Take Two (The Jilted Bride #1)(52)

He just needed someone to vent to, someone to remind him that the world outside of celebrity culture still existed. He just wanted to temporarily feel “normal.”

Matt’s driver picked me up at seven o’ clock. He weaved through the light evening traffic and made small conversation.

I blinked away the few tears that welled in my eyes as we got closer to Matt’s neighborhood. I had to end this today.

When we pulled up to Matt’s condo, an enormous silver structure, the driver didn’t move to open the door. Instead, Matt himself came and opened it.

“Hey Melody,” he took my hand.

“Matt.”

“How was your day today?”

“Okay,” I looked away.

End this now!

We walked into the building in silence. He swiped a card at the elevator and stared at me as we rose to the top floor. I avoided eye contact when we stepped off.

“What’s wrong, Melody?”

“Nothing. I’m okay,” I stopped and took in his apartment.

From his windows I could see the moonlight dancing across the East river. Across his exposed brick wall was an enormous flat screen TV. Black leather furniture—a chaise, a loveseat, two plush chairs—guarded a large crystal table. A state of the art stereo system, protected by a wall of glass panels, completely covered the far right wall.

I couldn’t see any other rooms from where I was standing, and I didn’t really care to look.

“You know I can get it out of you,” he kissed my neck.

I stepped back. “I met with Selena today.”

“Oh. How’d it go?”

“It went pretty well. She wants me to focus on her walking down the aisle and kissing you at your wedding.”

“She would…”

“She also gave me her journals that detail how she felt about you while you two were dating.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean what else? She wrote about you in her journal, Matt! The last entry is from December and she says she was still in love with you then. That wasn’t that long ago! I can’t believe I—”

“Do you trust me?” he interrupted.

“I want to.”

“That’ll work. Let me show you something,” he took my hand and led me past the stereo wall and into a dining room.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a folder. “This is our updated promo plan, Melody.”

I sat down at the table and thumbed through the papers. There were appearance listings—“The View,” “The Today Show,” “Live with Regis and Kelly,” “Late Night with David Letterman,” “Late Night with Conan O’Brien.”

There were press releases with dates received and dates submitted. At the back of the folder was the thick contract with the OWN network. Right behind those stapled pages was a copy of a handwritten checklist.

I skimmed through the numbers and caught what was next to number twenty five: “Create journal for Selena’s past. Submit to The New York Appeal.”

I became more frustrated. “Why do you need such an elaborate scheme? Is all of this really necessary?”

“It’s part of the contract.”

“And you can’t afford to get out of it or you won’t get out of it?”

“I told you it’s complicated. I—” his phone rang and he accidentally hit the speaker button. “Joan?”

“Mr. Sterling, where are you?”

“I’m at home.”

“The driver’s cell must have died,” she sounded upset. “Could you get downstairs please? He should still be outside waiting.”

“What? Why?”

“The OWN network’s promo shoot is tonight in Grand Central Station.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I told you this yesterday. I set an alarm on your phone and I texted you two hours ago.”

He shook his head and gave me an apologetic smile. Just as he was about to say something, another voice came on the line.

“Give me that Joan!”—it was Selena. “Matt? Baby? Are you coming? All the cameras are here and everyone’s waiting on you. Are you backing out on me?”

“No Selena,” he sighed. “I’m on my way.”

I really can’t do this to myself anymore…

“I love you!” she cooed.

“I love you too,” he hung up his phone. “I didn’t really mean that, Melody. I said that for the reality cameras. She only calls me ‘baby’ when she’s being taped.”

“Right.”

“I’m very sorry about all this,” he headed back towards the living room. “Can we reschedule for tomorrow?”

“No,” I followed him out the door and onto the elevator. I didn’t say another word.

I should’ve known better…

“I really am sorry,” he motioned for me to step off the elevator first. “I have to rush over there right now but my driver can drop you off after me. How long are you going to be mad?”

“Not long at all.”

“Okay well, can we talk about this tonight? Can I call—”

“You can call me all you want. I won’t be picking up.”