I’m dying to know what they’re talking about now. Pressing my ear to the door, I hold my breath, hoping she doesn’t hear the wood creak beneath my feet.

  It’s silent again. Oh, shit. She knows I’m listening.

  “I wish I could hate him,” Harley says with a sigh. “But it’s Nate. I just wish he was still my Nate, you know.”

  My Nate. Did she really think of me that way?

  “I like nerdy Nate.” She groans. “Yeah, but he’s not the same person.”

  Yes, I am.

  She has no idea how wrong she is about me. The side of me she likes is still in here, hiding from the rest of the world. If she wants the old Nate back, then that’s what Harley will get.

  * * *

  Standing in front of the stove, I flip Harley’s eggs on the griddle. The toaster pops as I remove two plates from the cabinet. I made a big pot of coffee and even freshly squeezed the orange juice just how Harley likes it. I want her to feel comfortable in my apartment. This is her home now, too.

  I’ve never made a woman breakfast, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. After our blowout last night, I decided to turn over a new leaf for Harley. I want to be a better man, the man she needs in her life. She’s giving up a lot to be here for me. And after years of waiting to get her back, I’m not going to ruin the shot I have with her.

  Harley strolls into the kitchen wearing a form-fitted dress that hugs all of her magnificent curves, stopping below her knees. She sweeps her long blonde hair over her shoulder, oblivious to me as she glances down at The Philadelphia Inquirer on the counter. She flips through the pages in silence, most likely looking for a story about us. I expect that to be in today’s newspaper. Only the online venues covered the story so far.

  Callie made us look like childhood sweethearts in her column, The Gossip Queen. She added a collage of pictures, starting with Harley and me at the San Diego Comic-Con when we were twelve. She went as Harley Quinn, her namesake, with the long blonde pigtails that had pink streaks in them. She looked exactly like the character, and of course, I went as the Joker. I had to dress as Harley’s counterpart in the comic books.

  With her back turned to me, Harley scans each page carefully.

  I fix her coffee and slide it in front of her. “We can get today’s paper on the way to the office. The one you’re reading is from the other day.”

  She peeks up at me, and then she smiles when she takes the coffee from my hand.

  “I’m assuming you still like your coffee with extra cream and two sugars.”

  “Yeah,” she says between sips. “This is perfect. Thanks.”

  “I made breakfast. I hope you still like your eggs over easy with wheat toast.”

  She perks up, her eyes as wide as saucers. “You know me so well.”

  “Not much has changed about you over the years.”

  “Am I that predictable?”

  I bob my head. “You’re a creature of habit.”

  “I like my routines. They keep me on track.”

  “Take a seat.” I tip my head toward the stools on the other side of the kitchen island.

  She glances over at the plates I’m making for us and smiles, a real one for once. “Someone’s pulling out all the stops.”

  “I’m taking this marriage seriously,” I admit.

  “Good to know.” She sits behind the bar, digging her elbows into the marble and watches me as I slide a plate in front of her. Harley licks her lips. “Looks good. Thanks, King.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “We’re back to King now?”

  She shrugs as I sit next to her. “No, I’m just used to calling you that.”

  “We should probably go over how we’re going to act in public together. I think people in the office will find it strange if we call each other by our last names.”

  She chews a mouthful of eggs and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “Overtly sexual touching is still not okay,” she warns with a nasty look in her eyes. “That would be inappropriate in public whether this relationship was real or not. So, keep your hands to yourself, King.”

  I smirk at her challenge. “I’ll save that for when we’re alone.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Mr. Grabby Hands.” She sips her coffee, regarding me. “I’m going to give this a try. I thought about what you said last night… and in my office. We used to be best friends. There’s no reason we can’t pretend this is like old times, the two of us playing a role in a game.”

  I let out a relieved sigh and shovel more food into my mouth. The eggs are already getting cold. Harley’s almost finished with her breakfast.

