I Borrowed His Ring, He Borrowed My Heart

Chapter 8 : No Strings Attached

Bieber's POV

As I fumbled with the buttons on my blouse, getting ready to leave for work, I barely registered Xander entering my bedroom.

Yet, I felt his presence as if I had radar tuned, just for him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "There was nothing else I could do."

"Right. I’ve heard that before," I retorted, skepticism lacing my words.

He ran a hand through his hair. "You're right. It's my fault. I should have known that the engagement thingy wouldn’t satisfy her. But she says she wants to see me married, to witness my wedding before she passes away. That seems a reasonable request, doesn't it?"

I forced my arms into my suit jacket, almost losing my balance in the process. "How could you agree to that? That wasn't the plan. That wasn't what I agreed to."

Xander took my shoulders while keeping me at arm's length.

I didn’t want him touching me; the contact made me feel vulnerable. I could feel my resolve beginning to wane already.

"It won't be so bad, Bie," he said gently. "No strings attached, nothing we both can't handle. Just a quick wedding at the cabin with a few trusted friends who will know the truth. You know, Harry, Dan, and Troy. It’s nothing major. Afterward, we can have our faux honeymoon there without anyone noticing that we're not gooey and in love like real honeymooners."

“Not gooey and in love? Speak for yourself, Alexander." I thought sadly. But the truth was, I wasn't actually in love with him, nor had I ever been.

Sure, I’d admired his physicality from a distance, and lately, it hadn’t been from such far away. But then, every girl at Wycliffe College had felt a similar attraction to him. It was an almost harmless part of campus life.

"It’ll be over before you know it," he assured me.

"Over? Will any of this ever truly be over, Xander?"

"As soon as my mother...." His voice trailed off. We both avoided saying what his mother’s passing meant, but it hung in the air between us.

It was morbid, yet it felt like the only solution.

"We’ll get a quiet annulment, even quieter than the wedding," he promised with a faint smile. "No problem."

"Xander," I said firmly, "You’ve completely lost your mind. I can't marry you. I can't even be in the same room with you."

With that, I pushed past him and left the room, briskly walking down the hall to retrieve my coat and briefcase from the closet.

Xander followed me, continuing to speak as we both walked. "Think of it as a vacation for both of us. It's beautiful up there. We can hike, ski, maybe even go boating. And if you want, we could hit the casinos. You'll have a great time. You can take some time off from the firm, right? Didn’t you say you were planning to start your leave of absence for Michael's campaign after Christmas? Just start it early and enjoy a little break before the hard work begins."

I halted, pressing my forehead against the closet door, desperately trying to catch my breath.

"Come on, Bie. We’re too far in this to back out now. Can it really hurt to take a few more steps?"

"Yes, it can."

"Trust me." He turned me around and kissed me; a quick, assertive kiss that sparked an urge in me to be brave as well. "We’ll get through this together."

"Together?" I murmured, recalling how poorly we had fared up until now.

"It will be different up there. Here, there’s too much pressure." He wrapped an arm around me, making it so easy to lean into his warmth and strength. "It’ll just be us."

"Just us," I repeated, struck by how frightening that idea truly was.

At work, not even the numerous case files in front of me could dull the emotional whirlwind inside me. I shoved a pencil into my blotter with such force that it broke.

Wasn't it only a few days ago that I'd resolved to cut Xander out of my life entirely? Right here in this office, i had vowed to move on.

Yet, somehow, he had embedded himself deeper into my mind than ever before.

Suddenly, the phone light began to blink, and I reached for it, grateful for the distraction.

"Ms. Weaverly, there's someone here to see you."

"Who is it?" I asked, exhaustion creeping into my voice. "If it’s someone important, set up an appointment for tomorrow, please."

"But he’s already coming in."

"He? Alexander?" I asked, half rising from my chair.

But it was Michael. He closed the door with care and stood there, observing me. His calm expression was reassuring, yet the tension in his jaw was entirely new to me.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greeted smoothly.

"Hi, Mike." I sank back into my seat, picking up the broken pencil to give it another fierce jab. "I saw the latest polls on TV last night. You’re ahead by three points. Looking good."

"Yes, the primary seems to be going well," he replied.

"Good." I hesitated a moment. "Is there something else? It’s unusual for you to drop by the office without giving me a heads-up."

"Actually, there is." He pulled out a folded newspaper from his pocket and laid it on her desk. "Something unusual that has come to my attention."

"It looks like a newspaper," I observed cautiously.

"It is a newspaper, darling," he replied gently.

"And what’s the issue?"

"Alexander McQueen is mentioned."

The words felt like daggers. "So?"

"He’s getting married. Or he’s already married. Do you know anything about that?"

For a fleeting second, i contemplated confiding in him, sharing the truth. But I knew Michael, he was flawless in his integrity. The idea of betraying him was unimaginable, something that would never occur to him. I wanted to mirror his perfection but found it so challenging.

It was a painful reality, but lying felt easier. So, I played the pretense card. "Should I?"

"Are you the bride?"

My heart raced at the thought. The weight of guilt settled in my chest, making it harder to breathe as i faced the escalating reality that my secrets were veering dangerously close to being exposed.

All I wanted was to keep Michael from discovering the truth, to maintain the illusion of my perfect life while grappling with the turmoil inside.

Had I made a wrong choice by helping Alexander when he came to this very office the previous week to seek my help regarding a trap his mother had seemingly set out for him?

Had I been irrational and selfish to my fiance when I travelled all the way from Kensington, London to Lake District, Cumbria in concern for my dear friend?