Chapter 14
14
CARLEE
I ’m convinced this diner fell out of a Hollywood movie set with its checkered floor, vinyl record machine, and vintage decor. The walls are stained with nicotine, and I can only imagine the conversations that have happened at this table over a cup of coffee. It’s busier than I expected, but that’s perfect. It reminds me of a restaurant back home.
“What would you recommend?” I scan the menu, flicking my eyes upward to meet his deep blues.
He hasn’t touched his but instead sips his coffee while watching me. “What are you in the mood for?”
I chew on the corner of my lip. “What I want isn’t listed.”
That smirk I adore so damn much appears on his lips.
“Don’t start.” It comes out like a growl, and my body betrays me.
“You started it. I was on a date,” I mutter, my eyes flicking down to his hot mouth, which was buried between my legs an hour earlier.
“Hmm. If I recall, you started it by taking advantage of me when I was intoxicated, shoving your tongue down my throat. Give credit where credit is due. Tonight, I ended it. ”
Cocky bastard.
“How do we end, Weston?”
“We don’t. Ever ,” he confidently states, “bestie.”
“I like the thought of that. However, it sounds like a commitment, and you know how I feel about that.” My body is on fire, which always happens when he looks at me like that.
The server approaches and steals our attention as she smacks her bright pink gum. She glances between us, and her lips turn up into a wide smile. “Weston, you did well.”
“Of course I did,” he says.
Flirty is his style.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” she asks.
Her rockabilly vibe is complete with a pinned-up hairdo. She’s a tattooed grandma. The button pinned to her apron says as much.
“How many grandkids do you have?” I politely ask.
She smiles, pulling out her cell phone to show me her screen. On it are three blonde-haired little girls with ringlets wearing bright pink dresses.
“They’re sisters. Sweet kids. My little pride and joys. They look just like my daughter.”
I grin, feeling love radiating from her. “They’re so precious.”
“Thank you, honey. Thanks for asking. Weston usually does. Guess you beat him to it tonight.”
I glance at him, knowing him. Of course he’d ask personal questions about her family and check in. Being personable is part of his charm.
“Now, do you need more time to peruse the menu?”
“Oh, I’d like scrambled eggs with cheese, a side of crispy bacon, and a small stack of strawberry pancakes, please.” I hand her the laminated menu, which has at least fifty different items listed on each side—from steak to Belgian waffles to eggs Benedict.
“Got it,” she says, writing it down with a grin. “A woman who knows what she wants without hesitation. I like that. ”
I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or Weston. She focuses on him, but he’s still watching me.
“And what about you, little Calloway?” she asks, trying to peel his attention away.
“The usual.” Nonchalance coats his tone.
When he glances at her, she waggles her brows.
I wait until we’re alone before speaking. “What was that about?”
He sips his coffee.
“No one has ever eaten here with me other than Easton. Not even when I was married. Millie has been here for forty-seven years and has watched me grow up. I used to call her my aunt. This place is like home. No matter what happens in the world or to me, it doesn’t change.” There’s a touch of vulnerability behind his casual tone.
A million questions form on the tip of my tongue.
I stir my coffee and then take a sip as he continues, “It was one of my grandfather’s favorites. When I was home from boarding school as a teenager, I’d sneak off and meet him here in the middle of the night. We kept it a tradition until he passed away. Now, I come here when I think about him or if I want a decent breakfast late at night.” It’s almost as if he’s living in the memory.
This is a side of him I hope to see more of.
“Thank you. I’m truly honored you brought me here.” I reach across the table and gently brush my finger against his.
His smile reaches his eyes, and he seems comfortable and relaxed.
“But … why me ?”
“Why not ?” he asks.
“I’m not talking about the diner.”
“I’m not either. You appreciate it for what it is and nothing more.” His gaze bores into me as he drinks more coffee. “I don’t have many regrets, but not meeting you sooner is one of them. You’d have gotten a different version of me. The version you deserve. ”
“What if I want this version?” I ask, challenging him. “The version of you who’s been humbled by love.”
His face cracks into a smile, and he chuckles.
“We can’t change the past. We can only heal and learn, which takes time and perspective. On the bright side, when you find love again, you’ll probably appreciate the little things more. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself,” I offer.
“Does it make you feel better?” he asks.
“No.” I laugh. “But one day, it will. When it’s true.”
“Thanks.” He exhales.
