Page 92 of The Golden Scoop

“No,” he says evenly. “You certainly can’t.”

Conversation flows easily, bouncing between honeymoon stories, work drama, and heated arguments about what we should play at the next game night. Matt offers to host to take the load off the Harrisons. We always have it at theirs. I have a feeling he does it for me.

My heart aches, but in a good way. It’s almost like Matt and I together make our friend group even stronger. Maybe… maybe this is worth risking after all.

While we’re waiting for dessert, Julia suddenly stands. We’re all stuffed, but apparently dignity means nothing when it comes to our sweet tooth.

“Excuse us, boys,” she says smoothly. “Emma and I need a quick bathroom break.”

Well.

I’m impressed she’s held out the entire meal without interrogating me, so that’s fair.

I trail after her, watching as she clears every stall to make sure no one’s in here. Once she’s satisfied we’re alone, she turns slowly, arms crossed.

“Last I checked,” she begins, “you were in New York. Tonight, he walked in with his hand hovering behind you like your personal bodyguard ready to fend off any man who lingers on you too long.”

“He was not.”

Julia stares at me.

“Did you take my suggestion?”

“You mean kissing him?”

She nods. After a beat, so do I.

Julia squeals so loud I instinctively look toward the door. “Emma Miller! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!”

“I didn’t have the chance,” I groan. Every time I started typing a message, Matt would say or do something charming that sent me spiral even more. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was for him. It’s all over his face. He’s happy—like genuinely. Harrison said he’s never seen him like this before.”

I roll my eyes automatically. “No, he didn’t.”

“Yes. He did. Right after you two spent ten minutes flirting disguised as bickering about the surfing date.”

“Outing,” I correct.

“Right. Outing.” She grins. “You’re safe here, Em. Talk to me.”

“It started as work. That part’s true. I didn’t realize the person waiting for me on set was the real version of him,” I mutter. “With every outing he shared a little more of himself. There was still bickering⁠—”

“Excellent foreplay,” Julia interrupts with a wink.

“I hate you.”

“You love me. Continue.”

I ignore the sudden image of Matt pinning me against my apartment door. Barely.

“I didn’t mean for this to become something real,” I admit quietly. “He doesn’t know anything about what I actually do for a living, or the deal I made with Martha. The guilt’s starting to eat at me.”

Julia’s expression softens.

“At this point,” I add, “I don’t even know what we are.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “Sounds like there’s been more than one kiss.”