Falling for Mister Wrong (28 page)

She would play for him sometimes, often
inviting him up to her apartment at the end of the day by playing
the Beethoven Pathetique as soon as she heard him moving around
downstairs. He would knock on her door before she made it to the
second movement, without fail.

Everything felt lovely and
real
. No
elaborate cinematic dates. They weren’t even allowed to be seen
together in public or tell anyone they were seeing one
another—which seemed to be harder on Mimi than it was on them. They
were both perfectly content to stay in and just be together, but
Mimi was fair to bursting under the pressure of the secret. Only
Caitlyn’s repeated reminders of the dire consequences kept her
mouth shut.

They spent most evenings together and most
nights, though Caitlyn was grateful for the time away from him on
the evenings he would spend with his family and on Tuesdays when
she watched the show with Mimi. She worried he would get sick of
her—and those times apart, even if it was only a day, gave their
reunions a desperate, eager edge.

She woke up every morning dizzy with
happiness. Life would have been perfect… if not for that lingering
sliver of doubt, nagging at her like a splinter beneath the
skin.

She dreaded Tuesdays.

Will thought Daniel had dumped her.

Every week the fear grew worse that he would
see something or hear something and realize just what an idiot
she’d been over Daniel and despise her for it. She couldn’t tell
him how foolish she’d been without risking a lawsuit, but she hated
the idea of him discovering she’d accepted Daniel’s proposal by
watching the show. She had to tell him about the engagement—and the
end of it—but she was haunted by their conversation about vow
breakers.

Would he put her in that category? Would he
think she was just like his ex-fiancé?

By unspoken agreement, they both very
carefully avoided the details of their previous relationships. She
had the excuse of a nondisclosure agreement, but Will’s face would
turn to stone whenever she alluded, even accidentally, to his
broken engagement.

And then it was Valentine’s Day.

A Tuesday, so normally one of her nights away
from Will when Mimi would keep her from going pyro-girl while
watching the show, but Ty had brought out the big guns in the
Wonderful Husband competition, even hiring a sitter and making
reservations, so Caitlyn was on her own.

Things were still too new with Will to expect
that they would necessarily celebrate the holiday together—they
hadn’t defined whatever it was that they were doing together or
said anything about feelings, and it wasn’t like they could be seen
in public together anyway, especially not on a night like
Valentine’s.

Tonight’s episode was the last exotic date
before the Meet-the-In-Laws dates. Spain. Pouring wine on the
brazier. Daniel talking to her for the first time about what their
life would be like after the show. Caitlyn wasn’t sure she wanted
to see that. And she sure as hell didn’t want Will seeing it. Or
finding out about it from his sisters, who she knew watched the
show.

She wished for a giant eraser to rub out the
entire event from her past. When other people made romantic
mistakes, they could walk away without having to relive them on
national television. Not for the first time, she wondered what had
possessed her to sign on for this.

Mimi had been enthusiastic and the producers
were beyond persuasive—
unique opportunity, wonderful journey to
find your soul mate
. And she’d wanted to believe it all. She
clung to that dream of the fairy tale romance as hard as only a
girl from a broken family could.

Last week had been the episode with the lie
detector test and Caitlyn couldn’t help but wonder what her results
were. Had the test been able to tell that she was lying to herself?
Daniel hadn’t opened them. He’d decided that he wanted to trust the
women and didn’t need the results—dramatically burning them in
front of the Suitorettes before the Elimination Ceremony.

But now Caitlyn was dying to know. What would
have happened if he’d read them?

Lies and illusions. The show specialized in
them. And tonight was a doozie. Spain. The flamenco show and the
first time Caitlyn had told the cameras she thought she might
really be falling for him.

Dread turned her blood to sludge.

Caitlyn went through her Valentine’s Day
lessons on edge, her usual smiling rapport with her students
feeling forced. Some of them had brought her Valentines and she let
each of them raid the basket of chocolate hearts she’d kept beside
the piano all week, telling herself it was a holiday for kids and
greeting card companies and nothing more.

Then the roses arrived.

