Page 65 of Synced to Us

But when another message pings from her, I decide the jig might be up.

Me: Working, but I’m up for a late dinner. Meet at our spot in an hour?

McKenna responds immediately:

YES!

Smiling, I slide my phone into my purse and shut my computer off and exit my office.

A prickle spreads across my neck as I pass Dennis’s office; it’s empty. I’ve been so immersed in my own clients and the volatile stock market to pay much attention to him, but he did manage to ask how my weekend away with Wyn was and if I got to know my brother-in-law better. If Larry hadn’t been present, I would’ve taken off my stiletto and pierced his brain through his eye socket, but I exuded nothing but professional calm when I responded that Wyn and I were closer than ever, and watched the grin fall from his face.

I’m not immune to his smarmy stares and gummy smile whenever he passes the glass wall of my office, mouthing, “Can’t wait for the gala,” like he’s about to run to the podium and announce to everyone I’m not really engaged to Wyn. With such a lie in play, why should any of my clients trust me?

That’s a move I can’t put past him, but it also makes me worry. I can get away with not wearing a ring at the office until our official “announcement,” because the few women in this firm are a lot like me: they prefer to keep their personal shit private until it has to be confessed. But how long do I have to keep up this ruse with Wyn? He said we could amicably break up, giving Dennis less ammunition. To announce we’re engaged then break up a week later? It’s like we’re written for the tabloids, and I’m no celebrity.

But Wyn is.

He could benefit from that kind of publicity. Short-term, broken engagements have made a huge difference in lesser careers and could draw the attention he needs to be relevant again. But that’s not Wyn. Being in the spotlight versus receiving admiration for his music are two different things, and although playing the playboy for the tabloids when he was in Nocturne Court turned into his brand, after spending the weekend with him and getting to know his family, I don’t think he wants that kind of reputation anymore.

Ugh, listen to me. I love how I’m thinking of him like I know everything about him now.

Perhaps this dinner with McKenna is overdue.

Our favorite Thai place is within walking distance, and I make it there in fifteen minutes. The hostess recognizes me and ushers me into to a private booth. I tell her I’m waiting for a friend, and she helps me pass the time by overpouring a glass of chardonnay.

The entrance bell tinkles a couple of minutes later, the widened outline of McKenna’s body taking over the doorway. She sees me and waves, then waddles over to the booth.

“Is it possible you got bigger in four days?” I giggle as she struggles into the seat.

“Definitely. This baby is a linebacker. I swear its head is growing faster than my uterus can stretch.”

“Lovely image,” I say, but laugh into my wine.

“You deserve it after ditching me for so long.”

“I didn’t desert you! Besides, you’d call if there was an emergency or the baby came early.”

“Check your phone. I texted you a bunch of times.”

“Texting isn’t the same as calling, and the baby’s still where it was when I left.”

“God, you’re such a guy sometimes.”

Her friendly shot hurts more than it should. Out of everyone, McKenna knows I care more than I let on, but after this weekend, her joke hits too close to its mark. To distract myself, I lift the laminated menu. “The usual?”

“Always.”

I make a familiar gesture to the waitress. She gives us the thumbs-up and disappears into the kitchen.

“So.” McKenna folds her arms over the table. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing. Work’s been busy.”

“I call bullshit.”

I lift my gaze to the ceiling, then suck in a deep inhale. “Okay, fine. I made a deal with Wyn to be his fake girlfriend for the weekend and he took me home to meet his family—whom I ended up really caring for, except for his terrible brother—and now Wyn’s paying me back by pretending to be my fiancé at my firm’s upcoming gala so my creepy co-worker doesn’t out me to the entire office that I used to be a high-class escort. Oh, but Wyn and I also had sex and I’ve ended up catching feelings for that oversized man-child.”

I take a long glug of wine, my gaze sliding over to McKenna as I do.

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