“I also find it adorable that you believe I’d have befriended the old Weston. I wouldn’t have. He was an overly flirty asshole who had a huge ego. Banged anything with legs. Total douche. Camera whore. Privileged and very spoiled.”
He laughs. “Seems to me that nothing has changed.”
“Not really.” I shoot him a wink. “It worked out exactly how it was supposed to. The wrong time is sometimes right. I have no regrets when it comes to us.”
“What did you say?” he asks.
“No regrets.”
He carefully lifts the sleeve of his suit jacket, revealing the watch on his wrist. It’s nothing extravagant, but it shines like a golden treasure under this light. He removes it and hands it to me.
I admire it. It’s old but well taken care of. In the middle is the iconic Calloway Diamonds symbol—a diamond shape surrounded by a triangle. It’s identical to the one Lexi stole from Easton. I flip it over and read the words engraved on the back.
The wrong time is sometimes right.
“Is this a magic trick?” I ask, reading the words I just spoke.
“A coincidence.” He stares at me. “Did Easton tell you?”
“No, it’s something my Mawmaw says,” I whisper, shaking my head as a chill runs up my spine. “You’d like her, but Mawmaw would give you a run for your money.”
“Guess it runs in the family?” He laughs. “My grandfather believed his watches were lucky . I think it’s total bullshit, considering the awful things that have happened to me while wearing it. However, Easton firmly believes it brought him and Lexi together.”
I tilt my head at him, feeling its weight in my hand. “It was the only reason they met that day. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it either. The scenario was disastrous, and her actions weren’t logical. That’s the truth. I tried to talk her out of returning to his penthouse because it was getting out of hand, but there’s no stopping her when she gets like that.” I sigh, remembering how she was fired immediately after. Easton is why Lexi and I stopped working together at the W. “Wait, does it have a love spell on it or something?” I place the cool metal back in his hand.
He bursts into genuine laughter, and I enjoy it.
“What if it does? Guess you’re destined to be mine now.” He rolls his eyes. “Touch the watch, wear the ring.”
My eyes widen. “Look, Lexi held Easton’s watch for as long as I held yours. Maybe it’s not lucky. Maybe it’s actually charmed ?”
“If that’s the case, mine might be broken,” he says, sliding the watch back onto his wrist.
“Have any of your exes touched it?” I ask.
“Lena did. You see how that worked out.” His eyes are unfocused.
“Did it burn her skin and leave a scar?” I ask, snorting.
“I can’t wait to tell Easton your adorable little theory.”
I need to distract myself from my runaway thoughts.
“Our watches are identical, except for the inside. His says?—”
“ Love is always on time ,” I finish. “I know. He’s shoved that personal motto down my throat since I started hanging out with them.”
“And what’s your opinion on it?” he asks, the conversation humming with a carefree ease.
“It’s a nice thought. I’m just a little upset that we can’t choose when we fall in love. It chooses us. If I could snap my fingers and make it happen, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
I grab my coffee mug, holding it in my hands and feeling the warmth of the liquid inside. I shouldn’t drink caffeine this late at night, considering I need to be up early for work, but the experience is worth it.
He shakes his head. “I call bullshit on that statement. Without the chase, you’d get bored. From zero to love in a snap? Nah. You like the journey too much, not the destination.”
“I think it depends.” I smile. “If I met someone and knew deep down that we’d be really, really good together and my heart wasn’t cooperating, that’s when I’d flip the switch. Usually, my heart and my brain don’t get along. The men I shouldn’t want, I do.”
I shrug, and I almost imagine us. The thought vanishes faster than it arrived. I swallow hard, knowing that shouldn’t happen without me being three martinis deep for the night.
“I’ve dated several genuinely nice guys. I wish I could’ve reciprocated how they felt, but I can’t fake it. I might be alone forever.” The realization haunts me.
Weston’s eyes don’t leave me as steam rises from my coffee. I pick it up and drink.
“You won’t be alone forever. One day, you’ll find your person and be really happy.”
“So will you.”
Unspoken words and unfinished thoughts swirl around us.
“I don’t know.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I wish things were different.”
A smile dances on my lips. “I don’t.”
The confession hangs in the air, and I can feel my own defenses crumbling. We’re just another couple in a crowded diner, yet somehow, it feels like we’re the only ones in the room.
He opens his mouth to speak.
