Page 70 of The Friend Situation

“I don’t care,” she says, cutting into her avocado toast with asharp knife. “I’m going to savor this moment of you falling madly in love.”

“Fuck off,” I mutter. I take a satisfying bite of my smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel, the flavors mingling in my mouth. “We’re just friends,” I assure her, the words slipping from my lips with a touch more confidence than I feel.

I shoot another woman a wink, and her cheeks immediately blush.

My sister turns and glances at her, then back to me. “Do you have to flirt everywhere we go?”

“It’s called being friendly.”

“Mmhmm. And that’s exactly what got you into this secret relationship, right? Your charm and friendliness.” She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t act like you’re not as bad as me, little sis. I’ve heard about your rendezvous.”

Her cheeks heat, but her lips stay in a firm line.

I lean closer, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think Easton could’ve posted the first blind item?”

She narrows her eyes, then laughs. “Easton? Why would he do that?” she asks.

I sigh. “It feels personal.”

“Maybe Carlee posted it?”

My brows pinch together. “I didn’t consider that.”

Billie doesn’t know Carlee is behind LuxLeaks. It’s best no one else ever finds out.

“How well do you know her? Is she a safe person?” Billie asks.

I glance around, wary of prying ears lurking nearby. “She’s Lexi’s best friend. She can be trusted.”

“You’re positive she’s not clout chasing?” my sister asks.

“I know her heart. She’s not like that,” I say.

I’ve learned everything I could about Carlee. Connections—it’s so fucking nice having them.

My sister’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you together in passing at my Halloween party.”

“She doesn’t want the attention.”

“But you do.” She’s curious. “You’re setting up the board. Stacking the odds in your favor.”

The corners of my mouth lift. Maybe I am.

“Everyone will talk about the two of you. Is that what you want?” Her brow arches. Skepticism is written all over her face.

“I want to live my life,” I say, somewhat defensive.

“Have you kissed?” she asks.

“I’m not having this conversation.” I’m growing agitated because she’s too nosy.

“You have,” she whispers, giddy. “Please tell me you felt a spark. Did you?”

I glare at her.

“Why won’t she date you?” she throws out bluntly, raising a brow.