Page 19 of Not That Into You

I’d actually enjoyed having her live here. Although my townhouse isn’t the biggest on the block, it still has four bedrooms and plenty of space. It can sometimes feel empty despite all the furnishings and artwork. I’d told Hayley she could live here indefinitely, but she’d been adamant about taking care of herself without her parents’ money or my help.

So she’d moved into a cramped two-bedroom apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, complete with prickly roommate.

I respect Hayley’s independence and understand her desire to forge a life separate from her parents. Certainly, I’ve been trying to do the same thing, though with varying results. But while Hayley refuses to access her trust fund and found a job without relying on family connections, I’ve taken a decidedly different tack. I work for my father and am living in a home I inherited from my aunt.

Of course, despite my last name, I was required to start at the bottom of The Stanhope Group and work my way up. There were no shortcuts for me or special treatment from my father. And I’m intent on leaving my own mark on the company—or at least dragging its marketing strategy into the current century.

Once I get the chief marketing officer position, of course.

And though I admire Hayley’s willingness to live in a 700 square-foot apartment with a shared bathroom, I couldn’t tolerate such close quarters. Not that I’d expected to inherit my aunt’s Upper East Side home, right off Park Avenue.

She was a figure who loomed large in my childhood, always available when my parents were more occupied with business and society. I felt we were kindred spirts—she, too, was a great disappointment to my father. But while I’m still trying to fill the Stanhope mold—on my own terms, of course—she refused to marry, had no interest in The Stanhope Group, and declined to serve on boards that might have been useful to the business.

In short, she refused to be anyone other than herself, other people’s opinions be damned.

I loved my aunt, and I love this townhouse. And I haven’t changed it much since she passed away from cancer five years ago.

Hayley selects another croissant from the bag. “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”

I snort before finishing my smoothie and setting my glass aside. Resting my elbow on the counter, I prop my chin on my hand and stare at her, knowing she’ll soon tell me what’s really going on. Hayley’s natural effervescence makes it hard for her to sit in silence for very long.

She examines the croissant before setting it back on her plate and wiping her fingers on a napkin. “Okay, so maybe I also wanted to talk to you.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Monica told me about your fake girlfriend plan.”

I sit up and cross my arms. I should have anticipated this. “And you don’t approve.”

“Cameron, it’s not that I don’t approve of you having a fake girlfriend, per se. I know your mother, and I know she’s been pressuring you to meet someone.”

“And trying to set me up with a new woman at every turn.”

“Right. And I know it’s a pain in the butt.”

“But you don’t want it to be Monica.” I’m surprised by the twinge of hurt that flashes through me.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” She brushes a crumb off the counter. “Why her?”

I sigh, debating how much to tell her. “I didn’t...” I run a hand through my hair. “My mother said she was setting me up with someone in the Hamptons at my father’s birthday party. I panicked. I didn’t think it through. I told her I was seeing someone.”

Hayley raises her brows.

“I would’ve made up some excuse for why my new girlfriend couldn’t come to the Hamptons—a business trip or something—but then my mother said she heard through the Upper East Side grapevine I was dating someone and we’d had a fight at your birthday party. I was caught off guard and blurted out Monica’s name without considering the consequences. It snowballed from there.”

Hayley frowns. “So you asked Monica to go with you to the Hamptons as your fake girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Monica Matthews.”

“Yes.”

Hayley gives me a meaningful look.

I roll my eyes. “I get it. We don’t exactly get along.” Hayley snorts. “And it was a huge ask, but she said no. So, you have nothing to worry about.”

Hayley bites her lower lip. “I’m glad she said no, Cam. They’d eat her alive.”

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