She grabs my arm.“You can make waves with me.”
I smile.
Mari looks at my almost-empty glass.“We need a new bottle,” she insists, though she’s barely touched hers.“Want to go grab one?”
“What kind?”
“Whatever you like.”
I bounce down to the cellar and select two reds at random.
“Mar, I brought a spare in case one is from a fifteenth-century monastery and being saved for you and Harlan’s first-born or something…”
I trail off as I see her standing over the island, staring at the marble surface, the wooden spoon dripping onto the floor.
She holds up my phone.“Nova.Who is this?”
Grumpy Baller: I miss the fuck out of you.Can’t sleep without you here.
My stomach drops.
“Please tell me it’s not one of Harlan’s players.Miles likes to flirt, but you know better than?—”
“It’s not Miles.It’s Clay.”
Her mouth falls open.“Nova.He’s an asshole.”
I set both wine bottles on the island and take a breath.“He’s a good guy.You don’t know him, not really.All anyone knows is what he presents to the media in interviews.”
“You don’t have the best track record for judgment.”
“You liked Brad too.”I turn one of the bottles before setting it down again.
“So, you’re sleeping with him.”
I square my shoulders.“I’m in love with him.”
She inhales sharply.“Nova… don’t say that.”
“You think I don’t know my own heart?”There’s an edge to my voice.
“I think when it comes to your heart or your head, your heart wins every time.”
“You fell for Harlan and got married six months later,” I counter.
“But I know him inside and out.It was a thought-out decision.”
Another text comes in.
Grumpy Baller: Harlan and I had a talk.He promised to keep it quiet as long as you need.
Mari’s eyes narrow.“Harlan knows?”
Dammit.
Her expression goes pale with shock or rage—I’m not sure which.
“We don’t keep secrets, Nova.We didn’t before you.”
