Page 85 of The One You Want

Next to me, Grant went still, his knuckles white on the fingers still clutching rose stems. “You want to use your trust to start thebusiness.”

It came out flat, almostcold.

“Um, yeah, maybe? I mean, the money is just sitting there. I’ve used it for silly stuff for years. Why not actually put it to good use.” I studied his face, trying to figure out why he looked so—upset. “Do you not think that’s a goodidea?”

I watched his throat move as he swallowed once, and then again. Finally, he cleared his throat and when he spoke, his voice sounded more gruff than it had a moment ago. “I think it’s a really good idea. That’s exactly what you should do with themoney.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I’d been afraid he was going to tell me that it wouldn’t mean as much if I didn’t do it all on my own. Which was definitely something I’d considered. It just seemed silly not to take advantage of all the resources I had. From all my reading that morning, one thing had been made perfectly clear—almost half of all new businesses fail within a year of their startdate.

The relief ebbed a little when I realized Grant was once again not looking at me. He was concentrating on the flowers in his hands—which were honestly looking a little mangled. Had he been squeezing them thattightly?

“Grant, what’swrong?”

He shook his head, but still didn’t look up. And he didn’t say aword.

Real fear was coursing through me now. Something was definitely up with him and I couldn’t imagine it was anythinggood.

“Grant?”

“I’m really proud of you, Jenny,” he said, in that flat, cold voice I was beginning to hate so much. “It looks like you accomplished exactly what you set out todo.”

I frowned. He didn’t look proud. He looked like he couldn’t stand to look at me. “I wouldn’t say I’ve accomplished it,” I said carefully, wondering what on earth was happening here. “But I finally feel like I’m on the right track.” I swallowed. “Thanks toyou.”

He finally looked up at me and I had to bite back a gasp at what I saw in his eyes. He looked like he was in pain. I automatically reached toward him, needing to touch him, to comfort him, but then something shifted in his face. The pain disappeared, just like that, so fast I wondered if I had imagined it. Instead he smiled, wide and seemingly genuine. But it didn’t make me feel the slightest bitbetter.

“I guess you don’t need to continue with our arrangement anymore,” he said, and I froze, the very blood in my veins seeming tochill.

“Our…arrangement?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “The whole fake dating thing,” he said, and a dull roar began to thrum in my ears. “I was skeptical at first, but I guess it worked prettywell.”

“Fa…fake dating?” I stammered, confused and scared in equal measures. What was hesaying?

“It’s probably good timing to wrap this all up,” he continued. “You got what you wanted out of it and now that I’m feeling more settled on the island, I was thinking it was time I started dating. Forreal.”

I sat there staring at him, waiting for him to say he meant me. He meant it was time to start datingmefor real. But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything, just continued to look at me with an unimpassioned, entirely calm expression on hisface.

“Are you…” I finally managed to squeak out, but had to swallow several times before I could continue. My throat felt dry as dust. “Are you saying you want to date someoneelse?”

Something flickered in his eyes, but his smile remained fixed. “I mean, that was always the plan. Help you get your career stuff figured out and then get back to how things have alwaysbeen.”

How things have always been. As in, the two of us working as neighbors at the market and occasionally spending time together as friends. That, apparently, was his end game allalong.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, terrible numbness spreading over my body. “You didn’t want…you didn’tmean…”

“Jenny,” he said, an expression of concern spreading over his face. He clapped me on the shoulder—a friendly, unromantic gesture. “I hope I didn’t make you think this was something more. I mean, I know we had a good time together, but I thought we were on the samepage.”

A good time together. As in, a good time in bed together. That was all that had been for him—a goodtime.

But how was that possible? The way he looked at me, the way he kissed me. The long talks about my family and future. It hadn’t just been sex between us, I know it hadn’t. It had beenmore.

But as I stared at his concerned, slightly pitying expression, I began to realize that maybe I didn’t know anything afterall.

There was a little voice in my head, begging at me to fix this. To tell him that he was wrong, it was much more than fun. To tell him that I was in love with him, that I probably had been for weeks now, long before he agreed to fake a relationship to help meout.

But that, apparently, was all it was to him. A fake relationship. A way to help an old friend and maybe have a little fun while he was atit.

He doesn’t love you,a different, louder voice whispered.Why would he love someone like you?Grant had spent the last several weeks hearing all about how weak and afraid I was. That I couldn’t even stand up to my grandparents on my own. That I was fully depended on their money. That I needed a shield—a fake boyfriend—just to figure out what I wanted to do with mylife.