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Actually, it had. But it also hadn’t.
“Joanie would like to have you and Lily over to our house to celebrate the Reginald London Superstores account.”
“Didn’t we do that at the Shot Spot?” The night Lily had drunk tequila, slipped out of her suit jacket, and taken the bet that ended with amazing, incredible, unforgettable sex.
“Joanie says the Shot Spot was not a proper celebration.”
“Flat beer and stale pretzels, pool, and a jukebox playing seventies country hits aren’t her idea of classy?”
Clive laughed. “Yeah. No. She’s taking a French pastry class and wants to bake and serve champagne and turn the dining room into a patisserie.” He plunged his hands into his pockets. “Anyway, you have to come.”
“I do not.” An intimate evening with Lily and the friends they were lying to? Sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. He gestured at the drawings in front of him. “I would, but I’m so busy with this design.”
“You’re three weeks ahead of schedule.”
“Then there’s the speech,” Marcus hedged. He’d written and rewritten it five times. He’d cut it down, added to it, and finally arrived at something he thought he could get through without throwing up. That was the only goal at this point.
“You can’t work all the time,” Clive said, ignoring the excuses. “Sorry, buddy, not letting you back out of this one. Friday night, seven o’clock.”
“What if I have a date?” Marcus asked.
“I already told you Lily’s invited.” Clive grinned and left.
“There’s no way. I’m…I’m so behind.” Lily threw her hands in the direction of her desk, which held a single Post-it and a stapler. And the sticky note read “Buy coffee.”
“You poor thing,” Joanie said. “You look buried. You have to come. I’m making croissants.”
“I’m on a low-carb diet?”
“Nice try.” Joanie sat in the chair across from the desk. “The thing is, I invited Reginald.”
“Reginald London?” Just saying his name out loud made Lily sit straighter.
Joanie nodded. “And his wife, Felicia. But don’t tell Clive. I don’t want him to be nervous.”
“And you want Marcus and me there?”
“You two won this account. I want to show you off. Plus, I need buffers. He’s intimidating.”
So Joanie really didn’t suspect that anything had happened between Lily and Marcus? It was a relief, since she didn’t want to continue lying. It was also disappointing. If her friend knew, Lily could talk about the swirl of confusing feelings she’d experienced. Joanie was a good sounding board. She knew what had happened with Emmett, and Lily couldn’t have survived that without her.
“Show up. Eat pastries and sip champagne,” Joanie said. “It’ll be painless.”
Lily’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “Can I bring anything?”
Joanie bounced up from the chair. “Nope. Just yourself! Seven o’clock Friday, but if you want to come early you can watch me plate the food.”
“Sounds great.” Surely, she and Marcus could coexist at a simple cocktail party without tearing each other’s clothes off.
“You’re a doll!” Joanie blew air kisses as she exited the office.
Lily sagged in her chair. She’d barely exhaled before an email notification slid onto the corner of her computer screen. She clicked to open it and her stomach sank like she’d swallowed a cinder block.
The email was from Emmett Webster.
The ex who had claimed she’d stolen his design. The ex who had wooed her and promised never to tell anyone that they were sleeping together. Then he’d run to their sexist bosses, who had both taken Emmett’s word over hers.
Losing the job had been bad enough, but the damage to her reputation had been devastating. Why was he emailing her now, two years later, out of the blue?
