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“Fine,” he said with a triumphant little smile.
I bristled. “Are we done here?”
“Almost. But the rest is fairly boring. It’ll go fast.”
I nodded in agreement, but if I’d learned anything over the course of this conversation, it was that nothing with Beau Devereux couldeverbe boring.
* * *
On Wednesday, I sat in my empty bungalow that used to house both me and my best friend of a sister, but wouldn’t for long, reading in my favorite spot on our gray sectional. I had my favorite pink blanket on my lap, my favorite tea in my favorite mug, and a faux-fireplace flickering away on our flat-screen—on mute, of course. Because that crackle is not my jam.
When my phone buzzed on the coffee table, I was shocked when I looked over to see that Layla was FaceTiming me from her honeymoon.
Terrified that something horrible had happened while she and Zac were in the Bahamas, I slid the button across the screen with a shaky thumb. “Layla, are you okay?”
She frowned at me through the screen. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, why?”
“Um,” I said, putting a hand on my heart to slow the rapid beating, “maybe because you’re FaceTiming me from your honeymoon?”
“Lyn, look, we’re fine. I’ll show you.”
She panned the camera to show me that she was sitting in her favorite bikini in a lounge chair, Zac in a chair of his own at her side. There were two empty cocktail glasses on the table between them—complete with discarded umbrellas on toothpicks.
Then she moved the phone again, and the sunny weather and turquoise water from the pool squashed the fear that a sudden out-of-season hurricane was ravaging their resort.
I calmed down. “Okay, then why are you calling?”
“I just missed you and wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s weird not traveling with you.” She looked over when Zac said something like,hey, what about mein the background. “I’m just kidding, Zac. I love that it’s just the two of us.”
“Uh-huh,” I heard him reply dryly.
Putting my face close to the phone so she could read my lips, I said, “I’m fine. Go enjoy your time with Zac.”
I started to hang up on her, but she waved her hand. “Not so fast, how are you and Beau doing?”
Flaring my eyes at her, I pointed to the right to remind her that I didn’t want her husband to know it was all for show. She rolled her eyes and huffed at me, but I glared at her and zipped my lips to show her I wouldn’t talk until he wasn’t within hearing distance.
“Hey, babe,” Layla said to Zac, “would you mind grabbing us a couple of refills?”
I waited, wondering if he’d do it, then sighed in relief when I heard him tell her it’d be hispleasure.
“Thank you, love you!” she called after him, then centered her face in the screen again. “Okay, he’s gone. Now, spill.”
“Spill what? There’s nothing to spill.”
She groaned. “Have you guys talked about the contract yet?”
“Yes, we met for coffee and signed it Sunday morning. Well, he had coffee, anyway.”
“Good. That helps, at least. But I hope you made sure to put the no-kissing rule in there.”
I wrinkled my nose at her. “It’s in there, but more like… if it needs to happen, fine, but if not, also fine.”
“Needsto happen? What is this, a rom-com?”
“That’s what I said. But yeah, apparently, there really are situations that might warrant a kiss. I don’t know. He’s the professional.”
She guffawed. “Professionalheartbreakerif you ask me.”
