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I nod.
“Good. Save our spot. I almost had to fight someone for that booth.” She strides confidently to the front, where she grabs a bottle of water and tosses it my way before ordering.
I’m aware of the women staring at me across the room. I glance up from my phone and grin at one of them. She nearly faints.
I down half the bottle in a few gulps. Without wasting another second, I navigate to the gossip site where the blind items are posted. My name isn’t on the update yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time, considering people speculated it was me in the comments.
Billie returns with a receipt between her fingers. Her eyes flick over my shoulder. “What are you looking at?”
“Just staying informed.”
I shoot her a glance as she slides across from me. Her expression is a blend of skepticism and intrigue.
She smirks. “So, who is she? When do I get to meet her?”
“Who?”
“The woman you’ve not introduced to your friends or family,” she says. “The one you’re going to marry?”
My brows furrow. “Please tell me that’s not what’s being said now. It’s all fabricated,” I explain, keeping my voice low as I lean in. “Someone’s stirring up trouble, trying to get a rise out of Lena. And when I find out who it is, I’m going to fuck them up.”
I flash a sweet smile, but she knows I’m not kidding. This is digital warfare.
Her brows knit together in concern. “I hope youneverfindthem then. That sounds like a one-way ticket to a prison cell. I don’t think orange is your color,” she says, shaking her head.
Since she’s a fashionista, her word carries weight, and I know better than to argue.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I chuckle.
“You seem different today,” she says, watching me. “What’s up?”
“I’ve had a hard week. Just tired.”
“Or you’re in the lovesick phase of your cycle. Easton gets in a grumpy mood at this stage too.”
I smirk, wondering if she’s right. Eastondoeshave a cycle. Is it possible that ours is the same? We’re more alike than not.
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m so intrigued. Will you at least allow me to guess who it is?” she prods, leaning forward, her eyes alight with excitement. “Then you can confirm if it’s true or not.”
“Order for Billie!” a voice calls out from the counter.
“I’ll get it!” I singsong, eager to escape the intensity of our conversation.
As I grab our food, I take the time to get my mind right. Billie is my sister and one of my closest allies, and she can read me like a book just as easily as Easton can, which is both comforting and unnerving. When one of us is in love, we act a certain way, and I’m concerned she’s picked up on it.
I return to the booth, our baskets in hand, and glance at her expectantly.
“Tell me,” she whispers.
“Carlee,” I mutter, barely able to keep my voice steady.
“I knew it.” She claps her hands together and draws unneeded attention to us.
I glance around. The women have pulled out their cell phones, and they’re recording us. I’m aware this will end up on the internet.
“Stop looking at me like that. People are videoing.”