Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)(78)



“What did he say?” Nora asked.

I fiddled with the holes in my afghan. “He said that if it seemed like a good opportunity, I should go for it. That he didn’t want to lose me, but he’d support me if it was what I wanted.”

Hazel and Nora shared a look.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Nora said. “But if you have a phone interview this afternoon, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“Why? It’s over the phone.”

“Unless you find out at the last minute it’s a Skype call and you have to show your normally pretty face,” Nora said.

She had a point. If Cameron Whitbury saw me like this, the interview would be over before it started. And now it looked like I needed a new job.

My eyes filled with tears. New job. No more Shepherd.

Hazel and Nora turned me so they could sit on either side. Then they put their arms around me and let me cry.

I sobbed for a while, knowing I was making myself look worse. But I had to get it out. My friends hugged me and stroked my hair. When I calmed down, Nora got me water and tissues while Hazel pressed a cold washcloth to my forehead.

Sniffing, I wiped my eyes. “You guys, there’s a part I haven’t told you.”

“What’s that, honey?” Nora asked.

“It wasn’t fake. I fell in love with him. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I did.”

They both squeezed me again.

“That was actually clear to both of us a while ago,” Hazel said.

Nora rubbed my back, murmuring her agreement.

“Why did I let this happen? Why did I have to go and fall in love with someone who doesn’t love me back? I should have known better.”

“Shepherd acted like a dick, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you,” Nora said.

I tossed a used tissue on the mess that used to be my coffee table. “Um, yes it does. He basically kicked me out as soon as his dad dumped Svetlana.”

Nora and Hazel gave each another look—one of those we’re secretly communicating something looks.

“Will you two stop that? I’m not done wallowing.”

“You can keep wallowing after your interview,” Nora said. “You go shower. We’ll clean up out here. Then we’ll go get some brunch and coffee to perk you up so you’re ready.”

“But you and I are still drinking mimosas, right?” Hazel asked.

Nora nodded. “Naturally.”

I grabbed another tissue and wiped my nose. “All right, I’ll pull it together, but just for the interview. Then I’m wallowing again.”

“Breakup pity party, table for three is on the agenda for tonight.” Nora leaned closer and sniffed me. “After you shower.”

Hazel and Nora stood up and each grabbed one of my hands to help peel me off the couch. I shuffled into the bathroom, avoiding the mirror, and turned on the shower. I still felt awful—the ache in my chest refused to go away—but having my friends here to help me pick up the pieces of my heart and glue them back together was priceless.





33





Shepherd





I clicked away from the report I was supposed to be reviewing, and went back to my email. The photographer from the engagement party had sent a link to our photos. I’d already seen them. I hadn’t been able to resist. At this point, I was basically a masochist, considering I’d gone through them at least a dozen times today.

There were candid shots of guests smiling, holding up drinks, dancing. Ethan and Grant in matching fedoras, lifting champagne glasses. Dad with his ridiculous hat and cigar between his teeth. Everly with her girlfriends, posing like a twenties version of Charlie’s Angels. Annie and Miranda laughing with Ethan and Grant.

I’d purposely skipped the ones of my dad and Svetlana. Those still made me cringe.

The next photo was me and Everly on the dance floor. The photographer had caught her mid-spin, one arm above her head, her hand in mine. The tassels on her dress swirled around her, but it was her face that drew the eye. Bright red lips parted across her perfect teeth in a bright smile.

It didn’t escape my attention that I was smiling too, my gaze intent on her.

The photo booth pictures were just as bad. Silly props held up to our faces. We’d gone in multiple times and never managed to keep from laughing.

In the final one we’d taken, I’d grabbed her and planted a hard kiss on her mouth. Nothing about that kiss looked fake. Our lips were molded together, her bottom lip disappearing between mine. Her body was relaxed, arms draping down, as if she were melting against me.

She had been. I remembered how good it felt.

Someone knocked and my office door opened. I shut my laptop quicker than a guy watching porn at work.

Nora stepped in, her hand still on the door handle. “Do you have a minute?”

That was odd. Why was Everly’s friend here? My brow furrowed. “Sure.”

It wasn’t just Nora. Her other friend, Hazel, came in behind her. Nora’s dark hair was up and she wore a white sleeveless blouse and tan cropped pants with heels. Hazel wore a navy dress belted at the waist and a pair of dark-rimmed glasses.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

Nora ushered Hazel in and shut the door. Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good.

Claire Kingsley's Books