Her heart began a drum roll in her chest as
she accepted the delivery and plucked the tiny envelope from the
spear amid the blooms. They were gorgeous. Extravagant. And she
shouldn’t have received them. Some enterprising reporter could
track the purchase back to Will—

Except the card wasn’t one of Will’s little
notes, the ones she’d begun to find tucked into random places
around her apartment.

It was from another man.

Be my Valentine? I miss you so much. Love,
D.

“Shit.”

In three weeks she had to fly out there for
the live reunion show. She’d been avoiding thinking about him,
worried enough about Will’s reaction that she’d let herself forget
about Daniel. Forget his impressive ability to pine when he thought
that was what he was supposed to be feeling.

The flowers sat on her café table, dwarfing
it with their massiveness. There must be four dozen of the damn
things.
Overcompensating, Daniel?

She couldn’t even toss them in the dumpster
because one of the many entertainment reporters who had taken to
visiting the town might find them and make an entire front page
story out of it.
Suitorette Trashes Roses!

But if Will saw them…

He would know. The jig would be up. A veil
might be a gag gift but eleven million roses on Valentine’s Day
sent a certain message. A message like
I agreed to marry that
idiot
.

Caitlyn stared at the Blooms of Doom. “Shit,”
she said again, as if repetition might help.

Right on cue, she heard the first creak and
thud of Will downstairs. Her fingers flexed. On any other day, she
would force herself to wait a minimum of sixty seconds before
rushing to the piano and playing the
Pathetique
. But this
was a Tuesday. And Valentine’s Day. And an invitation on
Valentine’s
meant
something—even a musical one—and if he did
come upstairs, like Dear God she really wanted him to, then he’d
see the Blooms of Doom.

He might come up anyway. She was pretty sure
she’d mumbled something about not spending the evening with Mimi
when he’d slipped out of her bed at the crack of dawn this morning.
God, why couldn’t she remember what exactly she’d said? It was
possible she’d
already
invited him and he was even now
showering—
do not get distracted by thoughts of him showering,
Caitlyn Marie Gregg!
—and getting himself spruced up to come
upstairs.

He could not come upstairs.

She would cut him off at the pass. Go
downstairs. And if he had no intention of seeing her on Valentine’s
and she completely embarrassed herself, so be it. As long as he
didn’t see the Blooms of Doom.

She wasn’t ready for her house of cards to
come falling down just yet. One more night of happy. Please God,
give her that.

#

Will dropped the plastic Walgreens bag on the
counter and began stripping down, intent on grabbing a quick shower
and making himself presentable, but keeping one ear open for the
Pathetique. His response to that song was downright Pavlovian.
Instant hard-on and instant disregard for everything other than
getting to her as fast as possible.

He didn’t hear the music and even though he
desperately needed a shower and shave, part of him was
disappointed. Did she not remember her sleepy invitation for him to
come over tonight? Or maybe he was in the doghouse for forgetting
Valentine’s Day. He’d completely spaced on the holiday—though he
supposed he should have noticed an increased number of idiot
teenage boarders trying stupid tricks to impress girls and needing
to be med-evaced during his ski patrol shift.

He wouldn’t have even known he’d screwed up,
except Claire called him to bitch about the fact that Don had the
audacity to suggest they try a romantic holiday dinner
with
their children, since they’d both forgotten to arrange a sitter in
advance. Will had lied and told her he had a ski patrol shift for
night skiing to get out of being conscripted as babysitter—and then
made a frantic last minute run to Walgreens to raid the novelty
candy aisle.

He’d sent a belated Happy Valentine’s text to
Caitlyn before driving home. No response.

She didn’t seem the sort to get pissed about
stuff like the proper way to observe couple holidays, but his
sisters were proof that perfectly rational females could turn
psychotic with very little provocation on the infamous V-Day.

He’d just pulled on a pair of dark slacks and
a blue sweater Laney insisted made him look like a stud—according
to her friends, because
ew
—when a tentative knock struck his
door.

Caitlyn didn’t usually come to him—though the
memory of the last time she had was enough to get him half-hard. He
smoothed a hand through his still-damp hair, grabbed the
heart-shaped box of chocolates and went to open the door.

