Chapter 5
“Do you want me to fight him?” is the first thing out of my mouth when Aubrey enters my house.
She doesn’t answer before kicking her heels off and stalking confidently through the long hallway.
I follow her into the kitchen, my muscles tense when she yanks a chilled bottle of rosé from the fridge.
Shooting up, she spares me a heavy look that tells me everything her sudden I’m coming over text couldn’t.
The tight, olive-coloured dress she wore on her date is a near-identical match to the cupboards behind her.
Even without her killer heels on, she’s only a few inches shorter than my six-two height.
I’ve always appreciated that about her, not that there’s anything wrong with shorter women.
It’s just nice not having to crane my head down to look at her, given how often we’re together.
Her perfectly manicured fingernails tap the swell of her curved hip as she glares at the bottle. I debate asking if she’d prefer I open it before it shatters into a thousand pieces but change my mind when she whips around and tugs open a cupboard, grabbing a wineglass.
“Married. He was married! And to make it even worse, he brought me to the place she worked. Like, come on!” she bursts out, jamming a cork opener into place that I hadn’t noticed her take from the drawer.
With a strong pull, she pops it open and reaches back to take her hair out, letting the black waves tumble down her back.
“And don’t even get me started on the vape!
I still smell like pot, and I drove here with my windows down. ”
I try to sniff the air nonchalantly, but she catches me, frowning as her head falls forward.
“You don’t stink.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Where did you meet him?”
She pauses while filling her glass, not stopping until the pale pink liquid hits the rim. “Tinder.”
“Then I think a pothead married man isn’t the worst date you could have had.”
“Finn! That doesn’t help. At all.”
I brace my hands on the kitchen island, leaning forward. “I thought you didn’t use Tinder anymore.”
Not since she met up with a guy who picked her up for their date, only to take her to the police station to get her to help get his friend out of a holding cell. That was months ago now, and I sincerely hope she doesn’t still have her occupation set to lawyer anymore.
“I don’t!” she exclaims before bringing her glass to her mouth and chugging back half of its contents, leaving a glossy red stain on the rim. “You don’t get it because you don’t have to use dating apps to meet women.”
“I’m sorry, did I somehow forget that I’ve become a serial dater in the last five minutes?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Exhaling, I release the countertop and move toward her. She doesn’t retreat, so I deem it safe enough to take the wineglass from her and set it down. Then, I place my hands on her arms and rub, warming the cool skin.
“What’s going on, Bree?”
Her eyes dart away as she lies through her teeth. “It’s just time for me to settle down.”
“Nice try. Tell me the truth this time.”
Standing this close to her, I can smell the weed she must have been completely doused in on her date.
It’s not the time to poke at her, though.
After two decades of friendship, I can always tell when she’s struggling with something.
She’s not the type of person who shows emotion openly, not even with me, unless I pry like I am right now.
It’s how she’s always been, but there are still some tells that I’ve made note of.
Reaching for alcohol is one. Closing up and lying when I push for an answer is another.
“It’s the demon spawn,” she finally blurts out.
“Spencer?”
“Do you know another demon spawn?”
“Mm, debatable,” I mutter, thinking back to Asher’s attitude on the field today.
I’d hoped it would have gotten better once everyone started breaking a sweat, but if anything, it got worse. Today was probably the roughest day the team has had with him.
“Asher is a saint compared to Spencer,” she says, reading my mind. “At least Asher doesn’t try to sabotage your job because he’s jealous.”
After giving her arms one last rub, I drop my hands and lean a hip against the island. “That’s fair. So, he’s still not letting it go?”
“No. If anything, he gets angrier by the day. And now, apparently, he’s taken to blackmail in order to get his way.”
“He’s threatening you?” I ask, straightening as my chest grows hot.
“In a sense. Supposedly, one of the paralegals was at the restaurant the other night when I bailed on my date to help a client. He wasn’t impressed and started spouting off about me at the bar.”
I relax slightly, but not enough, still buzzing with protectiveness. “And I’m assuming she told Spencer this?”
“More like told anyone who would listen. He’s got this whole thing going that I’m getting a reputation for being a cold-hearted bitch who can’t find a single man who will put up with me. And with this damn gala coming up, I got so mad and told him I had one.”
“Had one what?” I ask slowly, trying to hide the frustration in my voice. My jaw’s tight when I add, “And you’re not a cold-hearted bitch.”
The nonchalant lift of her shoulder pisses me off more than it should. “Either way, he got to me, Finn. I told him I had a boyfriend to get him off my back, but it only made everything worse.”
“I don’t get why this matters to him.”
“Me neither. My personal life has no hold on my professional one, but he’s out for blood. He wants my job, and he wants a front-row seat to watch when I lose it,” she explains, every word heavier than the last. “Which I won’t.”
I inhale tightly and shake my head. “He’s a jealous idiot.”
“That’s putting it nicely.”
“You’re not losing your job. Rowena wouldn’t let that happen anyway. Have you told her that he’s harassing you?”
She scoffs, turning to take her glass again. The sight of her bright blue eyes dulling with exhaustion doesn’t sit right with me. “I’m not going to run upstairs and tattle on him. I have to take care of him myself. I just . . . took a misstep.”
