There’s a new shade of worry in her eyes as I admit, “I don’t know.”
“Well,check.” She glances pointedly down at my mobile.
My stomach curdles, grip tightening on the device. “Are you really going to make me google myself?” I don’t want to search my name and find more evidence of how much people all over the world loathe me, because I know that’s going to pop up first. It always does.
“Desperate times,” Stella says. “I’d do it myself but I have no idea where my phone even is.”
Well, I certainly don’t wantherlooking me up. I got through last night without her learning about my little rant, and I’d like to escape this situation without her discovering it.
“Fine, fine,” I huff, clearing out the search bar again and reluctantly typing my name in.
I hesitate for a moment before hittingenterand hold my breath until the page loads. And—oh no.
I clear my throat and then swallow hard, trying to dislodge the lump that’s settled there. “Okay, so don’t panic,” I say.
Stella makes another choked sound. “I would suggest not starting a sentence like that if youdon’twant me to panic.”
She’s right, but I really don’t know how else to broach this. “There’s no news about the wedding,” I preface, but before she can consider sighing in relief, I go on. “There are, however, photos of us from the strip club.”
A lotof photos, if the top few results are anything to go by. Some are of us innocently sitting beside each other andsmiling. But most are of Stella in my lap, my hands on her body, her head thrown back, our lips locked—the money shots.
The articles only started hitting the media in the past ten minutes, which would explain why my phone isn’t blowing up with calls and texts from my manager and PR team yet, but I’m sure they’re on their way.
Stella’s hesitant to take the phone from me so she can see for herself, and I realize then that it’s not anger making her react like this. It’s fear.
“Fuck,” she exhales as she taps through everything. “You were right to be worried about this happening. I should have listened to you about being seen together.”
It stings a little to hear that, but I’m the one who brought it up in the first place, so I have no right to be upset.
“At least no one can see where your hand is in these photos,” Stella says, trying to be optimistic even though her voice is grim. “That’s one good—oh.” She shoves my phone back toward me. I hear it buzzing before I look down. “Figgy’s calling you.”
I almost make a sound of disgust, barely swallowing it back. The woman, determined to be the first at the scene of my crimes, must have a Google Alert set up for me, because she’s alwaysright therewhen something happens. I used to appreciate her uncanny ability to know when I was facing something big, good or bad, but there came a point when it started feeling…overbearing.
It’s not a coincidence that it began around the time our families made it clear they wanted us together. The added pressure made me pull back from our friendship, but Figgy leaned in, trying to play the girlfriend role without having the title.
Seeing her name on my screen last night was a nuisance. This morning, it makes my shoulders sag with the weight of unmet expectations.
“You still ignoring her?” Stella asks when I don’t immediately take the phone from her outstretched hand.
Very much so.“I’ll talk to her later. I need to call my manager before this blows up into something bigger.” I have to make sure I’m still going to have a spot in F1 after this. “You should do the same with your people.”
If we get our teams on it now, maybe there’s something they can do to tamp it down. I’m almost certain it’ll be a lost cause, though. Once things like this hit the internet, there’s no taking them back.
I finally take my phone from Stella when it stops buzzing, but it starts up again seconds later, Figgy’s face filling the screen. I’m tempted to block her, just temporarily, so I can take a moment tothinkwithout her pushing into my brain. I’ve told her time and time again that I’m not looking to be anything more than friends. What is it going to take to convince her and my family that I mean it?
The answer hits me like a truck. I can practicallyfeelthe light bulb illuminating above my head. It glows brighter when it dawns on me that I could solve more than just this problem in one fell swoop.
“Actually,” I say, dragging out the word as the idea swirls and forms. “I don’t think we need to worry about this.”
Stella gapes at me before spluttering, “Excuseme?”
I sound absolutely unhinged. Mad as a hatter. Like I’ve completely lost the plot. But if I’m going to go for it, I might as well hit full send.
“I think we should just leave all of this alone.” I take a breath and then go in for the kill. “We shouldn’t get an annulment. Not yet, at least.”
I take in her wide eyes and parted lips, her horror palpable. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“Hear me out…” Before I say more, I motion for her to sit on the couch, but she’s not budging. Okay. Well. If she passes out after she listens to what I’m about to suggest, I’ll do my best to catch her on the way down. “Obviously something made us want to get married, right?”
