14. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
ANDREA
“He what?!” Maisie yells into the phone loud enough that I have to pull it away from my ear.
“Shh!” My eyes dart to the door, even though I heard Julian leave earlier this morning. He left me a note to tell me he was going to his studio and that he’d be back in time for dinner. “Now focus and help me,” I demand, plucking at the white comforter as I sit in my unmade bed.
I hear her blow out a breath. “You are one lucky bitch.”
“Very helpful, thank you,” I deadpan.
There’s a pause, and then, “You’re doing it, right?”
“Did you miss the part where I said that I told him no?”
“Oh sorry, I tend to block out idiocy.”
I press my fingers into my forehead. “Maisie, be serious.” I wish she was here instead. She’s currently on set to film a commercial for a new shampoo company.
“You be serious!” she exclaims. “This is the solution you’ve been waiting for.”
I massage the growing pain in my temple. “I don’t like using people.”
“You’re not using him, Andrea. It was his idea. Take the offer and let him be your scapegoat. He gets something out of it too. He said it himself.”
I groan, falling back onto the pillows. “I don’t know how to be anyone’s girlfriend.”
“Good thing you won’t be his real one. At least he can’t hold it against you.”
I glare at the ceiling fan. “Ha-Ha. Hate you.”
“Love you too,” she sings. “If you don’t want to do it, you can always tell him I’m available.”
The idea of the two of them together makes me cringe and maybe even a tad bit physically ill. The pure distaste rolling through me sets off about a dozen alarm bells in my psyche, but I choose to politely ignore them. “Hate you again.”
“It sounds like you already know what you want to do. Stop thinking so much,” she says, and it sounds like a plea.
There’s a knock on the front door and I push myself off the bed. “I have to go. Someone’s at the door.”
“Keep me updated! Bye!” She hangs up and I toss my phone on the bed before leaving the room.
The knocking grows more insistent as I round the corner of the hallway.
I don’t know why I’m surprised to open the door and find Willa behind it. Leave it to her to show up six hours before the scheduled dinner. Her hair is a softer shade of red and falls elegantly to her shoulders. She wears blue jeans with a pale pink blouse and pointed nude pumps.
“Andrea!” she cheers, wrapping her long, thin arms around me. “It’s nearly noon. Why on earth do you look so. . .” She pulls back, her hands remaining on my shoulders as she scrutinizes me. “Dreadful. ”
I pull a face. “Gee, thanks.” She lets herself inside, dropping her purse on the table in the foyer. I glance back at the hall. “You’re alone?” I ask her, shutting the door.
She ignores me as her eyes wander the extraordinary space and the view of the city. I follow behind her, my arms crossed tight to my chest and wait for what I know will come. I want to go back in time and look through the peephole before opening the door.
Her eyes finally fall back on me and then down to my legs. “Do you always answer the door without pants?”
“Huh?” I glance down and sure enough, I’m not wearing any. I should probably break the habit, but I’ve lived alone for so long that it just keeps slipping my mind. “Oh. Right, yeah, the thing is, they’re not that comfortable if I’m being honest.”
She blinks slowly. “You’re such an oddball.”
“Mhm, yes.” Moving along, I herd her into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Do you have any tea?”
I toss her a look over my shoulder. “Since when do you drink tea?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve always enjoyed a cup of tea from time to time. Not that it’s something you would know since you never visit.”
Ouch . “Coming right up!” I exclaim with extra enthusiasm to ignore her jab.
I grab the teapot from the stove and begin filling it with water.
She takes a seat at a barstool, propping her elbows on the counter.
“I thought you said he was coming with you?” I ask casually, setting the pot down and turning on the burner.
“He stayed back at the hotel. He has a couple of meetings today. I told him I’d let him know if he should come to dinner.”
Ah, there it is.
I turn around and frown at her. “Why?” She tilts her head as if to say you know why . I glare at her before walking over to the cabinet that has the tea bags. I grab all the boxes and close the cabinet harder than necessary. I toss them onto the counter. “Pick one.”
