4. Emzee

EMZEE

CHAPTER 4

“E m? Earth to Emzee?” A gentle voice pulled me back to reality. “You okay?”

I glanced up to find my sister-in-law Tori standing by our table at NoMI, looking a little concerned. She was wearing a designer maternity dress, a floral wrap maxi with little bows on the sleeves, and as usual she looked radiant.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” I fibbed, standing to greet her. “Also you look amazing, mama. Have some breadsticks before I finish them all, they’re to die for.”

Tori grabbed one and bit into it with a grin. “I feel like that bratty girl in Willy Wonka’s factory who turned into a giant blueberry, but thanks for the compliment.”

We exchanged cheek kisses before sitting down. It took her a little longer to get into the booth than it did me, lowering herself carefully, her belly huger than I’d ever seen it.

“So how’s things?” she asked. “Have you, umm, had any contact with your dad?”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know if that’s going to happen, honestly. I need some time. He’ll always be my dad, but…it’s still kind of a mindfuck. You spend your whole life around someone and you think you know them, and then…you realize you don’t. At all.”

She nodded. “I get it. Really. And I won’t push. Just know I’m here if you want to talk. Stefan’s been a mess, too.”

It wasn’t just dad-in-jail stuff that had me in a slump. After last night’s whirlwind of emotions with Ford, I was really counting on my bi-monthly Lunch With The Wives (that’s how I had it down in my calendar) to be the distraction I so desperately needed.

Having grown up in a house full of men, I appreciated the fact that the family now included Tori and—more recently—Brooklyn, my brother Luka’s wife. No more boys’ club for me. Still, it was an adjustment. For someone used to being around a bunch of emotionally distant males, it was taking me some time to warm up to the idea of being completely open with my sisters-in-law. Mostly I let them spout their troubles and humble brags and pregnancy anecdotes while I pretended they weren’t talking about my older brothers. Because ew.

“Your charcuterie board and wine,” the waiter said cordially, dropping off the items I’d ordered. “May I get you started with something?” he asked Tori.

“I’d love a mocktail,” she said. “Something fruity?”

As they chatted about the faux-alcohol selection, my mind immediately reverted back to Ford and our conversation last night. Could I survive pretending to be his girlfriend for a month, possibly two? What if it made our friendship weird? What if I got too attached to the ruse, and couldn’t act normal around him afterward? It seemed so risky…but maybe worth the risk?

That was when Brooklyn showed up, calling out our names across the restaurant as she wove through the tables. Even without the verbal announcement, it would have been hard not to notice her; as a top Danica Rose model and popular social media influencer, not only was she breathtakingly beautiful, but she knew how to make an entrance.

It was part of what made Brooklyn who she was. She was all about “moments”—appreciating them, capturing them, and sharing them. They were the focus of her IG account, and her followers loved the vicarious experiences they “lived” via her posts. Whenever she taught classes for my charity, I got great feedback. Taking photos for social media was very different from artistic or commercial photography, and she was really, really good at what she did.

“Sorry I’m late,” she whispered as she slid into the booth next to me.

She wasn’t as far along in her pregnancy as Tori, but thanks to her bodycon dress, I couldn’t help noticing that Brooklyn’s cute little baby bump was getting a lot rounder.

“One blueberry rosemary lemon mocktail,” the waiter said, repeating Tori’s order back to her. “And for you?” He turned to Brooklyn.

“That sounds so good—I’ll have the same,” she said with a grin. “Oh, and an order of the lobster beignets, please. Thank you!”

They immediately launched into a discussion about morning sickness, which Brooklyn was only just starting to experience in full force, and I nodded along and tried not to think about Ford Malone. Stupid Ford Malone. Stupid, gorgeous, dimpled, always-gets-what-he-wants?—

“Emzee?”

My head whipped up and I realized I’d zoned out again. Tori and Brooklyn were both staring at me expectantly, obviously awaiting a response to some question.

“Sorry, what?” I said.

Brooklyn smiled. “You’ve really got your head in the clouds today, don’t you? This is the first time I’ve ever seen you not snap to attention the second something about food comes up.”

Tori leaned over and pointed at the menu in front of me that I’ve been ignoring. “We were trying to figure out if we should blow our seafood limit for the week getting every kind of sushi they have or just gorge ourselves on burgers and French onion soup.”

“That’s a tough call, because there is no wrong choice here,” I said seriously. “But I’m leaning burger myself. Maybe with avocado and a side of heirloom carrots.”