“You don’t misstep, Bree.”
“Well, I did. And now, I have six weeks to find a boyfriend who can convince the firm that he finds me mildly enjoyable.”
“You can’t just find someone to pretend? That’s a thing, isn’t it?”
“No,” she answers immediately before taking a sip of wine. “It needs to be real. If anyone found out that I was pretending to have a boyfriend, especially Spencer, it would make everything ten times worse.”
“Hence the Tinder date,” I say, voice low, tense. “I don’t like you forcing yourself into doing this.”
She sighs, dropping her shoulders as she offers me a small smile. “Best friend or not, Finn, it doesn’t matter if you approve or not.”
“Bree,” I warn, shoving a hand through the unruly hair at the top of my head.
“You don’t need to approve . . . but I do need you to do something else for me.”
Anxiety crawls up my spine. “Do what?”
She takes a gulp of wine this time and points out to the living room. “Let’s sit.”
“If you’re about to ask me to help you kill Spencer, the answer is yes. You don’t have to sit me down and ask.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Just in case.”
Without waiting for me to respond, she slips past me into the living room. It’s about triple the size of hers but lacks the view. That’s what I get for buying a place with a backyard and entertaining space instead of near the water.
The house is what I spent a large sum of my salary on when I signed my first big-boy contract.
Ten years for three hundred million isn’t shabby, that’s for sure.
With five bedrooms, six bathrooms, and an outdoor kitchen that gets far more use than the one we were just in, it felt like an appropriate purchase.
What else was I going to do with all of that money?
I can’t take it to the grave with me, and my parents would slap me upside the head if I bought them a new place and tried to get them out of the one they’ve lived in for the last thirty years.
I’m an only child, and while my best friend enjoys when I buy her things, she’s also too independent to take much from me.
I watch as she collapses on the dark couch and curls her bare, smooth legs beneath her. She looks so small on the massive twelve-seater that I almost laugh. Instead, I clear my throat and join her, leaving half a cushion between us.
“Yes, I’ll donate my sperm to you,” I say gently, placing a hand on her knee. “I can’t guarantee that our child will be able to throw a hundred-mile-an-hour fastball like his dad, but I can sure try to make sure you get the best batch I’ve got.”
Aubrey makes a rough noise in the back of her throat before ripping my hand off her knee and shoving me sideways. I howl a laugh as I grab the edge of the couch for balance, sending her a wink.
“Don’t say that again,” she blurts out, cheeks a fiery red colour. “You’re disgusting.”
“Is that why you don’t want me to be your fake boyfriend?” It escapes before I can stop it.
There’s a second where she doesn’t speak at all, just stares at me with a guilt-stricken expression.
Then— “If I thought I could pull it off, I’d have already asked you to.
Everyone at the firm knows about our friendship too much to ever buy that we suddenly fell in love. Spencer would call me out immediately.”
“Fair enough,” I say, letting that wiggle of worry go.
“I need you to help me find a nice guy to go out with. And then teach me how to not be rude to him. I need to do this for real this time.”
“If you went out with a guy who actually deserved your time, I don’t think you’d be rude in the first place.”
Aubrey swallows, her throat working tightly.
“I want to say that you’re right, but I think I’ve let my job make me too .
. . jaded. I see a guy and immediately think of every wrong thing that he’s ever done or said and pick apart the tiniest misstep.
Every man has a secret, and it’s like I need to find it before it takes me by surprise. ”
“You’ve dealt with a lot of shit in your career.”
“I have. But I’m never going to find someone if I keep being so . . .” She trails off, twisting her mouth.
“Guarded?”
Her laugh is deep, pitiful. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”
“Don’t you think that you’re being a little too hard on yourself? You handle the team without ripping any of them to shreds. And I’ve never felt like you were searching for my flaws, either.”
She blinks at me, lips twitching. “They don’t count. I’m not ever going to date one of them. And I don’t search for your flaws because I already know all of them. I’ve watched them come out over the last twenty years.”
“And what about my dangerous, manly secret?” I counter, brow lifting pointedly.
“Which one? Are we talking about the way you change your underwear twice a day because you’re incredibly anal about cleanliness, or that you started a YouTube channel when you were thirteen and uploaded terrible guitar covers that are still there to this day?”
“You knew about the videos?”
“Obviously. I came over once and caught you recording one but decided not to embarrass you, so I left. I had to beg your mom not to tell you that I’d come by.”
My temperature skyrockets as I scrub a hand down my face. “That’s embarrassing.”
“It was kinda cute, honestly,” she teases, a grin spreading across her face.
“Oh? Yet you still never agreed to go out with me.”
With a roll of her eyes, she ignores that and pushes forward. “Anyway, you and the team aren’t great comparables for the men I’m going on dates with. So, will you help me?”
“I’m not sure what I’ll be able to do for you, but yeah. Of course I will.”
“Think of yourself as my dating coach.”
I chuckle, giving in. “You need to actually be open to listening, then.”
“I am. Spencer isn’t going to best me.”
Not if I have anything to do with it, he isn’t.