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nodding at the planner.  “Most of our publicity people will handle that for us, but we still need to make sure to act it out right.  We’re long lost lovers who fell in love in high school, were viciously torn away by our parents’ divorce, but then reconnected years later and fell for each other again.  We’ll have to do lots of kissing, groping, and some steamy looks at each other from across the room.  You’ll have to practice your ‘fuck me’ eyes for me.  Think you can handle that, Sis?”
    Sis.  Gross.
    I gave him eyes.  They were more ‘fuck you’ than ‘fuck me,’ but I think he got it.
    “And what about our divorce?” I asked, crossing my arms.  “Any plan for that?”
    “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
    So no plan.  Great.
    “And you still expect me to be totally okay with this?”
    Damien shrugged.  “Not really.  But like I said, we both need this.  Besides, have you seen the way they’re talking about you?  The public loves you.”
    “The public?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
    “So you haven’t seen yet?” he said.  
    Damien grabbed the remote from the table in the middle of the room and flicked on the television.  An entertainment news program was going over that day’s hottest gossip stories.  Stills of Damien catching my clumsy funeral hooker fall and my horrified face as he announced our upcoming joyous union were plastered across the screen.  I turned green as one of the hosts nudged his cohost and said something about looking out for a baby bump.  
    “You don’t seem to happy about that,” he said.
    “What do you expect, Damien?” I asked, throwing my hands up.  I couldn’t hold it inside anymore, even if I knew it was the smart thing to do.  This whole situation was fucking ridiculous, and he had to know that.  Even Damien Blackwood wasn’t that oblivious.  “We fuck, you move away, we never talk again.  And I’m supposed to be happy to pretend to be your arm candy?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Like hell you don’t.  What happened between us happened, Damien.  Just because we were stupid teenagers when you ran away doesn’t mean it doesn’t count.  And it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.  You can’t pretend that.”
    His eyes widened with recognition.
    “Are you talking about… about the divorce?”
    “I’m talking about you fucking me and leaving the next morning.”
    “And you blame that on me?”
    “Of course I do.”  I glared at him.  “Why wouldn’t I?”
    “You know it wasn’t my choice to move,” he murmured.  There was hurt in his voice as he sat down on the side of the bed.  The cockiness had drained from his eyes, and his voice was soft.  I edged away from him, folding my knees into my arms against my chest.  There was no way I was letting him get close to me.  That was always trouble.  “We had no choice.  The divorce made it unavoidable.  After you exposed Dad in front of his business, in front of the public—”
    “Me?  Embarrass him ?”  I barked a laugh.  “Right, because I’m the one who made him fuck around on Mom.  Because I’m the one who kept a line of blondes filing into his bedroom.  Because I’m the one who was the hypocrite who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”
    “I’m not defending him, Cleo.  I told you.  We both know he was a shit person.”  Damien frowned.  “But it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t have a choice in leaving.”
    I wanted to snap at him about the letter, but I shut my mouth.  There was no use arguing about it now.  I shouldn’t have even brought it up—it was a stupid teenage mistake from years ago, and it’s not like it mattered now.  
    Well, besides the fact that it reminded me I could never trust Damien Blackwood.  Mom had trusted a Blackwood once, and see where that had gotten her?
    “You’re right,” I said.  “Forget it.  It was stupid of me to think you cared.”
    Damien froze.
    “What