Page 72 of VOGUEish

It doesn’t matter what I say. Just go to her.

He was about to move when Annie squeezed his hand as if she was saying please don’t.

He opened his eyes again. The disbelief in Isabella’s eyes had turned to accusation. A message that flipped him upside down and dislodged every damn explanation on the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth to speak. The movement seemed to spur Isabella out of her daze.

“Oh.” She held up a hand as if to stop his words. “I’m sorry. I thought... Never mind.” She turned and fell into the doorframe.

He winced and jumped off the bed. “Isabella, wait.” The distinct click of her door echoed through the room. She was gone. He took a step, but Annie grabbed his arm.

“Please. Don’t tell her. You promised. No one can know.”

He glanced back at Annie. Her tear-stained face stirring something protective in him. Something big-brotherly. “I’m sure she will keep your secret. If I don’t tell her, Isabella will think you and I are having an affair.” What else could she think? The thoughts going through her brain would be torturous and angry.

Annie sniffed. “I know, but I’d rather her think that than know the truth.”

He stared incredulously. What she asked of him would ruin his and Isabella’s chances of building a relationship. Isabella, and everyone she told, would conclude Chandler was the father of Annie’s baby once her pregnancy became known. “I can’t.”

Annie eyed him and something cold hardened her features. “It’s either that or I’m suing NR for sexual harassment.”

What had just happened? “Based on?”

“You came to my room half-naked. Isabella is my witness.”

Had this whole thing been a set up? Had this been her plan all along?

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Isabella shut the door, laid her forehead on the cold metal, and gasped for oxygen. Trembles swept through her body. Her hearing and vision faded. She turned and stumbled toward her bed. Finding the mattress edge, she sank and stuck her head between her legs.

What in the hell did she just walked in on? Was it what it had looked like? Was that possible? How? Of course it was possible. If it wasn’t true, he’d already be in here, setting the record straight.

She was such a moron.

He wasn’t an upstanding kind of guy. He wasn’t a keep-your-promises type of guy.

She’d gone and fallen for hope—hope that went against the odds. Just like she had when she’d been told she was in the running for prom queen.

No wonder he and Annie had shared so many secret glances on this trip.

Isabella swallowed hard to slow down the building panic. She needed to think rationally. Maybe he’d been breaking up with Annie. She had looked like she’d been crying. Maybe Annie and Chandler had hooked up after Isabella had made it known she was going to date Ryder. That wasn’t improbable.

The back of her throat burned from sobs begging to be released. If she was right, Chandler had walked right from Isabella’s willing arms to Annie’s willing arms the moment her first date with Ryder had been set up. A set up that hadn’t worked because…well, because Ryder was a decent friend. A decent guy.

Chandler, on the other hand, appeared to have had no problem moving on from their night of strip-shot ping-pong. Something she hadn’t been able to accomplish. When Ryder had placed her in the friend zone, she hadn’t even tried to change his mind. All because on some level she’d known it was Chandler she wanted even if it meant facing her fear of not being accepted.

Why was everything so complicated? This was supposed to be her fun year. Fun choices with no consequences. A year of not pushing for more but enjoying what was. God, she sucked at relationships. This is why she should steer clear of them always.

Her phone rang. Was it Chandler? “Hello.”

“Oh my God, you’re not going to believe this.” Chloe sounded breathless, maybe a little drunk, and a whole lot flustered.

Isabella closed her eyes and swiped at the tears that had managed to fall. “Believe what?”

“Remember I told you my new client was a handful?”

Isabella concentrated on Chloe’s voice. When concentrating on one thing, you couldn’t focus on another. “Vaguely.” Why wasn’t it Chandler calling?

“And remember the interview she gave to the reporter from Page Six?” Chloe said, drawing out the suspension.

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