She looks at the boxes like they’ve offended her, and her nose turns upward. “You’re angry.” She sighs as if preparing to scold a child. “It’s been a long time. Are you really not over it yet?”
“Don’t you dare go there,” I warn, shaking my head.
“Andrea, you really need to move on. It’s not health—”
I let out an exasperated breath. “I’m not angry!” I yell and if the apartment were empty, it would have echoed. “Well, yes, actually I am, but only because you think you have to keep your relationship away from me, Willa.”
She stares at me, unconvinced. “So, you’re fine?”
“I’m fucking dandy.” I motion toward the boxes. “Now please pick one.”
Rolling her shoulders, she looks over Julian’s selection and the sudden rush of wishing he was here dilutes some of my annoyance.
She picks up a box. “I’ll take this—”
I snatch it from her hand. “Excellent choice.”
Her eyes narrow. “I know it is.”
Facing away from her, I work on making her tea as my mind reels back to Julian’s offer.
When I slide her cup of tea across the counter, she asks, “So whose place is this, anyway?”
God, help me. I don’t know why, but the words just fall out of my mouth on their own. “My boyfriend’s.”
Her eyes light up, her interest peaked and all prior thoughts of me still being in love with her husband tossed to the wind.
JULIAN
I'VE BEEN DREADING GOING back to my apartment all day. However, I knew I’d still honor the promise I made to Andrea and be there when her sister arrived.
I’ve been dodging calls from Carter because I feel like an ass for even prompting the idea of dating his cousin—his twenty-four-year-old cousin.
An eight-year age gap may not be a big deal to me, but maybe it is to her.
It would explain why she was turned off from the idea so quickly. Or maybe, the idea was that bizarre.
Trying to sleep last night was pointless. I spent most of it staring out over the city and wishing I could shove the words back down my throat. There’s still an insistent part of me that wants to believe it’s a great idea, and that it could work.
My foundation is consuming my mind and ever since Andrea has stepped into my life, she’s been nothing but a fresh breath of air.
I’ve only known her for three weeks, but it honestly feels longer than that.
I know I agreed when she said I could find another “team player”, but the truth is I only want her.
I trust her and I know she trusts me too.
I have pressure pressing down on my shoulders every time I walk out of my front door.
I’m playing the waiting game, and my patience is wavering.
Elise, the head of my directors, says I need to keep showing my face and attend Josephine Bonavich’s foundation dinner next week on November 14th.
She put a few other events on my calendar as well, but not all of them seemed like much of a priority.
In truth, it’s all torture, but it unfortunately comes with the territory.
I’ve thought out a hundred different ways to convince Andrea that fake dating me is a good idea.
Yet, in every scenario, I see her shutting me down like she did last night.
It’s why I don’t expect what happens the moment I step into my apartment—her launching herself into my arms as if she’s greeted me like this for our entire lives.
Her sweet smell has me wanting to bury my face in her neck. Her arms are wrapped tightly around my neck as she says quietly, “We’re doing it.”
I try to mask my shock as best I can and hope it’s hidden from my face when she pulls away and takes a step back.
She’s dressed casually in black jeans and an oversized beige cable-stitched sweater.
Her long hair cascades down her back in soft waves and her legs seem to go on for miles. She’s barefoot and perfect.
Slowly processing her words, I open my mouth to ask what changed her mind, but she holds her index finger to her lips. Her head jerks toward the kitchen and my mouth snaps shut.
She helps me take my coat off and I watch her in amusement as she hangs it on the rack. I’m stepping out of my shoes when she pats my arms and says loudly, “Come on, Honey Bunny.”
I give her a sideways glance. “Am I a dog?”
“Only in the bedroom!” she jokes for our guests to hear as she hits my chest playfully.
My amusement thickens. Out of the corner of my mouth, I say, “We’ll discuss that later.”
