The Decoy Girlfriend(49)

But his dream girl can stay only that—a dream.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN



So let’s say I have this character,” Freya says offhandedly a few days later. She waves her virgin Bloody Mary at her laptop screen, hoping it conveys how airy and hypothetical her question is.

Staring back at her from Zoom, her friends look exhausted from their own deadlines—is that spit-up on Ava’s blouse?—but they all perk up, excited that Freya’s finally letting them in.

She still has time before Taft and Hen get back from their walk, but she says the next words in a rush, just to be safe. “And she’s into this guy, and she thinks he feels the same, but then he starts icing over after he lays down ground rules for their relationship. How should she, um, approach that? Without looking needy?”

They all start talking at once, until Mimi’s voice cuts through. “What do you mean he ‘lays down ground rules’?” She leans in, intrigued. “Are you writing alpha hero romance?”

“And can I read it?” Ava pipes up.

“God, Ava,” Hero groans. “Freya, is it possible your protag misunderstood his signals?”

“No, there’s no way I did!” The defense blasts out of Freya like cannon fire. She knows what she felt, and she’s willing to bet the balance of her advance that he felt the same way. “I mean, I hope I didn’t? Um, I mean, I hope I didn’t write him unclearly. The love interest. In my book. That I’m writing.”

Very natural, Freya. Not suspicious at all.

Something about the other morning scared Taft off, and not only can she not figure out what it was, but he doesn’t even want to discuss it.

Right after she’d posted the Instagram photo—which worked perfectly, she might add—he’d abruptly insisted that they needed some ground rules: He emphatically stressed that casual intimate touches were forbidden unless it was for the benefit of an audience. They’re strictly platonic roommates who don’t share the same bed.

For any reason. Ever.

Also, clothing is to be worn at all times. Our own clothes, he’d added as an afterthought.

He didn’t appreciate Freya shrugging off his shirt in annoyance two seconds later, or, if the smolder in his eyes had been anything to go by, he appreciated it maybe a little too much. It was a petty win, but she’d take it.

Steph frowns. “Why the hell would she let him decide this unilaterally? A relationship has two people. He has the right to make up his own mind but zero right to make her choice for her.”

“Oh my god, yes. Thank you!” Mimi vigorously waves her glass of red wine at the screen. “Steph just put into words what my mind was too sloshed to come up with, and she is absolutely correct. Strong, independent women wouldn’t take his shit without giving him a piece of their mind.” She makes a fist and pretends to pop the screen.

Hero nods. “Is this for your new book? How far along are you? When’s it due?”

The last two questions are often directed at pregnant Ava, so it takes Freya a second to realize they’re all looking at her expectantly. She doesn’t need to consult her phone calendar because the date is engraved into her brain, mentally circled in red as she counts down to D-Day: deadline day.

“I’m at the twenty-five-thousand hump, and I still have almost two weeks,” Freya informs the Zoom group. “And before anyone asks, no, you can’t read it. I’m keeping this one to myself for now.”

“I thought we were your accountability buddies,” Mimi says with a pout.

“No, I actually think it’s smart you’re trying something different,” says Steph. “Shaking up a routine never did anyone harm.”

“She literally moved from New York City to Los Angeles!” hoots Hero. “How much more shaking up does she need?”

Mimi smirks. “She def needs some sense shaken into her. Talking about her fictional love interest when she’s cohabiting with a real one.” She tsks at Freya.

“Yeah, right.” If Freya’s smile looks a little wooden, they’ll probably just assume Zoom froze for a second, right? “He’s not my love interest. He’s with Mandi.” Her friends know that she’s the decoy girlfriend, but so far she’s kept Taft and Mandi’s fauxmance a secret.

This is a prime window for Ava to make one of her trademark horny comments, but for some reason, she refrains. Maybe her hormones are returning to baseline, or maybe it’s her kid clamoring for attention, the sounds of his childish babble turning everyone’s smiles a little gooey.

Steph notices, too. “Ava, are you growing up?” she teases.

Ava throws back her head and laughs. “Never,” she promises, scooping her oldest into her lap, quieting his attention-seeking noises with a cuddle against her baby bump.

Freya lets out a discreet breath that she totally knew she was holding when the subject shifts to focus on her friends: Ava’s and Mimi’s upcoming books, Hero’s latest graphic novel pitch and gorgeous sample illustrations, and the skin-loving goat’s milk soap from Steph’s sanctuary she’s promised to send them.

Safe topics that lead away from the quicksand of Freya’s life. She should be happier about it.

“Oh, and my publicist should be reaching out to all of you sometime soon about scheduling some in-conversation bookshop chats with me,” says Ava. “It’ll be good promo for you to talk a little bit about your new book, Freya. You didn’t do any at Steph’s last one.”