Chapter Thirty-Five

I wake the next morning to a kiss on my forehead. I jerk upward.

Braden is already dressed, his hair damp.

“You took a shower?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’ve never used raspberry shampoo before. I like the fruity smell.” His lips twist into a half smile.

I giggle without meaning to, and then I part my lips and inhale. His natural scent mingled with my shampoo smells like heaven.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he continues. “You were out.”

A yawn splits my face. “I can’t believe I didn’t wake up.”

“I can.”

“You can? Why?”

“Multiple orgasms will do that to you.” The words sound so matter-of-fact as he stares at his phone.

“What time is it?”

“Seven.”

“Oh, good. I have plenty of time to get to work.”

Still perusing his phone screen, he turns to me. “Looks like I have to go to New York for a few days.”

“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound melancholy. “Who will take care of Sasha?”

“Annika will. I’m texting her now. I’ll be back Saturday morning. Saturday evening, I’d like you to accompany me to a benefit for the Boston Opera Guild.”

I nod. “Sure. Okay.”

He kisses my lips softly. “Wear the black dress.”

Then he’s gone, almost as if he disappeared in a poof of smoke. I yawn again and wipe the sleep out of my eyes.

Braden spent the night in my bed, in my tiny apartment. He stayed the night.

Now he’s gone with only a chaste kiss. He’s going to New York. New York, where beautiful businesswomen are everywhere. Where gorgeous models are everywhere. Today is Tuesday, and he won’t be back until Saturday morning. That’s four evenings where he’ll no doubt be wining and dining other businesspeople.

Doesn’t he need his “girlfriend” on his arm for the social parts?

Not that I can go anyway. Addie likes at least a month’s notice before I take time off.

I sigh, get up, wander to the kitchenette to start a pot— I inhale. Of course. Braden already made a pot of coffee. He loves coffee as much as I do.

I smile and pour myself a mugful.

No time to ruminate on what—or who—Braden will do in New York. I have to go to work.

…

Addie’s in early today because we have a shoot at ten. It’s a smaller client, a local woman who makes her own pet products. Addie’s chihuahua, Baby—yes, that’s her name, even though she’s a vicious little creature—is yapping in her kennel. Baby stars in all the pet-themed shoots. I love dogs, but this one gets on my last nerve. I never met a dog who didn’t love me until Baby. The little monster growls at everyone except her owner, and she even snaps at Addie on occasion. And you can guess who gets the honor of cleaning up if Baby has an accident.

Still, Addie dotes on her and carries her around as if she were a real baby while I try not to gag.

I sit down at my desk, fire up the computer, and review the details for today’s shoot. We’ll go to Betsy’s Bark Boutique and shoot a photo of Addie feeding Baby some of Betsy’s homemade grain-free peanut butter treats. Betsy is an old childhood friend of Addie’s, so she does the shoots gratis. Thank God I get paid. Getting a shot where Addie is convinced that both she and Baby look good sometimes requires dozens of takes.

I’m not looking forward to it.

The Bark Boutique is near the harbor. I call and confirm our transportation, and then I message Tessa, whose office is near, to meet me there after the shoot for lunch. As soon as I hang up, the phone rings again.

“Addison Ames’s office,” I say into the receiver. “This is Skye.”

“Good morning, Skye, it’s Eugenie from Susanne Cosmetics.”

“Hi there. I’ll transfer you to Addison.” I put the call on hold and buzz Addie. “It’s Eugenie.”

“Who?”

“The social media promotions director at Susanne.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

I wait until Addie picks up and then hang up the line.

I read through two emails and respond. Just as I’m about to click on another, Addie opens her office door and stomps out carrying Baby’s kennel. She sets it down, opens it, and a yapping Baby shrieks through the office like a racquetball pinging off every wall.

“What the hell is going on, Skye?” Addison demands.

“Just responding to emails.”

“Right.”

“Addie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I hit Send quickly and close out of the mailbox.

“Eugenie,” she says.

“What did she want? Is there a new color of lip plumper she wants you to model?”

Addie sits on the edge of my desk and looks down at me. I don’t like the fact that she’s on higher ground, so I stand.

She shoots daggers at me with her eyes. “Eugenie didn’t call for me.”

“Then why did she call?”

“She wanted to talk to you.”

My jaw drops. “Me? Why would she—”

“I don’t appreciate looking like I’m out of the loop,” she snaps. “Why did you transfer her?”

“I honestly thought—”

“Apparently Susanne has gotten hundreds of orders for their Cherry Russet lip stain because of a comment you made on Braden’s Instagram.” Addie grabs my purse off the desk, opens it, and turns it over, letting the contents fall onto my blotter.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand angrily.

She picks up the tube of lipstick. “What have we here? Cherry Russet lip stain.” She hurls it to the floor, startling Baby, who shrieks again.

I’m not only angry at Addison for touching my stuff, I’m flummoxed. Truly flummoxed. Why would anyone care what kind of lipstick I use?

“You have no right to—”

“Get over it,” Addison says. “Your purse will survive, and as long as Baby is otherwise occupied, so will your lip stain.”

I tamp down my anger long enough to try to figure out what’s going on. “I don’t understand. Did she call to thank me for the comment?”

Addie scoffs. “Do you really think the director of social media promotions for a top cosmetics company would call to thank someone for a comment?”

“Why else would she—”

“She wants you to do a post, Skye. She wants to pay you to promote the lip stain on your Instagram profile.”

“Me? I’m no influencer.”

“You are now. Apparently you’re Braden Black’s girlfriend, and that makes you an instant influencer.” She scoffs again. “Oh, and to quote Eugenie, the stain is”—air quotes—“‘absolutely fabulous’ on you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I truly don’t. I never wanted to be an Instagram influencer. I just want to take pictures. Really good pictures that move people. Not selfies wearing lip stain.

“This all makes sense now.” Addie tosses my empty purse onto the desk.

“What are you talking about?”

“You. And Braden.” She shakes her head. “He’s just using you, you know.”

A spear slices into my heart. Her words hurt, but I won’t show her that. “We just met.”

“He’s using you. Trust me. He knows I’m getting older. He’s trying to make you into a bigger influencer than I am. Put me out of business.”

“What?” I cock my head, incredulous. “You can’t be serious. First of all, Braden has his own business. Why would he have any interest in taking down yours?”

“This has his stench all over it.”

“Second,” I continue, “I’m a nobody.”

“For God’s sake, Skye, you’re Braden Black’s girlfriend. You stopped being a nobody the minute he posted that first photo and tagged you in it.”

The thought warms me but at the same time sends icy chills over my neck.

Is she right? Is Braden using me?

We got hot and heavy quickly. Too quickly, really, and he doesn’t want a relationship.

Self-doubt washes over me. No. No, no, no. He likes me. He can’t stop thinking about me. He wants only me.

“Call Eugenie,” Addie says. “Do the post. Make a few bucks. But you’ll never be me, Skye. You’ll never be as big as Addison Ames.” She marches back to her office and slams the door, leaving her dog still ricocheting wall to wall.

I don’t want to be you, I say silently. I never wanted to be you.

Still, her words have carved out a piece of my heart.

I don’t care about Eugenie or Susanne Cosmetics. I don’t care about Addison’s anger at the moment. I don’t even care about her accusations that Braden is using me, though they’re most likely true.

I care only about my heart.

And I may be losing it to Braden Black.