Page 95 of The Billionaire's Wife

“Can I be blunt?” Jenna shifted so she was facing me.

“Can I stop you?”

She grinned. “Not really.”

I closed my eyes. “Yeah, all right. Hit me.”

“You ran away back in college, right? Then again after you sought him out here in September. So chances are high that he’s waiting to see if you’re really going to stay.”

I nodded. Jenna had a point. One I’d gotten to on my own, thanks so much. There was just one problem. “I don’t know how I prove that I’m not running away again except by not doing it. Which I haven’t.”

“You need to do something symbolic.” Jenna drummed her fingers on her knee. “Like give him a box of sneakers in your size like that one movie with Julia Roberts.”

“Ugh. I hated that one.” I scowled. “Wait. Do you think I’m like her?”

They were all suspiciously silent. Wow.

Thankfully, the bell above the door jingled. I jumped to my feet.

“Oh, no. You’re off the clock.” Megan stood and pointed at me. “Sit down in your Runaway Bride glory and figure out how to convince Tristan you’re staying without being cheesy.”

I slumped back into my seat. “Are you girls always like this?”

“This is what friends do. We tell each other the truth.” Jenna tipped her head to the side.

Whitney nodded. “Even when the truth is annoying.”

Kayla chuckled. “Maybe especially then.”

I would have liked to have said something witty and cutting, but I couldn’t come up with anything. At the end of the day, they were right. And I owed Tristan that same unadorned honesty.

25

TRISTAN

Iwas dumping out the vacuum cleaner bin when I heard the door open. “Is that you, Faith?”

“No. It’s a robber.”

I laughed at the tease in Faith’s voice. Sure, it was a dumb question, but it was a reflex. A dumb one, apparently. “Well, I don’t have a lot of easily portable things, but you’re welcome to whatever you can find.”

Faith snickered as she came into the kitchen. “You vacuumed at eleven p.m.?”

“The guys are messy when chips are involved. I don’t like to let it sit.” I clicked the canister back into the main body of the vacuum and pressed the cord rewind button. “It only takes a minute.”

I couldn’t decipher the look she gave me. Was it wrong to be tidy? She hadn’t complained before, and it wasn’t as if the condo magically cleaned itself. I’d caught her doing a chore here or there—but most of them had been me. Which was fine. I was used to it.

I cleared my throat. “Did you have fun?”

Faith opened the fridge and grabbed a can of ginger ale. She popped the top and took several long swallows.

“Uh-oh.” I rolled the vacuum over against the wall. I could put it away later. This seemed…serious. I walked to the living room and sat on the couch, then patted the seat beside me. “What happened?”

“It wasn’t bad.” Faith frowned. After a moment, she joined me in the living room, but sat in a chair facing me. “They’re very honest.”

“They are. The guys are, too. It’s something we all value.” I tried to figure out where this was going. “Were they unkind?”

“No. Nothing like that. I guess it’s just…” Faith trailed off.

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