“What if they’re with Caleb? Like to interview him? We’re going to the flower market that morning with his mom,” I say, lying through my teeth. We need to choose a bouquet for Gwen and boutonnières for the groomsmen, but there’s no lunch planned.
“You see him practically every day. Do it at a different time.”
He won’t let this go. I know him. I give in to his demands like I have so many times before. “Fine.”
Eddie chuckles, as if he knew my defeat was inevitable. “I’ll make it easier for you,” he says, like he’s doing me a big favor. Like he’s the good guy in this situation. “I can meet you at a restaurant close to the flower market, so you don’t have to travel far.”
A pause, where he waits for me to thank him for his generosity. I refuse. Instead, I sigh and repeat, “Fine.” I stand with my hand on the door that leads to Dean and Caleb. “I’ll see you then.”
After he says good-bye, I slouch back into the room where servers are silently picking up our discarded silverware and napkins. One waiter piles dirty plates and bowls into a tall stack in his arms as we gather our things to leave. I bend over to shove my computer into my backpack. A loud crash from behind startles me, making my heart jackhammer against my sternum. Next to me, Dean jumps at the sound.
I twist around and find the server kneeling on the floor with an embarrassed blush. He’s picking up the shattered pieces of a plate. When I glance up from the ruined porcelain, I see Dean frozen with his eyes squeezed shut. I wait for a minute, expecting him to relax so we can go, but he remains in that position, every muscle vibrating with nervous energy. I grew up in a noisy house with three rambunctious big brothers. I recover quickly from the racket of something breaking since I heard it so often in my youth.
Apparently, Dean isn’t the same.
Caleb brushes past me and places a gentle hand on Dean’s arm. He leans close to Dean and whispers something I can’t hear. Whatever he says makes his bodyguard relax, the tension leaving his body as quickly as it came. Caleb ushers us out of the room and down the long hallway.
What was that all about?
Before I can give it further thought, we’re outside. The courtyard is brightly lit with twinkling white lights everywhere. Strands wind up branches and extend over our heads, connecting to a large Christmas tree.
As Dean predicted, there’s a crowd of paparazzi and fans waiting for Caleb. They’re held back by a thin red velvet rope that sways precariously as the crowd surges forward. Security guards from the restaurant are stationed at regular intervals along the barrier. Local police have joined them, no doubt called in as reinforcements. With raised hands and shouting voices, the guards and cops hold everyone away, creating a narrow path that leads to Caleb’s car, which a valet has left idling at the curb.
I glance back to gauge Dean’s reaction to all the commotion, but he seemsunshaken. Maybe he has a specific phobia that only involves broken dinnerware? The fans wave their hands and reach out, trying to get our attention. They scream for Caleb, but it’s not just his name they chant. It’s…Lola?
There she is, walking into the restaurant as we walk out. Lola Monroe with her long black hair, plump lips, and deep cleavage. Hot starlet, top model, current “IT” girl, and Caleb’s ex-girlfriend.
Uh-oh.
She saunters up with a wide, red-lipped grin. Her voice is raised to project over the din of the crowd. “Caleb! I had no idea you’d be here.”
Before I have time to blink, she takes his face between her hands and gives him a quick, hard kiss, leaving her lipstick smeared across his mouth. He pushes her away with a scowl, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, but it’s too late. The fans go wild, screaming and clapping. The reporters’ cameras click. I’m momentarily blinded by the flashes. Everything is too loud. Too bright. Too much. I rub my forehead with a trembling hand.
Oh, no.
That photo will be on every social media page within an hour. I’d better warn Gwen. I reach for my phone, but then hesitate.What if I say the wrong thing? Maybe I should let Caleb handle it? Does this count as gossiping?
“Lola,” says Caleb stiffly. “We were just leaving.”
“Oh, so soon?” Those red lips shape into an exaggerated pout, and I can’t look away. The woman exudes sex appeal. Every curve, every expression is beguiling, but there’s an iciness to her. She reminds me of a poisonous flower, beautiful on the outside so she can lure you close but toxic on the inside.
Caleb isn’t charmed. He says a brusque, “Yeah. Gotta go,” and strides off amid the shouting of the crowd. He stops a few feet away and goes down the line, signing autographs and taking selfies with star-struck fans.
“Nice to see you,” Lola calls loudly after him. She turns back my way, and I get a good look at her. She’s wearing a sparkly red sweater, a black leather miniskirt, knee-high black boots, and an unbuttoned trench coat.
Her eyes land on me, sweeping up and down with a quick assessment, similar to the one I just gave her. That button nose wrinkles like it smells something foul. “Who are you?”
“Jenny, Gwen’s friend.” I say Gwen’s name extra loud in an attempt to remind the fans that Caleb is already taken. I don’t like how enthusiastically they responded to the kiss. “You know, Gwen, Caleb’sfiancée.” I arch a brow, waiting for her reaction.
“Oh yeah, that,” she says, waving her hand airily. With a conspiratorial air, she leans in and says, “It won’t last.”
I bristle with anger. No one insults Gwen in my presence.No one.I grit my teeth. “Gwen will be around a lot longer than you. I guarantee it.”
Lola’s mouth drops open in shock. I’d forgotten Dean was behind me, but I hear his amused snort. I get a glimpse of Lola’s hate-filled glare. Then Dean’s scorching hand is at the small of my back, pushing me forward, rushing us down the sidewalk to the car where Caleb waits, done with autographs. I turn to say another cutting remark, but Dean interrupts me.
“Calm down there, Tiger.” He’s chuckling, an entertained twinkle in his eye.
“Did you hear what she said?” I ask, outraged.