“Mmmm,” they moaned in unison.

Once our order was in, I tried my hardest to pay attention to the conversation despite my obsession over the Ford thing. His timing could not have been worse, honestly.

Something about both of my brothers being married (with babies on the way, no less) had made me think it was finally time to get over my crush on Ford. So I’d recently decided to get out there and try dating for real. Meaning I’d force myself to go out with other mature, well-adjusted adults who had similar views and life goals and interests—instead of letting myself fall for every hot, immature, self-absorbed artist within a ten-hour flight time radius who piqued my interest, and then a few months later asking myself (yet again) how it had managed to blow up in my face so badly. Because, yes, that was my usual pattern.

It was time to change it up.

And I’d really been ready. I’d really wanted to try. I’d signed up for a few dating apps to psych myself up, and I’d even been accepted to Reva. My thought was that the exclusive matchmaking service would mean my dates were pre-vetted, so it’d be easier to find someone who not only lived up to my brothers’ insanely high standards, but who’d also be as passionate about and successful in his trade as I was. It had seemed like the perfect plan to move on from my best friend.

But how was I supposed to do that now if I was pretending to date him?

God, and how could I still be obsessing over this petty stuff when the Bratva’s threats were still hanging over my family’s heads? Not that Tori and Brooklyn knew anything about it. Everything was just a mess.

“You know I love you,” Brooklyn said, “but I refuse to sit here while you stew in silence, Em. So whatever it is, you’re either going to have to spit it out now or worry about it later.”

My fake smile was instantaneous. “I’m fine. It’s just…work stuff.”

Tori narrowed her eyes. “What kind of work stuff? Is something happening with the agency? Stefan’s seemed kind of avoidant lately. I thought I was just being paranoid, but…”

There’s no way I could let her or Brooklyn get suspicious about the Bratva stuff, and the last thing they needed right now was to find out how much trouble we were in. Quickly, I changed the subject—by blurting out the truth. “Just having some dating drama.”

“What?!” Tori blurted excitedly. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone!”

Brooklyn scooted closer. “Are you having boy troubles?” She tilted her head, frowning a little. “Or girl troubles? No judgement here.”

“I’m not exactly seeing anyone per se, but…” At the thought of Ford’s proposition, I could feel my cheeks heat, but I was in too deep now. I’d just have to spill my guts.

“But…” prodded Tori.

Searching their faces, I said, “Okay, you have to swear that this is all Vault, okay? Like, do not repeat this to anyone including your inner circle. It’s kind of humiliating.”

“Of course,” Brooklyn agreed, nodding.

“We swear ourselves to utmost secrecy and discretion,” Tori put in. “Cross our hearts.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and scooted closer. “So here’s the thing. Last night, one of my best guy friends asked me if I’d agree to fake-date him for a month or two. To get his mom off his back about his ex, because she’s been tormenting him. I don’t really know the terms except that we can’t see other people, but I’m torn. I’m still mulling it over.”

There. I’d said it. Maybe it’d do me some good to have a few other opinions about it. Besides, they weren’t wrong; I was obviously brimming with angst over the situation.

“Should I help him out?” I asked. “It seems risky.”

“Risky how?” Brooklyn said. “You don’t have feelings for him, do you?”

“No, of course not,” I said, quickly stuffing my face with a bite of cheeseburger to avoid blurting anything incriminating.

Tori swiped a few of my fries, having already devoured hers. “Isn’t that all the more reason to help him out, then? It’s just temporary. Are you attracted to him?”

Setting my food back down, I shrugged. “I mean, anyone who sees him is attracted to him. But he’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since high school, and I’m fond of him. Just not like that.”

“Still, that’s a fun bonus. Why turn down free arm candy? Maybe you could even use him to make other guys jealous when you go out,” Tori mused.

“I think you should go for it, Em,” Brooklyn said. “And since he’s hot, you should definitely bang him and report back. You’re young and single. Might as well make it fun.”

She and Tori laughed, and I tried to join in.

“I definitely will not be banging him, but I appreciate the advice,” I said. Then I changed the subject to the dessert menu, insisting they save room for the caramel pots de creme.

Obviously there was no way in hell I could sleep with Ford. That would be the real risk. Because I’d never confess it to The Wives, but the honest truth was…I still had my V-card. Giving it up to Ford would definitely not help with my Feelings.

But damn. Fantasizing about it couldn’t hurt, could it?