TWO
Charlotte
While I waited for Preston to meet me outside the restaurant, I scrolled through Instagram, and when my focus landed on an image from Blooming Sage Lotions, it sent my heart plummeting into my stomach. The headline was bolded at the top of the graphic.
Statement , it read.
As I scanned the paragraph below, my heart sank further toward my knees. Two days ago, a customer had alleged the company, which had built its brand as being cruelty free, with no animal testing—was lying.
There had been a lot of evidence, including heartbreaking pictures of animals in cages. Even if it wasn’t true, the pictures were damaging enough, but two former employees had come out since the post, confirming and expanding on the terrible things the company had done.
This statement Blooming Sage had posted?
It did absolutely nothing to help their case. It wasn’t just defensive. It laid the blame on their supplier and these disgruntled ex-employees, rather than claim any responsibility. If any animal testing had happened, they’d been completely unaware.
They played the victim.
That shit wasn’t going to fly with their customers, and a quick survey of the fiery comments proved it.
I sagged against the brick wall of the restaurant.
What the fuck was I going to do?
For the last two years I’d tried so hard to become a social media influencer. I’d spent countless hours building my platform, cultivating my network, and generating content. It had been such a struggle, and I’d had to claw my way to gain each new follower.
I loved the work, but shit—it was hard. Most of the time it was for very little return too. My father would argue my effort was wasted, but he didn’t get it. He didn’t seem to understand how important and powerful social media could be, which was ironic. He owned a multi-million-dollar talent agency, and his biggest client, Stella, was a darling of TikTok and Instagram.
This Blooming Sage fiasco was another problem I didn’t need right now. They were the first brand to reach out to me, wanting to collaborate on three sponsored posts. I’d put up the first one already, with the next one scheduled to go up tomorrow.
God, getting this contract was the only proof I’d been able to show my father that my side business wasn’t a total failure. That my dream could lead to something. A future where I wasn’t totally dependent on him.
Now I was going to have to pull down the existing reel, return the money they’d paid me, and back out of the deal. I wasn’t just appalled by the company’s lies—I couldn’t risk the blowback on my account.
The evening sun glared at me, and I started to sweat under my makeup. I’d spent the entire Uber ride getting here regretting agreeing to this date, and that was before I’d seen the Instagram post. But I’d been in town less than a month when the receptionist at Warbler Entertainment had called in sick, and my dad asked me—no, wait—demanded I fill in for her.
I hadn’t worked at Warbler in years. But I’d done it when I was twenty, so I knew how, and now that I was broke and had no choice but to move back home, I couldn’t exactly say no.
Preston Lowe was an event planner. He’d come in with his business partner and pitched Troy Osbourne’s release party to Warbler, and after their meeting, he’d strolled right up to the front desk and asked me for my number.
He was cute, and his cockiness was kind of sexy.
I’d been caught off guard, so I wasn’t thinking when I texted him my digits. He’d thrown a casual, “Maybe we could grab dinner or a drink sometime ,” over his shoulder before leaving.
I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to the date, but my life was such a dumpster fire right now, I figured one drink wouldn’t hurt. It was flattering he was interested, and, unfortunately, I needed the ego boost.
He was a few minutes early, which was nice, but then we were told our table wasn’t ready. Table ? I’d thought we were just getting drinks. While we waited, he tried to make small talk, and honestly, I wasn’t great about it. My mind was too focused on the Blooming Sage fallout.
“So, you still live at home?” I asked him, not paying attention to my tone, so it came out sounding unintentionally snotty. I didn’t mean to judge him, and I certainly had no room to. The problem was now that I’d moved back home, it meant we both lived under our parents’ roofs—while we were in our mid-twenties.
At least his business is doing well.
Once we’d been seated at our table, the date rapidly went downhill. Something was bothering him, and it was like he’d forgotten I existed. I’d been rude checking my phone when he first showed up, but now I was getting a taste of my own medicine.
It didn’t take me long to figure out what he was so fixated on. Or, more correctly—who. The pretty girl sitting at the table next to us was obviously going through some shit with her mom and he was very, very invested in it.
Was he nosy, or did he know her? The way he stared at her made me think so.
