“You’re not funny.”
“Come on, don’t be scared to admit it.” I spread my fingers to show her a tiny gap. “Just a little.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the small smile playing along her lips.Busted. That girl has too much pride to admit otherwise.
“Look, I’m a man of my word. If I tell you I won’t fall, then I won’t.” The assurance seems to ease some of the tension in Vivienne’s shoulders. “Any other rules you’d like to add?”
A mysterious flicker crosses her eyes as they sweep over my face, then trail down the rest of my torso. Her throat bobs once, and my head tilts at her reaction—but just as quickly, it’s gone.
“Nope, no more rules.” She slides the napkin my way.
To seal the deal, I sign my name at the bottom and pass it over for her to do the same. When she’s done, I tuck the shriveled piece of paper in my pocket.
“Consider them all done.”
Vivienne smiles, nodding in satisfaction before pushing her chair back so abruptly it screeches across the tiled floor. “See you at the engagement party!” she says quickly, standing there for a moment longer than natural before scurrying out.
The gentlemanly thing to do would be to walk her home, make sure she gets there safely at this time of night. But with the deal we’d made…I’m not sure how acceptable it would be.
Fuck it.
I’ve compromised my morals once, and I won't be doing it again.
CHAPTER 9
VIVIENNE
The bathroom door bursts open with the intensity of a thousand tsunamis as Sutton barges in. Hair wild. Eyes crazed. And hand waving around an open envelope with a red wax seal.
“Care to explain what this is?” She slams the thing down on the counter.
I carefully set down my curling iron away from her reach, making sure to unplug it in the wild case she deems it her weapon of choice.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, unsure of what’s gotten her so riled up.
Evelyn’s head peeks through the door, hands gripping tightly onto the frame. “Have we confronted her yet?” Scared blue eyes dart back and forth between the two of us.
“Nope. The woman has yet to fess up,” Sutton answers, still glaring at me.
Confused, I stare at her, when one perfectly manicured finger points squarely at me.
“Don’t you dare act clueless! I know you’re engaged,” she nearly snarls.
My mouth falls open into an O, my gaze darting to the open envelope.
Dainty flowers frame the edges of the cream cardstock, where “Join Us for an Engagement Party” is scrawled in bold red cursive. Beneath, Nate’s and my names are written, followed by the time and date—which is today.
“Be honest with me.” Sutton’s lips press into a thin line. “Were you guys together before the event?”
My gaze shifts to Evelyn, who looks just as disappointed as Sutton, and I can’t help but let out an exasperated breath.
Telling my two best friends about this arrangement was never part of the plan. I was hoping I could keep this all to myself and deal with the media-related consequences at a later date.Now, I realize that was wishful thinking.
Given how chronically online both these girls are, they were going to find out some way,somehow. But by the sound of it, the news was broken to them through a personal invitation in their mailbox—a blow that must have cut deeper than hearing it from a perfect stranger.
So with one deep breath, I start confessing. One story after the other, I go into the nitty-gritty of what went down between my supposed fiancé and me. And with each new detail shared, I watch their faces turn from anger to shock, then dissolve into an aggressive wheeze.
“This isn’t funny,” I declare, setting the record straight.
