“No, we can’t fucking talk. Have you lost all good sense? I’m not going to be your wife.”
“Fakewife.”
Mouth agape, I stare at his stupidly handsome face. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
“Millie,” he exhales. He’s close enough that his breath causesthe hair at my temples to flutter. “I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate.”
I glower at him. “Oh, that makes me feelsomuch better.”
“That’s not what I meant.Ugh. I’m fucking this up.” He drags a hand down his face. “Please, can we go somewhere to talk, just the two of us?”
An exasperated groan escapes my lips. I really don’t want to, but obviously, he’s not going to give this up until I hear him out. Plus, my feet really hurt from hightailing it in these shoes.
“Fine.”
“Would you mind coming back to my apartment?” Head lowered, he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Only so it’s quiet and you can say whatever the hell you want.”
Lips pressed together, I harrumph. It’s like he knows I need space to be dramatic.
Neither of us speaks the entire ride to his place, but when his doorman greets us, I’m forced to dig deep for genuine politeness. The second the elevator doors close, though, I’m back to stoic. There’s no way he can convince me to follow through with this scheme of his.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, toeing off his shoes at the door.
I follow suit and hang my purse on a hook, then follow him to the left into the main living space. Only when I’ve parked myself on one of two leather captain’s chairs do I respond. “Something strong.”
While he moves into the kitchen, I observe the collage of pictures on the wall, all of which I assume Cam took.
Ezra returns with a glass tumbler filled with an amber liquid. One quick sniff confirms it’s straight-up whiskey.
“Would you prefer something?—”
“This is good, thanks.” I take a swig, welcoming the burn inmy chest, then quickly gulp down another before setting the glass on the table beside me.
He sinks into the sofa adjacent to me, and for a long moment, we’re both silent.
“Look,” he eventually says, “I realize this is a lot to ask?—”
“No shit.”
He eyes me, his jaw clenched.
“Sorry.” I take another sip of my drink. “It’s just that… the two of us have slept with the same person. Don’t you think that’s weird as fuck?”
With a long exhale, he leans back, knees wide in that manspreading position I secretly find so hot. He’s got one arm draped across the top of the sofa and his other hand wrapped tightly around his whiskey, which he rests on his thick thigh. “It’s not ideal.”
A sardonic laugh escapes me. Honestly, our situation is ridiculous. “How did this even happen?”
“I met Samantha at karaoke night at?—”
“FrenchSHEs?”
He dips his chin. “Mm-hmm. Cam and Joey dragged me there one night.”
Head tilted, I consider his words. “Do you think there were others?”
“Honestly, I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“I feel like such a fool.”
