Chapter 4
4
WESTON
W ith fast fingers, Carlee types into her phone, and the bright screen reveals her features. She sets it on the bar, and my eyes scan over the post. The site has been around for decades, and it’s one my publicist watches. Everyone from celebrities to the general public knows about it.
Blind Item #13
Mr. Playboy Billionaire may be going through a dirty divorce with the gold-digger demon, but he has a secret girlfriend he’s been seeing for months. It doesn’t matter how many “dates” he publicly goes on. His heart belongs to the woman he’s trying to keep hidden.
“That anonymous website is full of unconfirmed gossip,” I say, trying to sound dismissive, but the weight of the accusation lingers in the air.
“There are confirmed truths shared here too,” she argues, her tone unwavering. “You won’t tell me?”
“If I were seeing someone regularly, you’d know, I promise,” I assure .
“I’d love to be the one to reveal her,” she says. “What a comeback that would be for LadyLux.”
I smirk, my mind reeling. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Kinda glad though.” She swirls the wine in her glass. “I have a feeling whoever you end up with won’t appreciate our friendship.”
Her words hit harder than I care to admit.
“If anyone had issues with us, I’d dump them. Lena, my ex, isolated me from my friends for years. Somehow, she wedged herself between me and Easton. I won’t allow anyone to have that sort of control over me again,” I explain, my voice firm. “Our friendship is nonnegotiable.”
Silence stretches between us, filled with the unspoken fears that hover like fog in the early morning.
“What about you? What if your boyfriend told you to stop seeing me? Would you?” I ask.
Carlee’s expression softens. “You’ll have to end our friendship, Wes. It’s nonnegotiable for me as well.”
I love it when she shortens my name like that, as if she’s claiming a piece of me for herself.
“Music to my ears,” I admit as I empty the bottle of wine into our glasses.
The mood shifts, and I need to change the subject before I drown in the depths of our connection. “I’m curious. Why Trever?”
“His profile made me laugh.”
“Laughter is happiness in its rawest form,” I mutter, contemplating the joy that bubbles up when I’m with her.
“Where happiness lives, true love follows,” she continues.
I think about my past relationships. Could that be what’s been missing?
Her brows lift. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” I shake my head. “All is well.”
“You have that look on your face. Is it pity? Because if so?—”
“No,” I say, my tone firm. “It’s admiration .”
“Oh.” She pauses, trying to hold back a smile, but ultimately fails. “Carry on then. I kind of like the thought of you being my secret admirer.”
If she only knew.
I lick my lips, and warmth spreads through me. This woman has no idea how deep my feelings run. She’s completely immune to my charm unless she’s had a drink or two, and even then, I wonder if it truly counts. My buried emotions keep me tethered, and yet here she is, blissfully unaware of what she does to me.
Carlee finishes her glass and hiccups with a grin. “Sorry it was so expensive.”
She’s already tipsy.
“Expensive?” I chuckle, genuinely relaxed when she’s close. “If I had known it would end your shitty date sooner, I’d have sent two bottles over as soon as you arrived.”
“ Wait , when I arrived? You were already here?” Her mouth falls open in surprise, and it’s adorable.
I nod. “I had to witness this monstrosity for myself. You know, for research.”
“Ah. And how would you feel if I showed up and watched one of your dates like a stalker?”
I chew on the corner of my lip, the idea enticing. “What are you doing tomorrow night? I’ll get you a reservation.”
She’s full of skepticism. “You’re serious?”
“Maybe you can determine my relationship issues?”
“Okay,” she says with a hint of mischief in her gaze. “I’ll call your bluff. I’m free.”
I smirk. “Mmm. This will be fun.”
She laughs, a melodic sound that dances between us. My heart pounds just a little harder.
“You realize I could write the Weston Calloway dating manual before sunrise, right? I already know why you suck.”
“Oh, really?” I enjoy the banter. “Enlighten me.”
“You rush things with every woman you’ve ever been with. I don’t know if it’s fuckboy behavior or if you’re just a hopeless romantic, but it’s definitely a dating cycle. You have to give it longer than two months. I’m not sure you’ve ever been in love. It all seems like lust to me.”
“Hilarious.” I lean back, the weight of her words sinking in. “It might be a cycle, but I know what it’s like to fall madly and deeply in love with someone. It’s obsessive. Dangerous. Addictive.”
“Where’s the proof?” Her head tilts as she challenges me.
