Sneaky bastard. He’s right. This would make a pretty epic story, which is the only reason why I nod my head up and down. The crowd goes wild. Whistling. Hooting. Screaming at the top of their lungs. The combination only seems to incite my fiancé further, encouraging him to stand up and tug me into his arms. Then he’s kissing me.
I’m in shock for a solid two Mississippis before my body takes over. Fingers weaving into his soft, brown hair and my heart racing a million beats a minute, I open my mouth and give a tiny piece of myself to an absolute stranger while knowing that I’ll never be able to steal it back. When the taste of wheat explodes across my tongue, I grin against him.
“What’s so funny?” he murmurs, keeping his arms around my waist.
“Just thinking about how I was one-hundred-percent right in my initial assumption.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’re charming when you’re drunk.”
“You should see me when I’m sober,” he teases before dropping another quick kiss to my mouth. “Can I have your number?”
“You mean so we can finalize our wedding arrangements?”
He laughs. “Something like that.” His grip disappears as he searches his pockets. With pinched brows, he mutters, “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I left my phone in my car. I’ll be back in a few.”
I watch his sexy butt as he jogs up the concrete stairs before he disappears through the tunnel only to be replaced by a fuming Owen.
Cringing, I curl into my seat, then wait for him and Grady to reach me.
“What the hell was that?” Owen demands, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.
My face reddens. “Nothing.”
“You sure? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I just witnessed you getting proposed to on the screen.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that, Mama Two?” Grady probes with his gangly little arms crossed over his chest, mirroring his father’s posture. I shake my head and pull him into the seat beside me to prevent Owen from interrogating me any further. “It was nothing. Let’s just finish the game.”
I glance back at the tunnel, hoping to see my fake fiancé striding back to me with his confident swagger. But he never does. In fact, the only thing I’m gifted with is glares from his friends before they also disappear from the stadium a few minutes later.
What the hell was that?
2
Nora
“Hey!” Gem greets me through my cell.
“Hey! I’m picking up everyone’s coffee for the meeting, but Bertie won’t answer my text. What does she want?”
“I dunno. Just grab her one of the seasonal drinks. We all know they’re the best.”
Chuckling, I pin my cell between my shoulder and my ear while digging in my purse for my wallet. “That’s because the seasonal drinks are your favorite, but that doesn’t mean they’re everyone’s favorite.”
“Fiiine. I’ll go ask,” Gem whines before her voice is muffled for a minute. I glance up at the menu before moving up in the coffee line as the next customer is served. “She said she wants a black coffee today.”
“Just like his soul!” Bertie shouts, her voice echoing through the speaker.
I laugh. “His soul?”
“Yeah. Apparently, Bertie had a bad night with what’s his name. Good thing we’re hosting a single’s cruise, eh? Besides, I already told you never to date a Leo. They’re bad news, Bertie. Come on.”
Evidently, she’s done talking to me and will now be scolding Bertie for the next fifteen minutes.
“Look. I gotta go,” I tell Gem as I step up to the counter. “Don’t chew her out too much. I’ll be there in a few.”
“Bye! But seriously, Bertie––” The call goes dead, and I’m left rolling my eyes at my astrology-loving friend as I give our orders.
Balancing four coffees with one arm, I swing open the glass door to Polished Magazine’s headquarters, then lift my chin at the receptionist, Bertie.
“You are a freaking lifesaver. You know that, right?” she tells me. The girl is decked out in a black Beatles shirt with a black blazer on top, black pants, and––you guessed it––black stiletto heels that could easily stab her ex’s jugular if she was feeling particularly feisty. Which, based on her attire and coffee choice, I’m going to say is very possible.
“How you doing, Bertie?” I ask.
“Gem’s right. I never should’ve dated a Leo.”
“Please tell me you’re not actually drinking the zodiac Kool-Aid, Bertie.”
“I’m sorry, but have you seen all the memes floating around? They’re like…almost never wrong.”
“Almost being the key word,” I jest.
“Come on. Gem’s right. Leos are suckers for all the attention, and if they’re not getting enough from you, they’re going to go elsewhere and find it in the bed of one of your friends.”
I gasp. “No. He didn’t.”
“Oh. But he did,” Bertie grits out before nabbing the coffee from my hands.
With the cup hovering an inch from her mouth, her eyes narrow into thin slits. “Did you add sugar?”
“And sweeten the black coffee that matches your ex’s soul?” I clutch at my chest dramatically. “Of course not.”
There’s a ghost of a smile on Bertie’s face before she covers it with the lip of her cup and takes a deep pull from the liquid of the gods. After an appreciative hum, she adds, “Good girl.”
The phone on her desk rings. Bertie purses her lips before plopping back into her black leather chair and answering it with a syrupy, sweet voice that makes me cringe.
“Polished Magazine, how can I help you?”
Waving my fingers through the air in a silent goodbye, I head straight to the conference room where our meeting is being held. The entire floor is decorated with straight lines, black furniture with gray and silver accents, and glass walls that leave little room for privacy. Still, it’s my home away from home, and I
