Page 30 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

The Prettiest Saint

MADDIE

S itting on the side of my bed, I did the same thing I did every day. I read my morning text from Easton.

Or, in that case, I reread it. I hadn’t been able to fully process it the first time. I’d only been operating at half a brain cell when it’d come in at the ungodly hour of seven AM on a Saturday. And then I’d snoozed my alarm too many times and had to rush through brunch prep.

That wasn’t hard since it was just showering and throwing on athleisure that made it look like I’d attended hot yoga with Wren and Greer when I very much had not .

Easton: Good morning, guppy. Text me when you’re actually awake, and I will send you a coffee.

You’ll be attending an engagement party with me tonight.

Sorry for the late notice. I forgot about it, and it’s too important of a client to skip.

Pick you up at 8. Wear your white dress, and make sure you’re done with assignments by then.

Me: I finally get to meet one of your clients? Who is it?

I didn’t think I would get a quick response since he’d already shared that he had a few meetings and an interview for a new paralegal, but one came through instantly.

Easton: You’ll have to attend to find out.

Me: Deal. But I’m not wearing the white dress. Backup choice?

Easton: What did I say, Madeline?

I had the tendency to question Easton on occasion.

And that occasion was pretty much daily.

One thing that I didn’t push back on, though, was when he told me what to wear. I loved that. Not only did it pluck one thing off my plate, it also took the guesswork out of trying to look… presentable.

Okay, fine. Good . I wanted to look good for him, and I knew that was accomplished when I wore what he’d picked out.

Only the white dress was not happening.

Before I could tell him why, he sent another text. Maybe because of the nature of our not-a-relationship, he didn’t play any games. There was no need to. He never waited some bullshit time period after seeing me. And he didn’t try to space out his double or sometimes triple texts.

Easton: If it’s dirty, I’ll have someone take it to the laundromat for a rush job so you can focus on your schoolwork.

Me: I’m not wearing white to an engagement party. It’s poor taste, and it would guarantee someone will “accidentally” spill red wine down it. I like that dress. I don’t want it ruined.

Easton: I’m also fond of it, so I agree. I’ll send something else.

Me: I have options.

Easton: I will send something else.

Since I’d kinda broken a rule by arguing, I messaged back a distraction.

Me: In good news, my assignments were done last night. It must be a miracle.

Easton: I’ll alert the Vatican.

Me: Please do. Maybe it’ll earn me sainthood. I would look good on a candle.

Easton: Yes, you would. Would you like another massage to celebrate your free day?

At one of our dinners earlier in the week, I’d offhandedly mentioned that my back and muscles were so stiff, they were basically made of steel and concrete.

After he’d scolded me for not saying anything when he’d had me sitting on the floor in his office—something I’d quickly become obsessed with in the week and a half since he’d first had me do it—he’d booked me a long massage and facial at the nicest spa I’d ever stepped foot in.

Good sugar baby that I was, I hadn’t even argued about it.

I was tempted to accept the offer, but Wren had messaged the night before to request a special Saturday brunch. I didn’t want to put a time limit on that since she’d seemed… off.

Me: No, thank you. I also don’t need coffee today.

Easton: I don’t know if that’s another miracle I should alert the Vatican of, or if that was a code sentence to make me aware you’ve been kidnapped.

A buzz of that giddy adrenaline tingled through me, and I opened the camera.

It took a dozen attempts and a few position adjustments so he couldn’t see the collection of cups on my nightstand or the discarded clothing options I’d piled onto the bed to deal with later.

But I finally got a cute enough picture, and I sent it to him.

Me: Proof of life.

As soon as I pressed send, bestie bickering filled my apartment. It grew louder as they approached before pausing in the hallway.

“Are you seriously still asleep, Mads?” Greer called.

“Hide your shame and your nudity,” Wren added as the door was pushed open.

Neither actually entered.

I tossed my phone into my bag—a new one from Easton—and stood. “It’s safe to come in.”

Both women finally stepped into the room and gave exaggerated shocked faces. It was Greer who spoke. “You’re actually awake.”

I put my palm to my chest like I was wounded by their—incredibly accurate—insinuations. “If one of my best friends in the world requests brunch, of course I sacrifice my sleep for them.”

“And for the French toast,” Wren put in.

“And that, yes.”

Once we were seated at the restaurant, I looked over to see Wren using her nails—that time designed like little jack-o’-lanterns for fall, despite the week of unseasonably warm weather—to nervously stab her napkin.

I didn’t have to push to get answers. She volunteered them. “I want you guys to meet Chris.”

That wasn’t a surprise. If anything, it was more shocking that it’d taken so long for that to occur.

