“The Stella you’re talking about typically doesn’t have people pounding down her door at eight in the morning.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than how much I’d rather crawl back into bed.
“First of all, it’s eight oh-five. Second of all, can you blame me after the bombshell you dropped on Instagram yesterday? You—” Jules exhaled sharply and smoothed a hand over her fuzzy purple coat. “No, we’re not doing this in the hallway. Let’s talk inside. Can I come in?”
“Would you leave if I said no?”
Her laser stare burned through her giant sunglasses and into my skin.
Right.
I sighed and opened the door wider. “You mentioned matcha?”
I gave up on coffee years ago because it worsened my anxiety. Matcha lattes were the closest I came to espresso these days.
“Yes. Consider this my bribe for all the juicy details.” Jules handed me the drink as she waltzed inside and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. “Now…” She inhaled a long, deep breath. “You’re dating someone? You called him my love? How did I not know about this? How long have you been dating?”
I winced at the increasing volume of her questions while a construction crew invaded my head.
Bang. Bang. BANG!
Every swing of a hammer reverberated through my skull with bone-rattling force.
How much did I drink last night? Not that much, right? I usually limited my alcohol intake to three glasses per night, but I wouldn’t be this hungover after three glasses.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to piece the fuzzy pieces from last night together.
Baby turtles. Whiskey eyes. Champagne and gowns and…
“Is that all you want?”
“Not even close.”
The memory of my encounter with Christian slammed into me with such force it knocked the breath out of my lungs.
Everything came rushing back—our agreement, the photo I posted, the delicious roughness of his hand in mine when we were talking to Mike, and the headiness of his scent when he pinned me to the wall.
Part of me was annoyed by his overprotectiveness when I’d just gone to the bathroom, for God’s sake.
Another larger, more shameful part thrilled at the idea that he cared.
Pathetic? Probably.
True? Undeniably.
No one had cared that much about me since Maura, and Christian and I weren’t even really dating.
“…who is it?”
“Hmm?” Was Christian at home, or had he already left for the day?
I tried to picture him eating and sleeping like a normal person and couldn’t.
“Who’s your boyfriend?” Jules repeated. “You didn’t tag him, but that watch…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I can tell just by his hand that he’s hot.”
Another piece from last night slotted into place.
My Instagram post. I’d been so busy at the gala I hadn’t checked my notifications.
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. “I—”
“Good morning!” A quick knock on the half-open door interrupted my response. Ava entered, looking far too bright-eyed and fresh-faced for this early in the morning. “Am I late? Did I miss anything good?” She set a white Crumble & Bake bag on a side table. “Breakfast pastries,” she explained, following my gaze.
She opened the bag and handed out muffins.
My mouth watered at the smell.
At least my friends brought food to my interrogation. I wasn’t above accepting bribery.
I almost groaned as the taste of warm, freshly baked muffin exploded on my tongue. Definitelynot above accepting bribery.
“Stella was just about to tell me who her mystery man is.” Jules ripped off a piece of blueberry muffin and popped it into her mouth.
Ava’s face lit up. “I bet he’s hot,” she said. “You can tell by the watch.”
“That’s what I said!” Jules beamed. “Great minds think alike.”
The banana muffin turned sour in my mouth as they stared at me expectantly.
It was one thing to lie on social media; it was another to lie to my friends’ faces. I didn’t tell them everything about my life—they thought I had a great relationship with my family, and they didn’t know about Maura. Being the “perfect” family was so important to my parents that sharing anything that didn’t align with that felt more difficult than it should have.
Ava and Jules were my best friends, yet I still kept so much of my life to myself.
But could I stand here and tell them Christian and I were dating when we weren’t? Not really, anyway.
One step at a time.
They’d only asked for his name, not the details of our relationship. I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.
“He’s—”
I was interrupted yet again, this time by the insistent ring of my phone.
I didn’t have to check caller ID to know who was calling, and a quick glance at the incoming FaceTime proved me right.
“Hi, Bridget.” I rubbed my face again. I would kill for some yoga right now. I never felt right when I started the day without it. “I assume you’re calling to join the inquisition?”
“Funny.” Bridget raised an elegant blonde brow. “But since you mention it, yes. This is the second time I’ve been kept out of the loop regarding your love lives. I don’t appreciate it.”
Last summer, Jules shocked us all when she announced she was dating Ava’s brother Josh. Josh and Jules had hated each other since the day they met, and a romantic relationship between them had seemed as likely as snowfall in Miami.
However, they were still going strong after they made things official seven months ago, so I guess the old adage was true. There really was a thin line between love and hate.
Despite the nerves coiled in my stomach, I had to fight a laugh at Bridget’s uncharacteristic grumbling.
“I’m sure you have more things to worry about than our love lives, Your Majesty,” I teased.
She’d been a princess during our college days, but she became queen after her older brother abdicated and her grandfather stepped down due to health reasons.
It still boggled my mind that I was best friends with a literal queen, but Bridget was so down to earth I forgot she was royalty half the time.
She wrinkled her nose. “More things? Yes. More interesting things? Debatable.”
“Guys, please. Let’s get things back on track,” Jules said. “Who have you been hiding from us, Stel? Give us a name. Picture. Anything. Please, I need to know before I die from curiosity.”
She flopped onto the couch in a dramatic heap.
I shook my head.
If I looked up drama queen in the dictionary, I’d find Jules Ambrose’s face next to it, but I loved her anyway. At least she was into fun drama and not the nasty, backstabbing kind.
“Fine. I’ll tell you, but don’t freak out.” I drew my bottom lip between my teeth. “It’s Christian Harper.”
Three blank stares greeted my confession.
I couldn’t remember the last time my friends had been this speechless. They usually talked more than a daytime talk show host.
The taste of copper filled my mouth from how hard I was biting my lip.
“Rhys’s old boss?” Bridget’s brow creased with confusion.
Her husband Rhys used to work for Harper Security. That was actually how they met. He’d been assigned to her after her previous bodyguard returned home to Eldorra for paternity leave.
“Yes.”
“What does he have to do with this?” Jules looked equally confused.
“He’s my boyfriend.”
Still nothing. I might as well be talking to the Madame Tussaud’s wax versions of my friends for all the reaction they showed.
“Who’s your boyfriend?” Ava asked.
Oh, for goodness’ sake.
“Christian Harper.” I threw my hands up. “He’s the guy in the photo I posted last night! We’re dating. Well, fake dating, but that’s another story.”
Silence stretched for a long, stunned second before chaos erupted.
“Christian Harper?”
“What do you mean, fake dating?”
“He’s dangerous—”
“How long has this been going on—”
“Is he forcing you into this, because I saw the way he looked at you—”