This. Is. Not. Real.
“Of—of course,” I stammer, swallowing, blood roaring loudly in my ears at the receipt of the most thoughtful and jaw-dropping thing a man has ever said to me. From the way the women around my periphery are swooning, I know it sounds as good to them as it did to me. This handsome man on his knee, not just eye candy but staring up at me like I hung the moon.
Fuck being a surgeon, Russell should have gone to Hollywood.
This isn’t real.
Realizing that the people around us didn’t hear my quiet, stuttered agreement, I raise my voice, remembering the whole point of this is to put on a show. “Yes,yes,Russell!” I say, laughing and crying, allowing the floodgates of something I hadn’t wanted to feel open up. I close my eyes and taste the moment like itbelongsto me. Like I really did just get proposed to by the love of my life, wearing a dress that costs more than six months’ tuition for Gus, surrounded by gorgeous and successful people who all wish they were me.
When he stands, I throw my arms around his neck and crash into him, saying loud enough that the people around us can hear, “I love you! I can’t wait to be your wife.”
His arms tighten around me in response, his voice thick and quiet. Maybe he doesn’t realize that what he says is too quiet for everyone around us to hear it, his voice rumbling into my earand doing strange, hot things to my core, “I like the sound of that, Jules.”
Chapter 15
Russell
Apparently, there was a donor’s betting pool on whether or not someone would get engaged tonight, and Jules and I have just lost some wealthy men a lot of money. It’s going directly to BHC, so they smile while writing the checks, posing for photographs.
I got a little carried away with the proposal. With what I said to Jules after that—call it method acting. Getting a little too far into my role.
Now, I keep her at my side and chat with donor after donor. People who knew my father, and who arethrilledto see me finally settling down, saying it’s just what he would have wanted. They ask Jules where she’s living, and when she says she’s been here for years, they’re sated. Happy to have brought a Burch back into the city’s limits.
And with an engagement, they’re convinced they’ll be keeping me here.
I’m just about to drop my mouth to Jules’ ear again, tell her that we can take a break from the socializing, when I hear the last voice I want to at this moment.
Calvin appears in front of me, wearing a suit that’s a little too big for him, a woman in a bright red dress at his side. Julesglances between him and me, clearly looking for a clue as to who he is.
“Congrats, cous,” Calvin says, answering her question. He tugs on his cuffs—a nervous habit he’s always had—and looks expectantly between me and Jules. “I had no idea you were even seeing someone.”
“It’s been a whirlwind romance,” Jules says, putting her hand on my chest and looking up at me with such adoration it makes my throat feel tight.
The girl on Calvin’s arm lets out a little snort, and I glance at her, not recognizing her at all. Cal’s not married, I know that much—but has he been seeing someone? Are they serious? I have no idea. I comb through my memory for a name, trying to remember if she was at Dad’s funeral.
“It has,” I agree, clearing my throat and forcing myself to relax. The look on Cal’s face is suspicious, calculating—but is it any more so than usual? He couldn’t possibly know anything about the terms of my inheritance. It’s not like Dad would have told him, and there would be no reason for the lawyer to divulge. “Jules, this is Calvin, my cousin. Cal, my fiancée, Jules.”
The words feel at once both awkward and natural rolling off my tongue.
“Jules,” Cal says, but the word comes out like a sarcastic,ri-ight.“Nice to meet you. It will be so fun to have you in the family.”
She takes his hand, shakes it, and then turns to the woman at his side. “Jules,” she says, and the woman in the red dress looks her up and down before taking her hand like she might not have washed it after using the bathroom. Like a used tissue you take pains to pinch at the very top on the way to the garbage.
“Evony,” she says, and I almost roll my eyes—of course Cal is dating a woman with a name likeEvony. “I’m surprised, you don’t really seem like you’re Russ’s type.”
She glances at me almost conspiratorially, and that’s when it hits me. Evony.Evie. Daughter of the head of plastic surgery back when we were kids. And she, for some reason, seems to think that I remember her as fondly as she does me. Or that she would have any idea what my type is.
I think of Orie, jabbing at me about my recent interest in brunettes, then glance back at Jules. If anything, she isexactlymy type.
“Oh, really?” Jules asks, sounding, to her credit, not the least bit bothered by a fucked-up sentiment like that. “WhatisRussell’s type?”
“Uh, you know,” Evony says, looking up and down again. Then, in a lower voice, she says, “…active.”
Fury barrels through me like white-hot, molten goo. I reach out for Jules, expecting her to flush, to take the hit on the nose. Of course, some skinny bitch like this would be commenting on her weight—aren’t we all supposed to have moved past that shit? Aren’t we supposed to be in the body positivity era?
But Jules just laughs, bringing her hand back to my chest with a quick, possessive rub, “Oh, well in that case, Iamhis type. Trust me, Russell and I areveryactive.”
Evony’s eyes are narrowed in on Jules’ hand on my chest, and though Jules has it handled, I can’t stop myself from adding, “Shitty attempt at health-shaming from the anorexic coke-head. You’ve clearly got holes in your bones from the diet of caffeine pills and celery juice, but the gaps in your brain must be even bigger for you to think you could talk to my fiancée like that.”
