“I did. I printed it and handed it to Mr. Maxwell about two hours ago.”
“Great. Would you book me a return flight from Memphis?”
“Sure, for what day next week?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I hung up.
I couldn’t hide and sleep in Memphis forever.
Chapter 4
Matt
“Joan remembers everything,” I muttered as I took my seat at Per Se.
It was the site of our first public date and the staff had gone out of their way to recreate the memory: Our table was adorned with sonata lilies, daffodils, and orchids. While the other patrons’ tables were draped in white linen, ours was draped in black—homage to a comment Selena made two years ago.
Selena was late as usual but I didn’t mind. I needed time to think, time to figure out how to break things off.
Twenty minutes past the reservation time, Selena sauntered into the restaurant wearing a dress so revealing it made me want to reconsider.
“Happy anniversary baby,” she kissed me on the cheek.
“Happy anniversary Selena,” I pulled out her chair and signaled for the waiter.
“Good evening Mr. Sterling, Miss Ross,” he set the menus on the table. “May I interest you in some wine to start your evening?”
“We’ll have Chateau Guirad, the 2001 please. And we’ll have Chef Keller’s nine courses for dinner, no lobster for Miss Ross.”
“Excellent selection,” he picked up our menus and walked away.
“Well,” Selena grabbed a lily from the center of the table. “I see you remembered.”
No, Joan remembered.
“Yeah,” I shifted in my seat. “We need to talk.”
“I was going to say the same thing.”
“Oh really? Well, ladies first. You go ahead.”
The waiter poured us both a glass of wine and placed the bottle on the table.
“I know that our relationship hasn’t been the most ideal and that things keep getting crazier and crazier in the press,” she looked off to the side.
I think she’s going to dump me…YES!
“Go on,” I sipped my wine.
“I want you to know that I do care about you and I’ll always be your friend regardless of what happens to us. And in saying that, I think that the next step for us…is marriage.”
I spluttered the wine back into the glass and began coughing. People in the restaurant became quiet and shot curious glances over to our table.
“Are you alright sir?” the waiter rushed over.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks. Could you bring me some Jack Daniels please?”
“Certainly sir.”
“Are you out of your mind, Selena Ross?” I whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“Marriage? Are you crazy?”
“We can always say things didn’t work out six months from now.”
“Selena, we’re not in love. We barely even like each other any—”
“Don’t sit there and act like that’s shocking Matt. Us dating each other is what the public wants. It’s what they need.”
The waiter set down the Jack Daniels.
“Why do we need to get married?” I took a large gulp of whiskey. “What’s wrong with the pseudo dating we’re doing now? And actually, you know what’s better than an engagement? A breakup.”
“No, no, that’s not true. Engagements definitely get more press and I’ll need all the extra press I can get if I want this next role. I need to show that I have a domestic side.”
“Jesus, Selena. Do you hear yourself? What happened to you? Is fame all you care about?”
She sipped her wine. “Yes.”
The waiter set down the first course and another glass of Jack Daniels.
“Two months,” I took another gulp of whiskey. “That’s as far as I’m going with this charade.”
“Great!” she smiled and looked around the restaurant. When she was sure no one was looking, she slid a small box across the table. “It’s from Lorraine Schwartz. I had my assistant pick it up today.”
“You want me to propose here? I don’t think there are enough people around…Plus, the paparazzi won’t be able to fully capture the moment. I’ll take you to the right place after dinner.”
Her eyes lit up and she leaned over to kiss me. My stomach was churning at the mere thought of proposing, but I wasn’t going to turn down the chance for more exposure. If we were going to do this, I wanted to do it right.
The next morning, I awoke to an empty apartment. There was a note on my pillow from Selena: “I had fun last night—Mrs. Matt Sterling : )”
There were a lot of words that described fake-proposing in Times Square, and I was pretty sure “fun” wasn’t one of them.