  She stuffs the last of her toast into her mouth, holding my gaze. When she finishes, she licks her bottom lip to sweep away the crumbs left behind. She doesn’t even realize how sexy that subtle movement is to me. Everything she does turns me on.

  “I made a private appointment with the jeweler,” I tell her. “We’re meeting him after work.”

  She sips her coffee, laughing into her cup. “I can’t believe you’re following through on the proposal.”

  “You’ll get the wedding you want even if it kills me.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” she says in a firm tone. “You’re not my Mr. Darcy, and you’re never going to be. We have to keep this friendly. Otherwise, I don’t know how we’ll make this marriage work. When we were younger, you were never this touchy. You never even tried to kiss me.”

  “I thought about it.”

  All. The. Damn. Time.

  Harley pauses as if my confession has ruined her train of thought. A few minutes pass, where she finishes her coffee, unable to look at me.

  Way to make this even more weird, Nate.

  She bites the inside of her cheek. “You didn’t want to kiss me.”

  “Yes, I did,” I challenge.

  Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “How come you never tried back then?”

  I roll my shoulders. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. It was too important to me. But if I had known we’d stop talking, I would have at least tried to kiss you. Just once. To say I did it.”

  Harley remains silent, stuck in the same position with her fork raised midair.

  I reach across the bar, my eyes fixed on her bright blue ones. “Are you done with your plate?”

  Harley practically jumps off the stool. She seems uncomfortable, maybe even upset. Why did I tell her the truth? I thought it would help repair our relationship, and now, we’re back to super weirdness. I hope it’s not like this all the way up until our wedding day.

  One day down, twenty-nine more to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Harley

  All morning Nate’s confession rattled around in my head. He thought about kissing me in the past. The feeling was mutual back then, though I wasn’t about to tell him that. His words shocked me, stunned me into silence. He wanted a reaction from me, but I wasn’t about to feed his ego. This situation is already weird enough.

  And now, I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if we had acted on our feelings years ago. Would we be getting married for real? Could all of the scandals and this sham wedding have been avoided? A part of me wants to believe that Nate was telling the truth, but there’s also a part that tells me not to trust him.

  Nate likes to play games.

  He enjoys toying with people.

  Once the elevator doors open, and I’m outside the building, I feel like I can catch my breath. Being this close to Nate is affecting me in ways I hadn’t expected. At the office and at home, he’s only one door away from me, always within reach.

  I managed to sneak out of the office while Nate was in the men’s room. He would have insisted he join me for lunch with my friends if he’d known I was meeting them. Nate’s never had a problem blending in with the girls.

  When I stroll into the café, I spot Amelia Irons first. She has her back to me, with her black curls slung over her right shoulder. As usual, she’s dressed like a million bucks, the red soles of her thousand-dollar Louboutin pumps visible from across the room. Amelia is wearing a sleek black dress that fits her perfectly, her Chanel bag draped over the edge of her chair.

  Amelia is the sole heir to the Atlantic Airlines fortune. Her parents, who named her after Amelia Earhart, died in a horrific plane crash when she was only ten years old. Apart from her carefully selected clothes and pristine appearance, Amelia is no different than the rest of us.

  Juliet Frost sits on Amelia’s right side, sipping soda from a straw. Jules earned the nickname The Date Diva after shelling out helpful advice on her blog. She did it for fun, and when people started calling her the best matchmaker in town, she drew the attention of the owner of Market House. I met Jules a few years ago during my Christmas break. I flew home from Los Angeles to see my dad and ended up staying out until seven o’clock in the morning with Callie and the girls. We became fast friends, like we had known each other our entire lives.

  Callie’s eyes widen as I approach the table. She raises her hand and waves, forcing Jules and Amelia to look over their shoulders at me. Lola Banks is on Callie’s right. Dubbed The Broke Fashionista, Lola writes a column at Market House that is fitting for her lifestyle. She might not have money like Amelia, but she sure has the same taste in fashion.