And that she was nervous about it.

Greer shot me a quick look that I took to mean she was equally confused before she said, “It’s about time. When?”

“Tonight? I know it’s last minute but I’m really, really excited.”

Easton.

I was finally going to meet a client, dammit.

I might still if he doesn’t allow me to break the plans.

That thought should’ve been a red flag. Actually, it should’ve been a confetti cannon of them.

It wasn’t.

I enjoyed how greedy he was with my time.

Usually.

But I didn’t want to ditch out on Wren when it was clearly important.

I just had to hope he was cool with me ditching him instead.

It was that or clone myself to be in two places at once. And I just didn’t think the world could handle two Maddie Bakers.

“That works for me,” I said.

Hopefully.

I smiled at my surprisingly anxious friend. It wasn’t an emotion I saw often from her, and that—along with her dodginess over text—sounded the alarm in my head. “But are you okay?”

She sighed. “I really like him. And I want you guys to like him.”

“We always like the guys you date,” Greer said. Which was true. We weren’t bitchy besties who talked shit and tried to sabotage any and all happiness. We were girl’s girls, and Wren made that easy. A point Greer also added. “You have good taste.”

“Except Rocco,” I interjected, bringing up the senior she’d dated as a freshman.

“Oof, we don’t talk about him,” Wren said. “Plus, we weren’t dating. We were seeing each other for three brief yet smarmy weeks. This is different. Chris asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“And?”

“And I said yes, of course. So now I want you guys to meet him and adore him like I do because I really, really like him.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Okay, I really, really, really like him.”

“I’m sure we will, too.” Greer leaned in. “What’s the plan?”

“I figured a bar. That gives us the opportunity to hang out and chat without it being high pressure. But dinner would set an unofficial timeframe if it’s not going well.”

“It’ll go fine. A bar sounds perfect.” She hesitated for a moment. “Would it help if I invite Josh to take some pressure off?”

I wish I could invite Easton.

I ignored the reckless thought to focus on whacking my friend. Only in the arm, though, not the face.

“Hey, ouch .”

“You told me to hit you the next time you talked about seeing him. Technically, you said for me to slap you silly, which I can do if you would like.”

“You did say that,” Wren backed me up. “You said you want to actually move on.”

“That was before. He’s been different lately. I think he realized that I was actually ending things, and it freaked him out.”

“Good. As it should.” Wren gave a frenzied nod. “But also, yes, please invite him.”

As they talked more, I pulled my phone out. My last message to Easton was still unseen. It was my turn to double text as I added another.

Me: So, I know the rule is that time with you comes first, and we have plans tonight. But would it be okay if I missed them? Wren sprung something on me that’s kinda pretty important.

I started to add that I would make it up to him, but I didn’t want to sound desperate.

Even if I very much so was.

Easton

I need a better work-life balance.

Or any work-life balance.

Unlike a lot of lawyers who’d made partner or ran their own firm the size of Wells Law, I didn’t make my employees work the insane hours while I kept normal business ones.

Everyone had longer days—it was the nature of the business—but I was there right along with them.

I also made sure to balance it out with extra time off, long weekends, and flexibility when needed to prevent burnout.

I just didn’t extend that same consideration to myself.

Usually, I didn’t want or need it. But for weeks, I’d been ending my day much earlier than usual to take Maddie out. When I couldn’t get away, I had her come to me.

She was a distraction.

One I enjoyed.

With a five-minute break between meetings, I should’ve been checking emails or preparing for the next one. Instead, I grabbed my cell and opened my texts.

Her smiling face hit me in the dick and gut, and I held the image down to save it like a stalker.

Christ, she’s fucking pretty.

I stared at it for far too long before swiping the photo away to read her messages.

Oh fuck no.

My first instinct was to say no to canceling because I was a selfish bastard.

I didn’t, though. If seeing her with Greer and Wren hadn’t already shown they were close, hearing Maddie talk about them would’ve made it abundantly clear.

If she was backing out of plans, there was a reason for it, and I didn’t want to put her in a stressful spot.

I wanted to use it to my advantage.

Me: Only because you sent me that beautiful picture, Madeline. You can make it up to me a different time.

My thoughts drifted to the ways I wanted her to do that. None were an option, but my hardened dick didn’t get that message.

Standing, I adjusted so it was stretched up my stomach and pinned in place by my waistband. It was uncomfortable as hell, but it was that or let it lead the next meeting for me. I was about to return to the conference room when my phone vibrated.

Guppy: Of course, just tell me how.

Guppy: And thank you for understanding.

Her messages didn’t help my hard-on or my distractibility.

How big of a prick would I be to change my mind?