Thank God I didn’t touch any of the dreck the airline insisted was food. Otherwise, I’d be puking. The image from Morton’s comes back to me. My instinct says it most definitely was Slick—he has a sidepiece, or else Max is the sidepiece. Both possibilities make my blood boil for reasons I can’t quite pinpoint. My voice grows tense. “Then he can be understanding and let you play my girlfriend for a couple of months. Tell him it’s for your career.”
The second the words slip from my mouth, I wince inwardly. I was going to ask her to find me a fake girlfriend to get my grandmother off my back, but said the wrong thing. Must be the whiskey I had on the flight or the lack of sleep. The seat was too cramped for me to rest properly. I should take it back, but now that I’ve said it, I’m interested in Max’s reaction.
“What?” she rasps, then glares at me.
Why is she annoyed? Fake-dating me wouldn’t be that bad—or would it?
“Is this over the high school kid you got pregnant?”
Max saw that,too?Jesus. Who hasn’t seen that damn article? My fist clenches tighter around the phone as it vibrates again. Not checking yet another message from Grandmother. “All lies. It wasn’t me. Never even heard of her. The sperm her egg got to tango with wasn’t mine.”
“She seemed awfully sure. Not that I’m, you know, judging.”
I grind my teeth. “No photo, nothing. The only thing she got right is that I’m older than her—obviously—and was good in bed. Got paid to smear me, undoubtedly.”
“If she wanted to smear you, she would’ve claimed youweren’tany good.”
I wave a hand listlessly. “There has to be at leastsomelimit to one’s lies. Nobody would believe that.”
“If you say so.”
Her skepticism makes me want to grab her and kiss her until she’s breathless and soft in my arms, just to demonstrate how wrong she is. If she weren’t already dating some average Slick, I might just go ahead and do it, the hell with HR regulations. But it’s my firm policy never to touch a woman who’s with somebody else. I’d rather dance naked in Times Square on New Year’s Eve than be like my parents.
Max’s eyes darken in the car. Or perhaps it’s the shades playing tricks on me. “So if you didn’t do it, why the story? Who hates you that much?”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh, it’s a long list. Success invites jealousy.”
“Uh-huh. No wonder you can’t wear T-shirts. Hard to get that swelled head through such a small hole.”
“My ego’s healthy, not inflated.”
“And if you had nothing to do with her, why do you need me to play your girlfriend? Not that I’d do it,” she adds, enunciating each word clearly.
“Because my grandmother is freaking out.” She wants me to marry a “respectable woman” to quell the scandal, except her idea of a respectable woman is somebody just like her. Marrying the younger version of her would be my idea of life gone wrong. I don’t bother to mention the thousand messages I’ve gotten from my parents. Max would never believe they’re that concerned. They live to create scandals. Mainline them like crack. They probably hold ownership stakes in all the trashy celeb and society gossip sites because they alone have to be responsible for at least half the traffic those sites get.
“Well, I sympathize,” Max says, sounding completely unsympathetic. “But I can’t betray my boyfriend.”
Acid pools in my belly. That asshole doesn’t deserve Max’s devotion, especially when he’s fucking around behind her back.My gut’s certain of it, and I might as well tell her. “What if he’s already betraying you?”
She stares at me. “Jeffrey? No way.”
“I think I saw him with another woman a few days before we left for London.” There, it’s said. Now the ball’s in her court.Dump him.
“You need to update your prescription.” Max jerks her chin at my glasses. “He was in Charlotte that week on a project. We had to cancel our movie date because it was an emergency.”
“A sexcapade disguised as work. Don’t be naïve, Max.”
She shakes her head. “That’s pretty low, attacking someone you barely even know. He’d never do it. I’d stake my annual bonus on it.”
Her staunch defense smacks me down. Was I mistaken? She’d never wager her annual bonus otherwise. Shelovesmoney.
Guess she loves Slick just as much,if not more.
Why is that so deflating? I want to argue more, but from the firm determination in her eyes, it’s obvious I’ll only end up strengthening her feelings for that bastard. I stomp on the rising bitterness. “Fine, forget it. Just think of the extra dough you could make for taking on the project. You know I always compensate you more than fairly.” The words are clipped. It probably makes me a bad person, but I want her to say yes.
“Not even for money. I have principles, Rhys. And Jeffrey’s good to me—understanding, faithful…basically perfect. The kind of guy I can picture getting married to. A loving partner who would make his wife and family his priority. Someone I can grow old with.”
Her words draw vivid images in my mind. Her in a gorgeous wedding gown, smiling as Slick puts a ring on her finger. Then them buying a single-family home with a small yard in some upwardly mobile neighborhood. A gently used minivan pullingup in front of their house, full of kids and a golden retriever puppy.
