Garret slammed his car door and stalked toward the house, his face a thundercloud of anger. The things she'd said in the coffee shop had clearly eaten away at him.
Adelina saw him coming. Her heart kicked into a higher gear, not with fear, but with the adrenaline of a gambler making an all-in bet.
She turned back to Douglass, who was halfway to his car. "Wait," she said, her voice low and urgent. "Please. I need you to do me a favor."
He stopped, turning back with an impatient look. But he saw the genuine panic in her eyes.
"My ex-fiancé," she said, nodding toward Garret, who was now only a few yards away. "I need him to believe I've moved on. Completely."
Douglass's gaze flickered to Garret, then back to her. "What does that have to do with me?"
"Pretend you're with me," she blurted out. "Just for one minute. Please."
His first instinct was to refuse. She saw it in the tightening of his jaw. He didn't do drama. He didn't do games.
But there was no time.
Before he could say no, Adelina closed the distance between them. She reached up and gripped the front of his coat, pulling herself closer. Instead of a kiss, she let her head fall against his shoulder, pressing her body into his side with a desperate, possessive intimacy. Her fingers dug into the fabric, a silent plea. It wasn't a real embrace. It was a bare, calculated touch, but it felt like an electric shock.
Garret stopped dead, his mouth falling open. He had never, not once, seen Adelina initiate any kind of public affection.
She tilted her head back to look up at Douglass. His gray eyes were wide, startled. She mouthed a single word. Please.
His rational mind was screaming at him, but some other, deeper instinct took over. His hand came up and rested, stiffly, on her shoulder.
Her heart was going to explode. This was for the act, she told herself, but her body wasn't listening. The solid feel of him, the heat of his hand through her sweater-it was too real.
Holding the pose, she stared directly at Garret, her gaze defiant and cold.
The color drained from Garret's face. He looked from the two of them, locked in their fake embrace, and something in him seemed to break. He spun around without a word, got back in his car, and sped away, tires squealing.
The sound of the engine faded. Adelina realized she was still holding on to Douglass. She let go abruptly and took a step back, her cheeks burning.
His hand fell from her shoulder. He looked down at her, his expression a complex mixture of annoyance and something else she couldn't decipher.
"Do you always use people like that?" he asked, his voice quiet but sharp.
The question stung. "It was the only way to make him leave me alone," she said, lifting her chin. "I won't bother you again."
He didn't answer. He just turned and walked to his car. He pulled the door open, then paused.
Without looking back at her, he said, "Saturday. 8 a.m. Be ready."
The car door clicked shut. He drove away.
Adelina stood alone on the driveway, and as the reality of his words sank in, tears of pure, unadulterated relief began to stream down her face.
