This was impossible—what he was asking. Absolutely, utterly impossible. No way in hell could it actually work. But here we were, standing drunk on the streets of Barcelona, staring at each other in the glowing moonlight. And that age-old question floated to the front of my mind.
When have I ever refused him?
“Let’s...talk about it inside.”
Chapter 2
The two of us ducked into an all-night café, squeezing into a tiny booth and ordering hot espressos to escape the cold. Nick was clearly thrilled beyond all belief, but he didn’t gloat. In fact, he didn’t say a single word. He simply watched as I took my first warming sip and perched on the edge of the bench with patient, eager eyes.
“There would have to be some ground rules,” I began cautiously. “If this thing has even a shot in the dark at getting off the ground, we need to get a few things straight.”
He set down his cup deliberately and folded his hands upon the table.
“Fire away.”
I bit my lip, considering for a moment, before blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “You don’t cheat on me.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and I blushed to high heaven. Whatever he had been expecting me to say, it certainly wasn’t that.
“Of course I wouldn’t—”
“I’m serious, Nick,” I interrupted, suddenly quite relieved that I’d picked that particular thing to start with. “I don’t care whether this is a fake relationship or not, I don’t want to be made a fool of in front of the entire Western Hemisphere.”
He looked a little shocked.
“Abby, I would never—”
But I had basically lived with him for two years. I knew his track record. The man was as distractible and restless as they came. And three months was a long time.
“Just...promise me...”
All the automatic defenses and explanations died on his tongue, as he closed his mouth and stared at me across the table. For a second, he looked almost sad. Then his face sobered to look as serious and solemn as I’d ever seen.
“I promise.”
We held each other’s gaze for a moment, before I looked away—nodding curtly.
“Good. Uh, next thing...” I trailed off, thinking on the fly and feeling a bit strange to be giving him orders when it was usually the other way around. “I want to split amicably.”
“You know, Abby,” his eyes twinkled teasingly, “we actually need to get together before you can try to break up with me.”
“Are you making jokes?” I raised my voice threateningly, but beneath it all, I was relieved. This whole night had spun off the rails to such a drastic degree—we needed a little levity if we were going to find our way through it. “When I’m doing you this massive favor?”
His dimples flashed as he bit his lip—trying to hide a smile.
“No ma’am.”
The old woman behind the counter swooned at the very sight, and I shook my head with a rueful grin. “When the time comes, we’ll just say that things fizzled out. Part as friends.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I will, of course, remain your publicist when this is all finished.”
“Of course.”
“My team will handle things for me back uptown.”
“Whatever you like.”