Chapter 9
9
WESTON
“ M y publicist suggested a relationship PR stunt. I thought it was a ridiculous idea. Now I’m wondering if there is weight to it.”
Carlee laughs nervously, her voice fluttering like a butterfly caught in a breeze. “Explain how it would work.”
I let the words hang in the air, allowing silence to wrap around us like a cozy blanket while I think through this. It’s territory I’ve never navigated before, yet it worked like a charm for Easton, who’s now blissfully married to the love of his life.
“I don’t know,” I finally admit. Conversations like this are a gamble, especially given our current frazzled minds. “I think you’ll need to become my plus-one to every social event. If people ask what we are, we tell the truth and say we’re just friends. Once we’re spotted together several times, the assumptions and rumors will follow.”
“They’ll think I’m your secret girlfriend,” she says, raising an eyebrow, disbelief etched across her face.
“ So be her .”
She shakes her head. “People will dig into every detail of my life. ”
“They’ll find nothing,” I confirm, holding her gaze with unwavering confidence.
Her suspicion flares. “Because you’ve already done your homework?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Yes.”
“Weston, seriously?”
“Look, I had to verify I wasn’t befriending someone who was a problem,” I explain. “I did a background check on you and Lexi. You passed with flying colors. I mean, you’re here, right?”
She sits up straighter. “What did you learn?”
“Nothing of concern, I assure you. I already knew you were smart. Your record is clean, and your credit is healthy.”
“Wifey material?” she teases.
I tilt my head, a smile creeping across my lips. “You’re too sharp-tongued for that.”
“Ah, you prefer those who listen and obey then?”
“I only like my women to be submissive in the bedroom. Everywhere else, she needs to be a tiger. It’s a requirement.” I lift the bourbon to my mouth, taking a long pull. My head swims with possibility as our conversation morphs into something else.
She grabs the bottle, taking a long swig. We’re teetering on the precipice, both of us daring the other to step closer to the edge. This is a recipe for disaster, but neither of us stops.
“Wouldn’t it be fun?” I ask. “You could write anything about us on your blog, and the public would devour it. LadyLux could have them eating out of the palm of her dainty hand.”
Skepticism is etched across her pretty face. “I don’t lie on my blog.”
“I’d never ask you to do that. Write the truth.”
She shakes her head, and her damp hair bounces defiantly. “No one would care that we’re sipping drinks in a dingy bar, swapping stories about our failed dates.”
“I think your assumption is wrong,” I counter. “You don’t believe women everywhere wouldn’t want to know what it’s like to be besties with me? I’m not asking you to lie. Just write about our friendship as if you were being interviewed by LadyLux herself.”
Her gaze roams over my body like she’s suddenly aware that we’re still wrapped in towels and sitting too close for comfort.
“It would boost your blog traffic, translating into real gains.”
The intrigue in her eyes betrays her skepticism. “Always with the numbers.”
“Babe, I’m the chief operating officer of a multibillion-dollar company. Numbers are my life,” I reply, giving her a cocky grin.
She hiccups, amusement flickering over her features. “Are we conspiring again?”
“My partner in crime,” I say with a brow lifted as electricity crackles between us.
The stakes are high, but the thrill of the chase is intoxicating. It warms me from the inside out.
“I don’t know about this.”
She’s intrigued by the thought of teaming up with me. Damn, I am too.
“Pros and cons,” I say. “Pros: you could steal Lena’s crown, rendering her irrelevant; elevate your blog; and become America’s sweetheart—without ever having to pretend to be in a relationship with me. No more hiding our friendship. We can simply be.”
A mischievous expression lights her lovely face. “Okay, but that still doesn’t solve the problem of everyone assuming we’re dating.”
“That’s the fun part. They can assume whatever they want. Life continues as normal. It’s just that we get to have dinner together and be seen in public. Also, it stops me from attending social events alone now that Easton ditches me to hang out with Lexi. Imagine what you’d hear.”
“LuxLeaks isn’t your friend, Weston. Some might say you’re making a deal with the devil.”
I smirk and shrug.
“What if I expose people close to you?” She studies me intently as if searching my face for clues. “I don’t want you to be upset with me. These people are your friends.”
“I trust you,” I say, letting the truth settle between us like a promise. “If you hear something you believe needs to be written about, do it. I don’t concern myself with what others are doing, and I know I’m not involved in anything problematic other than my ex.”
Her voice drops to a whisper, almost trembling. “I’m so afraid of losing what we have.” Her words are raw and achingly honest.
