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“Hey, you’re the girl from The Suitor!”
I’ve heard the same refrain all night, so I don’t think about it. Bexley has gotten good at the smile, the few words, and moving on, so I’m surprised when she stops.
It’s because Shae hugs the woman. “Arabella! How are you?”
It’s times like this that I remember Shae is almost as famous as Mase. Online, with her social presence, she’s maybe more famous because this Arabella—beautiful, slim, dressed all in green—hugs her back.
Shae lives in the same celebrity world, and now, Bexley is included in it.
The world Mase lives in.
The world I am not a part of. So how am I supposed to do this? If I really am in love with him, how do I become part of his world?
Do I want to?
“She’s a model,” Demi whispers to me.
“I thought she might be.” A group flocks to Shae’s side, each woman more beautiful than the last, their focus on Shae and Bexley.
I recognize two from a Vogue issue I leafed through while waiting at my dentist’s last month, and another from when I went into Victoria’s Secret to buy my navy bra.
The bra that is still in Mase’s room.
My happiness suddenly plummets, and I feel like I’ve been caught cheating on an exam. How did I ever think I could be with Mase? That he’d ever wantmewhen he could have any of them?
I stiffen as yet another woman pushes through the crowd around Shae. She’s the complete opposite of me—slight but with impressive chest measurements pushed up and out of her white cropped top, a sheet of dark hair, concave cheeks, and red lips that could easily sell any cream-based, matte lipstick. I’ve seen her in magazines.
“Weren’t you with Mase Stirling last night?” she demands, almost as if she considers the mere idea impossible. “At Bubbles.”
“I—”
“You were dancing with him,” she accuses. “With Mase.”
“He was supposed to join us,” another woman says. “I guess he gotdistracted.” She smirks, gaze roving over me like the thought of me being capable of distracting Mase amuses her.
She knows nothing.
“Mase is always up for a distraction,” a third says.
“It’s all he’s good for.” They laugh.
“Maybe for you.” I look Dark and Skinny up and down, with a curl of my lip. “There’s a lot you don’t know about Mase.”
“Whoareyou?” she retorts with a curled lip of her own.
“Emelia, she’s nobody,” Arabella calls, still posing with Bexley arm in arm.
“Hey!” Bexley steps away in the middle of the shot. “She’s my best friend. She’s better than anyone.”
Emelia. This is Emelia, who accused and blamed and smeared his name. How did I not recognize her?
I look down my nose at the woman who hurt my husband. “And who might you be?”
Emelia’s dark eyes widen, and her nostrils actually flare.
“You send your spies to check on Mase?” Chrissa steps to my side, as comforting as my ratty stuffed bear at home. “’Cuz I didn’t see you there last night. Not that I was looking, mind you,” she adds, looking Emelia up and down like she’s nothing but a bug on the floor. “Or that I’d evenbelooking.”
Emelia must be a Suitor fan because I can tell she recognizes Chrissa. “My girls told me he was there. And thatshewas with him. I need to talk to Mase, but he’s not making it easy.”
