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“Yes, they’re part of Beckett’s circle of friends, and soon, they’ll cohost a talent show with him. So, it isn’t entirely impossible.”
Mom’s head jerks back. “Are you and the CEO dating?” she asks, a huge grin slicing her lips.
“No, we’re not.”
“Oh.” She does this thing with her head, tilting it left to right with her lips pursed together. Something is brewing in there.
The last time she called, she offered a cautionary warning. Now, she genuinely looks bummed out.
I don’t get it.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’ll be our little secret.” She places a finger in front of her lips. “Shhh.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I’ll tell Daddy, but I won’t tell Moira. I’ll let her believe you and the CEO are the new it celebrity couple.”
I knit my eyebrows together. “Why would you do that?”
She shrugs in a noncommittal way.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“Everyone in the neighborhood is talking about those photos of you and the hot CEO. For the past few days, people have been cramming into the restaurants, waving their phones at me in excitement. As you can imagine, it’s impossible to contain such big news. Since I wasn’t answering her incessant calls, Moira marched into the restaurant, livid—”
“Why?”
“She demands I force you to back down.”
“Back down from what?”
“She wants you to put an end to your well-orchestrated media campaign designed to steal the spotlight away from Mariah.”
“What?” I shout in disbelief.
“Apparently, Mariah’s press release about the big hoity-toity fashion designer who will design her wedding dress fell on deaf ears because everyone has been talking about Miss Holy Chic.”
“She had a press release for that?” I can’t believe it. “She really thinks she’s royalty.”
“I told you last time, Mariah is delusional. Her mother is no better. My stupid sister believes you’re doing this to be spiteful because Mariah is the ‘love’”—she uses one hand to do the quotation marks—“of Chance’s life, and vice versa, and they were meant to be together.” If this weren’t the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard, I’d laugh. “Of course, Mariah backstabbing you to get with said love of her life is irrelevant.” Mom’s tone is dripping with sarcasm.
“Aunt Moira needs new meds because the ones she’s taking now clearly don’t work for her!”
“You should’ve seen her. She was jabbing an angry finger in my face, telling me you were ruining everything.”
“Forget about prescriptive meds, she must be high.”
“She became so belligerent, your father and another employee had to wrestle her out of the restaurant. She was creating such a scene.”
I’m dumbfounded.
For a beat I’m stunned into silence, then I burst out laughing.
“What?” Mom asks.
“Even if those photos of Beckett and me don’t tell the full story, Mariah is foaming at the mouth and bursting at the seams with jealousy.” Take that, bitch!
