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“Right. Outrageous of me to assume a story about a six-foot-tall, curly-haired dude who lives next door to a beachfront mansion wasn’t meant to resemble me.”
“He’s six-foot-two,” I correct him. If Nico’s going to attempt to accuse me of something, he better get his facts straight. “And do you even own a beach house? Sounds like that big ego is misleading you again.”
“Not yet.” He clicks his mouth in disappointment. “Want me to buy you one?”
My eyes trace the ceiling. “Yeah, Nico, I’d love an apology waterfront mansion.”
“Consider it done, but are you really going to sit here and try to convince me the story was inspired by my brother’s eighty-year-old geriatric neighbor?”
“Age-gap romances are sexy.”
“True. The four months between our birthdays really get me going.” His eyebrows shoot up in amusement. “Then there’s the main character’s name…Nick.”
“Shut up.”
What does he want me to say?I wrote a book about Nico Navarro?
Never.
It was a better alternative to sneaking into his room at my best friend’s beach house and jumping his bones.
One bone in particular.
Ugh.
No number of random hookups last summer quenched the thirst I’d felt for him during those sporadic weekend trips.
My eyes narrow on him. Who could blame me?I mean, look at him. Everyone else is waiting for the chance to pounce.
I can’t admit to any of this. Nico’s ego wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. He’d give this so much more meaning than it actually has.Coastal Flingis simply the work of a depraved woman who spent too many afternoons watching him take his shirt off. Over and over.
“Can you let me celebrateyou?” he asks. My arteries constrict as if they’re about to stop working. “I’m sure Avery is dying to take you out when you get back to New York. It’s a huge fucking accomplishment,princesa. Number one on the bestseller list?”
“Avery doesn’t—”
“Wait.” Nico clatters his glass against the table. “You haven’t told anyone about hitting the charts?”
“No,” I whisper, painfully exposed to the lack of emotional leverage I have. “No one knows I write.”
“Not your best friend? Roommate? Family?”
My eyes drop to the napkin in my lap. “No.”
“Let me get this straight, you lived with Avery for years, and she never pieced together that you’re Zoe Mona?”
Alcohol stews at the base of my throat, threatening to eject.
“It never came up. I don’t know.” I meet his gaze again. “Ave always had other things going on, and the few attempts I made to confess always seemed like the wrong time. Wait…I don’t owe you an explanation.”
This is exactly why I kept it a secret for so many years. I spent far too long avoiding the inevitable judgment. I can get up and leave right now, dodging the third degree altogether.
“Hey.” Nico’s warm, familiar hand wraps around my fingers, but I shake it away. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m only surprised.”
“Please don’t tell anyone. Not your brother and not Ave.”
“I promise.” He tries for my hand again, and this time I let him catch it. “I would never break your trust. I figured everyone knew and you hid it from me because of the story. But I hope you know they’d both be nothing but supportive.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” I sigh. “It’s just been too long.”