I shake my head, interrupting him. “I won’t stop reminding you that you’re a good person who deserves to find someone who loves you exactly as you are. And, oh my God, you’re going to make whoever she is so happy that it’ll be a thousand times more disgusting than Easton and Lexi. Wet, sloppy kisses and all. I’ve already ordered barf bags, so I’m ready,” I say, knowing real love is what Weston wishes for. I hope he gets it. I’d love to see him happy again, but permanently. I lean against the pleated booth seat.
He doesn’t respond, so I keep the conversation moving forward.
“There’s a diner in my hometown that’s similar to this. The owner wears ruby-red slippers. The food is incredible. Fresh pies are baked daily and sold by the slice at the front counter by the door. I kinda miss it. Her chicken salad sandwich on a croissant is to die for.”
“We should visit,” he suggests. “I love chicken salad sandwiches.”
“With pineapple or without?” I ask. “This is very important. It might even demote your bestie status.”
“Really? Without,” he states without hesitation.
I make a face, then smile. “Right answer. My hometown is very different from here. Christmas is three hundred sixty-five days out of the year. If you dislike the holidays and all things Santa, you might want to avoid it.”
“What about next week?”
“My mom would love that.” I smile, imagining a surprise visit. There would be fanfare, especially with Weston joining me. “My family is a lot to handle. My brothers will probably try to murder you. My sister will try to sleep with you. My mother will ask when you’re putting a ring on it. And Mawmaw? She might keep you for herself and turn you into her gardener, the one she’s been fantasizing about since she turned seventy.”
Weston’s expression remains calm and collected; his relaxed demeanor grounds me. “Only one question: is your sister hot?”
“Asshole,” I mutter, tossing a sugar packet at him. “But, yes, she’s gorgeous. Intelligent. High maintenance. Blonde. She’s exactly your type. Plus, she’ll turn thirty-five next month, so not much of an age gap. But there’s one kicker: she’s been divorced twice.”
His brows waggle. “Maybe the third time’s a charm?”
“I’d join my brothers in murdering you if you got with my sister.”
“And what about your dad?” he asks.
“Well …” I breathe deeply. “He’s off living his best life with his other family—the one I didn’t know existed until I was fifteen,” I say bitterly, my heart tightening. “I have siblings I’ve never met.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a comforting volume as he studies me.
“Daddy issues,” I say, a smile breaking through my melancholy.
“Explains a lot,” he replies with a chuckle before his expression turns serious. “Thank you for trusting me, Firefly.”
I’ve only ever shared that with Lexi, and we hardly ever talk about it. But I find myself wanting to tell Weston everything I’ve kept from him. He deserves to know.
I catch myself staring at his lips, lost in his intensity. My body craves more of him already.
I’m addicted.
“We probably shouldn’t kiss again,” I whisper, half teasing, half serious.
“Are we renegotiating?” His eyes flick around the room before meeting mine again. “Because if so, I want you to start texting me first instead of forcing me to initiate every conversation we have.”
I laugh as I lean in closer. “You’re a very busy man.”
“I’m never too busy for you.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper as my heart does somersaults in my chest.
“I’ll always speak my truths, and I won’t hold that back.”
“Your truths?” My cheeks flush as his words linger in the air, charged with unspoken intensity.
“Communication is my love language, bestie. Hearing from you is a highlight. You remind me there’s a whole world beyond my own. Our friendship is my freedom .”
The weight of his revelation settles between us.
“And I know you want to text me sometimes,” he adds. “So, when you do, you should reach out to me. Stop pulling moves from the player’s handbook.”
“Hilarious, coming from you, considering you wrote it.” I try to hold back a smile but fail. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
His gaze remains steady, unwavering. “You know, my grandfather believed he discovered the secret of happiness while running a billion-dollar company.”
“Really?” I ask.
“He believed love could conquer all.”
“Oh, so Pawpaw Calloway was a hopeless romantic too?” I inquire.
Weston rolls his eyes.
“What do you believe?” I study the curve of his jaw as a flicker of doubt appears in his sea-blue eyes.
He contemplates my question. “I don’t know if love is necessarily the key. I used to believe it was, but now I think it’s friendship that’s actually needed. Love is fleeting. Friendship is forever.”
I enjoy my coffee as much as the conversation. “With the right person, isn’t it built on the same foundation? Some say friendship is the highest form of love. Maybe that’s what you’ve been missing in your relationships. All the f ’s—fun, friendship, and … well, you know. The true secret to happiness.” I waggle my brows.
“Mmm.” He tilts his head.
A blush creeps up my neck.
I need to change the subject.
Taking a gulp of coffee, I feel my heart rate increase. I clear my throat, bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
“If love is always on time and the wrong time is sometimes right, why the contract?” I ask .
