“No,” Melanie snaps.

  “Mel, come on. You know he’d—”

  “No.”

  I nod. “You guys did start out casual,” I say.

  “And look where that ended.” Melanie snatches up a new mimosa. “No.”

  “You can draw a line, Mel,” Nora says. “Just don’t cross it again like last time.”

  “No, you don’t understand. We had lines before. Very specific lines.” Melanie looks down. “I can’t trust myself around him and Rob… well, he has his fair share of weaknesses, too.”

  She mimes holding a liquor bottle and tilts it in a quick glug-glug motion.

  Nora leans back in surrender. “Okay. Fine. Ignore the suggestion. I’m just trying to get you laid. You did the same for me.”

  “You’re welcome. And I appreciate the effort, but…” Melanie waves a hand. “I’ve gone five months without him and I don’t want to break that winning streak.”

  I count in my head. “Five months?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t you kick him out six months ago?”

  She presses her pink lips together. “… Yes.”

  Nora’s jaw drops. “You naughty girl.”

  I laugh. “Wait. When exactly did you guys hook up last?”

  Melanie hides behind her glass. “We might have done a little something… after…” her voice drops, “our divorce hearing...”

  I blink. “You fucked Robbie after your divorce hearing?”

  “We were excited.” She glances at our shocked faces. “Hey, only Judy can judge me.”

  Nora and I chuckle to ourselves. Classic Melanie and Robbie. All heat and no forethought.

  Melanie points at us. “I know all your dirt and I’ll write it into a book. Just watch.”

  “Anyway…” I clear my throat and reach for my drink.

  “Speaking of dirt,” Nora says, her brow pinching. “Clive and I are meeting with HR tomorrow.”

  Melanie winces. “Did you guys get caught doing something dirty at the office?”

  “No,” she answers. “We are doing the smart thing and getting ahead of it by reporting our relationship. I looked into the process already and, luckily, the policy I passively put into place when I formed the company years ago looks favorably at open and responsible inter-office relationships, so a big thank you to Past Nora for doing that.”

  “Hear hear!” I raise my glass and take a long sip. Really, I’ll take any excuse I can right now to get good and blitzed.

  “It should work out all right,” Nora says. “Still, I’m a little nervous about it, though.”

  Melanie nods. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Nor.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “You and Daddy will be just fine.”

  Nora’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t like us teasing her about her newfound kinky sex life as a submissive but — come on — she’s literally wearing a collar right now. I am happy for her, though. Very happy. Maybe even a little envious.

  “Oh!” I set my glass down and reach for my purse. “I almost forgot…” I snap it open and dig inside for the white envelope pinched between my wallet and my phone. “I have something for you all…”

  They both lean forward and their eyes widen as I withdraw the four rose gold tickets from inside.

  Nora snatches one from my hand. “It’s charity auction season already?” she asks. “Can I bring Clive?”

  “Please do,” I say.

  She squeals softly as she takes another one. “Yay! He’s gonna love this.”

  Melanie slides one free with a frown riding down her cheek. “Just the one for me this year,” she mutters.

  I stuff the fourth ticket back into the envelope. “Well, let me know if that changes. I have an extra ticket,” I say.

  “I doubt it. Although…” She perks up. “I can’t remember the last time I went to one of these single. This might work out in my favor.”

  “You in a tight dress surrounded by a bunch of drunk, rich dudes?” I quip. “If you don’t get laid, then there is officially no god.”

  Melanie fans herself with her ticket. “In that case, I definitely won’t miss it.”

  I glance up and my smile drops to the floor.

  Marcus fucking Donner is standing outside the restaurant with his hands cupped against the windows, his eyes scanning the tables for yours truly, obviously.

  “Ugh, come on!” I groan.

  Nora and Melanie swivel in their chairs, following my stare along the side windows.

  “Is that Marcus?” Nora asks.

  Melanie nods. “Wow, this guy…”

  I sulk in my seat but it’s too late. He’s looking right at me with those dark eyes, flexing that stiff, chiseled, underwear model jawline.

  “How did he even know I was here?” I whine.

  “I mean…” Nora shrugs, “we’ve had brunch here every Sunday for like five years.”

  “Okay, okay.” I exhale hard. “I know how he knew.”

  “Just saying…”

  I stand up from my seat. “I’ll be right back,” I say with a grunt.

  Melanie slides the napkin off her lap. “Do you want some backup?”

  “No, I can handle it.” I straighten my top, trying to look strong and capable but seriously — fuck this bullshit. “Thanks, though.”

  I make my way slowly through the restaurant, weaving around the tables while Marcus’ eyes follow my path to the entrance. I point forward, gesturing for him to meet me out there and he backs away from the windows.

  I step outside and he’s waiting for me on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and an annoyed twitch on his mouth.

  “Hey, Marcus,” I say, crossing my arms as a gust of cool wind passes between us. “What’s up?”

  “Where have you been?” he asks.

  “Around,” I answer. “Why?”

