Rose had faked her entire engagement. She had faked the registry, the fiancé, and the “romantic stability” that had been the very reason Lizanne hired her.
Lizanne leaned back in her chair, the discovery settling over her. She should be furious. She should call Pat and have Rose fired by morning for breach of contract and fraud. But as she stared at the screen, she found herself lingering on the memory of Rose’s face when she talked about her engagement.
It was a lie, but it was abeautifullie. It was a performance—the kind of desperate, high-stakes acting Lizanne respected.
She tried calling Trina one more time. Voicemail again.
“Trina, it’s me,” Lizanne said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I found out something... insane about the wedding planner. She’s not who she says she is. Turns out, her fiancé is fake! The photo I showed you? That’s her brother, not some attorney. He’s not real. Oh my goodness, it’s so juice. Call me.”
She shut the laptop and walked to her bedroom, the house feeling larger and emptier than usual. As she climbed into the oversized bed and pulled the silk sheets to her chin, she didn’t think about the fraud. She didn’t think about the legal ramifications. She thought about the way Rose’s arm had felt under her hand—the heat, the jolt, and the way the world had seemed to narrow down to just the two of them for a single, breath-stealing second.
She fell asleep with the ghost of that warmth still humming in her skin.
Chapter 8
Rose
The apartment was glowing when Quinn pulled into the lot. Rose shoved the door open. The air was thick with the smell of microwave popcorn and the drone of a reality show. Kayla was buried under a blanket on the sofa, clutching a mug that was definitely full of wine. She looked up, squinting against the intrusion.
“Finally,” Kayla said. “Daisy went down at eight. She asked four times when you were coming home. I told her you were working; she told me you’realwaysworking.”
Quinn collapsed onto the end of the sofa and immediately started digging through her popcorn bowl.
“Dude, you just ate half a pound of popcorn in the car, much of which is still going to be under my seats,” Rose complained.
“Why in your car?” Kayla asked. “And why are you together? I thought you were off with Miss Movie Star and her girl.”
“He picked me and my car up. And the movie star. He took an Uber all the way to the vineyard,” Rose explained, dropping her keys on the counter.
“You’ll need to Venmo me or something for that,” Quinn added with a smirk.
Kayla sat up, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. “Wait—why were you at a vineyard?”
“Day drinking at a vineyard,” said Quinn.
“It was two glasses,” Rose countered.
Kayla’s eyes went wide, drifting toward Rose. “You went day drinking with Lizanne Connors? I thought you were looking at wedding venues. With both of them.”
“We were doing a venue walkthrough; it happens to be a vineyard. And Katrina ditched us. So, we did a bit of drinking together.”
“She spilled wine all on herself,” Quinn added.
“Itgotspilled. There’s a difference.” Rose dropped into the armchair and pressed her palms into her eyes. “Can we just... not? Not right now.”
“No,” Kayla said, planting her feet. “I sat through three episodes of competitive cake decorating without an actual cake anywhere in sight, I’ve earned this.” She set the wine mug down with a definitivethud. “What’s she like all liquored up? Is she as intense as the tabloids say?”
“Yes.” Quinn said. “She’s more intense, actually. She also has an eye on Rose.”
“She does not. Stop it,” Rose called, reached forward and grabbed some popcorn to throw at him.
“You’re complaining about a bit of popcorn in the car, and here you are tossing it all over your living room.”
“Quinn, stop. She doesn’t have an eye on me. At least not in the way you think,” Rose groaned.
“Well, you are cute. I can see why…” Kayla started.
“She’s engaged, Kayla.”