To take over the family business, the Calloway brothers were required to be married before their fortieth birthday. Weston completed his obligation at thirty-six, and Easton did just months ago with Lexi. Divorce is never mentioned, as if his grandfather never considered it an option.
“He wanted us to spend time dating and not be married to our jobs. He knew that by forty, we’d be set in our ways and less willing to change our habits. And the older one becomes, the harder it is to find someone compatible.”
My phone buzzes, and I see Lexi’s name pop up. I unlock it and read her message.
Lexi
I thought you were going home. I know you’re with Weston! WTF?!
Lexi
ALSO! WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU TWO HAD DINNER AT AMbrOSIA? CARLEE!
I show Weston the screen, and he chuckles as another text comes in. I catch the flicker of his reaction as he reads. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin, but tension tightens the line of his jaw.
I read the screenshot she sent.
It’s a blind item.
Blind Item #20
Mr. Playboy Billionaire was spotted at a blacked-out bar where people go for hookups, but he left with the mystery woman he’d had dinner with the other night. Rumor has it that she’s his secret girlfriend. He cannot keep her hidden forever. People are beginning to notice.
LEXI
THAT’S ABOUT YOU! AND YOU’D BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! EVERYTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING.
LEXI
I KNEW YOU TWO WERE MADLY IN LOVE!
“Oh no. She’s typing in caps and now convinced we’re madly in love.”
“I thought you had told her we left together and were having brinner,” he says.
“Brinner?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Come on. Breakfast for dinner?”
“Millennials,” I mutter. “No, I told her I wasn’t being kidnapped by some weirdo club owner and was leaving.”
“Ah, well, now you’re fucked.”
“Is that a promise?” I ask, lifting a brow.
My phone buzzes again, and as I glance down, he reaches forward and locks it, setting it on the table.
“Be in the moment with me, please. Don’t look at it once until you get home, and I’ll reward you.” He winks.
“Ah, the things I’ll do for a gold star. I’ll play.” My phone vibrates again and again, so I turn it off. Now I’m not even tempted. I smile wide.
“Good fucking girl,” he mutters under his breath.
“When you say things like that …”
I know Lexi is probably losing her mind, and I’ll have to do damage control tomorrow.
Weston’s phone starts vibrating. He chuckles, pulling it from his pocket and showing me the screen. It’s Lexi.
“You’re fucked too,” I whisper.
“I can handle her,” he says, turning off his phone. “Now, back to business. Based on my calculations, you have about two weeks before photos of your face are posted, along with your name. You should probably spend this time mentally preparing for everything that will be said about us.” There’s an edge of amusement in his tone.
“That’s all?” My voice wavers.
“Unless some rogue blogger who’s not on anyone’s payroll decides to break the friendship story first.” He points behind my shoulder. “Cameras are snapping photos of us right now at the street corner. They will capture everything to purposely make it look like we’re dating.”
Our eyes lock, and silence hangs between us.
“You can tell the truth and take control of the narrative before the rumors begin. Before they do background checks on you. Before they dig up all your exes and start interviewing them like they did to Lexi. Even if we’re just friends,” he finally says.
A lump forms in my throat. “But …”
“You can still back out of this arrangement,” he continues, leaning closer, his gaze pinning me in place. “You look so damn pretty.”
My cheeks heat. “Right now?”
He nods. “Didn’t stutter.”
“I’m not backing out,” I confirm as our fluffy pancakes, eggs, and bacon are sat onto the table, breaking our trance.
Steam rises from the plates, and my mouth waters in anticipation. As his coffee mug is refilled, I take a minute to gather my thoughts.
He ordered what I did, except his stack is topped with fresh blueberries and whipped cream.
“Want a bite? Sharing is caring,” he offers.
I nod. “Do you care?”
“More than you’ll ever know,” he replies, pouring warm maple syrup over the tall stack. “However, when it comes to sharing? Not so fucking much.” His eyes darken, and we both know he’s not talking about pancakes.
Weston picks up his fork and knife; the diamond cuff links on his wrists sparkle like little stars as he precisely cuts off a perfect sliver for me. He leans forward and offers it, the fork hovering just inches from my lips with a sweet bite of his stack.
Our eye contact is electric. I open my mouth, and he slides the food inside.
It’s too intense. But maybe I’m just under his spell, intoxicated by how he looks at me. Weston gently pulls the fork from between my lips, his brow raised in anticipation.
