Page 112 of Love is a Game

“Remind me?”

“A soft dig into Carousel Studio?Sales trends, investor shifts, staffing changes, supplier hiccups—”

“Right.” I rub my temple.

Prying into Pen’s business? If I had any sense of self-preservation…or attachment to my vital organs, I’d hit the brakes. But, naturally, I don’t.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“K—let me know if you want to circle back. Talk soon!”

I ditch the call and pick up the next.

“Mason!” I lean back in the chair, stretching my legs. “At long last. Thought you got abducted, buddy. Figured aliens returned you defective.”

“You should talk,” he retorts. “You know you could callmeoccasionally? I’m in Asia, not on Jupiter. This technology thing? It works both ways.”

“What can I say?” I grin. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I prefer to keep my longing at a slow simmer—best appreciated in person. Over beer.”

“At this rate, that will have to be squeezed between the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.” Mason sighs. “Fucking set delays. Humidity. Oh, and don’t get me started on restrooms. ‘You gotta try the street food!’ everyone says. Yeah? Well, I’ve lost twelve fucking pounds since I got here. Chronic diarrhea, man. Absolute dream trip.”

“Sounds like you’re having a blast,” I smirk.

“Oh yeah—out my ass, several times a day. It’s fucking awesome.”

“Well, don’t lose too much weight, or I’ll have to get your wedding suit altered.”

“Oh, sure, don’t worry about the new ecosystem thriving in my small intestine, just pretend to focus on your best man duties.”

“Pretend?” I say, offended. “I am one hundred percent committed! I’m trying to do a good job here, you know? Respect the title. Maybe make up for the, uh—”

“The slight incident when I nearly died at the bachelor party you threw me?”

“Can everyone stop saying ‘nearly died’? You ingested a spiked drink—”

“A heavily spiked drink.”

“Heavily spiked drink,” I concede. “Andyes, you passed out, received immediate medical attention, spent one night in the hospital, and bounced back.”

“No harm, no foul? Yeah, except for the ongoing heart palpitations.”

“What?”

“And the blackouts.”

“Fucking hell, are you serious?” I sit up, gripping my phone.

Then I hear it: Mason’s rhythmic chuckle crackling through the line.

“You prick. You had me going—”

His laughter intensifies. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“It’s bad enough Mia is still pissed at me. I feel terrible about it. And your mother—”

“Oh yeah…” He pauses. “I might’ve put them up to that.”

“Come again?”

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