The Pact (Winslow Brothers #2)(67)

“Anyway,” she hums, but her eyes squint a little when she notes the ambiance—Flynn’s apartment—behind me. “Where are you?”

“Uh…at my apartment in New York.”

“Oh, so this is the New York place.” Her eyes brighten with intrigue as she tries to see through the camera. “Very nice.”

“Uh…thanks. I—” I start to answer just as Flynn walks into the kitchen, fresh out of the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist, and heads toward the coffeepot. I know this because I can see him on the screen of my phone.

Oh shit. Quickly, I spin in the opposite direction, so my camera faces the kitchen cabinets instead of the hot man in the towel.

“You hungry, babe?” Flynn asks as he pours himself a cup of coffee, completely oblivious that his towel-covered ass just made an appearance in my FaceTime. “Probably going to run up the street and get some bagels.” Frankly, I’m pretty sure he’s clueless to the fact that I’m on the phone altogether. I’ll take things that happen when you’re known for rambling to yourself all the time for a hundred, Alex.

He glances over his shoulder to meet my eyes just as Gwen’s brow furrows. I wave my hand behind the camera like I’m guiding in the next fighter jet to land on a naval carrier, but it’s too late. The towel-covered penis and rich, unmistakably manly voice of my fake New York husband have already made their debut. “Daisy?” Gwen questions, and her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is there a man in your apartment?”

Flynn’s eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them, the curiosity of exactly what kind of bungle I’ve gotten us into now evidently overwhelming enough that he can’t suppress the emotion, and I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, completely unsure of what to say or how to handle this situation. I mean, Gwen knows about my recent move, but she knows absolutely nothing about Flynn or the fact that I’m a married woman.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Daisy?” Gwen urges, and when I see the concerned look in her eyes, something inside me just snaps. I know I could play it off as a one-night stand or a short affair with a random New York man and Gwen would understand, but it just doesn’t feel…right.

It’s time for the truth—or, at least, the closest version of it I’m willing to tell before my citizenship is settled.

“Technically, I’m at his place. Our place. Well, our place temporarily.”

Gwen just stares back at me through the camera. Clearly, I’ve confused her so much, she doesn’t even know what questions to ask.

“I guess now it’s time to tell you that I have some news,” I state, and nervous laughter bubbles up from my lungs.

“I’ll say.”

“So… uh…as you know…I’m…uh…living in New York now.”

“Yes. We’ve established that.” Her brow furrows in a way I know is more accusatory than confused. “You told me about the move when I got back from the cruise—I remember the conversation specifically. What I don’t remember is any mention of a man, any man, and certainly not one that you’re living with in New York.”

“Well, it’s a crazy story…” I pause, trying to explain without Gwen focusing on the fact that I’m a big fat liar.

“I’m waiting on pins and needles here, darling.”

“So…that was Flynn…and Flynn is…” I pause again and swallow against the Sahara Desert that has migrated into my throat. “Flynn is…my husband.”

Outright shock makes her jaw drop like one of those clowns at a mini golf course. “I’m sorry…did you just say husband? As in, till death do us part, grow old and die, one man for the rest of your life husband?”

“She definitely said husband.”

Those words aren’t mine, and they definitely aren’t Gwen’s. Eyes wide, I look up from the screen of my phone to find Flynn looking at me with a laid-back smile, as if it’s no big deal that we’ve just dropped a nuclear bomb of truth in the kitchen.

“My Daisy…my strong, big-hearted, independent, doesn’t need a man Daisy is married?”

I look between Gwen and Flynn, and all I can do is nod.

“Daisy! What?! How? I need to know all the details, and I need to know them now. Seventy years of men flowing in and out of my life, and I can’t imagine committing to one of them. And, what? You found someone to do it with in the Yellow Pages? Fill me in here.”

Between one breath and the next, my phone is out of my hands and Flynn’s face is filling Gwen’s end of the camera line.

“Hi, Gwen,” he greets her, still flipping shirtless and only wearing a towel. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m sure you know our Daisy is a bit of a talker.”

Our Daisy?

“That she is.” Gwen smiles through a startled laugh. “Though, she doesn’t seem to be doing a whole lot of it right now.” My cheeks flame, and I move farther out of the camera frame of the call. Oh God. “Maybe you can explain to me how you fit in here—a whole husband I didn’t even know about.”

“I’m Flynn Winslow,” he says without a hint of nervousness in his voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gwen. I know this must be confusing and concerning for you, but I think you’ll understand best if I explain it this way—I’ve never in my life met a woman like Daisy, and I doubt I ever will again. She’s the kind of person you don’t forget, and given the opportunity, she’s the kind of person you don’t let go. Understand?”