She was speechless again.
“Since we’re staying in Friday,” I stood up. “Your realtor mentioned you had a lake inspired spa?”
Chapter 19
Melody
My heart was beating so loudly last night I was shocked he didn’t hear it. Or maybe he did hear it and didn’t mention it. Either way, I was shocked I didn’t pass out right in front of him.
I really wanted to believe what he said about him and Selena was true, but they were the talk of the country. Everyone had something to say about their wedding and how cute of a couple they were.
I wondered how people would feel if it really was a hoax, and if there were other celebrities in similar situations. What about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie? Kim Kardashian and Kanye? Beyoncé and Jay-Z? What if they were all just illusions for the public?
I vowed not to mention Matt’s “confession” to anyone, not even Jen. I needed time to process it myself.
There was a knock on my door. “Come in Sophie!”
“Just a couple things Miss Carter,” she stepped inside. “Mr. Maxwell is working from home today and he wants you to lead the three o’ clock floor meeting. Adam Sandler is upset about your re-review of his film and his agent will be calling you later. Selena Ross and Matt Sterling picked the Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers for their wedding. Mr. Maxwell wants you to set up a private viewing in a couple weeks. He wants you to get a real feel for the space.”
I need to cancel that Friday date with Matt. Fake wedding or not, it’s a REAL marriage…
“Thank you Sophie. Is that all?”
“Reception downstairs called to say you have a package. The guy won’t leave until you personally sign for it.”
“Where’s my signature stamp?” I opened my drawer.
“He said he needs to see your ID.”
“Is he serious? Does he not know how office buildings work?” I stood up and put on my blazer. “Have Peter Travers on the phone when I get back please.”
I followed her out of my office and waited for the service elevator.
Is this how Matt got up to my office the first time? Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him…
I walked to the main floor and spotted a man holding a flat box against the reception desk.
“Did you just get hired yesterday?” I handed him my ID. “I think our receptionist has more than enough brains to accept packages for everyone that works here.”
He held the ID to the light and handed it back to me. “I was given specific instructions, Miss Carter. Could you sign here please?”
He held out a clipboard and I pressed my signature onto the paper. He handed me the box and tipped his hat as he walked away.
There was no return address on the package, only an “URGENT” label across the front. I shook it, but the contents didn’t make a sound. I tried prying it open with my nails but the tape was too thick.
I locked the door to my office and attacked the box with scissors.
Inside was a handwritten note: “Dear Melody, I can’t wait to see you this Friday. We can take things as slow as you like. Hope this will last a lot longer than my last gift to you. –Your favorite actor, Matt Sterling.”
I peeled away layers of cooking sheet paper to get to the gift: A candy pizza. The “crust” was a light chocolate chip cookie, the “cheese” was sweet dough, and the “toppings” were M&Ms, candy corn, and caramel coated peanuts.
I can’t believe this…
My cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Did you open the box yet?” he sounded even sexier over the phone.
“I just opened it. Thank you, this was really sweet. No pun intended.”
He laughed. “You’re welcome.”
His words lingered across the line for several seconds. Neither of us said anything.
“I’m assuming you’re having a slow day?” I asked.
“Quite the opposite. I just left a script reading session with some cast mates. I’m on my way to look at some shoes for the wedding.”
Oh yeah, YOUR wedding.
“Listen, Matt. This pizza was really nice of you and so was the dinner you made for me yesterday. But at the end of the day, you’re still engaged. Whether that’s real or fake, I think we should be associates until your fake relationship is over.”
“What’s your definition of an associate?”
“Someone I talk to ever so often and—”
“How often?”
I paused for a second. “Maybe three or four times a month?”
“Do associates ever hang out or eat dinner together?”
“No. They don’t.”
He groaned. “I don’t need any more associates, Melody.”
“Casual friends then?”
“I thought we were friends. Are you telling me we’re not friends anymore?”
“I’m telling you we shouldn’t be anything while you’re with Selena.”
“What can I do to get you to stop saying that?”
Don’t marry her…
“I don’t know.”
He sighed. “I’ll call you tonight. What time do you go to sleep?”