  “Hey, girl,” Callie says as she slides out of the booth to hug me. She wraps her arms around me so tightly I have to tap her on the back to release me.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” I choke out.

  She hugs me once more, and her sweet perfume fills my nostrils. “I know this Nate situation sucks, but I won’t lie… I’m a selfish bitch who’s happy you’re home, regardless of the reason.”

  “If it means I get to see you,” I say with a smile. “Then I’m happy to be home. Dealing with Nate, though…”

  Callie bites the inside of her cheek and gives me a worried look. “Yeah, how’s that going?”

  “I bet it’s a real disaster,” Jules says as she greets me with a one-arm hug. “If you need my help with Nate, you know where to find me, babe. I’ll whip his sexy booty into shape.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “Ugh, I don’t want to think about his sexy anything.”

  Not after seeing the outline of his dick in the picture Willow sent me last night.

  “And thanks,” I say to Jules, “but I don’t need love advice when it comes to Nate. I just want this to be over as soon as possible.”

  “No,” Amelia says as she greets me with a quick hug. “You need survival advice.”

  We all break out into a fit of laughter.

  “He’s driving me crazy already,” I admit, “and it’s only been one day.”

  After we take our seats, the waitress stops by our table for my drink order. The girls started knocking back cocktails twenty minutes ago. And I was five minutes early for our lunch date. Feeling in the spirit, I order a glass of water and a margarita that I need two hands to lift. I wish the waitress had told me it was meant for sharing. I don’t usually drink on my lunch break but when in Rome…

  “So, you think you’ll make it?” Callie asks me.

  “With Nate, you mean?” She nods, and I continue, “I think so. Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice. Either we pull this off or we’re both screwed, and not in a good way.”

  Callie chuckles. “Speaking of getting screwed, you planning to hop into bed with Nate?”

  I roll my eyes and snicker. “Not a chance.”

  “I hear he’s amazing in bed,” Amelia says, which I don’t find the least bit comforting.

  The thought of other women in his bed makes me sick to my stomach.

  “That’s the rumor,” Jules says, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears. “I read some of the comments the women left on the posts about him. I can’t believe how many of them left their phone numbers. Desperate much?”

  “He’s had more than his fair share of women over the years,” Lola says with laughter in her tone.

  Disgusted, I glance down at the menu. “Don’t remind me. One of his conquests showed up at the apartment last night. Apparently, she’s his Wednesday booty call and didn’t get the memo that he’s engaged.”

  “Ooh, girl,” Lola says with sheer horror on her face. “That’s rough. What did you do?”

  “I told her to get lost before I call security.”

  The girls laugh in unison.

  I wish I could join them, but every time I think about the women Nate keeps on retainer, I want to vomit. I’m marrying a womanizer, an asshole. How is this the same Nate I’ve known since before I could walk? He’s not the little boy who held my hand when I was too scared to jump into the deep end of the pool. I miss that Nate. And unless he returns, I don’t see how I can take him seriously.

  “I hope no one saw her,” I say in a hushed tone. “She could have exposed our lie.”

  Callie nods in agreement. “I would’ve jumped on that story faster than Lola at a Macy’s One Day Sale.”

  Lola throws out her hand and groans, “Speak for yourself.”

  “What?” Callie raises her eyebrows. “Am I wrong? You got into a fight with a teenager over a Michael Kors tank.”

  “It was the only one left in my size.” She blows out a puff of air and her auburn hair falls in front of her eyes, forcing her to push it away. “And she was clearly a medium.”

  “Whatevs,” Callie says, sticking her tongue out at Lola.

  “I saw your engagement pics,” Jules says to change the subject. “You and Nate actually looked like a couple in love. I doubt anyone will believe otherwise. I was seriously impressed. I didn’t think Nate could make those pics look so… real.”

