Take Two (The Jilted Bride #1)(46)

I took my time placing them on the tables, stepping back to examine each one. I was trying my best to avoid any real cook work. The last time I attempted to make breakfast, the fire department came to put it out.

I felt Matt’s arms around my waist. “Why is it taking you so long to set tables?”

“I’m making sure all the syrups are perfectly aligned.”

“You’re so full of it, Melody. Come on, let me show you how to make breakfast.”

I watched him make a batch of blueberry waffles from scratch. He was so meticulous, making use of every fresh blueberry and stirring the beige batter until it was perfect.

I cut strawberries for the pancake toppings, and fried the bacon with little help. I burnt the first and second batch of scrambled eggs and couldn’t get him to stop laughing at me.

I was setting napkins on the bar when an elderly man walked into the diner.

“Matt!” he beamed. “How you been?”

Matt walked over to the man and hugged him. “I’m good Tony, you alright?”

“Better than ever. Business is good. Your dad would be really proud…How come I didn’t get a wedding invite? My wife is beginning to think you don’t love us anymore.”

“I’ll get you one,” he laughed. “Tony, I want you to meet someone. This is my friend, Melody Carter. Melody, this was my dad’s best friend and the current manager of the place, Tony.”

“Are you the Melody Carter from The New York Appeal?” Tony’s eyes lit up.

“Yes,” I shook his hand. “That’s me.”

“You’re a lot younger than I thought! A lot younger! My wife loves your stuff!”

“Thank you sir.”

“My AM staff should be getting in any minute. You kids staying for the morning rush?”

“Sure,” Matt winked at me.

For two hours we took orders, made coffee, and helped the staff however they needed us. Most of the truckers were unaware of who Matt was, but the few that did recognize him simply asked him to autograph their napkins—after he took their order.

When things slowed down, we headed back to the car. Before I could ask where we were going next, he leaned over and kissed me.

“Ready to go to the beach?” he asked. “There’s a private one twenty miles over the bridge.”

It didn’t seem real. Everything in my life was like a dream. Matt was going out of his way to spend time with me, and I was relishing every second.

I was falling for him. Hard.

For the first time in my career, I was ahead of all my assignments and wasn’t waiting until the last minute to complete my writing pieces. I wanted to make sure I couldn’t use “work” as an excuse. I wanted to be with Matt as much as possible.

Even though our dates were a bit unconventional and he had to make major preparations for each one—driving a different car to and from, involving his security detail, wearing different clothes—he made each one special.

Chapter 22

Matt

No one else had ever made me feel this way. No one. Ever.

I wasn’t sure if it was the beginning stages of love, infatuation, or both. Melody Carter was all I could think about.

The closer the wedding came, the guiltier I felt. I knew Melody was slowly accepting the terms of my engagement to Selena, but I felt bad about not being able to walk away from it all.

Last Saturday, while we were at a secluded beach, she asked me to explain why I couldn’t walk away. I wanted to tell her that Selena had threatened to ruin my career with a domestic abuse claim, but I knew she wouldn’t buy that. So I just told her the truth about the contract—that Selena and I would need to stay married for seventy two days past the wedding. I told her that I didn’t want our relationship to change and that I would do anything to prove it to her.

She sat quiet for several minutes after I finished my explanation and I couldn’t tell if she was upset or not. Then again, we did end up having sex on the beach so maybe she was okay with it.

“You’ve got it really bad,” Joan brought me into the present. “When were you planning to get out of the car?”

“Do I really have to do this today?”

“Yes. You’ve rescheduled twice and we’re already here so get out. Now.”

I stepped outside the car and a multitude of people screamed: “I love you!” “Kiss me!” “Sign mine!” “Marry me!”

I signed a couple of books and posters, and made my way inside Barnes and Noble.

A man dressed in a pinstriped suit met me at the door and led me upstairs. As we walked, fans screamed and pointed, camera flashes went off continuously.

“You can go ahead and have a seat, Mr. Sterling,” he said. “What we’re going to do first is the Q&A session with the fans. We have the pre-approved question bowl so—”

“There’s no need for that today,” I sat down. “Just let them ask whatever they want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

The fans always came up with the best questions. They were the ones who read all my magazine interviews, watched and re-watched my movies, so it seemed unfair to always restrict them to the same questions over and over. Of course, sometimes I regretted the unrestricted format: A woman once asked me, on live TV, how big my dick was and if I’d be interested in letting her “give [me] the best pleasure of [my] life.”