EMILIA

I didn’t need to be a PR manager—or a mind reader—to know how this looked.

Zane was obsessed with Liam Calloway. That much, I remember. Back in college, he once refused to let me sit in the front seat of his car because Liam had been there a few hours ago, and he didn’t want me “messing up his good luck charm.”

I thought he was joking and got in anyway. We had a massive fight. Then his team lost the game, and he lost it on me, yelling about how he “couldn’t have a girl that couldn’t fucking listen.”

The memory makes my mouth taste bitter. I remember crying to Tess, wondering why he didn’t just date Liam if he meant so much to him.

Tess watches me closely, still grinning mischievously, but I can tell she’s still really pissed. Just barely keeping it together. Then, without another word, she turns and heads to her room. Probably to cool off, and it’s probably for the best, too. If she stayed, we’d just start fighting again.

She pauses in the doorway. “Think about it all you want, but I’m having dinner with Liam tonight. It’s at that Thai place I mentioned.” She glances at me. “Not pressuring you or anything, but if you’re okay with it, this could be your first official date in the public eye. I can tell Liam to ditch the sunglasses and facemask. Dress up. But only if it’s what you want, ‘kay?”

Her eyes soften, like she sees something in my face I don’t even realize I’m showing. “I love you, Emilia. Even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

Then she disappears into her room, shutting the door softly behind her.

And finally, for the first time today, I can breathe.

***

I’ve never been good at makeup. I pull up a YouTube tutorial on mascara and nearly melt into my bed.

I can count on one of Tessa’s perfectly manicured hands the number of times I’ve worn it at all—and only on secret outings with her, ones Zane never knew about. She’d sit me down, tilt my chin up, and “pretty me up,” as she called it. I know I could knock on her door right now, ask for help, and erase all the tension between us. But I don’t want to. Not yet.

Zane hated when I wore makeup. Sometimes, he’d yell just for finding a tube of lip gloss in my purse.

I shake my head. That’s a pathetic excuse for not even knowing how to put on mascara. I remember the look Tess gave me the first time I told her I avoided it because of him.

Now, I’m sitting on my bed, wearing the prettiest dress I own, it’s a gorgeous white one Tess bought me for my birthday last year. I add hoop earrings, then gather my curls into a simple ponytail. They shrink easily anyway, so there’s no point in letting them down.

The YouTube video was easier to follow than I expected. Turns out, I already had most of the products, thanks to Tess. And when I look in the mirror, I think I did a pretty decent job.

Then, a thought creeps in. Was it worth it? All those years pretending I didn’t like makeup. Pretending I didn’t want to look as beautiful as the girls on social media.

I guess Zane leaving me has some perks. Now, I can do things like this without worrying if he approves.

I grab a black purse and steal one last glance at myself in the mirror. My breath catches.

I look… pretty.

My eyes burn with unshed tears.

When was the last time I liked the way I looked?

When was the last time I was allowed to care?

I open my door.

Tessa is standing outside, her hand frozen mid-air, about to knock. She sees me and stops, lips parting slightly, but she says nothing.

So I speak instead.

“I’m ready.” I lift my chin. “I’ll make that asshole regret wasting ten years of my life.”

Tessa gives me the biggest, shit eating grin ever.

***

The restaurant is smaller and more intimate than I expected. We’ve only just arrived, but Tess quickly waves away the waiter, telling her we’re still waiting for more people.

I try not to think about the last time I was at a restaurant—seven months ago. The most embarrassing, heartbreaking day of my life. Every time Tess tried to take me out after that, I shut her down immediately. She must’ve been suspicious, but she never pushed. That meant more than she probably realized.

“You could at least try not to look like you’re about to shit yourself,” Tess mutters before taking a sip of water.

She looks stunning, as always. My stomach twists the way it always does around her—envy curling tight in my gut—but I push it away.

“It’s really just Liam,” she says, her voice casual. “Like, of all people, he’s the last one you should be nervous about. You should be more worried about him trying to get into your pants.”

I snort, but the joke doesn’t land right.

Because now my stomach is twisting for a different reason.

It’s stupid. But maybe Zane’s sudden marriage messed with my head, because the words slip out before I can stop them. “Should I be worried about him doing that with others as well?” Or you?

Like a hound on a scent, or maybe just someone who knows me more than I know myself, she hears the question I don’t ask.

Tess stares at me for a second—then bursts out laughing.

She laughs and laughs and laughs until she’s coughing, and I have to pat her back. When she finally stops, she takes one look at my face and apologizes, but the damage is done.

My cheeks burn with humiliation.

My God.

I can’t believe I’ve turned into this—this insecure mess.

Insecure about my own best friend.

What the hell, Emilia?

Her eyes are still bright with laughter as she pats my shoulder. “I said he was hot, babe. Not that I’d touch that with a ten-foot pole. He’s all yours. Really.”

I groan and bury my face in my hands. She laughs again, but this time, there’s something softer about it.

I can’t believe myself. All this over a guy I haven’t even met? I usually keep the jealous, insecure part of me locked away, especially around Tess. She’s always been the effortlessly perfect one, and I’ve always been… well, me. But lately, everything feels too much. Maybe I’ve been too sensitive.

Still. Damn, Emilia.

When I finally work up the courage to look at her again, she gives me a serious look.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. And I mean it.

But she just shrugs. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

Then her phone buzzes. She glances at the screen, and her grin spreads wide.

“They’re here!”

They?

The restaurant door swings open, and I know—somehow, I just know—it’s him.