16. The Rosemonts

Jane

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I don't need your help," I tell Agnes, standing up from my place at the kitchen table.

She stands up as well. "Monsieur Green asked me to help you preparing ze wedding, since you insisted on doing it yourself," she fires back, giving me a stern look.

"I understand, but that won't be necessary." The reason I volunteered to do the planning was to keep myself occupied and to gain some kind of control over that day. I don't want anything too fancy or over the top. I demanded that Colton let the wedding planner go—after that UK bombshell, he owed me—but I should have specified I didn't want Agnes leaning over my shoulder either.

"Monsieur Green asked me to. Zere's no discussing zis. He's our employer, remember?" she says, irritation dripping from her tone.

Agnes knows how to throw punches. She's been pinching her lips since I got here, but I've felt the vibe loud and clear. With that jab, she just made it even clearer.

"I've already written a list of things we have to do. First, we need to figure out ze guest list, venue, food, band, decoration, and ze dress."

"Shouldn't I be discussing this with Colton?"

"I know Monsieur Green's tastes better zan my own. Ze wedding is in one month, so we don't ‘ave time to waste. I already printed out a few options for ze venue that I know Monsieur Greenwould love."

Of course she did. Just like that, my intimate affair became a one-hundred-guest Malibu wedding overlooking the ocean. So much for a project to occupy my time with.

"I'll make research about ze food, and zen we can discuss it," she says. "It'll be a little ‘arder with your dietary requirements, but I'm sure I'll find something."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She always acts like I'm on some kind of super strict diet. Every night, she makes a remark about how she was forced to make poultry, beef, or vegetables because she couldn't cook seafood. And every night, Colton humors her, telling her he likes the new menu and that he appreciates her going to all the trouble. I swear, it's like she's his mom or something.

Marcie texted yesterday to suggest we go out for lunch and a shopping spree, and I'm glad she did. Even if I generally don't mind being alone, there's something about spending my days in this giant house with no one to talk to that triggers the loneliness thing. Plus, I don't want to have another clothing mishap. I can't allow a mistake like that to throw me off my game—off my part—and risk embarrassing Colton. Every actress needs a wardrobe, after all.

I swing by my room to grab my bag and give Truffles a little pat and a kiss on her fluffy head. She yawns, stirs, and curls herself in a ball before closing her eyes. At least one of us is living her best life.

Marcie picks me up in a black sedan, and I'm surprised to see someone else already seated in the passenger seat. A cold wave creeps up on me. She didn't mention she'd be bringing someone. I just assumed we would be alone. I'm not very good at making friends, and three-girl groups always create tension.

I open the back door and slide onto the seat.

"Hey," I peep.

"Jane, hi," Marcie says, turning her head to flash me a big smile. "Hope you don't mind I brought my sister Jules along." She nods to the girl beside her, and I can't believe I didn't realize it right away. Except for a few differences, they look like they could be twins. Jules has wavy golden-brown hair that cascades over her shoulders while Marcie's is a bit darker. Jules has hazel eyes, and Marcie's are dark brown.

"Hey," Jules says, waving at me. "Sorry for crashing."

"Her boyfriend was being a prick . . . again. So she needed to get her mind off things," Marcie elaborates.

"No problem," I say with a genuine smile. Maybe this won't be so bad. It's always hard to bond with someone when there's someone else present, especially when they know each other so well, but Jules has the same kind eyes as Marcie. "Where are we going?"

"Cielo on Santa Monica Boulevard. A cute Italian place," Marcie says as we roll out of Colton's driveway.

The drive to the restaurant lasts about fifteen minutes. When we arrive, we're seated at a round table with a cute checkered tablecloth. A server brings us some ice water with basil leaves as garnish, and we order right away. The girls come here often, so they know what they want. I just follow along.

"Congrats on your engagement," Jules says, offering a perfect smile. "I'm sorry I won't be able to make the party, though."

"Thank you, and don't worry about it," I say with a smile of my own. Especially since I have no idea who's on the guest list, just like I don't know who's invited to the wedding. Though I'm assuming it'll be the same people. "Hope you'll make the wedding," I add.

"I wouldn't miss it. Who knew Colton Green was such a romantic? I mean, sure, he created a matchmaking app and all. But still."

"Right?" Marcie says. "That's exactly what I said."

"I suppose he can seem a little cold," I say. Who am I kidding? He's frigid most of the time. "But he can be sweet too." My mind wanders back to all those moments when he revealed to me what I believe is his real self. When he doubled my advance, when he moved me out of my apartment early, when he switched my bedroom for one downstairs so Truffles would be safer. Underneath that icy surface, Colton Green is a pretty decent man.