I tried to get him to engage with me, asking him what drink he planned to order, but I couldn’t compete with her. He was frozen in his seat, gazing at her like he was both pissed off and turned on.
When the server arrived, I placed the order for my drink. A lavender martini, which would look great with the color scheme I’d been consistent with on all my posts. But Preston didn’t order.
When the girl at the table next to us launched to her feet and fled the restaurant, Preston rose out of his chair too.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He looked at me like he’d never seen me before. Like he hadn’t realized I’d been sitting across from him this whole time, and it came from him in a rush. “I need a minute.”
And then he was gone, chasing after her.
My mouth hung open as I watched him go, and I blinked away my disbelief. Whatever was going on, I hoped he’d get it figured out quickly. But as the seconds ticked by, my heart rate began to climb with unease.
What if he wasn’t coming back?
The longer I waited, the hotter my cheeks burned with both irritation and embarrassment. The girl’s mom at the table next to me looked as confused and irritated as I was, but she recovered much faster. She went back to picking at her meal, her expression resigned like this had been an outcome she’d anticipated.
My phone had been resting face down on the table, so I turned it over, unlocked the screen, and began scrolling. I read down through the comments on Blooming Sage’s post and then considered whether I’d need to make my own statement. Ultimately, I decided it would be better if I didn’t.
No reason to call attention to my involvement.
I put my phone back down, and my gaze went to the entrance at the front of the restaurant. How much longer was Preston going to be?
My phone buzzed on the tabletop.
Preston: Sorry, something came up and I need to bail.
I stared at the screen, waiting for more details, but no blinking gray dots appeared. He wasn’t typing anything else. There’d be no further explanation, no real apology for the way he’d just straight up abandoned me.
“Seriously?” I groaned under my breath. “Asshole.”
The woman at the next table looked momentarily offended at my language, but also... like she sort of understood?
It was at this moment the server arrived with my lavender martini and set it in front of me. I hadn’t realized that when Preston had walked out, the server had put in my drink order anyway.
Maybe he knew you’d need it.
I stared at the pretty purple drink and the yellow flower floating in it, then lifted my gaze to the server. “Hey, do you mind if I take this to the bar? My date just left me.” Oh, shit. That sounded terrible. I pretended this wasn’t a big deal and I wasn’t wounded, and my voice came out probably too bright. “Something came up.”
The server nodded. “Of course. I’ll have the bartender open a tab for you.”
I didn’t tell him there was no need, that I’d only stay for one drink. Instead, I picked up my martini and weaved through the busy restaurant, finding an open seat at the U-shaped bar in the center of the space.
I’d come here for an ego boost, and instead I’d gotten the opposite. God, could my luck get any worse?
“Hey there, sweetheart.”
I turned toward the man sitting next to me and sized him up in a microsecond. He was older than I was, but not by much. He had an attractive enough face, but eyes that looked like they were permanently bloodshot. And they rolled around wildly, as if he couldn’t focus on any one thing for too long.
Was this guy wasted... or was he on something?
He’d called me sweetheart , which annoyed me. I pulled my lips back into something that could barely be considered a smile and turned away from him.
My gaze went through the bar and to the high-top table across the way. There were two men and a woman sitting there, with a round of drinks in front of them. The man who happened to be facing me appeared to be listening thoughtfully to whatever the woman was saying.
I swallowed thickly.
Holy shit, that guy was hot. And not the kind of hot that only appealed to a certain kind of girl. He was, like, objectively hot.
My best guess was he was in his mid-thirties, so at least ten years older than I was. He had dark brown hair that was parted on the side and a short, neatly trimmed beard. I couldn’t tell if he was tall or not, since he was seated, but he was in great shape. He filled out his gray t-shirt like he was modeling it, and its sleeves just barely fit around his toned biceps.
I studied the other people at the table, trying to figure out their relationship with one another. It was hard to see them because the bar was busy and the bartenders kept blocking my view, but eventually the woman raised a hand to run through her long red hair, and a wedding ring glinted on her finger.
The man I was interested in lifted his pint glass, showing his ring finger was bare. And the other man at the table wore a ring.
The longer I watched them, the more confident I was I had it figured out. Their body language made them look like a couple. And my guy? He was third-wheeling it tonight.
