That was the moment I definitively knew that Mia—though she was bossy, goofy, and far too direct for me—was someone I’d be best friends with for the rest of my life. And here we are, twenty years later, and she is still my number one everything, even though I haven’t actually seen her in person in years. But there were reasons for that.
“Be your girlfriend?” She enunciates each word like she’s practicing speaking in a foreign language. “Is this about my emails? We’re not forty yet, Luke.”
She licks her lips nervously, and I can’t stop from laughing. Mia looks absolutely clueless, and I wonder what’s going through her head right now.
“Not my real girlfriend, you doofus.”
Her face relaxes slightly, but I can see that she still looks super confused.
“My fake girlfriend. It will solve all our problems.”
“All our problems?” she repeats.
I’m about to call her a dummy, but I hold back. Even as a joke, I know she wouldn’t find it funny.
“We both want dates for the wedding. And Rex left me a rude note as well. You weren’t the only one he chose to diss. Let’s be real; it’s unlikely that either one of us is going to find a date in the next couple of weeks. So, I say we go together. We’re best friends; we can easily fake it. We’ll just pretend we’ve been secretly dating.”
“It was a secret to me as well.” She giggles, understanding in her expression finally. Though there’s a look in her eyes that seems thoughtful. She plays with her hair and starts braiding it, which is something she does when she’s nervous or thinking. “I guess, it’s not a bad idea.” She grins into the phone. “It’s a huge lie, and I don’t know if anyone would believe it, but I don’t hate the idea.” She tilts her head to the side. “Do you think anyone would actually believe us though?”
“Why wouldn’t they, if we made them?” I shrug, not really having thought the idea out properly. Which is unlike me.
I normally don’t suggest an idea until I’ve thought it through from every possible angle. But this isn’t work, and I don’t have to worry about Mia twisting what I said to make it work for only her.
Mia is the one person in the world I trust above everyone. Even my own brother, who has time and time again shown me that he cares more about money, women, and being the favorite son to our parents than he does about our brotherly relationship. It is one of the reasons I left Coconut Beach and decided to step away from the family business. I’ve made a name in New York based on my work ethic and intelligence. And the multiple millions I have in my bank account have been earned by me and not from my trust fund, which I’ve never touched. Unlike Rex, the golden son.
“So, what exactly would we do?” she asks curiously.
I watch as she leans back against her van and brushes some loose tendrils behind her ears. I smile as I stare into her brown eyes, even though it’s through a screen.
Mia looks just the same as I remember her looking in high school. She’s still got that innocent, skeptical, questioning air about her, even though she’s always been the most fun-loving and gregarious person I’ve ever met. I miss her friendship daily and just being in her presence.
The calls are a great way to stay in touch, but they’re not the same as grabbing a coffee in person or even just hanging out at the beach on a starlit night and telling each other ghost stories, which was something we did monthly when we were seniors in high school. Even when we were in relationships, we still made time for our friendship, much to the chagrin of the people we were dating. But I think we both knew that our friendship was special, and we just loved being in each other’s presence—oftentimes with Juniper, Josie, and my friend Tom, who was on the baseball team with me.
“Each other?” I joke and then stick my tongue out, lest she think I am being serious. “We’d just say we had been secretly dating because we didn’t want the gossip mill talking about us, but we wanted to attend this wedding together.”
“But how long have we been dating? And when did we see each other last? And …” She wrinkles her nose. “What if people expect us to be all touchy-feely?”
“You are always hugging me anyway, Mia. Or at least you used to when I was still in town.”
“I don’t mean hugs. I mean, kisses and stuff.”
She pretends to gag and shudders like she’s having a stroke. I won’t admit that I don’t find the idea as abhorrent as she does.
“Really, Mia?”
“The thought of having to kiss you is just … gross.” She clears her throat and starts giggling. “GROSS.”
“Tell me how you really feel.” I roll my eyes and then wink. “At least I know how to kiss, Ms. Slobbery Lips.”
“Luke Haverbrook, I told you that story in confidence. And I was thirteen at the time. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
I try not to think about that time, when she asked me to help her learn how to kiss. How I wanted to, but then we decided our friendship was more important.
“And you know what you’re doing now?” I chuckle and try not to stare at her lips too hard. “When’s the last time you kissed a guy anyway?”
“A few months ago, and, yes, I know what I’m doing. I think I could win a kissing competition if I wanted to.” She licks her lips and then blows a kiss into the camera. “I could make millions off of these lips.”
“So, why don’t you plan on doing that at forty instead of marrying me then?”
