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Before I can blink, Lena Joly flings herself at me, pulling me into her arms with a gasp. “Oh my God! Oh my God, Elle, I was so worried, you weren’t answering your texts. I thought something happened to you ...”
Did I wake up in the twilight zone?
Numbly, I hug my childhood best friend—and try not to sneeze as the ends of her cute little dark-brown bob of hair tickle my nose. “Uh? What would have happened? I was just asleep.”
“Asleep? Very funny—oh, you’re serious? How can you sleep when you’re—” She pulls back, and her eyes search mine frantically, her freckled nose wrinkled. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” I throw my hands up. “Lena, I have a bajillion notifications. I haven’t been able to look at them yet, and now you’re here talking like the Mafia might have murdered me or something.”
“Girl, I don’t know. I thought the ‘billionaire pick-me’ fan club might have kidnapped you.” Then, like she didn’t just say the most outlandish thing in the world, Lena leans around me and smiles brightly, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. “Morning, Miss Jacqueline.”
Gran’s crutch thuds closer.
“Good morning, Lena,” she says warmly, completely indifferent to Lena’s ranting. “Have you had breakfast?”
“I have, ma’am, but I always have room for your lemon poppyseed muffins, if you’re offering.”
Grandma cackles. “You know my baking habits too well.”
“I could smell them coming up the walk.”
I just take in this exchange like I’m watching a Ping-Pong match before I clear my throat.
“Guys, are we talking about breakfast or talking about why apparently there’s some kind of crisis? What billionaire? Am I getting dragged on social media? Did someone leak my nudes to Elon Musk?”
Lena pauses. “... you have nudes to leak?”
Grandma blinks. “You have nudes to leak, and they’re accessible in the cloud?”
I bat my eyes right back at her. “You know about the cloud?”
“Young lady, how old do you think I am?” Grandma clucks her tongue and thumps her cane emphatically. “Please lock down your phone. At least have a little common sense if you’re sharing a little spice.”
“I don’t have nudes!” I hiss. Groaning, I drag a hand over my face. “Could someone please just explain what’s going on?”
“Perhaps,” a silky-dark voice interrupts from behind Lena, “I could be of assistance.”
Oh, crud.
That voice isn’t so comforting this time.
That voice darts through me like I’ve just grabbed an electrified fence.
Lena and I both go stiff, while Gran only looks mildly amused.
I stare past Lena in absolute horror at the man standing on the last stone before the front steps.
He’s just as impeccable as he was two days ago, even if he looks a bit more casual and relaxed.
His slacks today are still black, his shoes perfectly polished, his waistcoat a dark silvery slate grey, and he’s not wearing a tie this time.
His starched white dress shirt has precisely one button unfastened at the neck, exposing his Adam’s apple and the corded tendons in his throat.
Also, he’s carrying something under his arm. What looks like several stacks of newspapers folded with splashy cover pages just barely visible.
There’s also something in one of his angular, graceful hands.
A little grey velvet box.