I glance down at her mouth, and her breath catches. Together, we’re electrifying. There’s a magnetic pull between us that I can’t keep ignoring. I wonder what she’d do if I slid my lips across hers. Would that be enough evidence for her?
“You choose not to see what’s right in front of you,” I say, lowering my voice.
She doesn’t get it—not even with the millions of hints I’ve dropped or the moments we’ve shared that linger like stardust across the summer sky. Not even with the blind items posted that are clearly about us.
Somehow, I’m still hiding in plain sight.
Carlee’s approach to finding love is calculated. She knows exactly what she wants in a partner, but runs when she finds it. I’ve witnessed it a lot this year.
But I’m not perfect either.
I struggle to trust my decision-making skills after the mistake of marrying someone as awful as Lena. The memory of that toxic relationship still looms like a dark cloud over me. That’s why I’m so hesitant to seriously date again.
“I’ve predicted every one of your major breakups since I was eighteen years old,” Carlee says with a serious glint in her eyes.
“Maybe you should pick my next girlfriend then,” I offer, half joking.
“Me?” Her brows furrow in disbelief. “Why?”
“Why not?” I reply, a smile tugging at my lips. “You’re a Westoncyclopedia . You would immediately know who’d be compatible with me. Plus, you’re a great matchmaker, considering you keep taking all the credit for Lexi and Easton.”
A grin spreads across her lips. “You’re serious?”
“What do I have to lose?” Other than her.
I quickly shoot a text to the restaurant I’m visiting tomorrow. The response is immediate.
“Reservation made,” I state.
“I look forward to it.” A hint of cockiness drips from her tone as if she’s already taking pride in this little venture of ours.
“It shouldn’t be this easy, should it?” The question has lingered in my mind since we met last on Wednesday.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“ Us. Our friendship,” I say.
“But shouldn’t it? When it’s easy, that means it’s right. Sometimes, we meet people who we instantly connect with—friends who will stay in our lives forever. They’re the family we choose. Look at me and Lexi. Me and you. It’s serendipity. Completely meant to be. Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she admits.
It’s the little things she says that strike a chord within me. I appreciate her sincerity; she doesn’t just string words together for the sake of conversation. She wears her heart on her sleeve and isn’t afraid to share her inner thoughts and feelings with me. That’s trust—something we’ve built brick by brick.
I’m convinced Carlee sees the world through heart-shaped, rose-colored glasses. I wish I could.
She’s right though; relationships should be easy.
That’s just never been my experience, except with her .
“That was my trauma talking again,” I acknowledge, a weight settling in my stomach.
For years, I fought tooth and nail for a woman who never truly loved me. Lena was obsessed with what being married to me could bring her—money, fame, and endless connections—all while smothering me in layers of deceitful lies .
“Healing takes time, Weston,” Carlee says gently, her fingers briefly wrapping around my hand under the bar, squeezing me with assurance.
When she pulls away, I instantly feel the hollow ache.
Carlee understands to an extent, but she has no idea how deeply my ex-fueled anxiety runs. I’m still navigating the treacherous waters of trust, working to mend the fractures of my heart that Lena left behind. Every day is a struggle. Every day, I find myself questioning who is seeking to exploit my family’s name and the connections it brings. It’s a place I don’t want to be.
Carlee is the only woman I’ve let into my world since Lena tried to dismantle it. She’s sunshine on a cloudy day.
“Were you contemplating going home with Double-E?” I ask curiously.
“No. I knew within the first five minutes that I wouldn’t,” she replies, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Doubt he could’ve gotten the job done. Not sure he knows where the little man in the boat is.”
I burst into laughter, the sound genuine. “You were serious earlier—about your sex life?”
“You weren’t supposed to hear any of that,” she groans, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue.
“Not my fault Lexi had you on speaker. But I’m sorry to hear that. Condolences to your lady parts.”
“Appreciate it. I’ve learned that if I want something done right, I have to do it myself.”
She winks at me, and I find myself lost in thought—imagining her alone in her bedroom, shadows flickering around as she explores her body.
Shit.
I swallow hard, adjusting myself, desperate to push the visual away as she locks her gaze on me, sultry and mischievous.
She smirks with a brow popped as if she saw my thoughts. “I’ve had lots of practice. ”
“You’re tipsy,” I mutter, my pulse quickening.
Anytime her inhibitions fall, she throws away our carefully constructed boundaries. She test-drives my willpower, forcing me to reject every advance she makes.
