Page 13 of One Billion Reasons

“He’s up to something.” She looks suspicious, and I smile into my mug. “He’s your frenemy. And now he wants you to be his date. Could be fun, I guess.” Her face is all scrunched up as she says the words.

“You do not mean fun,” I tease. “You can’t stand Miles.”

“Guilty.” She grins. “But fifty K.”

“Yeah, but the price is a week in his company.” I make a face even as my stomach flips over. I can’t decide if the thought of a week with him is pleasant or unpleasant.

“At August Hotel, though.” Mal gives me a meaningful look, and I stare blankly at her. “Oh, come on. The place Joel Cook got married? That painter who’s famous for being reclusive?” Mal sighs when I don’t recognize the name. She’s a painter and very plugged into the art scene in New York. “Anyways, the property is huge and completely secluded. It’s supposed to be amazing. And you’ll have a whole week. It’s basically a vacation. Could be a good opportunity for some late-night shenanigans. Maybe you’ll meet someone.” She wags her brows and grins.

“Oh, gosh, Mal, no. Did you just say shenanigans?”

“Shenanigans could be fun! You need a break after clueless Katie tried to ruin your business. Maybe you’ll find The One.” She’s smiling now, and I roll my eyes.

“I’m not looking for The One.”

“Pssh. Don’t lie to me. You love love. It’s like the corniest thing ever. A wedding photographer who loves love.”

I do love seeing people fall in love, even if I’m pretty sure I’ll never find it for myself.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “I’m taking a break from dating. David put me off of men forever.”

Mal looks angry at the mention of my ex who told me I wasn’t “wife material.” Apparently that meant too artsy, too many tattoos, too much jewelry.

“Don’t let him dictate your life. There are lots of nice guys out there.”

I sigh. “Yeah, but think about it. I dated guys in college. Nice guys, but nothing worked out. Then after college there was Tyler, Spencer, Mark, Peter, and now David.”

“So what? You like to date. None of them were that serious.” She shrugs.

“I feel like a cliché, Mal. Poor little girl whose parents die, so she keeps looking for love in all the wrong places.”

She makes a face.

“You see my point.” I point my coffee stirrer at her. “I need to stand on my own. And now, with Katie gone, I have to focus on my business. I need to figure out what I really want before I get involved with someone.”

And I’m tired. So tired of dating these guys only to find out that they have weird personal hygiene, or they suck in bed, or they only want someone to come over for drunk sex.

“But if the right guy came along, you’d jump on it, right?”

I shake my head. “Old me would have said yes. But now, I don’t trust myself to know what the right guy even looks like. I want someone nice. No more of these finance bros who like to party. No more playboys. But I don’t trust myself to make the right choice, so no. I’m not getting involved with anyone.” I sip my coffee. “Besides, I have enough to worry about between the business and finding a new apartment.”

Mal throws her hands up. “So go to the wedding. Enjoy the time off. Avoid Miles. Take the fifty thousand. If you’re not interested in meeting someone, even better. You can take some beautiful beach shots. Visit Liam while you’re out there.”

“Tempting, but no. I don’t want to be around Miles for a week. Or the people he surrounds himself with.” Or his ex.

“Oh, come on. You’ll have a few minutes to yourself.” She brightens. “I hear the spa is really nice. Even if you can just use the sauna, I bet it will be relaxing.”

Mal reaches out and grabs what she wants, and I love her for it. But that’s not me. I’m a little more cautious. “I don’t know. You know how rich people are.”

She leans forward, her eyes intent. “Stop worrying. Not everyone is Miles Becker and his asshole friends.”

My stomach clenches. I hate being reminded of how Miles always held himself apart, how he acted like he was better than me. How his fancy friends and their families judged me and Liam. She thinks she’s good enough for him. I still feel sick at the conversation I overheard that day, even though we weren’t together, and I wasn’t anything but a hanger-on at some rich kid’s party.

I smother the memories.

“Besides, so what? He doesn’t matter. You should take the money.”

I sip my coffee while Mal paces into the tiny kitchen. He’s always mattered. That’s half the problem. But Mal doesn’t know that. I’ve never admitted how much space Miles took up in my brain for years. Never admitted that my obsession with him was an addiction, the animosity between us a drug. For years, I thought he was just as addicted, but he wasn’t.

---