She lifts a brow and then jerks her head to the bar, where a man is watching us—watchingme. His perusal drips with lust, that’s clear from here. He’s the picture of what I’ve gone for in the past. Well groomed, hair combed back, beard trimmed. Dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. If I had to guess, he’s here for a business trip or a bachelor party.
“He’s hot,” Amy comments, and I whip my head back around, breaking the contact. “Oh, shit, he’s coming this way. I’m going to get us drinks.”
I scramble for her hand, something sour settling in my stomach. “Don’t leave me. You wanted to get here early,” I hiss.
“For this exact reason. Expand your horizons. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She pulls herself from my grip, nothing but her vanilla perfume in the wind as a reminder she was here at all. I regret agreeing to arrive early with her. If I had known this was an ambush, I would have nervously sat in my room, smoothing out my dress and touching up my hair until it was time to meet everyone.
The mystery man appears, and I crane my neck to meet his gaze. “I hope this isn’t too bold,” he starts, his Australian accent thick, “but you are gorgeous.”
A false smile quirks my lips. “Thank you.”
Over his shoulder, Amy grins, wiggles her eyebrows, and chucks a thumbs-up.
I’m going to kill her.
“I’m Lachlan. What do you reckon? Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, leaning lower to speak in my ear over the music.
The invasion of my space makes my skin crawl, and I thwart the urge to leap out of my seat and run away. There’s nothing inherently wrong with his actions. He’s a man at the bar, introducing himself to a woman he finds attractive.
But he’s causing me problems because he’s making one thing crystal clear: I only want one person’s attention, and he’s not here yet.
I thought I had dissolved the infatuation after completing my to-do list earlier, crossing off every item my family asked me to do, adding tickets to purchase, and creating content to boost Jett’s charity work.
Apparently, chanting “having a crush is a social construct” in the mirror does not work.
“I have a boyfriend, but I appreciate the offer.” The small lie tumbles from my lips.
His smile is kind, genuine, but it’s not Jett’s smile; it doesn’t hold that same radiance. “Lucky lad. You ladies have a nice night.”
Amy reappears, two drinks in her hand and a baffled expression. I steal one of the pink cocktails and gulp it down. The alcohol slides down my throat, and my eyelashes flutter shut as I allow the liquid to drown out the flurry of thoughts.
“Chug that drink all you want, but you’re still going to explain why you told that hottie you have a boyfriend.”
I crack one eye open. Amy leans back in her chair, stirring her straw.
“It was a lie,” I admit. “But also the truth. After the video I posted went viral and people assumed Jett was in a relationship, the buzz around his docuseries grew. I told him we should keep that going, post a few videos people could read into so that momentum would continue.”
“So it’s fake?” Disappointment drips from her question, and I don’t like it. “I can’t believe he agreed to that, honestly.”
“What, why?”
“Relationships are important to him. I’m surprised he would agree to faking something like that.” Amy pauses, contemplating something. “He’s visited Rhode Island a few times, and we spent a lot of time together when Charlie and Mateo had to work. He idolizes their relationship, and I know he wants something special like that for himself but has become hesitant, especially after Grace. We have that in common.” Her voice softens. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”
Grace? Who the fuck is Grace?
I shove the thought out of my mind. I don’t care.
“Me neither,” I admit. “But I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. We’re friends.”
She laughs in a way that doesnotput me at ease, sipping her drink with a bemused smile. The beginning tunes of “Zombie” by The Cranberries ring through the bar, and a group of Irish backpackers belt out the lyrics.
“If you say so,” she finally says.
“I do.” I snag my glass. “I’m going to get another drink. Did you want one?”
“Is Oliver going to be here? That was rhetorical. Make it a double.”