“Please don’t be. I can’t imagine my life without you. You’ve been my Firefly through this divorce, lighting my way when everything was so fucking dark. Not many people make me feel seen. I just want to have fun with you.”
Her expression softens, vulnerability dancing in her eyes. “We’d have to make rules. This is dangerous territory.”
“Of course.” The corners of my mouth twitch into a half smile. “A contract.”
She laughs. “Calloways and their damn contracts.”
“You shouldn’t expect anything less. I’ll also need you to sign an NDA.”
I see that look in her eye that tells me she wants to ask me something she probably shouldn’t.
“What’s on your mind?”
It’s an open invitation to ask me anything, and she knows that.
“Why haven’t you exposed Lena?” she questions gently, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
A lump rises in my throat, heavy and unyielding. I haven’t shared the intimate details of why I filed for divorce with anyone other than Easton. It’s a chapter of my life shrouded in shadows.
“I’m sorry,” she says, realization dawning in her gaze. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s just … I know you’re not the bad guy even though she tries to paint you like you’re a monster.”
Warmth floods my chest at her gentleness—a reminder of the bond we’ve forged in the delicate spaces between our vulnerabilities. I’m thankful for her presence, for the light she radiates into the shadows of my life. She sees me for who I am, and that’s all that matters.
“Never apologize for speaking freely,” I say, propping my elbow up on the back of the couch and turning my body toward her. “One of my favorite things about you is that you’ll ask me what’s on my mind, even if it’s uncomfortable.”
“Because you can handle the hard questions,” she says with defiance in her eyes.
I nod. “I will share this: I should expose her because she deserves that. However, I’d much rather deny her the dirty attention she craves from me. She’s been starved of my presence, and she knows it. The media is losing interest; it’s been a year since she shared anything new about our past relationship. I’d rather let her unravel by her own doing. Eventually, people will see her for who she is.”
“They already have,” she confirms.
“Exactly. And it’ll be her own words that finally ruin her, not mine. So, in the meantime, I’ll spend the energy I have left to fight her in court.”
“I’m proud of you. Not engaging takes maturity and willpower most don’t have.” She clears her throat. “Can we discuss the cons of our very public friendship?”
I’m happy for the subject change as I glance back at the flames, mesmerized as I play out our potential future together. “You being followed and watched. Rumors about us. Hate from super stans who will never approve of anyone I’m with, even if it’s speculation.”
She sits silent for a few minutes, inhaling deeply. I don’t push her to speak, allowing her time to process what it could mean if we moved forward.
“What if someone finds out about LuxLeaks? You being tied to a gossip blog could hurt your image.”
I laugh, and the sound is light and carefree. “If Lena couldn’t destroy me, nothing can.”
She tries to hold back a smile.
“And if your identity were ever revealed—which it never will be—I’d stand beside you without hesitation. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’d publicly invest in your site and help with distribution if you’d let me. I believe in what you’re doing, and I say that with my full chest,” I admit.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve your friendship.”
“Mmm. You told the truth.” My voice softens. “You’ve been unapologetically yourself since the day we met. Most people aren’t like you.”
She smiles. “What do you mean?”
“You’re authentically yourself. No matter the company.”
Her brows furrow. “I can’t imagine the type of people you constantly deal with.”
“Don’t pity me,” I tell her, shaking my head. I’m familiar with that look. “I chose this life.”
“Did you?” she honestly questions. “Or were you manufactured to be who you are?”
I smile. “You make me sound like I was harvested in a test tube.”
“Nah, just a little nepo baby.” Carlee licks her lips.
Our smiles pull each other closer, and I realize I never want this night to end.
“That supposed to offend me?”
“No, because it’s the truth.”
“I was given a choice. I chose to do what Easton wanted. He was built for this.”
“And what about you?” she asks.
“I handle it, but I’ve imagined a different life many times,” I say, knowing those thoughts often include her. “Lexi told me about you and Samson.”
“I wondered if you’d mention it,” she replies, her eyes close almost to shield herself from the memories. “It’s embarrassing. ”
I offer her a gentle smile. “She said you weren’t the same after that breakup.”
We’ve exchanged countless stories over bourbon, laughing about life and love. She’s glossed over her true heartaches, only sharing snippets of her recent misadventures with online dating.
“We still have a lot to learn about each other. There’s plenty of time for that.” Her lips curl into a thoughtful smile like she can read my thoughts.
“Lex didn’t give me many details because I didn’t want to hear about someone breaking you. I’m happy you healed,” I say, my voice lowering to a whisper, weighed down by concern.