  “That’s because it was real,” Callie says. “Nate’s been obsessed with Harley for years.”

  “Yeah, right,” I say without hesitation. “The only thing Nate’s obsessed with is getting laid. He doesn’t care who he’s with as long as he gets off.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Callie clicks her tongue. “I talked to Nate before you got here. If you want my professional opinion, I’d say he’s happy you have to marry him. You should’ve seen his face when I told him you were on your way to the city. He played it off like he didn’t want you to get involved, but Nate can’t hide from me. No one can. I can smell a lie a mile away. He was gloating on the inside.”

  “And that’s why everyone tells you their secrets,” I deadpan.

  She cups her face in her hands and gives me a cheeky grin. “Are you sure it’s not my sparkly personality?”

  Jules throws a napkin at Callie’s head. “It’s definitely not that, you news bag.”

  Callie lays the napkin on her lap and then points her finger at us. “Consider yourselves lucky I don’t spill your juicy secrets. All of you have them.” Her gaze falls on me. “And you worst of all, Queen. If anyone finds out,” she says, lowering her voice, “I won’t be able to protect you.”

  “As long as Nate can keep it in his pants, I can fake my way through it.”

  Lifting my margarita in both hands, I take a long sip. The sweet, icy goodness tastes so damn good I wish I could drink the whole thing. But I have meetings this afternoon with my old team. My dad is making good on his promise to promote me with only one caveat. I have to close out all of my old projects and train my replacement. So, I need to be coherent by the time I get back to the office.

  “Who are you kidding? You’ll fold like a cheap chair,” Callie challenges. “There’s no way you’ll make it months in the same apartment as Nate without having sex with him.”

  “I’ve gone years without giving in to the temptation,” I point out. “What’s a few more months without sex?”

  “Care to make a wager?” Callie’s lips curl up into a wicked grin. “A hundred bucks says you’ll have sex with Nate on your wedding night.”

  Jules rubs her hands together. “Oh, this is juicy. I like it. I’m in.”

  I smack her lightly on the arm. “Hey, don’t side with her.”

  Jules shrugs. “This is a bet we all know you will lose. Sorry, babe.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, you traitors.” I look over at Lola, who glances away when our eyes meet. “Not you, too!”

  “Sorry, Harley,” Lola says. “But I want in on the action. I don’t think you’ll last either. This is Nate King we’re talking about.” She turns to look at Callie. “Put me down for a hundy.”

  Callie roars with laughter.

  Jules throws a hundred-dollar bill at the center of the table. Lola adds her American Express card to the pile. “Call it an IOU… for now.”

  “Lola,” Jules snaps. “Please tell me you didn’t spend your paycheck already on clothes.”

  Lola bites her bottom lip, unable to look Jules in the eye. “Okay, then I won’t tell you. And it was shoes, if you must know.”

  “I guess I’m not getting rent this month,” Amelia says in a carefree tone.

  Lola, Callie, and Jules live with Amelia in her brownstone in Center City. As far as I know, they all chip in for food, utilities, and alcohol—the bare essentials. But Amelia would never charge them rent. She doesn’t need the money. Her family fortune is worth billions. Amelia has so much money that she donates her Market House paychecks to charity.

  Callie chuckles. “Not like you would get rent from this group of degenerates.”

  “Hey,” Jules says. “Who are you calling a degenerate?”

  She waves her hand at Jules. “Okay, maybe not you but Lola—”

  Lola elbows Callie in the arm. “Don’t even finish that thought, woman.”

  Callie downs the last of her drink and shrugs.

  The Market House girls have their own dynamic. I’ve been out of the loop for so long that it’s nice to feel like one of them again. I love sitting here, listening to their banter. In some ways, maybe the deal I made with Nate will be good for me. This could be a second chance at the life I left behind. And maybe, if Callie is right, Nate will make this work. He seemed genuine when he made his confession this morning. Nate’s a good liar but he’s not that good.