Page 107 of Wildest Dreams

“It was good. I…” She bit down on her lower lip as her cheeks stained scarlet.

“You?” I tilted one brow up.

“Looked into some premed programs around the city. But before you get all excited, they’re all pretty intense. It’s not even about the money. I’d need constant help with Gravity, and I’m not sure either of us is ready for something like that.”

“Your kid’s a rock star,” I said, realizing I meant it. Grav was a bad bitch, just like her mom. Well, a bad puppy, really. “She’ll do well at that preschool.” It was on the tip of my tongue to offer my own services, but I bit the words back. I couldn’t commit to this. I couldn’t.

It was in this moment it dawned on me that if the deal with Bruce Marshall fell through, I was basically homeless. I had no income. My apartment was mortgaged. I’d already sold most of my valuable stuff. My parents’ house was gone, so I couldn’t crash there—even on the off chance they’d have let me. Row would give me a roof for a few weeks—unless he found out I was screwing his sister—but I would never ask.

I couldn’t offer more of myself to Dylan even if I wanted to, for the simple fact that there wasn’t much to give.

“I don’t know that I can do it without any help.” Her upper teeth sank into her lower lip. “I mean, maybe if I found somewhere cheaper. Or…or if Cal moved back here for a while.”

I pursed my mouth shut to keep from offering my help. Could I take Grav to the office with me a couple times a week or come home a little earlier to babysit her while I worked remotely? Probably. But the truth was Dylan’s presence in my life meant more complications and inconveniences.

“I was thinking.” Dylan tucked a raven lock behind her ear. “Maybe if we—”

My phone buzzed.

It was Bruce Marshall, the man of the hour. Of the day. Of my century, really.

I held a finger up. “Sorry. I need to take this.”

She clamped her mouth shut. I pressed the phone to my ear. I didn’t want her to witness it in case he came bearing bad news.

“Coltridge?”

“Yeah?”

“I signed the papers. App-date is a go.”

Dylan must’ve interpreted the good news on my face, because hers lit up like a Christmas tree, and she started jumping and clapping excitedly, swallowing down whimpers of happiness.

It was happening.

I was launching the next dating app.

Only on a bigger, better, more lucrative scale.

I was going to trick people into making their fake relationships real.

And I was falling into the same goddamn trap in the process.

Bruce was spitting out some details at the speed of light. It took everything in me to process them. The money. The fucking money. I was about to become filthy rich. The kind of rich my friends were.

When I hung up, I was too stunned to speak. Dylan, however, kept cheering for me. The noise drew Gravity out of her room.

“What’s going on?” she grumbled.

“Uncle Rhyland got good news from work!” Dylan announced. “We’re taking him out for tacos and margaritas.”

And before I knew what was happening, they were both hugging me.

Kissing me.

Melting me.

I was so screwed.

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