip nodded, not at all surprised. "Then, what the hell are you doing? Go after her."

"Don't people say if you love someone you should let them go?" I asked.

My friend took my glass with an impish grin. "I think that depends on if they know you love them or not."

I cursed all the way down the sandy, shifting path. At the bottom, I expected to see Corsica huddled against the rocks, trying to escape the chill Pacific breeze. She was nowhere to be seen, though. Panic gripped me, and I stumbled through the seaweed and driftwood.

"Corsica? Corsica!"

A shadow detached from a sand dune far down the beach. Corsica appeared, a willowy outline against the moonlit sand. Her long gown whipped around her, and for a moment, she looked like a sea goddess swept up in the waves of her dress. Then she gathered up the long skirt, turned from me, and began to run.

I sprinted along the beach, only stopping when I got tangled up in her abandoned high heels. I scooped them up, muttering horrible things about princesses and their silly shoes. Even barefoot, Corsica was faster than me.

I'd told her it was over, and now she was too far gone.

My lungs ached from the run, but I felt a burst of hope when dark, jagged rocks loomed up ahead. Past the country club boundaries, the beach grew wild. The waves crashed against the outcropping and sprayed mist far into the air. New waves pounded up behind, and the high tide was beginning to swallow the beach. Corsica would have to turn around or risk getting caught between the hurling surf and the rising rock walls.

"Corsica, stop! You made your point!"

I heard her smothered sobs as the wind changed and blew hard against me. She was crying and running away so I wouldn't see. I broke into a grin. She did care! She wanted to hear that I loved her. She needed to hear it now. I tried shouting it, but the wind threw the words back in my face.

Then everything stopped. Corsica had come to an outcrop of rocks. The beach continued on the other side, but the waves slammed into the sheer wall right in front of her. She looked back at me and then out after the receding black water. I could tell by the way she shifted back and forth that she was timing the waves. The wet sand reappeared, a silver glint under the moon, and Corsica took her chance.

A terrified yell ripped from my throat as I saw the five-foot wall rear up. It broke into a white froth and bore down just as she slipped out to run around the cliff. She dropped her hem as she caught her balance, and the dark dress seemed to merge with the midnight ocean. The wave hit, and she disappeared.

I splashed into the water just as the wave drew back. I felt the powerful undertow sucking at my ankles, and I had to fight hard to keep going. By the time I slogged around the outcrop to the next stretch of beach, I couldn't see Corsica anywhere.

Panicked, I turned around and peered into the roiling waters, calling her name. Had she been pulled out into those clashing waves? She was strong; I would see her struggling. I searched and searched, but didn't see a hint of her in the black waters. Then, I spun around and sprinted down the beach. I checked every sand dune and inlet, every pile of driftwood. Too many tim