She seems lost in memories, deciding whether to unwrap the layers of her past or keep them tucked away. I can’t bring myself to push her.
“After I graduated, we paused our long-distance relationship.” She finally begins her reluctant confession. “He fell for someone he’d met at work. It started as a fling, and within a month, he told her he loved her, and they moved in together. She replaced me. Slept on my side of the bed. The frames with our pictures held theirs. Three years and a best friendship, thrown away.”
“Ah, that’s why you have that I love you rule,” I nod, the pieces clicking into place.
“He moved on so quickly that it made me feel like we’d meant nothing. No one can genuinely fall in love within a month. The new girl gave him something new and exciting to do, so he did her. A lot. I couldn’t even get on social media without seeing photos of them everywhere. I avoided going home for years just so I wouldn’t accidentally run into them.”
“I’m sorry he didn’t treasure you,” I say.
“It hurt me for a long time,” she replies. The weight of her words hangs in the air. “But not anymore. I think that’s why I’m ready to see him again.”
I watch her. “To give him another chance? ”
“To see if there’s anything left,” she admits, the alcohol loosening her tongue.
I admire her for being unfiltered with me.
“How long does it take someone to say I love you and mean it? You said thirty days is too soon? What is too long?”
She exhales. “I think it’s personal. But I think I have to be the one to say those three words first because I know I’ll mean them, and I wouldn’t throw them around.”
“What if he lies when he says it back? There are flaws to this master plan.”
“Listen, I don’t need you to be analytical right now.” She laughs. “I wouldn’t be with someone who’d lie about I love you . If he says it back, I’ll know it’s real. It just needs to feel right, or it’s wrong.”
Noted.
Tonight, she’s shared too many of her secrets.
“Enlightening,” I say with a smirk and stand. “Come on. Let’s find something to wear.”
She wraps the blanket around her, and then the towel drops to the floor. My hand settles lightly on her back as we ascend the stairs. She glances over her shoulder, and I raise my brows, savoring our unspoken connection. It drives me wild.
We walk down the hallway toward my bedroom, and she gasps as I push the door open. The room is bathed in the glow of the bedside lamp. She looks at the wall of windows that offers a breathtaking three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the park and the surrounding area. Carlee takes in the park that’s covered in white, glowing under the moonlight.
I memorize her, almost reaching out to confirm she’s not a figment of my imagination.
“It’s not quite the diamond in the sky ,” I say.
“It’s better. It’s yours,” she breathes, her fingers brushing against the glass.
I glimpse her reflection. That genuine little smile lights up her face, one I’m not supposed to see .
“Breathtaking,” I say under my breath, my pulse quickening as I head to my closet. I need space before I do something I shouldn’t.
“It was my idea to take a break with Samson,” she says from my room, her tone thoughtful.
“You suggested it?” I slide on some fresh joggers and chuckle. “I’m glad you did.”
She moves to the doorway of my closet. The light halos around her head and the air around us grows heavy.
“Why?” Her question hangs.
“Because we would’ve never met.” The truth swirls in the space between us. “You’d have had no reason to go on shitty dates and then visit Sluggers afterward.”
“You’re right,” she says. “It’s almost like my bad dates led me to you.”
“Something led me to you—that’s for sure,” I say while rummaging through my drawers for clothes for her.
She steps deeper into my closet, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her.
I meet her gaze. “The woman he fell in love with—are they still together?”
“No,” she replies, her voice kind but resolute. “They broke up over the summer.”
“Wow. So, he’s single, and you’re going on a date with him on Friday?” I pry, glancing back to catch her reaction.
“That’s right,” she admits, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes betraying the calmness in her tone. “He was great in bed. And it’s been forever .”
“Did he get you off?” I ask, tossing the T-shirt and joggers to her.
“Yes,” she hesitates, sliding the clothes over her bra and panties that are already dry. “Plenty of times.”
The thought makes my jaw clench. “You just don’t seem like a second-chance romance kind of girl. ”
“I’m not. But I can ignore almost anything for some good D.” She giggles. “Might actually get some this weekend.”
I turn to her with my arms crossed over my bare chest. “Closure is important.”
“Is that what you believe meeting him will give me? Closure?” she asks, her eyes lock on mine.
“I hope so,” I say, trying not to sound jealous. I’m blaming the bourbon.
I glance at her wearing my shirt and joggers, both too baggy, swallowing her whole. She spins around, and the jewelry I bought for her catches the light. I take a step forward, sliding my hand under the necklace.