“Delicious,” I exhale, my pulse racing, unprepared for how sensual this feels.
When I look at him, I see the quiet determination etched on his face—the desire to fit in, to savor the simplicity of a shared breakfast with a friend, and to live without the spotlight. Weston craves this.
How did I miss this?
He’s polished in public and more secure with himself than his brother. Their personalities are gravely different, except when we’re alone, and as he lets me in, I realize how similar they are.
I pick up my fork and dig into my eggs. They taste great, and my bacon is crispy, just how I like it. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.
“A real question: Are you really an extrovert? Or is it an act?”
“It’s not an act. I love being around people, but I love having private moments too,” he replies, his gaze intentionally piercing mine. “How’s your food?”
“It’s so good that I think I want to try other things on the menu,” I confess.
“We’ll come together,” he offers with a hint of mischief.
“I love the sound of that,” I say, lowering my voice.
“I bet you fucking do.” His messy hair makes him look impossibly charming as he casually digs into a plate of blueberry pancakes.
It’s surreal, being with him like this—at ease when everything around us feels so charged .
I glance away, half wondering if I’m dreaming.
As we continue eating, the conversation flows easily between us like a sweet melody.
“What do we do if one of us falls in love?” I venture, half teasing but also serious.
“With someone else or each other?” He pauses, lifting his coffee cup to his lips, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow.
“I can’t answer that question,” I say. “Just love in general, I guess.”
He sets his mug down. “If our friendship ever feels threatened, we hit pause.”
“You’re right, which is why I don’t think we should cuddle or do relationship stuff.”
He smirks. “So, cuddling and kissing are a weakness for you?”
“It’s not fuck-buddy foreplay. I have to reserve some things for those who I date. Oh, I’d like to also put in a request that I get you when I want you, as long as you’re free,” I add to the terms and conditions, hoping he’s taking note.
He chews on his lip. “That goes both ways then.”
“Great. I think that covers everything I want. What about you? Ready to make the deal?” I ask, holding out my hand to shake on it.
“One more thing.” Weston takes a deep breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “Quit your job.”
I stare at him. “Weston, we’ve already discussed this.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze unwavering. “It’s not for me; it’s for Lux. She needs you to return. Everyone does. I won’t let you forget that.”
I part my lips to respond, then pause. “And if I don’t quit the W?”
“Deal is off the table then,” he replies, his tone more serious now.
Anxiety stirs within me. Somehow, I knew it seemed too good to be true.
My brows squeeze together in confusion. “Over that? ”
“Yes.” A smile graces his lips. “I’m putting you first because you refuse to do so.”
“I don’t think I’m ready,” I admit.
The stress of posting again nearly overwhelms me. I don’t know why.
“If you stand on the edge of a cliff and wait until you’re ready to base jump, you’ll never make the leap. Sometimes, you have to just do it or be pushed. And considering how goddamn stubborn you are, I’ve moved to option two.” He lowers his voice. “I’ll be there to catch you, I promise. Every single time.”
Emotions rise in my chest. “What if I want to quit writing?”
“Do you?” he asks. “If you do, I won’t mention it again.”
“No,” I finally say.
“Because you know quitting is failing, and that’s what you’re ultimately afraid of. You’ve got this, babe. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to decide if this is what you want.” He lowers his voice. “And if not, know I’ll never forget how fucking good you tasted.”
I glare at him. “I can’t believe you’re serious.”
“I can’t believe it’s not an automatic yes ,” he teases, though his smile dims. “I’ll help make all your dreams come true if you let me. But you have to be really sure this is what you want. If not, we should stop while we can.”
I suck in a deep breath. “Two days isn’t necessary.”
“Once the rumors start about us being in a relationship, even if we’re not, your life will drastically change. You will no longer have time for the W.” He pauses, giving me time to process what he means. “Everyone in my social circle will want to befriend you. Those who I call friends will try to sleep with you. Once you’re fully welcomed in, you might not have time for me. Your itinerary will be full if you want it to be.”
“I’ll always have time for you, Weston,” I say, reaching across the table to brush my fingertips against his.
The contact sparks something, as it usually does, and his breath catches .
“Forty-eight hours,” he mutters.
I try to speak, but he interrupts me.
“I won’t accept your answer, even if you have it. Please think about it for me. Crossing this line will change everything—for better or for worse. You have to be fully prepared to navigate both scenarios.”
“And what about you?”
He smirks. “I’m living in my fuck around and find out era.”