He had a momentary flicker of concern that it
might not be her—
Jesus, if Tria has the gall to show up
today—
but when he opened the door it was all Caitlyn, wearing
one of the skirt-and-blouse outfits she taught in and nervously
twirling a lock of red hair around one finger. He thrust the
chocolates at her. “Happy Valentine’s.”

“Oh!” She took the candies, cradling them
like they were more precious than gold—which made him feel like
even more of an ass for the rush job. Especially when he noticed
the price sticker still clinging to the back.

“Crap.” He reached out and peeled the sticker
off, crumpling it in his hand. “Sorry. I almost forgot about
Valentine’s entirely. Bad boyfriend?”

Her expression of shock made him replay what
he’d just said.
Smooth, asshole.

She blushed. “I… I didn’t… uh… get you
anything either.”

“Friend,” he amended, too late. A slow flush
crept up from his collar. “I guess we haven’t talked about—a little
presumptuous—”

“No,” she cut him off. Then she launched
herself at him. Will grunted, catching her and staggering back into
the apartment as she kissed the living daylights out of him.

Somehow he managed to shut the door and get
them to the bedroom. The chocolates landed somewhere in the middle
of the living room. The stud sweater didn’t last any longer than
her sexy little skirt and blouse. Then she was kneeling, tugging at
his belt buckle.

Okay, so
boyfriend
. Good word.
Very
good word.

Half an hour later he was back in the shower.
This time with company.

“I know we can’t officially be together,” he
said, enjoying exactly how together they were at that moment. “It
just sort of popped out.” She snickered and he swatted her bottom,
which only increased her laughter. “The
boyfriend
thing. I
mean if you aren’t ready…”

She shut him up with a hand over his mouth,
then replaced it with her lips. “I liked it,” she said when they
both came up for air. “And I love that you said it first. Remind me
to send your sisters a thank you note for putting you in touch with
your feminine side.”

“I’ll show you my feminine side,” he
growled.

She squealed, laughing. “Or maybe a nice
fruit basket. When we’re able to tell people.”

And there it was, his stupid heart catching
air because she alluded to a future… to a time when there would be
no restrictions and they could just be together. Open. Honest. The
sneaking around felt wrong—like he was making it with someone
else’s girl, even though he knew she was only his. He’d never
really cared about advertising his relationship status before, but
it would be nice when they could be public about it. When he could
put his arm around her in town and everyone would know she wasn’t
that
Marrying Mister Perfect
girl. She was his.

Soon.

Chapter
Thirty-Four

“Wow. That is a shit ton of roses.”

Caitlyn grimaced at the first words out of
Mimi’s mouth when she showed up on Wednesday to watch the DVRed
episode. “Will you take them? They’re from Daniel and I need to get
them out of the apartment before Will sees them.”

“The ex is trying to drown you in flowers,
huh? Sure, I’ll take ‘em off your hands. I can tell Ty they’re from
my secret admirer. Keep him on his toes.” She held up the grocery
bag she’d brought, bulging with Ben & Jerry’s. “Chunky Monkey
or Phish Food? When I saw in the promos that this episode featured
Elena in a bikini, I thought we might need reinforcements.”

“Bless you. Open both.” She waved Mimi toward
the television. “I’ll get spoons.”

#

“You know, I’m starting to see why these
shows are so messed up,” Mimi said, wagging her spoon thoughtfully.
“If you only saw the pieces he was with you, it would be the
perfect romance. Or the pieces with Samantha. Though Elena’s
segments would look more like a porno. But it isn’t until you see
them back to back that you realize what a dick he is.”

“I don’t think he’s a dick.” Oddly, now that
she was no longer engaged to the man, she felt much more inclined
to defend him. She could almost feel sorry for him. “You don’t know
how persuasive the producers can be. They’re in your ear
twenty-four-seven talking about exploring opportunities and going
with the moment. It can be hard to get a sense of how you feel
about a person when you’re constantly being told it’s possible to
love everyone.”