Carlee bats her long lashes. “This is when things get fun.”
The scent of her perfume surrounds me as I lean in close. “As much as I don’t want to cut this short, I have to go. A car waits for you outside. I’ll see you there.”
She grabs my hand.
“How did you know I was going to ditch tonight?” Her breath is hot against my skin.
“When you didn’t choose the blue dress.”
“Seriously?” She creates space between us, the air suddenly charged with something more.
“Yeah. And I caught a glimpse of your expression. Hope to never see that look on your face again,” I say truthfully.
“Never,” she whispers. Vulnerability flashing in her eyes. “I always look forward to us.”
“Let’s keep it that way.” I shoot her a wink. “See you soon.”
“Soon,” she repeats, and I catch a glint of something.
I pay the bill, careful not to meet her gaze as I move toward the exit. Leaving her is always the hardest part.
I climb into the back of the SUV, sinking into the leather seat as my driver zooms away. Anticipation and excitement coil in my stomach as I text her the details for tomorrow night.
Carlee
We’re going to Ambrosia? Are you serious?
Weston
Yes.
Carlee
But the dress code …
Weston
I’ll take care of it. Don’t forget I have fuck-you money. Anything else?
Carlee
I guess not.
Weston
Great. A car will pick you up at seven sharp tomorrow night. Wardrobe will be delivered an hour prior.
Carlee
I cannot believe we’re going to Ambrosia.
Weston
You’re too easy to please.
Carlee
We both know that’s a lie.
The vehicle rolls to a stop on the curb in front of Frankie’s. The sign might be faded, and the windows are covered in grime, but the aroma is irresistible. They serve the best burgers in the city, and my mouth waters at the thought.
As soon as I enter, the bell above the door clanks against the glass, announcing my presence. I check my watch, a wave of guilt washing over me as I move toward the counter, knowing I’m late.
Frankie stands with his arms crossed, an exaggerated glare etched on his face. Not a good sign.
“Apologies,” I say, shaking my head with a laugh, hoping to defuse his irritation.
“When Lexi told me she was sending you , I knew you’d be an hour and a half late. I didn’t start on the order because this food is made to be eaten fresh,” he says, his tone a mix of annoyance and amusement.
I let out a relieved breath. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re right,” he barks out. “You owe me, Calloway. ”
“I had a drink with a friend and lost track of time,” I explain, offering a faint smile as I think about Carlee.
“With your secret girlfriend?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.
“Please,” I tell him firmly. “You know that’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” Frankie watches me closely, his gaze sharp and unwavering, but I don’t answer. His smirk tells me he’s enjoying this. “You always have an excuse. At least the secret girlfriend one is plausible and forgivable.”
“Can I get one of those colas in a bottle?” I ask, glancing at the fridge packed with colorful drinks.
He pops the top with a satisfying crack and hands it to me, the icy bottle cool against my fingers. I sit in one of the mismatched chairs and wobbly tables that threaten to topple over.
I have to sober up.
The last thing I want is to walk into Easton’s as drunk as Carlee. My brother is too smart and pays attention to details. He’ll see right through me, as he always does.
Fifteen minutes pass in a blur as I scroll through my text conversations with her. The flirting is undeniable, and a smile creeps onto my lips, one I try to suppress but can’t.
“Why are you cheesing like that?” Frankie asks, his voice cutting through my daydream.
He holds up two large paper bags. The scent of food floats through the air, causing my mouth to water. He hands me the sacks, and they’re heavier than I expected.
“Holy shit. What did they order?”
He shakes his head with amusement. “You know, I’ve seen that same expression on your brother’s face.”
“Not sure what you’re talking about. You’re imagining things,” I reply.
“Enjoy your date tonight,” he mumbles, grabbing my empty soda bottle and placing it in the recycling bin with a clattering thud. The sound echoes through the small dining room as he opens the door for me with exaggerated chivalry that makes me roll my eyes.
I walk outside, the bags snug in my grasp. “Date?”
“It’s four meals—Lexi’s and Easton’s orders, plus yours and Carlee’s.”
“See ya, Frankie,” I say, sucking in cool, fresh air.
“Hot damn. Carlee is your secret girlfriend.”
I roll my eyes again. “God, not you too. Also, keep that shit quiet. That’s how rumors get started.”
He gives me a wide, mischievous grin and a wave goodbye. “Whatever you say, Calloway.”
Am I that transparent? Fuck.