“Love you,” Marco said faintly.
There was a shuffle on his side. Something thumped. A new voice drifted through—muffled, low, irritated.
“What are you two doing here?” A voice demanded playfully. Kimi’s. “And why are you shouting about lube in the lounge, mate?”
“Because we have something to take care of,” Marco snapped. “And because I’m being emotionally vulnerable. Shut up. Sorry—wait, who’s this?”
Another voice joined in then, softer, female, trying very hard not to be heard and failing miserably.
“Kimi, if you get us kicked out of this airport, I’m never speaking to you again,” she said. “You said we’d fly under the radar!”
I went still. I knew that voice. Everyone on the planet with an internet connection knew that voice. Crisp American accent, feminine and almost sing-songy even in regular conversation.
“Is that Harper Rose?” I blurted.
More silence. What in thefuckwas happening here?
Then a small, horrified denial came from the woman—“Please don’t call me that”—at the exact same time Kimi said, “Yes.”
She rushed on before anyone could react. “Seriously, don’t use my stage name. Everyone thinks that’s my real name, but it’s not, and I really don’t need some bored gate agent’s cousin putting that together. If you’re going to yell at me, can you at least call me Lucy?”
There was a collective beat where every brain on the call tried to rearrange reality.
“You’re telling meHarper Roseis sitting in an airport with you and wants us to call her Lucy,” I said.
“Yes,” she said miserably. “God, don’t say it like that.”
“You brought your secret pop star to my crisis call?” Ivy demanded. “Are you actually brain-dead?”
“She’s notmyanything,” Kimi snapped. I’d never heard him this irritated, not at any of us.
“We’re just friends,” Harper—Lucy—added weakly. “He promised me beaches and no paparazzi, not a front-row seat to whatever this is.”
“You’re the one who said you wanted to see the chaos,” Kimi reminded her.
“I meant in your race replays,” she said. “Not in your PR nightmare friends.”
Despite everything, a laugh slipped out of me. It felt like shaking something loose in my chest. Because, yeah, that’s exactly what we all were. Especially together.
“Why are all of you together?” I asked. “Since when are Marco and Ivy and Kimi and Lucy sharing an airport gate? Unless it’s a holding cell?”
Ivy made a strangled noise. “We do not have time for this.”
“So that’s a yes toyou and Marco are togetherand a yes toKimi finally convinced a situationship to get on a plane with him?” I pressed. “Because I would like that on the record. A historic event.”
“Absolutely not,” Ivy said. “We are not having this conversation while you’re naked on the floor.”
“How do you know we’re naked?” Callum said.
“Because I know you both,” she shot back. “And because you sound smug. Point is, we’re sorting some things out on our end too.”
There was a shuffle, like she’d stood up, and her voice shifted slightly, echoing more. Airport acoustics.
“We’re boarding soon,” she said. “So here’s the headline: rumor mill is grinding. Location might be out of the bag thanks to the himbo. I’ve been doing damage control, but this isn’t going to stay quiet. It’s better if we talk face to face.”
My heart skipped.
“We’re coming to you,” she said simply. “Milos. Your villa. All of it. Don’t argue.”