  “You’re avoiding me, that’s why.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m right here.”

  “And this morning?” He shifts closer as I look away to hide my wince. “You can’t keep dodging me like this, Trix.”

  “No one’s dodging anybody. I walked right past you. You didn’t see me?”

  He raises a bullshit-sensing brow. “We need to talk.”

  “We’re talking right now,” I say. “And honestly, I don’t really think we have much to say to each other. I asked you to back off and I did it nicely.”

  “You didn’t really give me much say in that,” he says.

  “Welcome to the world of consent, Marcus. It doesn’t matter how badly you want somebody. Unless you’re both on the same page, it ain’t happening. And we ain’t happening again. It’s over.”

  “Okay. Fine.” He exhales. “I didn’t want to do this here but you leave me no choice.”

  I roll my eyes. “Do what?”

  Marcus drops down on one knee.

  “Beatrix Argento…”

  My jaw falls open. “What are you doing?”

  He holds up a small, red, velvet box, instantly making several pedestrians come to a grinding halt on the sidewalk beside us.

  “Marry me,” he says.

  The bystanders break into a wave of happy gasps and cooing sighs while I grind my teeth hard.

  Marry me. He didn’t even bother to phrase it as a question.

  I deflate as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I spit.

  Marcus sits there in total silence, just staring up at me with hard, expectant eyes.

  “Get up,” I tell him.

  He doesn’t move.

  “For god’s sake, Marcus, get up.”

  I reach down, grabbing his jacket and forcing him up off the sidewalk.

  “Move along,” I bark at the grimacing crowd. “Don’t you people have lives?”

  They all scurry off like frightened cats as Marcus adjusts his jacket.

  I grit my teeth. “Marcus, what the hell are you thinking?”

  He rubs the stubble on his chin. “You’re not a young woman anymore, Trix.”

  My face screws up. “I’m thirty.”

  “Exactly. It’s about time for you to grow up and do your duty to the family.”

  I take a step back. “My what?”

  “I’ve already spoken with your father and he thinks a summer wedding will—”

  “You’ve what?” I choke on my tongue. “You’ve spoken to my dad about this?!”

  “Of course. We agreed a summer wedding will be best,” he says. “Though, we could move that up if you don’t want to show in the photos.”

  “Show?”

  “You’re thirty. The sooner you conceive, the better it’ll be for the both of you.”

  I recoil. “Good lord…”

  “Trix—”

  “Get the fuck away from me.”

  He tilts his head. “Come on—”

  “Get the fuck away from me.”

  “This isn’t—”

  “Get the fuck away from me.”

  He twitches with annoyance. “Are you finished?”

  “Are you?” I throw up my hands. “Marcus, you sound like a crazy person right now. Summer weddings and babies? Why?!”

  “I thought this would make you happy,” he says. “We’ve been together for years.”

  “Hooking up on the occasional Friday night because there’s nothing good on TV isn’t being together,” I argue. “I literally don’t even know your middle name.”

  “It’s Eugene.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course, it is.”

  He takes a step forward. “Now, that’s enough, Beatrix.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. “That’s what?”

  “It’s time. You need to stop parading around like a slut with those whore friends of yours and settle down. Be a good wife.”

  My smile drops. “Oh, you did not just go there.”

  “We’re announcing our engagement tonight at dinner,” he says. “You’ll move out of your apartment and move back home into the guest house with me.”

  I stand taller. “Marcus, we are not getting married, you will never touch me again, and this is the last time you’ll ever speak to me this way. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Trix—”

  “That’s Ms. Argento to you. You are my family’s employee, aren’t you?”

  He flexes his jaw. “Your father won’t like this.”

  “I don’t believe for a second he knows about this and even if he does he probably laughed in your face about it the second you brought it up. My father supports me and as soon as he’s free, he’s going to make me part of the family.”

  Marcus laughs. “You still believe that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  He leans in, his grin still deep in his face. “The marriage was his idea.”

  My chest clenches. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Ask him yourself.”

  He tosses the velvet box upward in my direction and my instincts tilt my hands to catch it.

  “Marcus—” I gasp as if he just plopped an active grenade in my palm.

  He ignores me and walks off down the sidewalk, his head gently bouncing over the top of the crowd. I watch him go, taking deep breaths to calm my temper until his tuft of black hair disappears around the corner.

  I stare at the red box in my hand, quickly giving into the ounce of curiosity I have. I open it and my stomach twists into knots.

  A bright, shining rock on an intricate band of gold. Clean, vintage, and a little too familiar for me to handle.

  I snap it closed and walk back into the restaurant, desperately attempting to shake the weight of betrayal off my shoulders as I make my way back to our table.

  “Trix, are you okay?”

  It’s Nora. I think.

  I release the velvet box, letting it roll onto the pure white tablecloth as I pick up the nearest mimosa and toss every drop of it into the back of my throat.

  There’s a gasp or two as I chug it down, followed quickly by the soft flick of the box opening.

  “He didn’t,” Melanie says.

