“How complicated?”
“Very.” I pour myself more wine. “He sent me a designer dress. We had a practice date that didn’t feel like practice. He calls me at weird hours just to hear my voice.”
“That’s not complicated. That’s a romcom.”
“He also has no digital footprint, never eats in front of me, and talks about the past like he lived through it personally.”
“Maybe he’s just well-read.”
“Maybe.” I stare at my wine. “Or maybe he’s hiding something massive, and I’m in too deep to care.”
“Define ‘too deep.’”
“I think about him constantly. I check my phone every five minutes hoping he’s texted. When he looks at me, I forget how to breathe.” I meet her eyes. “That kind of deep.”
“Oh, honey.”
“I know.”
“This is bad.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to hire a professional pretender, survive the wedding, and move on with your life.”
“I know.”
“Instead, you’ve fallen for a mysterious billionaire who doesn’t eat and has no past.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”
“It is crazy.” She drains her wine. “I love it. I need to meet him immediately.”
“I thought you needed to prepare?”
“No time. He’ll be here in—” she checks my phone “—thirty-seven minutes, and I need to be the friend who intimidates him into being honest with you.”
“Please don’t interrogate him.”
“I’m absolutely going to interrogate him.”
“Sage—”
“Poppy. Someone has to.” She points her empty glass at me. “You’re smart about everything except men. You missed every red flag with Preston for two years. If this Julian person is hiding something, I’m going to find out.”
“And if you don’t find out?”
“Then he’s either telling the truth, or better at lying than anyone I’ve ever met.” She heads toward the bathroom. “Either way, at least we’ll know. I need to make myself presentable. I’ll be right back.”
Julian arrives at exactly 7:00 PM.
I don’t know why I’m surprised anymore. The man is pathologically punctual.
The knock comes exactly ninety seconds after I buzz him in. Enough time to walk up three flights of stairs at a normal pace. Calculated.
I open the door.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a gray sweater—deliberately casual, I realize. Not a suit. Not intimidating. Dressed to meet friends, not to impress business associates.
