Chapter 9
VIVIENNE
The bathroom door bursts open with the intensity of a thousand tsunamis as Sutton barges in. Hair wild. Eyes crazed. And hand waving around an open envelope with a red wax seal.
“Care to explain what this is?” She slams the thing down on the counter.
I carefully set down my curling iron away from her reach, making sure to unplug it in the wild case she deems it her weapon of choice.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, unsure of what’s gotten her so riled up.
Evelyn’s head peeks through the door, hands gripping tightly onto the frame. “Have we confronted her yet?” Scared blue eyes dart back and forth between the two of us.
“Nope. The woman has yet to fess up,” Sutton answers, still glaring at me.
Confused, I stare at her, when one perfectly manicured finger points squarely at me.
“Don’t you dare act clueless! I know you’re engaged,” she nearly snarls.
My mouth falls open into an O, my gaze darting to the open envelope.
Dainty flowers frame the edges of the cream cardstock, where “Join Us for an Engagement Party” is scrawled in bold red cursive. Beneath, Nate’s and my names are written, followed by the time and date—which is today.
“Be honest with me.” Sutton’s lips press into a thin line. “Were you guys together before the event?”
My gaze shifts to Evelyn, who looks just as disappointed as Sutton, and I can’t help but let out an exasperated breath.
Telling my two best friends about this arrangement was never part of the plan. I was hoping I could keep this all to myself and deal with the media-related consequences at a later date. Now, I realize that was wishful thinking.
Given how chronically online both these girls are, they were going to find out some way, somehow. But by the sound of it, the news was broken to them through a personal invitation in their mailbox—a blow that must have cut deeper than hearing it from a perfect stranger.
So with one deep breath, I start confessing. One story after the other, I go into the nitty-gritty of what went down between my supposed fiancé and me. And with each new detail shared, I watch their faces turn from anger to shock, then dissolve into an aggressive wheeze.
“This isn’t funny,” I declare, setting the record straight.
The girls shake their heads in disagreement, writhing as loud, boisterous laughter escapes them.
I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “This is tragic. You should both feel bad for me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Vivienne.” Evelyn wipes the tear rolling down her cheek.
“This is the most entertaining thing I’ve heard in a while.
Literature gold, as I like to call it. Do you know how many books I’ve writ—read with that same premise?
” She doubles over as a fit of giggles overtakes her. “Too many to count.”
Sutton nods vigorously in agreement. “It’s such a good book concept that you’re giving Lennie Woods, the romance author of all romance authors, a run for her money.”
For a margin of a second, panic lights Evelyn’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came when she joins back in on the let’s cackle at Vivienne train.
“I will say, my favorite part of that story is your reasoning for being wet when we were getting into the Uber after the event. A three-second thunderstorm? Really?” Sutton clutches her stomach as her laughter breaks into a harsh cough.
I’d offer her my cup of water sitting on the sink, but I’m not feeling so generous anymore.
“Also, the dizziness and blacking out you experienced when you got up from the fountain? It sounds a lot like the consequences of that iron deficiency of yours. That could have been avoided if you’d taken your supplements like I told you to,” Evelyn rasps.
My lips flatten into a thin line, thoroughly unimpressed by their reactions. I was expecting a little more sympathy from them.
“In all seriousness.” Evelyn’s tone softens when she comes down from her high.
“This may not be the worst thing that’s happened to you.
With those dates once a week, you’ll get out of the house more often—breathe some air, get a change of scenery.
It’ll be a good break to cleanse yourself from the negative science energy. ”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Sutton adds on. “You’ll be Dr. Vivienne Brown in no time, and we’ll both be sitting in that crowd, watching you walk across the stage. I have no doubt.”
My nose stings at the thoughts I’ve refused to indulge in. I think about finishing my PhD often, but it feels more like a wish than anything else. With the way Sutton talks about it—that sense of the finality in her voice—it’s like she really believes it.
“No crying!” Sutton hits my arm lightly. “Especially not with makeup on. You have an engagement party to get to. We want to look like a bride, not a raccoon.”
At her demand, I hinge at the hips, letting the tears fall straight down.
“Now show us the ring!” Evelyn finally enters the bathroom—no longer afraid of the madhouse that is Sutton Alister.
