Page 28 of Wildest Dreams

@DylanCasablancas2000! just followed you on Instagram.

@DylanCasablancas2000! commented: hello 911? I’d like to report a murder.

@DylanCasablancas2000! commented: OF MY OVARIES.

@DylanCasablancas2000! commented: youmy butt when you get home 2nite

@DylanCasablancas2000! posted a new picture.

I clicked on the notification, quickly following her back and clicking on her latest post. It was a picture of her grinning, including a close-up on the mammoth engagement ring, clutching a tall man’s arm. You couldn’t see his face because hewas taller, but she stared up at him with pure, unadulterated adoration.

For a reason I was definitely not going to explore, the image made my blood boil to the point it seared through my veins and gave me third-degree burns. I picked up my phone and called her. She didn’t answer—out of spite, no doubt. I opened our text box. The last message from her was two years ago, a generic,Row said he’ll pick you from the airport at nine, to which I’d responded with an equally hostile thumbs-up reaction.

I blew out air, still sitting in my car in the underground parking lot.

Rhyland: Who the fuck are you hugging in that picture? Because it sure as hell ain’t me.

Her reply was immediate—further proof she hadn’t answered my call simply to rile me up.

Dylan: A friend.

Rhyland: You don’t have any friends here.

Dylan: I made one today.

Like hell she had.

Rhyland: Where? When?

Dylan: At Target.

Rhyland: He works there?

Dylan: Yes.

Rhyland: Not anymore he doesn’t. I’ll see to it that he gets fired immediately.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I jealous? No—not jealous, just protective of the Bruce Marshall deal. I really didn’t need her to screw it all up with a meaningless fling. What if Bruce found out she was seeing someone else? What ifthat asshole posted a picture of himself with Dylan and Bruce somehow saw it?

Dylan: I doubt you can get him fired.

Rhyland: Oh yeah?

Dylan: Yeah.

Rhyland: Why?

Dylan: He is a mannequin.

I stared at the text. Blinked. Went back to the picture she’d posted. Examined it more closely. Sure enough, there was an inch of exposed skin poking through the man’s sleeve, and you could see his complexion was gray. I chuckled, shaking my head.

Dylan: I had to get creative. And Grav wanted frilly socks.

Rhyland: Those IG comments are deranged.

Rhyland: I asked for soft launch, not soft porn.

Dylan: Is anal considered soft porn? Idk.

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