Chapter12
“Let’s go through this again,” Ben told her as she drank a glass of water.
“I told you, I don’t want it scripted.”
“You aren’t an actress. How are you supposed to make it look like a convincing breakup?”
She looked flustered, like she was about to give up. “Ben, I don’t think I can do this.”
Ben shook his head and sighed. “I thought the whole purpose for this was to make it a win-win situation?”
“It is. But this is in front of your family.”
“It’s not like it’s super spontaneous.”
“We met tonight to practice breaking up?” She sounded disappointed. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a week because they were both busy. Well, he was busier than she was and hadn’t even bothered to call her until yesterday. Chinese takeout was for dinner again, which she didn’t mind.
He shrugged. “This is still a date night. Look, all you have to do is to pretend you’re really in love with me, and I’m really in love with you, but things just aren’t working out between us.”
That shouldn’t be too hard, she thought with a heavy heart. She looked at the bullet points printed on the piece of paper. It was simple. They were to break up on their last night in Nice. He had booked an airline ticket for her already, plus limousine services to send her off. It wouldn’t be too dramatic. With the right tempo and right scenario, this would look like any romance-drama movie with a scenic background.
Who would want to breakup in Nice? she thought, dumbfounded.
There was no way out of this, except to commence defeat and pay up for whatever he had spent on her. There was no way she could pay off those debts in less than a year, unless she made it big. But the contract had said she had to come up with the money in a month, she remembered, suddenly wanting to kick herself.
“Hello,” he said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Where were we?”
After dinner. He wanted her to break up with him after dinner, in front of what? Twenty, no, thirty relatives? How could there be no drama? Would they just suddenly stop talking to each other? She could do that. She could walk out and leave him hanging. That would be safest.
“Yeah, I got it. Sort of,” she told him. There was another week before the trip. She had to internalize this. But seeing him all comfortable in front of her made her feel uneasy. She was getting used to him so much.
She hadn’t thought it would come to this; she didn’t think it would happen that fast. It hadn’t even happened with James. It took years. And here came Ben Eriksson with his blonde hair, blue eyes, and Nordic stature—and she fell for him completely. The whole t-shirt and jeans and sneakers look made it even harder. She felt like a high schooler, thinking he was cute. He wasn’t cute at twenty-six; he was a successful businessman for cryin’ out loud. But tonight, there was no other word for it, as his brows furrowed, adding a few things about their breakup.
This was the stuff that cheesy romantic movies were made of, but it was happening to her. And she had allowed it. She had been blinded by the master’s degree funds she needed and the possibility of a successful modelling career in case her plans of further studies fell through.
“Ben,” she began.
“Hmm?” he said, as he wrote a few things on the paper.
“How much do I owe you?” she said as she sat across him in the living room.
“Uhm… twenty-thousand, I guess,” he said absentmindedly.
She took a silent and deep breath. There was no backing out now. Sierra looked at him again, resisting the urge to run her fingers through his hair that shone under the warm skylights.
He suddenly looked up at her. “You aren’t thinking of backing out, are you?” he asked with his eyes narrowing.
She held her breath and shook her head. “I need this as much as you do.”
He smiled. “For a second there, I thought you were willing to pay me off right away. I’m not looking for a good actress. Just someone genuine enough.”
Because my feelings for you are genuine? Sierra didn’t say anything as he handed her the paper he had written additional notes on.
He had written down how many people were going to be there and where the planned dinner was going to be. Jesus Christ, there was going to be twenty-five people. Twenty-five members of his family. She didn’t like the idea of it already, facing so many people and breaking up with him. Was this going to be all over society news soon?
“Make it sound like I’m an asshole, but not too much.” Ben grinned. “We aren’t breaking up in front of them anyway, just in some other room where they can hear us. I won’t insult you too much, either. Just enough to offend a few people.”
And offend me, she thought. Now this was the stupid, reckless, and immature part of him that he probably knew about but reveled in anyway.
Ben was anxious, but he didn’t want to show it. This wasn’t a make-it-or-break-it act; it was more of just being tired about everything related to being in a relationship. He suddenly imagined being in a real one with Sierra. Something he hadn’t imagined since his first crush in fifth grade.
He went home an hour later, his thoughts incessantly filled with Sierra. He saw she looked troubled and thought it was because she was going to be embarrassed about the whole scenario.
He hadn’t touched her since they’d made love on the couch. Their public kisses were chaste but enough to generate a buzz. He couldn’t try to go further, all of a sudden, no matter how much he wanted to. He realized he respected her too much to even make a move with her again. This spelled bad news. There was some growing hesitation on his part about all this. But he had to. He was in no position to cancel on this–his word and the contract he had made was at stake.
In reality, he didn’t want her to even pay for everything he had spent on her. He liked the bright look in her eyes when she enjoyed something. She was a bad liar, and he knew that time was running out to improve on the lying. Some part of him wished she would just drop from the ruse, and he wouldn’t even mind, just as long as he saw her happy and free and not dating anyone else in the meantime.
