Page 46

“Now laugh,” Bennett said.

My mind stuttered. “Uh. Laugh? At what?”

Ivy snorted. “So smart, and yet so, so innocent. We’re acting, dear girl. Remember?”

Laughter bubbled the moment it clicked, and I matched Ivy’s stare. “I was in my head.”

She booped my forehead. “Get out of there and into the Honey.”

Together, we laughed, raucous for the camera’s sake.

“Perfect!” Bennett said. Before heading our way, he showed Cam the pictures and clapped him on the shoulder. When he approached, turning the phone our way, I set eyes on the photo of us laughing, looking like two besties having the time of their lives. It was a magnet, a still shot of come-and-see-what’s-so-funny vibes. He scrolled, and Ivy was booping my forehead. Another scroll, and I nearly choked.

“Now, that is a come-hither look.” Ivy jiggled my shoulder as Cam strolled to Bennett’s side.

Could I have possibly broadcasted myself more obviously? And this proof of my desire for Camden Shepherd would dance across the internet for all time. The only boon was that no one would know he was the muse.

Only I would know.

And Bennett, who smirked at the furious blush that stained my face.

“That’s great!” I said too brightly, ignoring the spark of humor in Cam’s eye. “Post it.”

“Doing it now.” Ivy glanced up at Cam. “By the way, women are whiskey-ing free tonight.”

He let out a single laugh, sparks of humor lighting his eyes. “You initiated a spontaneous ladies’ night on a Friday?”

“Yeah, darlin’, I did. Maybe we should get something to eat while we wait to see if it worked.” Ivy finished her drink and wiggled her fingers at Cam. “Order pizza for us.”

Cam responded with a flat stare. “Am I your servant?”

“I’m sure Shay is hungry.” Ivy nudged me. “Right, Shay?”

“Oh, um, I—I could eat.”

His gaze moved to me, clashing against my sanity and lingering just a beat too long. Without a word, he pulled out his phone. “Mario’s okay with everyone?”

Ivy’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Your pick, sugar.”

Once he’d placed the order, he flagged down Jessie for a drink. “My usual.”

“And I’ll have a dirty martini,” Bennett quipped, leaning on the bar.

All eyes turned to him.

“Just kidding.” He dipped his chin toward Jessie. “I’m given to understand this bar serves only…whiskey?”

“Hilarious, Bennett,” Cam said, accepting his lowball.

“I aim to please,” he said, then leaned toward me. “In all ways.”

Cam gently pushed him away. “Go pick a table.”

The four of us squeezed into a booth, and for the next half hour, I nursed the Honey in my glass while trying not to stare openly at Cam across from me. As anecdotes were shared and laughs exchanged, it became clear the three of them knew each other well. Ivy, of course, had been close to Cam’s family since infancy. Bennett, raised in a wealthy family from North Carolina, only met him their first year at Yale.

Together, the three of them had skied the Alps, summered in Bennett’s family home in the Outer Banks, drank themselves to oblivion in Ibiza, took jaunts on the Hayes yacht through the Caribbean. They spoke of Cam bailing Bennett out of a Spanish jail, rescuing Ivy from strange Italian men who wanted to ‘take her for a ride on the boat.’ He sat with Bennett for a week in a Costa Rican hospital when Ben contracted a nasty infection.

Bennett laughed. “He checked every drug label before they gave it to me to make sure it wouldn’t kill me.”