Page 80 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Chapter 23

Lola

Iwake up alone. I’d expect this from Reid, but Miles?

He said he’d stay, and now he’s gone. Something inside me buckles.

I push the sheets off and sit up, scanning the room even though I know he’s not here. My gaze catches the folded scrap of paper on the nightstand. It’s half-crumpled, written on the back of a receipt.

Had an early call, didn’t want to wake you. XOXO.

I read it three times before setting it back down. He didn’t leave without a word. That definitely counts for something.

Still, the silence is a reminder. No matter how good last night felt, today is still waiting. And I’m still alone in it.

What is Jude going to say? I was having trouble letting go of the confrontation with Reid, so he encouraged me to talk to him. I’m pretty sure he didn’t expect me to end up in bed with Miles instead.

I know Jude’s open to things, but how open exactly?

Why am I self-sabotaging on top of everything else? Can’t I just let myself have something good for once? And even if things are okay with Jude and he’s okay with Miles—and Miles is okay with Jude—that leaves Reid. He’llneverbe okay with sharing.

Shit.This couldn’t be more complicated.

I dress quickly, pulling on the first clean leggings I can find and Jude’s sweatshirt. I skip makeup, toss my hair into a messy bun, and call it good. I don’t have any more time to pull myself together..

I brace myself as I enter the kitchen.

Gigi is already perched at the counter. She doesn’t look up when I walk in. “You need to keep your distance from Reid. He’s mine.” She says it in a nonchalant way, like she’s asking me to please stop eating her crackers.

She sips her matcha and walks out without waiting for a response. My chest flares hot. I reach for a mug with numb fingers then just stand there. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

There's a soft scoff from behind me.

I turn to find Blaire entering the kitchen with a coffee cup in hand. “So,” she gestures toward me, “is this like a rotation thing or what?”

I decide I can survive without coffee. I don’t bother responding to Blaire as I immediately head out and make the drive over to the studio.

Then I throw myself into work.

It’s the only thing that doesn’t talk back or ask questions or flirt with my frenemies in the kitchen. The studio is quiet when I unlock the door. I have about half an hour before clients start arriving, so I go through my morning routine.

Classes pass in a blur. I had to make adjustments to the schedule so that I could do all this by myself. It’s not ideal, but I’m getting through.

I’m on my scheduled midday break grabbing a smoothie for lunch when I get a call from an unknown number. I hesitate, then swipe to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Roland from Elite Delivery. We’ve got a drop-off scheduled for you—are you there to receive it?”

“Uh. I didn’t order anything.”

“Well, it’s paid in full for the white glove service. One deluxe reformer, custom accessories included. It’s already assembled. We’ll be in and out in fifteen minutes, tops.”

My mind swirls and I finally manage to respond. “I’ll be there in ten.”

I hang up. I grab my bag and head out. My brain is stuck on the words “deluxe” and “white glove” and the dollar amount attached to a machine like that.