  I plop down into my empty chair. “He did.”

  Nora pinches the ring and pulls it out of the box. “Is this what I think it is?” she asks.

  I nod. “It is.”

  Another round of mimosas lowers onto the table in front of me. Excellent timing, as usual.

  “Keep ‘em coming, buddy,” I mutter to no one as I grab a glass by the stem and bring it to my numb mouth.

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  New Release: On His Face

  A sneak peek at Tabatha’s latest hilarious romantic comedy!

  Heidi

  “This guy looks like a total prick.”

  I glare with surprise at Jenna sitting at the easel beside me. “Shh!” I say. “He’ll hear you.”

  “Well, he does,” she says, her strawberry blonde bob tickling her chin.

  I quickly check the model standing still in the center of the classroom. His face points to the right, his expression dull and void since class began, but that’s his job. Stand still for an hour. Earn fifty bucks.

  “No, he doesn’t,” I whisper.

  “No, definitely an asshole,” she says at normal volume.

  “Jenna.”

  “Resting prick face alert.”

  “Stop.”

  She raises a brow at me. “What?”

  “He’ll hear you,” I say.

  “Oh, calm down.” She scoffs. “No, he won’t.”

  “He might, though.”

  “So what if he does? He probably already knows and if not, then I don’t mind being the one to tell him.”

  I focus on my drawing again. Two dark charcoal eyes stare back at me from the easel, matching the ones on the model. Tonight’s assignment is drawing faces. Luckily, I’ve always been good at faces — and only faces. Hands? Nope. Clothes? Nada. But I can do faces.

  I snap my head toward my elbow as I sneeze. Stupid allergies.

  “Bless you,” Jenna mutters.

  “Thanks.”

  I glance up from my portrait as the model’s eyes flick away from me. Or maybe I just imagined it. Either way, my stomach turns somersaults. Did he hear Jenna call him an asshole? Or worse, did he think I said it? I hope I imagined it.

  Please let me have imagined it.

  I press charcoal to paper and add a little texture to the shadows beneath his nose. I blend it upward, following along the sharp cheekbone up to his ear, giving him a thin five o’clock shadow. I fill in the prominent cleft beneath his nose, then look at him again before outlining his lips.

  I lean forward without thinking. I squint to focus on his lips across the classroom. They’re thick, but not too thick. They dip down on the edges, creating a slight scowl. That’s probably why Jenna thinks the way she does, but I disagree. I think it makes him look pensive and wise. He’s young, but older than us by a few years. A real college man.

  His eyes flick in my direction. My hand jolts and I accidentally drag the pencil too far up his cheek.

  “Shit,” I whisper.

  Jenna leans over on her stool and chortles at my portrait. “Why so serious?” she says.

  I groan before reaching for my rubber eraser.

  “So, I’m thinking of heading to Bobby’s after class,” Jenna says.

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask as I attempt to save my portrait.

  “He and his roommates are having a little get-together. You should totally come along.”

  “Oh, no thanks,” I say. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Heidi, it’s not an intrusion if you’re invited,” she says, her voice slipping into that annoyed tone I know so well.

  “I know. I just...” I pause, searching for an excuse. “I have some homework to do.”

  “No one does homework on a Thursday night,” she says. “It’s the law.”

  “Well, I’m tired,” I say, grabbing the next available excuse. “I worked a double shift at the diner today and I wanted to catch up on my sleep.”

  “So you’re going to sleep and do all that homework, too?”

  I glare at her gotcha smile. “… Yes,” I answer.

  “Or you can come with me to Bobby’s and have some fun.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Jenna scoffs. “Heidi, do you remember the deal we made when we moved to Chicago together?”

  I sigh. “Yes, I remember.”

  “You said that you were the boring homebody in high school and you wanted to branch out at college.”

  My nose twitches. Another sneeze incoming. “I know, I just—”

  “I agreed to be your mentor on the condition that you actually try.”

  I snap toward my elbow again to obscure my sneeze.

  “Bless you,” she says again.

  “Thanks. I will try, Jenna. I just don’t want to try tonight. That’s all.”

  “Okay, fine.” She slowly draws the line of his jaw on her own portrait. “But tomorrow night, you’re going out with me.”

  I nod, jumping on the opportunity to satiate her and end this conversation. “I will go out with you tomorrow night,” I repeat.

  “Promise?”

  I cringe playfully. “Do I have to?”

  “Heidi, you will never fall in love with a stranger if you never meet people.”

  “But meeting people means they aren’t strangers anymore.”

  She pauses, briefly taken back by the logic. “Whatever. I’m not letting you weasel your way out of this one. You are going out with me tomorrow night and that’s final.”

  I chuckle. “I will.”

  “And then, you will do what your BFF Jenna would do, and bring a cute boy home with you to play with.”

  I shake my head. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Heidi.”

  “Jenna.”

  She pivots on her stool to face me. “Heidi, I love you. I adore you. You’ve been my bestie since we were five. All I want is for you to be happy.”