What in the hell was he thinking? He knew he liked her enough to be a good friend to her. He planned to be a friend to her after all this. When all of this had died down, they could be good friends; something that had never happened with all of his exes.
***
She had told her mother she was going to France, and Tasha was more than elated. Sierra felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement as they walked into the Airbus A380. It was larger than she had ever thought it would be, as they were directed to the first-class cabins.
The interiors were plush; she had never seen an airline seat look like this. She tried not to look too ignorant. She saw the flight attendant, with her signature deep purple uniform, eyeing Ben flirtatiously, but she paid no heed to it. Ben was still her boyfriend. She could act like a petulant girlfriend for all she cared. She had dressed for the part of a petulant, model girlfriend anyway. It did cause quite a bit of a stir at JFK Airport. People recognized her more than they recognized Ben.
The wait had been quick due to the other passengers who had asked for photos with her. She saw Ben’s face looking bored, and she left him to check his emails and texts while she spoke to a few fans. It was strange to even have fans. The only fans she’d had before were the animals that belonged in the shelter; she almost laughed to herself.
Unbeknownst to her, Ben was annoyed that people actually recognized Sierra even in the airport. She wasn’t even wearing the usual heavy makeup, yet people wanted photos with her. Guys wanted pictures to prove they were beside her. He didn’t want to get used to this. He hated the idea of other men wanting to be beside her all the time. She was his… for now, that was.
He was actually glad to get away from the annoying horde, glad that they had boarded and he could be offered some peace and quiet. He had thought about inviting Sierra to Germany for at least two days, but he figured work was waiting for her as much as it waited for him.
Sierra sat down in the comfortable chair that could recline into a full single bed, liking how even the blankets were made of wool and that the pillows were as fluffy as could be. The flight attendants offered them champagne as soon as the fasten seatbelt sign had been switched off.
“The champagne helps if you’ve got travel sickness,” he told her as he took a sip.
“I don’t have travel sickness.”
“Well, I need to sleep,” he told her, downing the last of his bubbly. “I think you should get some sleep, too. Or are you too excited?” he teased her.
“I’m not.” Sierra didn’t want to miss any part of the flight for some reason. Her first trip to Europe, her first time in first class—it was something she hadn’t dreamed of ever doing after less than three months in New York.
“Why didn’t we take the same plane as your mother?” she asked.
“And risk you being awkward and stuff? Let’s leave that for the actual reunion. Although it would be great if you were yourself.”
“What do you mean? Am I not my usual self?”
“Sometimes. And I know you’re doing it on purpose to spite me.” He yawned.
She rolled her eyes and decided to recline her seat as soon as she finished the drink that left a tingly sensation in her mouth. “You think I’m doing everything for you.”
“Of course. It’s what I’m doing to you, too.”
“Get some sleep,” she told him, wanting to enjoy the experience by herself and in quiet.
He shrugged and flung the blanket over his figure. She looked at his back for a moment and sighed. Could she sleep on this flight? She remembered her childish excitement for Canada. Well, this wasn’t a country across the river anymore. Her agency had mentioned that there was a possibility of a shoot in Paris the following month. She was counting on it. That could help her financially when Ben cut her off.
With Ben cutting her off, it spelled a change in lifestyle, a lifestyle she had secretly grown fond of and wanted to keep, but she had to keep her head out of the clouds. She’d only had an hour’s sleep for the duration of the eight-hour flight, but she hadn’t felt this awake in weeks. The anxiety had probably become her cocaine or something. She wondered what his mother would be like, what his entire family would be like. Her stomach churned as the plane made its descent onto the runway.
Ben was eyeing her quietly, knowing her feelings were a mixture of anxiety and excitement. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was pretty cute, though—her first international trip and her first trip on a plane that went beyond a flight time of two hours.
She had put her shades on to shield her unrested eyes from the bright morning sun. For a December, Nice was balmy. It was the perfect temperature for a vacation, Sierra realized. She looked around, marveling at the airport’s architecture and the many tourists and locals moving to and from it.
“Welcome to Nice Côte d’Azur International Airport,” a marquee repeated over and over again. It was interspersed with images of Nice’s local cuisine, hotels, and the beach. The marquee’s English text changed into French and a slew of other languages.
People were dressed in their beach finery, with flip-flops and sunglasses that made them look all the more touristy.
“This way,” he said, holding her hand. They only had carry-ons and clothing for two formal events. He had urged her to buy the Louis Vuitton luggage on display in a New York boutique, and she’d relented after two minutes of mulling it over.
There was a chauffeur holding up an elegant, wooden board that had their names written on it.
“Monsieur Eriksson and Mademoiselle Whittaker?”
Sierra smiled, hearing how he pronounced her family name as ‘Wee-tekker.” Ben nodded and smiled at the man.
“Bonjour,” Ben greeted the chauffeur. “?”