She looks up at me. “This is too much.”
“Not when it comes to you,” I mutter, dropping the diamond. “More comfortable?”
“A million times.” She beams, moving into my room.
Carlee settles on the edge of my bed. The comforter crinkles beneath her, and she smooths her hand across the delicate fabric. I glance at her over my shoulder as I flick on the fireplace in my room.
“Dangerous place to be,” I warn, a teasing note in my voice.
Carlee smirks, propping herself up on her elbow, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Is this where all the wild sex happens?”
“Believe it or not, you’re the first woman in this room.”
She arches an eyebrow. “You were married for three years. How’s that even possible?”
“Lena declared this penthouse was a piece of shit and urged me to sell it. I refused and never invited her back.”
Her expression twists into disbelief. “No way. It’s great here. Feels like home.”
“I know.”
Our eyes meet, and time stretches as we share a moment.
It’s like she’s sifting through my tangled thoughts of her, of us .
“What were you thinking just now? Like, just seconds ago?” she probes, her tone light yet somehow serious.
Caught red-handed.
“Hmm.” I raise my brows in mock confusion. “I don’t remember.”
But she’s getting too good at seeing through my facade.
“You’re lying,” she declares almost gleefully. In an instant, she lunges forward and begins to tickle me.
“No,” I say, wriggling away from her grip. “Fuck,” I add with a laugh, but she’s quicker than I anticipated, squeezing my side.
“Tell me,” she insists, towering over me, her eyes gleaming with mischief as her assault continues. “Lexi told me Easton was super ticklish.”
Laughter bubbles out of me as I struggle to stop her. Somehow we trip and land on the floor. Carlee topples forward, landing squarely on my chest, and I break her fall. In that instant, I realize just how close we are. Her breath catches as sparks dance between us.
“I had to test the tickle theory,” she whispers, her gaze drifting to my mouth.
“And?” I reply.
Tension crackles in the air like static.
Just a couple of inches separate us, and I could capture her plump lips.
God, I want to do just that. So does she. I can see it on her face and sense it in her ragged breaths.
“Don’t,” I mutter.
“Why?” she shoots back. A teasing grin plays on her lips. “Scared you might like it?”
“Scared you might,” I retort, as I settle my hand under my head.
The truth is, the image of us tangled together sends me spiraling.
“You say you don’t care about rumors about us but then get weird when I’m too close,” she says. Her voice carries a challenge .
I smirk, enjoying it. “I don’t want you to have regrets.”
With a dramatic roll, she flops onto her back beside me, and we both find ourselves staring at the ceiling. She bursts into laughter, and the warmth of it fills the room.
Carlee turns onto her side, and I turn my head to meet her eyes. My fingers itch to brush against her cheek. We’re so close that it would take nothing to slide my lips across her skin, to whisper tantalizing secrets into her ear.
The alcohol courses through me, heightening my senses and making the temptation more potent. I’m painfully aware of every ragged breath and movement, almost as if being pushed by an invisible force to cross the line.
Her cheeks flush, a vivid pink that tells me I’ve uncovered too much.
“Why don’t you just do it?” she whispers. “You want to.”
As her lips part, the atmosphere shifts; a charged current surges between us. I’ve always been transparent about my attraction, yet she’s never acknowledged she noticed until now. We’re dancing around the truth, spinning safely in the land of denial. Or maybe it’s just me.
“Fine,” she hisses.
Without breaking our gaze, Carlee inches closer, but to my surprise, she doesn’t stop. Her lips capture mine, careful at first, then hungry. A moan escapes her as our mouths fit together.
Heat rushes through me.
Our tongues intertwine like they were made for this very purpose. I crave more of her— all of her . It shouldn’t feel this right. Her fingers weave through my hair, a gentle tug, encouraging me to dive deeper.
But I find the strength to pull away, my heart racing, before we lose ourselves entirely.
My logic. I can’t lose it. Too much is at risk.
She places her fingers against her swollen lips—a gesture that feels like we’ve shattered the very fabric of space and time .
I sit up abruptly, trying to collect my scattered thoughts, while she stands, her expression a mixture of exhilaration and confusion.
The need for an explanation lingers in the air.
“It wasn’t supposed to …” She doesn’t finish.
I stand and search her face, hoping to glimpse a crack in her wall of denial. A sweet smile plays on her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I should go,” she says.
The tension nearly chokes me. “Is that regret I sense?”
She scoffs, shaking her head, moving toward the door. “That’s the last thing I feel.”