She swallows thickly and I can tell she’s nervous, though I don’t understand why exactly. I know she said her relationship with her sister is complicated, and I suppose I’ll find out in a moment why her presence has her so jittery.
I follow her lead as she guides us to the open area that has the kitchen, dining room, and living room.
My eyes find her sister first. Willa’s hair is browner with only a subtle tint of red, whereas Andrea’s is more vibrant.
She has a look in her eyes that makes me think she’d eat me alive and not in a good kind of way.
She appears surprised as she accesses me.
I glance over at Andrea, but she’s not looking at me—she’s watching the man who’s leaning against my counter, sipping on a glass of wine. There’s something strange in her eyes, but I think that maybe I don’t know her well enough to identify it. This bothers me a lot more than it should.
His cropped brown hair lays floppy on top of his head and it looks like it doesn’t know if it wants to curl or be straight. I don’t miss how his dark eyes study me in a way a predator would their prey. Right off the bat, I can sense something off about him.
“Well, aren’t you just delicious?” The statement comes from Willa.
The man’s face twists in dismay and at the same time he and Andrea scold her.
“Sweetheart.”
“Willa!”
Her eyes widen at their attack. “What?” she asks, shrugging. She smiles softly at me as she makes her way over, trying to get a better look. It would make me more uncomfortable if I wasn’t so used to it. “He is.”
I chuckle to ease the tension as I extend my hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Instead of taking my hand, she pulls me in for a hug. I feel more than see Andrea tense beside me. When Willa pulls away, her hands remain on my shoulders. Her eyes search mine with uncertainty. “Is it? ”
I toss Andrea a confused look, and she looks at me apologetically, appearing a bit distraught. Clearing her throat, she gestures to the man who hasn’t moved from his spot in the kitchen. “This is,” she starts and then hesitates, struggling with something. “This is uh—”
He must decide to save her, because he speaks up, finally stepping away from his post. “Mason,” he states easily, offering his hand to shake mine. Like a puzzle, the pieces slowly fall into place, and I feel frozen. “I’m Willa’s husband. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I stare down at his hand between us as I go over Andrea’s story in my head. I met a boy. His name was Mason. And now he’s her sister’s husband. It turns out that “complicated” was putting it lightly.
When I glance over at Andrea, her eyes widen with a plea I don’t understand. Reluctantly, I take his hand and grasp it harder than necessary. The only tell that he’s in pain is the twitch in his left eye. I keep my voice pleasant as I say, “Yes, it is.”
Annoyance flashes across his face at my disregard for him and that I didn’t return the pleasantry. When I drop his hand, I immediately place it on Andrea’s back, twirling her hair with my fingertips. When she looks at me with relief, I can tell she’s pleased with me.
“Is dinner ready?” I ask her softly, even though I can smell the heavenly scent in the air. I haven’t had a bite to eat all day.
She nods, frowning some. “Yes, but they brought their own.”
My brows furrow in confusion. I’m about to ask her what she means when Willa says, “I had Mason go get us all something from the restaurant down the street.” She laughs like something’s funny and then feigns pity. “You’ll understand if you ever taste her cooking.”
Reining in my temper, I turn my full attention to Andrea. I wish I could get her alone if only for a few minutes to see where her head is at, but we’re both backed into a corner now. Even if Andrea isn’t my real girlfriend, she’s definitely my real friend and I don’t take the insult lightly.
Feeling the need to protect her, I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her to me. I brush my mouth over her hair. She tenses but not enough to be noticed by peering eyes. Her delicious smell hits me again. It’s something fruity, but I can’t quite place it.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I murmur, and she relaxes into me like mush.
I try to ignore how much I enjoy having her this close to me.
Her head tilts back and our eyes meet. “I’d like to have what I made,” she whispers.
I dip my chin, smiling softly at her. “Then that’s what we’ll have.” I look up, my eyes pinning our guests. “All of us.”