The chauffeur smiled broadly, pleased to know his guest knew French. The accent was spot on. “Pas mal,” he replied. “This way if you please, Sir and Madame.”
“You know how to speak French?” Sierra whispered to him. “When did that happen?”
“I’m half-Swiss, lest you forget. Also, British boarding school.” He grinned.
“What other things don’t I know about you?” she said as they went inside the spacious luxury sedan that unfortunately wasn’t an Orion.
“Well, I also know a bit of Italian and German. I was bad with Spanish, though. Mr. Montoya didn’t like the idea of me flirting with the other female students to learn Spanish,” he added with a laugh. “So, you, any languages you know?”
“Aside from English? Not really. I wasn’t bad with Spanish, but my dad barely spoke it. My grandmother from Puerto-Rico was pissed I didn’t know how to speak it at first. Are you hiding any other talents? Say, you’re a contortionist or you know Kung-Fu?”
He laughed. “No, but look outside,” he told her, opening the window to let the morning sea breeze in the car.
As the car careened down the paved road, Sierra took off her shades and marveled at how picturesque Nice really was. She saw the beach lined with umbrellas and people sunning themselves early in the morning. There were quaint building and small inns. She saw restaurants opening for breakfast, and the air smelled of French pastries. The waters were crystal clear, glistening like a multitude of gemstones were underneath the waves in daylight. She almost forgot to breathe.
The rest of the ride they spent in silence, with Sierra marveling at every little thing they passed by. There was no shortage of sights from the car, and she wondered where they were staying.
“Are we staying in a chateau or something?”
He gave a short laugh. “A hotel, actually. It’s my grandmother’s favorite, Hôtel la Pérouse. And… you can see it right about now,” he motioned to the left.
Sierra looked up to see an elegant mid-rise hotel nestled against a cliff. Sierra was delighted to know it was only a minute’s walk away from the beach. The lobby wasn’t extravagant by New York standards, but it made her feel right at home.
“Ben!” someone called out.
Ben looked up and smiled. “Ma,” he greeted.
A blonde-haired woman who could have been mistaken for Ben’s older sister walked toward them, wearing a light blue sundress, kitten heels, and a straw hat to match. “We were just talking about you. How was your flight?” Then she stopped and smiled, seeing a young lady just inches behind her only child. “And who is this lovely lass?” she asked.
Ben took a step back, intent on showing her off. “Ma, this is Sierra Whittaker. My girlfriend.”
His mother gave him a coy smile. “Your girlfriend?”
Sierra took one step forward and held out her hand to shake. Surprisingly, his mother grabbed her hand and gave her a welcoming embrace instead. Sierra couldn’t say anything, but she felt the sincerity of the hug even after she had let go of Sierra.
“Grace Newton Eriksson,” she smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Sierra saw she had brown eyes as opposed to Ben’s blue ones. “Sorry for the hug, I’ve never had a daughter.”
Sierra found herself smiling. How could anyone dislike this woman? She radiated warmth and generosity and kindness, while her son barely had any warmth and kindness, save for his generosity.
“Will you join us for breakfast?” Grace asked them.
“We’ll just freshen up a bit, Mother. Then we’ll join you. Where is everyone else?”
“I woke up a little late, had a bit too much wine last night with your aunts and uncles.” She laughed, and her laughter was like crystal. “I’ll see you in the dining room?”
They both nodded in unison, which caused Grace to smile again. She would brief her in-laws about Ben and his girlfriend and tell them how she found Sierra Whittaker to be a ravishing beauty, a model or actress by the looks of her. She felt excitement as she walked away. She saw the look in her son’s eyes as he proudly introduced her, and it was more than what she had expected. She had never seen her son enamored about anyone, until this morning.
Ben and Sierra headed for their respective rooms. Well, Sierra thought so until she saw Ben’s luggage in the room as well. The room was large, the bed was spacious, and there was a balcony with a wonderful view of the Mediterranean Sea.
“We’re sleeping in the same room?” she frowned.
“Why shouldn’t we? It’ll make things believable. And I don’t snore. Do you?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she replied, her cheeks flaring up. “We can’t sleep in the same room. That’s just weird.”
“Well, we have to for four days. Then you’ll be on your merry way, I’ll be alone here, and we’ll both be happy,” he told her sarcastically.
She huffed and unpacked her clothes, placing the dresses on hangers. She didn’t want to ruin her first day in Nice by arguing with him. There was so much to do and so much to see that she was tempted to excuse herself from joining the family breakfast to explore the city.
Ben changed his shirt, carelessly taking his current one off, and Sierra found herself staring at his lean chest. She cleared her throat and looked away as she walked to the bathroom to change into fresher clothes.
Ben smiled to himself. So, she was still conscious about what had happened between them months ago. He said nothing, though, so she would feel more at home. Sierra stepped out a few minutes later and Ben saw she was wearing that yellow day dress he thought looked best on her. She had also changed into the yellow ballet flats they had bought on her first shopping spree.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, knowing there was no way out of this.