Page 74 of Valentine Nook
The whites of my eyes are whiter, the freckles across my forehead—the ones they always cover in makeup—seem to have quadrupled in quantity, and right now, my lips are totally bee-stung, and I freaking love it.
There’s one thing missing. And that’s any sign of mauve.
I’m so busy staring at myself that I don’t immediately notice my phone going off, so I snatch it right as it falls off the edge of the sink.
Ashley’s face fills the screen.
“Hey, boss, sorry it’s early.”
I’m immediately confused. “Early? Where are you?”
“Home. I meant early for you.”
“Why are you awake? Is everything okay? What time is it there?” I fire out because there’s no way Ashley would be calling me at this time, which means something’s wrong.
The confusion gives way to a stab of panic.
“It’s all good, nothing to worry about . . . I’ve had some queries come through?—”
“What kind of queries?”
“After your meeting with Marcy, you were snapped getting into a car with a guy. They just want to know who he is.”
“Oh.Oh.” Immediately, my heart rate returns to its normal pace, and I pick up my toothbrush to squeeze paste onto it and puff out the breath I’d been holding. “I thought it was something serious. Did you respond?”
“Of course not. And I’ve forwarded everything over to Patty to deal with,” she replies, mentioning my publicist.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I begin to brush.
It’s been a while since I got spotted withanyone.
There was a time when it didn’t matter who I was with, they were automatically tagged as someone I could be dating—from Tanner to a random guy who just happened to be standing next to me at the valet.
The only people I saw in London were my friends and . . .
I stop brushing and spit the paste. “Wait. Did you sayaftermy meeting with Marcy?”
“Yeah, yesterday afternoon, London time.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
Cupping my hand under the faucet, I scoop water into my mouth and rinse. “Is there a picture?”
She nods. “Yes, but it’s literally you getting into a car with a guy. It’s cute, actually. Who is he?”
I rub against my temples at the telltale signs of an impending headache. Goddamn it. And I woke up in such a good mood.
“My landlord.”
“That’syour landlord?”
I nod. “Yeah, I ran into him in Claridge’s, and he gave me a ride home. It’s nothing.”
Itwasnothing. Now, it’snotnothing.
“Sure.” She chuckles, addingLiar, Liar, Pants On Firewith her tone. “You never said your landlord was hot.”
