There’s that slight smirk on her face.
Piper’s right.
She knows.
“Do you two have any fun weekend plans? Jeremy and I are going to Aspen for the weekend. You and your mystery man should come.”
“Does he ski?” Nora asks.
“Of course he skis—he’s wealthy, isn’t he,” Piper shoots back.
“He’s ski-agnostic,” I lie.
Colette’s eyes narrow—well, as much as they can when she’s injected her body weight in Botox.
Maybe I should start getting Botox. You’re never too young, right?
But I hate needles…
“I’ve been asking around town, and honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep him under wraps for so long,” Colette interrogates.
“He’s not married, is he?” Greta snickers.
“Dani’s not a cheater. He’s single and obsessed with her.” Piper jumps to my defense.
God bless your bestie. She will support you even at your most delusional.
“We’ll probably just have a quiet evening at home.” I cough out the lie.
Even though it’s freezing, I’m sweating from the anxiety, from the shame that I’ve never had a boyfriend, and that I lied about it.
“He’s coming Tuesday, though, right?” Maya asks sincerely.
Colette throws her head back. “Of course he’s not coming on Tuesday, Maya—God. He doesn’t actually exist, does he?”
“Yes, he does—he’s real.”
I sound pathetic, like when I was a tween insisting to this exact same group of girls that Santa was real and my parents would never lie to me and that Santa just drops off presents on our balcony since we don’t have a fireplace.
“Okay.” Colette rolls her eyes. “Well, hopefully he can get time off work to come to the engagement party the office is throwing for me. You should tell him it’s a great networking opportunity. Maybe that will make him… materialize.”
She and the Girl Squad shriek with laughter as they head back into the Svensson Investment office.
“Ugh.” I slump down on one of the wooden chairs on the deck. “Fuck my life.”
Lulu whines at my feet.
“Get up. You have four days to find a man,” Piper barks. “We cannot let them win.”
I’m never goingto find a man, though.
Dejected, I scroll through the dating app later that evening.
It’s Friday night—and yes, people at Svensson Investment work late, but not as late as I’m working.
I don’t want to go home to my parents’ house and listen to the passive-aggressive commentary from my mom about what kind of man could possibly want me when I have holes in my shirt, and why won’t I let her take me bra shopping, and can’t I at least bring him to the birthday party the Thornes are hosting. They really would like to meet him.
Oh yes—all of the Upper East Side of Manhattan has been told this lie. Your girl is in deep.
