Mina lifts her chin like she’s assessing the statement, then shakes her head and lets it pass. Now it’s her turn to watch the bugs dancing under the streetlights.
“Maybe that explains it.”
She doesn’t sound convinced. Her brows furrow as she sighs deeply.
“I know it’s none of my business—”
I snort. “But you’re going to make it your business anyway?”
She huffs a sigh and shakes her head. “…but whatever you’re trying to run from isn’t going away on its own. You’re not letting yourself feel whatever it is, which means you’re not processing, so it’s just sitting in there, festering. It’s only going to get worse.”
Scowling, I glare out the window. “Who says I’m running from something?”
“Maybe you’re not, but after watching you with your family, something tells me you are. And call me crazy, but I hate to watch anyone self-destruct. Even The Prince of Darkness.” She offers the name with a smile. Not a barb, but a friendly jab.
I swipe a hand down my face. “I’m not self-destructing.”
And I’m tired of people saying I am. I’m setting boundaries and making sure they don’t get crossed. I’m doubling down on doing good work for people who deserve it. Feels more like self-preservation to me.
“All right, then.” Mina gives me one of those looks you save for awkward situations with people you don’t want to offend. “I think it’s probably time to call it a night.”
“You’re probably right.” I grip the steering wheel and sigh.
Mina puts a hand on my arm, and that jolt of what-the-holy-fuck stops me in my tracks. “Think about what I said,” she says, her voice soft. “I think there’s more to you than smirks and snark and all this villain era BS. I think maybe you’re working through something and, well, you don’t have to work through it alone.”
I start to thank her, but I’ve already blurred my boundaries too much tonight. I close my eyes and clear my throat instead.
“I can take care of myself,” I growl.
With a sad shake of her head, Mina blows a puff of air past her lips. “Says the man who paid his interior designer to go to his birthday party rather than deal with whatever’s going on in his life.”
Her eyes flash and she shoots me a grin that says, “So there.”
I put in a request for a scathing comeback that my brain completely ignores, so after a few silent seconds, I guide her back to her car, leaning down before I close the door. “Good night, Hot Mess.”
“If you say so, Sweet Prince.” Mina lifts her hands and waves as she pulls out of the spot. I return the gesture as her words replay in my mind.
…you don’t have to work through it alone.
As much as I’d like that to be true, tonight has shown me one thing for sure:
I can’t trust myself around Mina Blake.
FOURTEEN
Mina
“Oh my God, Fallon. You'll never believe how awful tonight was.” Perched on the edge of my best friend’s couch and still wearing my red dress, I drop my head into my hands, then spread my fingers to peep at my friend’s reaction.
“I've got a huge case of déjà vu.” Fallon sits beside me, hair up, PJs on. We look just as mismatched as I did with Nathan at the party. Well. Not just Nathan. His entire family was significantly more casual than I expected. I stuck out like a sore thumb. A bright red, very sore thumb. Which was only the beginning of my humiliation.
“How can you have an awful night when you look that good?” Fallon frowns. “And how is it that you look that good and I don’t know why?”
Everything happened so fast today, I didn’t call her after lunch to tell her about my new fake relationship. She’d make a bigger deal out of it than it is, maybe try to talk me out of it, or maybe I was just embarrassed by the whole thing. Even now, I’m a tad hesitant to fill her in, and that doesn’t seem right. Maybe it’s because I know how she feels about him. Whatever it is, it’s time to get over it.
“I was with Nathan…” I begin, but the rest of the sentence sticks in my throat.
“Nathan? As in Nathan West? You look like that because of Nathan West?” Fallon waves her hand over my face and body, looking intrigued.
“You are so not prepared for this.”
“Something tells me whatever happened tonight is gonna make my readers go crazy when they read about it. My sub count has grown so much since I started talking about Nathan West.” Her gaze shifts toward the ceiling, her eyes glazed and faraway. She’s already trying out headlines and that isn’t going to work. I might not like Nathan, but that doesn’t change the definition of right and wrong.
“Nope. No way. Hard stop. You either promise this is protected by best friend code, or I keep the story to myself,” I say, holding up a finger. “You absolutely cannot publish any of this.”
Fallon blinks. Frowns. For a moment, I wonder if I misjudged the power of best friend code, but then she bobs her head and shows her palms. “Done. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Nathan and I had a meeting scheduled this afternoon to talk about some of my ideas for his house, and you will never guess what he asked me.” Stalling, stalling. Why do I keep stalling? Does some part of me not trust Fallon with this information?
“To come up with an entirely different scheme, using colors that will clash with his personality and ruin the flow of the space.” She speaks with the confidence of someone who’s listened to me complain about work too many times.
“It's worse than that,” I respond with a laugh. “Way worse.”
Fallon puts a hand to her heart and drops her jaw. “Tell me he didn’t decide to go with the architect’s functional placement for the staircase rather than your more aesthetically pleasing idea?”
See? This is Fallon. There’s absolutely zero reason to feel weird about sharing this story with her.
“I mean, that sounds exactly like something he’d do, and bless you for listening to me enough to know that’s even a thing. But no. It's worse than that. Best friend code?” I ask, arching a brow and cocking my head.
