“Tell your new piece you can meet her tomorrow. Or at night. Since when do you meet women for lunch?”
My patience snapped. “Fuck off.”
“You have to be careful now, Mr. Jones. You’ll be a married man soon,” Vanessa said with that fake sweet tone she loved to use when she was really delivering a punch. I didn’t answer. I turned my attention to straightening my clothes. I wasn’t about to get into it again. She damn well knew the whole engagement was a PR stunt. Her idea, no less.
The fact that I had slept with Anna didn’t change a thing. It had been meaningless, and Vanessa knew it. She had been with me from the start, long enough to understand a night or two with another actress wasn’t anything more than sex. We headed toward the photo shoot setup, but of course, she couldn’t resist one last dig.
“I hope she’s worth it!”
I stopped, shot her a sarcastic smirk, and handed her my phone.
“Come on, Vanessa, are you jealous?” I gave her a slow once-over, “I’m sorry you’re not hot enough to cancel out your disgusting personality, but some of us have a chance at love.”
“Love? Please.” She scoffed, unimpressed. “We had to spend millions getting you a fake future wife. You’re not really ‘love material,’ are you?”
The words hit a nerve.
I clenched my jaw but said nothing. She knew exactly how to mess with me and had years of practice to back it up. But at the end of the day, I couldn’t deny what she’d done for me. Vanessa was the one who built my career. Every big opportunity I’d gotten? It had been her dealmaking behind the scenes. She turned me into a brand, a character that women loved, and men wanted to copy. She kept me out of scandals that should’ve sunk my career. God knows there were enough of them.
I owed her a lot. And she was right about one thing: I wasn’t perfect. Not even close. The whole misunderstood and charming bachelor image she’d crafted? That wasn’t me. Not really. But it worked, and I played along because it got me everything I wanted. Still, there was no way I was letting her ruin my mood today.
Instead of firing back, I turned and walked away, heading straight for the photographer, letting her stew in her own bullshit.
18
JULES
Nana and I sat at a small table by the window in the cozy restaurant across from my office building. The place had become my little escape. It was one of the only spots where I could take a breath away from the chaos of work. Even though it was so close to our building, my coworkers hadn’t discovered it yet. It was charming with its soft lighting, warm wooden tables, and minimal Sicilian decor.
“I love this place. It’s so cute,” Nana said, her eyes wandering the room, soaking in every detail. “Is it new?”
“Not really,” I said with a chuckle. “I’ve been eating here for, like, five years.”
“Oh…” Her brows furrowed, and she looked through the window, trying to find herself in the neighborhood. Meanwhile, I stole a glance at my phone, reading my last message to Chris for the fifteenth time. No follow-up. No playful banter. Nothing. And now, as the minutes ticked closer to the end of my break, the empty seat across from me felt like a throne for my own stupidity. Of course, he wasn’t coming.
How could I fall for his sweet talk notoncebuttwice?
“We might as well order,” I said, sighing as I put my phone facedown on the table. “I don’t think he’s coming.”
Nana’s attention snapped back to me. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“It’s okay, Nana,” I replied, shrugging like it didn’t matter, but sure, I wasn’t fooling her. “I guess it was too much to expect he’d be the same here…”
“What do you mean, my darling?”
I blinked, realizing what I had said out loud. It wasn’t fair that my mind kept expecting him to be that warm, devoted version I had lived with in my daydreams. It was just too jarring for my brain to accept that he wasn’t just not like that… he was the opposite in so many ways.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, my eyes dropping to the menu.
Nana smiled. That knowing smile she always gave me when I was trying and failing to dodge her radar.
“I know you, Juliette Davis. You were never good at lying.”
I shifted in my seat, and I felt like a teenager again, cornered but comforted all at once. Nana had always been my safe place. The person I could talk to about things. But there were some things even she didn’t know. Like how consuming my daydreams had become over the years. How they felt like an escape hatch, I relied on a little too much.
I took a deep breath, my fingers tapping the side of my water glass.
“Well… I guess if there’s someone I feel safe enough to share this with, it’s you. So…” My voice trailed off. I wasn’t ready to put everything out there, but I knew I had to start somewhere. Maybe it would feel lighter once it wasn’t just in my head. Maybe if I said it out loud, I could finally let it go. Maybe my own body would listen to how ridiculous it sounded and stop craving Hollywood’s most notorious fuckboy. “You know I have a tendency to… daydream a little too much,right?” I said hesitantly, my eyes flicking up to meet hers.