"If only Zed would be more like that," Jules groans, her chin resting on her hand. "He's—"

"A prick," Marcie finishes. "And I don't want to talk about it anymore. We've gone over this all night and all morning. I need a break from the drama."

Jules shakes her head. "You're right. He doesn't deserve me. I'm better than that," she says, as if repeating a mantra.

"That's it." Marcie gives her a teasing pat on the shoulder. "Tell yourself what you tell your patients."

"Patients?" I ask, my brow wrinkled.

"Jules is a psychologist."

"Funny, huh? How I'm giving people advice even though I'm a mess myself."

"Are you studying to become a psychologist too?" I ask Marcie, remembering she's about to start med school.

"Nope. I want to be a surgeon."

My eyes widen. "That's great. Ambitious."

Marcie's cheeks redden, and Jules wraps an arm around her. "My little sister is hoping to outshine all of us and finally make our dad's wishes come true—that one of us follows in his footsteps."

"Dad's a neurosurgeon," Marcie explains.

"How many more siblings do you have?"

"Two," they say in unison.

"Jules is the oldest, and I'm the youngest," Marcie says. "Then there's Dean. He's two years older than me, and he's a sports agent. And Amber, who's a year older than Dean. She moved to New York to be a lawyer," Marcie says."

"Fancy," I say, truly impressed by their highly successful family.

"The three of us live together," Jules adds. "Dean, Marcie, and me."

"Our parents wanted us to be independent and learn to take care of ourselves. They're French expats who made it big through hard work and dedication."

"You're French?" Looks like French people are warm and nice like any other nationality.

Marcie shakes her head. "Our parents are, but we were all born here."

Maybe that's where the difference lies?

"So, once we graduated, they loaned us some money and told us to figure it out, basically," Jules adds. "Their way of teaching us hard work."

"Oh," I say, not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing.

"It's good," Jules says, as if reading my mind. "They want us to succeed, not sit on the couch all day because we have an inheritance waiting for us."

"That's a smart way to teach hard work," I say.

Before they can reply, the server returns with our food, and it smells heavenly. Creamy linguine pasta with a twist of lemon. The girls were right; it's delicious.

"So, how did you meet Colton?" Jules asks, her eyes sparkling.

I chuckle. "On his app. I made a profile, and we matched. We dated for a while, and when he proposed, the choice was obvious."

"A true love story," Marcie sighs with a beaming smile, and I force myself to return it.

After we're done eating, we stroll to the stores next door for some shopping. I'm not ecstatic at the idea of using Colton's credit card, but I know this is as much for him as it is for me. I'll donate all the clothes to charity when I'm finished playing this part. The girls are great shopping companions, and they help me find a few good options for both casual and evening wear, including a gorgeous dress for the engagement party. As we exit the third store, Marcie gasps and places a hand in front of her face.

"What?" Jules asks, glancing around.

"Lewis Morgan and Kelly McDonald are here," she says, hustling away in the opposite direction.

On our left is a twenty-something couple. The guy is wearing a leather jacket and biker boots, and the girl a neon-green tube dress. They're gazing through a shop window.

"Oh, so that's Lewis Morgan!" Jules muses, her eyes widening.

"Shh!" Marcie says, grabbing her sister's arm and dragging her away. Once we've put some distance between our group and the couple, she stops. "Could you be a bit more discreet?"

"Sorry," Jules says. "I've been hearing about him for years. Glad I finally got to put a face to the name. He's a hottie."

"Oh, is this someone you have a crush on?" I ask, catching the vibe. And Jules is right, that guy was super cute.

Marcie makes a gagging sound. "Puh-lease. I do not have a crush on Lewis Morgan. I hate the guy. He's persona non grata in our household."

Jules shakes her head, casting me a glance. "He's Dean's nemesis. It started when he took his spot on the football team in college, and it never really stopped. I was already out of UCLA by then, so I never got to meet him in the flesh. Thus, my excitement."

"Oh, I see." Though I'm having a hard time believing the blush on Marcie's face is because she just came across her brother's enemy.

"I didn't think I'd see him again now that the semester is over," Marcie says, not coming down to reality. "Caught me off guard. Anyway, should we hit one more store before going home?"

She's feigning nonchalance, but I see the way her chest is heaving with each breath. I'm pretty sure her heart is rattling in her chest, just like mine did when Colton rubbed my back at the charity gala.