“I’ll draft the contract and send it over. Once the two-month retainer is paid, I’ll start Monday morning.”
“You’ll have the wire transfer tonight,” he says softly.
I nod, gathering my things. “Like I said, I knew you’d go with Aspen and Oak.”
“The choice was made the moment I realized it was you.”
“Stop it.”
“Last time,” he murmurs. “I'm sorry. I’ll be professional.”
I stand up, smoothing my scrubs one last time, feeling the impact of his gaze on me as I turn toward the door.
“We at Aspen and Oak look forward to serving you, Mr. Chidubem. Try not to fall in the shower before Monday.”
Chapter Nineteen
Pinterest, Penis Power + Payback
Aspen
HollyDates has become a staple in my life just as much as it is a pillar of this town. There are other coffee shops and bakeries scattered around, of course, but each serves its own unique purpose for the locals. This morning, the air in HollyDates smells like powdered sugar and overpriced espresso—the scent of my temporary escape.
I’m huddled at a corner table with Tatum and Holly, dissecting the absolute disaster that is my life while the rest of the “Stand-Ins” are otherwise occupied. Because, yes, Holly and I are officially part of their crew now. Eslin is at work, and Marlow has been noticeably absent lately, likely at home elevating her swollen ankles and wisely avoiding the Vegas drama that keeps finding its way back into her life.
Apparently, when Marlow accidentally ended up married onSightUnseen, they all banded together to form a union of stand-in best friends, and the name just stuck. Since my life is currently a pile of smoldering ash, Eslin did me a kindness and invitedme into the fold. Holly was essentially grandfathered in. Not just because she’s a staple, but because she makes the best espresso martinis in the city and doesn't judge us if we need one well before happy hour.
“Let me get this straight,” Holly says, leaning forward with a skeptical frown. “You’ve had a proposal from one man and a surprise wedding to another in less than a year. And they’re both professional athletes, they're both fine, and they’re best friends?”
I let out a long, weary sigh. “Yeah. That pretty much sums up the dumpster fire, thanks.”
“Some girls have all the luck,” Holly mutters, wiping a stray crumb off the table.
“Luck? Did you forget the part where he basically treated me like a legal leper? The man didn’t want to be married to me, Holly.”
Tatum scoffs, rolling her eyes so hard I’m surprised she doesn't see her own brain. “But he specifically requested that you sponge-bathe him? Girl, please. That man is playing chess while you’re out here playing hopscotch.”
I frown, crossing my arms tight over my chest. “Whatever he’s doing, it’s not going to work. I am a professional. This is business.”
“Ha!” Tatum belts out.
I frown. “What?”
She sucks her teeth with a rhythmic tsk. “I saw the way you looked at that man in Vegas, and I’m the one who held your hand for three hours the day you left mediation. Whatever he’s doing is absolutely going to work. He’s going to look at you with those ‘fuck me’ eyes, and you’re going to fold like a lawn chair at a family reunion.”
“I think you’re underestimating my willpower,” I insist.
“And I think you’re underestimating penis power,” Holly interjects. She stands up to greet a customer who just walked in, leaving Tatum and me howling with laughter.
Tatum’s expression turns uncharacteristically serious. “I am sorry for tricking you into this, Pen. I know it was a low blow.”
I wave her off, the anger having simmered down into a dull, manageable ache. “Look, I was pissed. But you were right. I am one of the few who can handle him.”
For the brief time Luca and I were together, I was the only person in this city who could dismantle those pompous, high-gloss walls of his. In that tiny, stolen window of time, we were actually learning the rhythm of a partnership. We championed each other. We called each other on our shit.Wewere becomingus.
Shit. I really do not need to be reminiscing about our “partnership” right now. Not while I'm trying to convince my best friends, and myself, that I can keep my hands to myself during a sponge bath.
“Where were we?” Holly asks, bouncing back to the table.
