I fiddle with the strings of the hoodie I’m wearing. “You know why.”
“Why we’re not pretending to date or why we’re notactuallydating?”
My stomach swoops. I look away, trying to figure out how to respond.
“What do your fake boyfriends usually do for you, June?” When I don’t answer, he continues, “I’m already partaking in snuggling, sex, and sightseeing. I just want to be prepared for anything I might need to take on.” There’s a sarcastic edge to the words that strengthens as I stay silent. “You know, so I can make room in my busy schedule.”
I watch more raindrops slide down the window. “I’m going to meet Ellie at ten. She wants to show me her wedding dress.”
“Is that always what it’s going to come down to, Sutton?Ellie? She’s moved on. She’s gettingmarried, for fuck’s sake.”
I don’t answer at first, just keep looking outside. One of London’s famous double-decker buses drives down the street in a flash of red that interrupts a long stretch of gray.
Ellie’s anxious voice asking, “Did you see Teddy?” echoes in my head.
“I haven’t told her you’re on the tour.”
Teddy sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I’m just telling you.”
He sighs again. “If you need me to do the fake-dating thing, I’ll do it.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“I’d say, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be, but that seems to be your specialty lately.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s that video, right? The one of us singing ‘I Walk the Line’ in Paris? Do you have any idea how many people have sent that to me? Did you ever do a duet with Devon, Sutton? You knewexactlyhow that would be taken, and you did it anyway.”
“You could have said no.”
“No, I couldn’t have. You call the shots with us, Sutton. You always have.”
“Youofferedto come on this tour, Teddy! I didn’t ask you to. I didn’t tell you to. And you’re the one who pushed—”
His eyes flash. “Ipushed? Is that what you think?”
“I don’t…” I pull in a deep breath. “Obviously, I wanted this too. I just—”
“Obviously?” Teddy laughs. “Nothingabout this is obvious, Sutton. I never have any idea what you’re thinking or feeling. You want sex? Sure. We both know I won’t turn you down. But unless you’re willing to talk, to actually tell me what you’re thinking, that’s all this is. That’s all we’re ever going to be. And that’s not on me. Or Ellie. Or distance. Or whatever you’re telling yourself. That’s onyou, Sutton.”
He stands. And then he’s gone. A slammed door the final sound before the room falls quiet. Leaving me alone, the same way I spend most of my time, even when I’m around other people.
Ellie is waiting for me outside the bridal shop, tapping away at something on her phone. Her light-brown hair is pulled up in an elaborate updo, her makeup perfectly applied, down to the swoop of her eyeliner.
“It’s a trial style,” she tells me before even uttering a hello, “so I can see how it looks with the different veils.”
“That makes sense,” I reply.
It does. Lots of things in my life don’t make sense right now. Testing a hairstyle with the headpiece and dress you’ll wear with it does. Right now, focusing on things that make sense sounds really good.
We leave the busy street behind to head inside the tiny store, Ellie chattering away about the stylist who did her hair and her supposed connections to the royal family.
Ellie has always been small but mighty, a full six inches shorter than my five-eight frame. Dainty and petite and a force to be reckoned with.
You’d never know our brief time living together was spent on a dairy farm in Wisconsin, based on the smart white pantsuit she’s wearing. My hoodie and jeans look drab in comparison. Being Ellie, she brings up my casual attire quickly, as soon as we’re led to a back section of the store and served champagne.