I roughly rub my face and plonk heavily into a seat.
Frankie pours me a coffee and slides it over to me with a sympathetic smile. “Good morning, Theo.”
“Morning. Thanks.” I glare at James, who at last starts to register some distant element of concern. I nod at Elsie. “Good morning, Elsie.”
“Morning, Theo. Good to see you again.”
“Morning,” John offers too, clutching his tea and looking a little worse for wear.
I nod at them both.
James leans back in his chair, resting his forearm on the edge of the table. A slight frown creases his face, and he runs a hand through his sandy-blond hair. He’s still wearing his tux. And so’s Frankie. Elsie’s in her dress.
“Have you even been to sleep yet?” I ask him, incredulous. “It’s 10:00 a.m.”
“Of course not.” James shrugs. He has a slightly glassy, loose-limbed look.
Still drunk.
Great.
“Now,” James begins, “why are you upset? I really don’t have the foggiest?—”
I give him a dark look, holding on to the coffee like an anchor in this chaos. “The photo.”
“The photo…” James gazes at me, entirely lost. Then Frankie leans over to murmur in his ear. He looks a bit drunk too, but to his credit, he has always ranked higher overall on the emotional intelligence scale. “Ah.”
“Ah,” I echo, staring him down.
James nods slowly. He frowns. “You and Eddie had a lovely time.”
“James.”
He sighs. “It was an excellent photo, in my defense. And this is all part of the plan, remember? Positive associations.”
“Yes, associations, not making out with a duke on main.”
“That’s not on me.” James lifts his hands. “That was all you. And Eddie.”
“People,” I complain loudly, “are going to see that.”
Specific people, in fact.
James looks mystified. “That, I believe, is the point?”
I groan, push the coffee aside, and bury my face in my arms on the table. “It’s like talking to a wall,” I mutter.
And all I can think of is how upset Stef will be when he sees this.
“Any chance you’ll take it down?” I ask, lifting my head for a moment.
“Of course not. Don’t you know how much engagement that post has? Took a bit of effort to put together and all, actually.”
With a groan, I drop my head on my arms. Think, I tell myself. Get in touch with Stef. Explain about James’ scheme. After all, Stef wished he could be the first fake date. He knows about the scheme. Except it doesn’t feel any better.
“Maybe you need a nap?” James pats my shoulder.
“Friends don’t let friends post drunk.” My voice is muffled by my arms.
