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“Don’t be an asshole, Nick. Cat’s been good to me.”

“Not as good as me,” he said, wrapping a thick arm around my midsection and pulling me close.

“Don’t,” I protested, wriggling out of his grasp.

He blinked, his normally overly confident smile wavering. “Audrey—”

“Spin class, remember?” I danced a few steps away and then winked at him. “But maybe I’ll see you tonight?”

His smile slowly returned. “I’ll definitely see you.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN





HIM


Audrey stopped at Columbia Brews for an almond milk latte, her long-standing drink of choice, every morning on her way to work. I knew this both because she regularly posted the coffee shop to her Instagram Stories and because I was sometimes waiting for her there. I sat in the back with a book of poetry propped in front of my face—hiding, yes, but also daring her to notice me—my hair concealed underneath a Nationals baseball cap. Observing her like this was dangerous, I knew. If caught, I could be risking our entire future. But I couldn’t help myself. I loved seeing her move through her daily routine.

I watched as she waited for that morning’s almond milk latte, her delicate fingers tapping on her phone, pausing only to tuck some fiery strands of hair behind her ear. A collection of tiny gold earrings glittered in the light, and my mouth ached to kiss her soft earlobes, to work my tongue around each and every one of those delicate golden rings.

When are you going to realize how much I love you?

Being this close to her and not telling her how much I worshipped her was sometimes so painful I could feel my bone marrow sizzling, and yet I continued to torture myself. Someday soon I would find the words to tell her how I felt, to tell her that we belonged together, hearts beating in tandem, forever.

I watched in despair as she walked out the door, drink in hand, head bent over her phone.

She was gone.

For now.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





CAT


Come on, Cat,” Audrey’s voice pleaded. “All work and no play makes Cat a dull girl.”

Unbidden, Emily Snow manifested before me. Still a leggy thirteen-year-old and wearing her green-and-white Camp Blackwood T-shirt, she placed one dainty hand on a thin hip and used the other to toss corn-silk hair over her shoulder. As if, she sneered. You’re so dull.

“Go away,” I hissed to the apparition, squeezing my eyes shut.

“What did you say?”

I cracked an eye open and exhaled with relief. Emily was gone. She couldn’t hurt me anymore. She couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

“Nothing,” I said to Audrey, tucking my phone under my chin and glancing at the stack of cases on my desk. “I was talking to my assistant. Anyway, I’m really sorry, but—”

“No way. I’m not taking no for an answer. You have to come celebrate me. A girl doesn’t get featured as an ‘Influencer to Watch’ in Glamour every day.”

“I know, and I’m thrilled—”

“Did you know I gained five thousand new followers today? Five thousand. This is huge, and, honestly, I think it’s partially because your work ethic has been rubbing off on me. All those nights you blow me off to work have inspired me to do the same. I totally owe you a glass of champagne or five. Hell, I owe you a whole bottle.”

I didn’t point out the irony in her logic that she was encouraging me to slack off on my assignments in order to celebrate her newly acquired work ethic. Instead, I said, “Let’s have that bottle this weekend. Right now, I’m staring at a draft of a filing that’s due on Friday and—”

“Friday?” she repeated. “That’s four whole days away! Come on, Cat. Please? Celebration is nonoptional, and I can’t do it alone. Meet me after work at Le Diplomate for a drink, okay? Just one, I promise.”

My resolve crumbled. I knew how much Audrey hated being on her own. If I was a good friend, I should do what I could to spare her that discomfort. After all, she had always looked out for me. From that first day in the dorm’s common room to that awful Bid Day to any number of times Audrey had made sure I was included, she always took care of me. She was a good friend, the best friend. The least I could do was have a drink with her.

? ? ?

HOURS LATER, I felt guilty as I hurried uptown. I’d gotten stuck on a conference call, and Audrey hadn’t responded to my texts telling her I was running late. I imagined her sitting alone at the bar, glasses of champagne quickly losing their carbonation in front of her.

I should have known better.

When I stepped through the doors of the bustling French bistro, I glanced instinctively toward the bar but didn’t see Audrey’s vibrant hair. My stomach sank; I was too late. I scanned the rest of the room quickly, and there she was: seated in a corner booth with two glamorous women with impossibly perfect makeup, and a man in round tortoiseshell glasses who had his arm thrown around her. They were talking animatedly, each of them clutching a cocktail glass. One of the women lifted her drink in a toast, and, over the din of the restaurant, I heard her say in a British accent, “To Audrey!”

“Hi! How many are in your party?” the hostess asked me.

I stared at the hostess dumbly. I didn’t know whether I should join Audrey’s group or whether I should turn around and walk out. Audrey obviously didn’t need me. I was a fool to think she ever did.