“Please tell me you’re not really pregnant!” I tried not to scream.
“Of course I’m not pregnant. Ratings, remember?”
I glared at her. “Do you have a soul? A conscience? Anything that would make me believe you’re a human being and not some crazy press-driven psycho?”
“Matt,” she grabbed my hand. “You’ll thank me for this one day.”
“I’m pretty sure I won’t,” I jerked my hand away. “How are we going to have a fake baby?”
“I’m going to have a miscarriage a couple months from now. After you dump me I’ll be in so much grief that I go into a deep depression and lose the thing. Boo hoo hoo, poor Selena. Lost baby equals even more press.”
“Joan!” I stepped off the elevator. “Joan! Where are you?”
“Yes?” she was right beside me.
“Is the Instyle lady here?”
“Yes. She’s across the street already.”
“Great,” I rushed outside with Selena running behind me.
“Matt! Matt! Stop!”
I stopped once I noticed a pack of paparazzi heading our way.
“I’m so sorry, Matt. I should’ve asked you about the baby thing first.”
“Shhh,” I pulled her close and kissed her, pretending she was Melody Carter.
“You sure you don’t want me to catch a cab back home?” Selena twisted the strands of her hair.
“Get in the car Selena. I would never make a pregnant woman catch a cab.”
She smiled and scooted next to me. “Aw! You’re the best! And you know what we can do while we’re here together?”
“What?”
“We can go over some of these launch party photos Stan emailed to me. I’m only putting up the ones of the beautiful people though. If I put up ugly people, my fans will associate that with my perfume and my perfume is not for ugly people.”
“No dear, you’re not shallow at all,” I sighed.
She leaned on me and clicked through the pictures on her phone. There were so many—directors, actors and actresses, dreamers. In every photo of the two of us, we looked like such a happy couple.
“Wait. I think that’s Melody Carter,” I leaned in closer to make sure.
“Who?”
“She’s some film critic at The New York Appeal,” I tried to sound nonchalant. I hadn’t forgotten how sexy she looked that night, how I literally had to calm my nerves before approaching her.
I’ve got to see her again…
“Oh. Well, she’s adorable! A film critic who can actually dress? Who’d have thought? But she’s a nobody so, moving on!”
I didn’t pay attention to the rest of the photos. I couldn’t think about anything besides Melody Carter and that was beginning to scare me. The last time I thought about a woman that much and actually pursued it, she turned into a fame hungry monster.
“I’ll see you Thursday?” Selena slid her shades on.
“What’s Thursday?”
“Joan, could you please earn your unnecessary paycheck?” she blew a kiss at me as the driver shut the door.
“What’s she talking about Joan?”
“Thursday is your engagement party. You told me not to mention it until the day before.”
“Exactly. What else do I have to do today?”
“Just dinner with the sweepstakes finalists at seven. Do I need to cancel?”
“No, not at all. I’ve got plenty of time,” I lay back in my seat. “Driver, could we swing by The New York Appeal?”
“Yes sir. Thirty minutes.”
“She’s not there,” Joan flipped a page in her book.
“What’s that Joan?”
“Miss Carter. She’s on vacation in St. Barts.”
“How do you—”
“I went to college with her assistant. That’s as much as I could get out of her though.”
“How much do I pay you?”
“Not enough,” she grinned.
Chapter 11
Melody
“I’m never going to finish my thesis,” Jennifer closed the door to our balcony. “This place is awesome!”
We were staying in a private villa that overlooked the ocean. Our place had two separate bathroom suites and a private pool with two tiers. There was a large lounge area on our rooftop and we had unlimited access to a five star spa. Since we were on the secluded part of the island, we had our own personal staff to attend to our every need.
“What happens if you don’t finish it?” I slipped into my bikini.
“I’ll never get my degree and I’ll try to be a food critic I guess,” she shrugged.
“You want to go for a swim?”
“Yeah, but I need to read at least twenty chapters of research while we’re here so…I’m going to read three right now.”
“Okay cool. I’ll come back for you in what, two hours?”
“Sounds great!” she pulled a book out of her bag and flopped onto the bed.
I grabbed my purse and blanket and headed down to the shore.
I was proud of myself for making use of the vacation. Even though I cried during our first tour of the island, I was happy to be close to my true love: the ocean.