Page 91 of Hard to Fake

“I was hoping we’d get time to talk. I wanted to explain what happened last night at the ceremony.”

Her brows lift. “It was certainly… unexpected.”

“I know. But I needed to make sure that all our sisters were mentioned.”

“Why?” she asks.

“It matters. I believe that we should champion one another, help every sister become who she wants to be in the world. And part of that is not putting judgment on her.”

She turns over my words. “You display a lot of leadership qualities, and I know from building my business that it takes more than a yes-woman to get things done.”

Elise reaches into her bag for a cream cashmere sweater and tugs it over her head. “But you’re not the only strong candidate,” she says, straightening the sleeves.

“I’m sure. But I think I can do the best job. For instance.” I nod to the sweater she pulled on. “Is that from your new collection?”

“It is.”

“So, I love the inset sleeve.” I point to the seam, my finger brushing the wool. “The crew neck is classic, but the sleeve makes it more modern. It’s obviously grade-A cashmere from the softness, the knit, and the fact you pulled it out of your bag and it drapes that well.”

Her lips twitch at the corners. “Is that all?”

“No. A lot of people look at clothing and think it’s either utilitarian or frivolous, but a great outfit is an experience. It’s who you are mixed with how you want to show up. If you’re down, a cozy sweater can lift you higher. If you’re afraid, a bold jacket can lend you confidence. In other words… it’s one thing to wear clothes, and it’s another to know why you’re doing it.”

Elise reaches into her bag for sunglasses, her lips curving. “I’m in alumni chapter events for the rest of the afternoon but will make my decision soon. There’s a big launch of winter clothes happening shortly, and we need to coordinate with our influencers.”

My heart leaps.

I catch up with Miles around the corner of the building, still giddy with anticipation.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

“She’s going to have her office call me after the weekend.”

He drags me into his arms for a hug.

Nothing feels as good as his strong arms around me.

I did this. We did this. It wouldn’t have happened without him.

The weekend is almost over, but I don’t want it to be.

Here, he’s mine.

Even if it’s all a game.

A sister goes running by with pink flyers. Midnight hot tubs. Half a dozen are located around the resort.

“Huh. There’s one near us,” Miles observes.

“We should do it.”

He rubs a hand over his jaw, his expression impossible to read.

“Am I that difficult?” I murmur it as if the answer won’t hurt.

“No,” he says, drawing out the word. “When we’re together, it’s easy, Brooke. It’s so fucking easy with you.”

His eyes are a thousand feet deep. I could drown in them.

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