Did he sense I was watching him? His gaze lifted to mine, causing my breath to catch. Any other girl might have looked away, but not me. I held his gaze while a slight smile curled at the edge of my lips.
I didn’t know why, but I wanted him to know I thought he was hot. The way Preston had ditched me had made me reckless and bold.
The man blinked away his surprise, and then a similar smile warmed his lips.
Oh, God. I was completely unprepared for how much more intensely attractive he became when he smiled. Everything in my body tightened, and I—
“What’re you drinking?” the guy next to me asked.
Nothing , I almost responded, because I hadn’t even touched my drink yet. I kept my answer short, sending a message that I didn’t want to be bothered. “Lavender martini.”
He held up his cocktail glass, making the ice slosh around erratically. “Negroni.”
“Cool,” I deadpanned.
But the guy couldn’t take a fucking hint. “It’s good.” He took a sip and set the glass down with a little too much force, so it banged against the bar. He didn’t notice, though. “You want me to get you one?”
My gaze dipped down to my untouched martini, then back to him, and I delivered a flat look. “I’m good, thanks.”
I angled my shoulders away from him, really hoping he would pick up on my signals. There was another man here I was interested in, and my gaze flitted to his table across the way. Their drinks were almost finished, and a server swung by, dropping off the check, which the hot guy snatched up. I watched the couple protest, but his credit card was thrown down with an easy smile.
If I was going to talk to this guy, my window was rapidly closing.
I picked up my drink and was just about to take a sip when I remembered the reason for ordering it. I snapped a few different shots, some where I was holding the drink and a few where it was resting on the bar. Then, I pocketed my phone and took my first sip. After all, I’d need some liquid courage before I made my approach on Hot Guy.
The martini was great, but I barely got to enjoy the taste.
“So, what’s your name?” The guy who was under the influence of something leaned toward me, making the bar stool creak beneath him.
I didn’t bother with a polite smile this time. Nothing else had seemed to work, so I pulled out the big guns. “Just so you know, I’m only having a drink while I wait for my boyfriend to get here.”
The guy’s expression clouded over like maybe he didn’t believe me. “Okay.” He arched an eyebrow, and his tone turned playful. “You could still tell me your name, though.”
Jesus Christ. “Why?”
That, at least, seemed to have some effect. He looked confused. “Why?” he repeated.
“Yes, why ? I want to know why you need to know my name.”
He gave me an innocuous smile. “So we can chat until your boyfriend gets here.”
Fine, I’d be direct. “Sorry, I’m not interested in talking to you. Have a nice night.”
I picked up my drink and was about to move to the now-empty barstool beside me, when the man grabbed my wrist. He did it hard enough it made my drink spill over my fingers.
“What the fuck?” I said.
“Oops, sorry.” His grin was so wide it turned my stomach. “Guess I’ll have to buy you a new drink.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I snapped.
But he didn’t let go of my wrist, not even when I tried to tug it away, making my drink slosh on my hand again. My heart beat faster, and I hurried a glance across the way to the table.
No! Hot Guy and his friends were on the move, leaving.
“Get your goddamn hand off me.” I yanked my arm back so hard it nearly sent him stumbling off his stool, but at least I was able to break free. I set down my glass and shook off the vodka dripping from my fingers.
He put his hands up as if telling me to calm down. “Relax. I’m just trying to be nice. Why can’t we have a friendly conversation?”
Usually when I got scared or felt cornered, my instinct was to run, but tonight I was all fight. If he pushed me any harder, I was ready to push back.
“Because, asshole,” I snarled, “I told you I don’t want to talk to you.” And I said it loud enough for the bartender’s focus to snap in my direction. He abandoned the drink he’d been preparing and headed my way—
“Hey.”
This deep voice hadn’t come from the man sitting beside me; it had come from above. I turned and lifted my gaze, and my breath stuck in my lungs. Hot Guy stared back at me with questions in his eyes. Are you all right?
I was so surprised, I couldn’t find any words.
The man sitting beside me didn’t have that problem. He wasn’t happy we’d been interrupted, and his tone was harsh and patronizing. “Oh, this must be the boyfriend you’ve been waiting for.”
Hot Guy didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, that’s me.” He grabbed the empty stool, sat down beside me, and his voice was warm. Like he’d known me forever. “How was your day, sweetheart?”