Chapter Five
VICTORIA
I’m going to chuck my phone across the room. The constant buzzing is starting to make my skin itch.
Instead, being the rational woman I am, I switch my phone over to silent mode.
Every app is dinging. Mentions, tags, new gossip headlines. People speculating about my “new man.” And not the usual comments either—no one is calling me a train wreck or a hot mess in heels.
They’re calling me…lucky.
Adorable, of all things. Urg.
At that description, I do throw my phone to the other side of the couch. A dramatic overreaction? Possibly. But it felt good.
I can’t sit here and stew any longer. I need to sweat the chaos out, move my body so that I can focus more clearly.
Jumping up from my spread position on the sectional, I head for the kitchen, chug a triple-shot coffee that should probably come with a warning label, and push myself through an aggressive HIIT workout in my barely furnished condo.
I don’t have a ton of space at the moment, but even surrounded by boxes, I’m able to break a sweat.
By the time I collapse in a puddle of my own poor decisions, I’m sore, exhausted…and still thinking about Mason’s ridiculous proposal.
Fake dating.
Fucking hell. I can’t really be considering it, can I?
Date him.
Why does that idea make my stomach flip?
I’m going to blame his biceps. And his smile. That combo is lethal to the rational mind. A body like his, honed for peak performance, is an amazing thing to behold.
He’s so much more too. He’s kind, understanding. Knew exactly when I needed support and when to let me just be.
But that isn’t enough to say yes. Those are all the qualities of a budding friendship too. We could just be friends…maybe?
“Ahh! You’re being ridiculous, Victoria,” I groan to myself, pressing the palms of my hands into my eyelids. I’m going over the same facts and coming up with zero new definitive answers. Lying on the floor is obviously not my best thinking spot.
Dragging myself up, I stomp to the kitchen and reach for the open, waiting bag of Hint of Lime chips. Doesn’t matter to me that I’ve just worked out—I need them.
They are my comfort food and my life-changing-thinking chips. One of my tall stools around the small kitchen island isn’t going to cut it, so I drag myself back to the couch.
As I fall into the plush cushions, something hard hits against my hip bone. Reaching under me, I pull out my cell phone. I totally forgot I put it here.
I’m about to place my phone on the coffee table when the screen lights up in my hand. Cece is calling. Glaring at the phone, I contemplate whether I want to pick it up.
When she calls for the third time in a row, I decide I’ve let her suffer enough.
“That was rude,” she grumbles. “You did that on purpose.”
“I would never,” I tell her with mock insult. “You are one of my most cherished and beloved friends.”
“Beloved, my ass.” I chuckle to myself at how annoyed she sounds. “I will forgive you, this once,” she emphasizes, “since you are an absolute genius. How did you come up with it?”
“I’ll agree, I am a genius. But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re trending, Tori. Trending in a good way. You’re practically America’s Sweetheart who stumbled into a Canadian prince. Connecting yourself to Mason Warren is such a better idea than what I came up with.”
“Prince?” I snort. “The man saved me from drowning in a panic fountain.”
“Amazing. Such a good meet-cute moment.”
“I was in the middle of a panic attack, Cece. There was nothing cute about it.”
“Well, I’m glad you had someone there to help you. I’m sorry. But this is going to change everything! It’s giving vulnerable. It’s giving redemption arc. It’s giving soft girl era.”
I shovel more chips into my mouth. “It’s giving nausea.”
Cece pauses. “Why are you so grumpy about this? You connected with him. It may have been a random act of Fate, but the narrative has already changed. This could really help your image.”
My stomach twists. Her words hit me square in the chest, causing a sad ache—but she isn’t wrong either. My reputation has been a slow-motion implosion ever since the paparazzi started tracking me like I was some kind of tragic reality star.
And lately…it’s been easier to let them think I’m spiralling than to admit the truth.
That I’ve been grieving.
That I’m lost.
That I miss Grandma Angie so much I can’t even breathe some days.
That I couldn’t write. Words had been eluding me for months.
So maybe Cece has a point.
If fake-dating Mason Warren buys me time to pull myself together, to take the spotlight off the mess and onto the maybe…why not?
There are going to be rules though. I don’t want it blowing up in my face.
When I’m finally able to get off the phone with Cece, assuring her that Mason and I will be seeing each other again, I pull up his number.
I stared at it for a while, chewing my lip, then finally typed out a reply.
VICTORIA: Ok. I’m in.
I only have to wait a minute before he replies.
MASON: Dinner at my place tonight? 7ish. To talk everything through?
VICTORIA: Yes. I want some rules in place. This isn’t going to be some free-for-all situation.
MASON: Your trust in me is staggering. Rules sound great.
VICTORIA: See you later.
I toss my phone onto the couch, hug the chip bag like a security blanket, and let myself grin for the first time all day.
God help me…I’m actually looking forward to this.