I turn my hand over, drawing out loud gasps. The girls lean in cautiously, taking in the gold pavé band and large, oval diamond.
“That has to be weighing down your finger.” Sutton’s the first to break the silence.
“Uh-huh.” Evelyn nods mindlessly, mesmerized by how the rock catches the light.
“You know what they say,” Sutton says, equally as entranced. “The bigger the diamond, the bigger the dick.”
I shriek in surprise, slapping a hand over Sutton’s mouth. Hazel eyes wrinkle in laughter, setting off a domino effect, prompting Evelyn and me to follow suit.
“Now, back to business.” Sutton gestures down my body like the fashionista that she is. “Loving the outfit, makeup, and hair, but we’re missing the finishing touch.” She runs out of the bathroom and heads back in with a green makeup pouch, looking less human and more like a Cheshire cat.
“Uh-oh.” Evelyn’s eyes widen as she takes in Sutton frantically raking through the bag.
The clinking of plastic on plastic goes on for a good minute before it stops. Eventually, a tube of red lipstick makes its way out, dangling between Sutton’s forefingers in a silent taunt.
Evelyn chooses life and runs out of the bathroom, while my heart drops to my stomach.
“What did you say his favorite color was again?” Sutton smirks as she takes a step forward.
I take one back, hands raised in fear when the bell rings. I know who it is at the door, and while I would have been stressed about my impending “engagement party,” I have more pressing matters at hand.
“Looks like it’s time for me to leave!” I try to sneak away, only to be pushed back into the corner.
Rich red lipstick inches in my direction—the tube so close to my face I’d look like your friendly neighborhood clown with one wrong move.
“I am not trying to seduce him,” I hiss, right as the creamy texture touches my lips.
“Guess it’s too late for that now.” Sutton smiles wickedly, paying extra attention to my cupid’s bow. She leans back to admire her work, nodding in approval before dashing away.
I slip on my white pumps as quickly as I can and hurry after her. However, all thoughts of forcing her hand at removing the damage she’s done leave when my eyes land on him.
Call it the Man in a Suit Effect, but everything that once bothered me somehow blurs into the background.
The browning plant we’ve been meaning to throw out for weeks. The shoes littering our entryway. The dust accumulating on the floors. None of it matters anymore when there’s a devilishly handsome man standing at my front door, looking downright edible in his black suit.
Nate must sense my lingering gaze on him, as his conversation with Sutton and Evelyn dies. His eyes move over to mine, holding the contact for no longer than a second before they trail down my body.
Heat pools in my core, and I gulp away the tension forming in my throat.
My reflection in the mirror near him draws my attention.
Long brown hair, waved to perfection. Delicate, beaded white fabric accentuates every curve of my body.
Those red lips and a defined cupid’s bow.
I look like a bride—one who belongs more on the cover of Vogue than on her way to a fake engagement party.
“You look…” A cough erupts from the back of his throat as he averts his gaze to the side. “You clean up nicely.”
The tape whirrs as it rewinds, and every ounce of attraction I felt for the man evaporates faster than a spilled drop of acetone. Forget about the Man in a Suit effect—it’s just…man. He’s wearing a suit, but there’s no effect.
Sutton and Evelyn must be on the same wavelength as me since they scoff at his response.
“Thanks?” My reply sounds more like a question.
Am I supposed to be flattered?
“We should probably get going.” Nate nods in the direction of the open door.
“Agreed.” I grab the matching white clutch on my way out.
My gaze lingers on his back, and as ashamed as I am to admit it, I’ve been wrong. The suit might still be suiting, and the man effect might still be effecting.
“You should probably lead the way.” I point in the direction of the elevator. “I can’t walk that fast. Heels and all,” I say, like it’s obvious.
At the end of the day, it is my apartment building, and though I should be the one showing him the way, it wouldn’t work in my favor. So I use my excuse to slow down, shamelessly admiring the best ass I’ve ever seen in those perfectly tailored pants.
———
“Anything I should know before going in there?” I ask when the car slows in front of the restaurant.
Last time we were here, it was only the two of us, Melanie, and the staff. Now, the stakes are higher. Strangers will be watching our every move—from the way we talk, walk, and interact. Our dynamic will be scrutinized, and no matter how hard we try, something will be taken out of context.
That’s the one thing I’ve learned about social media during my research on Nate.