Page 64 of The Unfluencer

And this whole charade begins.

“Mm hmm,” Greer says, judgmentally, letting the silence stretch.

Deep down, I should listen to her advice, quickly shut down this immature bet before my best friend tarnishes what little dignity I’ve got left. Otherwise, I’ll need to pull off some truly atrocious behavior to win.

My attention flickers to the Dazzling Palettes art coffee table book I found at the bookstore on Sunday, a collection of industry-disrupting art pieces. I trail my fingers along the cool, bold-printed hardcover, thinking about how I couldn’t pass up the chance to see Whitney’s reaction when she read the title. Talk about a husband-coded gesture.

And I’m grinning like a fool.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t last a day,” I mutter.

“Aht! Aht! You know I heard that, right?” Greer cracks up in my ear.

I don’t even bother trying to hide my laughter. “You heard that, huh?”

“Damn right I did!”

“Look, you got me.” I throw my head back against the seat, chuckling. “Hey, I’m just being honest. This woman⁠—”

“Might be worth skipping the wager for?” she supplies.

“Uh… yeah?”

Somewhere deep down in my bones, I agree with Greer. Whitney is probably the only woman I’ve met in the past year who’s made me feel like myself. This week shouldn’t be about Cord or Legends ticket bragging rights. I need to prove to myself that I can get back out there, as just me, before my vows. I can have conversations with an attractive woman that don’t lead to major life events. Fulfill my physical needs, date. Or, at the least, try again.

How hard can it be?

While Sherry and I were filing for divorce, I downloaded dating apps. Just to see. But I never subscribed. I wasn’t ready then.

Am I now?

“I want you to think long and hard about that when her car arrives in less than two minutes. Because you’ll be in the air together for two and a half hours. Then on Clover Cay for forty-eight more.” Greer sighs softly. “If you want to play it by ear, take your cues from her, fine.”

“But?” I laugh.

“Would it be the worst thing if you two ended up rendezvousing again?” Greer says quietly.

There it is.

I bark out a guilty laugh. “Relax. I’m going to let that one slide, since I know Mom probably put you up to this. But, uh… it really wasn’t like that.”

Greer huffs out a laugh. “Sir, I was recharging with my sister circle at a romance book retreat in the next state, not another galaxy.” The line muffles slightly, and I hear her fingers faintly tapping. “I’ve got eyes, and they work fine. I saw the pictures, and the way y’all were staring. It was absolutely like that.”

We both laugh.

I never could hide anything from Greer. She’s an inch into her thirties, acts like she’s a mile into her late fifties, and between her phone, laptop, and Mom, she runs my world like she’s light-years into her sage sixties.

Which is why, naturally, she spends the next minute and a half calling my bluff and asking for the itinerary to properly judge me.

“What happened to playing it by ear?” I stretch out my legs, slouching into my seat as I share the plan for the trip. We’ll land, get unpacked, eat, I’ll show her around and get some work done while she’s doing the same. Then she’ll have two days to complete evaluations—and possibly have sex with me. Meanwhile, the realtor’s meeting me there to get a feel for Clover Cay, discuss a listing price, and that’s it. If there’s something there before we’re set to come back Sunday, I’ll decide then. “Otherwise, she’ll take possession of the collection, and I’ll show up at the exhibit. The end.”

“Simple as that, huh?”

“Cut and dried,” I say to Greer, grinning and looking out the window again just as Whitney’s car pulls onto the tarmac.

As she slides the door open, I try to quickly end the call with Greer, but not without being subjected to her stern warning: “Warner? No more games.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I disconnect the call, still laughing.