The next week passes in a blur of prep for the grand spa opening. We’re finalizing so many details, from catering to cocktails for the big launch party, to all the last everyday details for the business itself. I’m glued to my computer screen or racing around the city, but as stressful as it’s been, I’m riding high on excitement and adrenaline. I spent years at SNZ snoozing from the dull predictability, now I love not knowing what awaits me each work day.
Even if it is figuring out how to liaise three different PR reps all called Becky.
The one downside to my new, whistle-stop kind of life is that I’ve barely seen Austin all week. He’s been putting out fires and working long hours, too. Plus, obviously, stressing the hell out over every minor detail, although I have to say, I’m impressed he’s dialed back the micro-management so far. Yesterday, he only spent an hour agonizing over fonts for the first round of brochures, before finally agreeing with the ones we’d picked in the first place.
Progress.
But by the time Friday rolls around, I’m ready for date night. Or rather, I’m ready for what happens when date night is over, and I can tear the man’s clothes off and indulge all the dirty fantasies I’ve been playing in my mind. But first, I’m going to keep my hands to myself and meet the man’s friends: Seb is celebrating his birthday at the bar, so I pick out some sexy jeans and a low-cut top, shimmying around my bedroom in anticipation as I get ready.
And somewhere, picking up on her radar that I’ve felt a ping of confidence, my mother decides to call.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, in my attempt at a pleasant tone.
“Oh, hi, honey,” she says, sounding surprised. “I figured I’d go to voicemail. You’re too young to be staying in on a Friday night. You should be getting back out there. On the apps.”
“It’s early still,” I say, brushing on another coat of mascara. “I’m getting ready for a party.”
There’s a pause, in which she’s clearly disappointed my plans include a party and not a date. “Well, that’s nice, too. Maybe there will be some eligible men there.”
Just once, I want to get a dig in. “I’m sure there will be. But I’m not looking.”
“Jenn,” my mom says, sighing. “I know you think I’m an old-fashioned nag, but I’m really just thinking long-term. A mother wants her child to find partnership, to not be alone.”
The many ways that I have connection, community, and happiness are not valid to my mother. Millie says I should feel sorry for my mom, that she doesn’t understand how fulfilling those relationships can be. But at the moment, I only feel annoyance.
“Mom,” I say, patiently. “I’m not looking because I’m going to the party with the man I’m seeing. It’s his friend’s birthday.”
“Well!” my mom exclaims, with a complete one eighty in energy. “That’s wonderful, honey!”
I roll my eyes all the way up to the ceiling. Still, I can’t help but add, “He is wonderful, thank you.”
“Of course,” she continues, “Just make sure you don’t come on too strong. That can seem desperate, you know, and no man finds that attractive.”
“Helpful, Mom,” I sigh. “Thanks.”
“A little mystery, that’s the key to keeping them hooked. And a separate bathroom!”
“Not exactly on the cards, with New York real estate,” I remind her. And as for the mystery…
Well, there’s my familiar pang of guilt that I haven’t come clean to Austin just yet about Other Jennifer. I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it this week. But that’s just because I don’t want to distract him from all the launch prep.
Just that. No other reason.
There’s a knock at the door, freeing me from this conversation with my mother.
“He’s here, Mom,” I say. “I’ve got to go.”
I open the door to Austin, who is dressed down in jeans and looking devastatingly hot. He’s got sexy stubble on his jaw, a souvenir from the late work nights.
“Hi,” I say, feeling a wild flip in my stomach just seeing him again.
“Hel-lo.” He looks me over admiringly, then pauses. “Everything okay? You look…”
“Like I just talked to my mom on the phone?” I finish, rolling my eyes. “Don’t worry—I won’t let her kill the night-off buzz. Just need a minute clear the passive aggression out of my system.”
Austin steps forward and wraps one hand around my waist, pulling me into him. I’m pressed into his chest, against the soft linen scent and the faint trace of cologne. He kisses me slowly, deep and sensual.
And just that, I feel a hundred times better.
I catch my breath. “Okay,” I smile, linking my hand in his. “Bad energy cleared out. I’m ready.”
We head to Mavericks for the party, which is already in full swing. And the first décor that greets us? An enormous poster of Austin and his friends from college, blown up to almost life-size. They all have overgrown hair. Seb is in a pink polo shirt. Dash is sporting an attempt at a goatee.
I step closer to examine the details. “Are you wearing… a pukka shell necklace?” I ask Austin happily.
He coughs. “No comment.
“And… baggy skate pants?”
“It was a look!”
I laugh. Clearly, the party theme is a trip down memory lane, because there are old Polaroids pinned up everywhere, beer pong set up in a corner, and a classic pop/hip-hop mixtape blasting all the old familiar hits as people dance.
“Welcome to the time taste forgot!” We’re greeted by a handsome guy with Jell-O shot glasses in each hand. Austin quickly introduces me to Charlie, their ringleader.
“You didn’t tell me we were taking a trip down memory lane,” Austin grumbles, eyeing the photos of him as a fresh-faced teen.
“Seb is always so cultured and discerning these days,” Charlie grins. “Figured I’d remind him of the days he thought Jägermeister was a top-shelf drink.” He nods to where the birthday guy himself is holding court, head bopping to an old Nelly song.
“Funny, we seem to be missing your greatest hits,” Austin says, looking around. “What about that photo of you passed out in a compromising position with the school mascot?”
Charlie grins at me. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. I was the picture of taste and decency.”
I laugh. “I’m sure you were.”
“Please feel free to pick up your party favor at the table over there—a trucker hat with Seb’s face on it, of course. And don’t worry, this is a Jaeger-free zone.” Charlie tells me. “We’ve updated all the cocktail to be better versions of college favorites. The punch inspired by jungle juice is really a top-shelf delight.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” I smile. Just then, we’re joined by the only member of Austin’s friend group that I haven’t met. I recognize him from the baby face in the college photos—this must be Flynn, down to the rugged vibe and flannel shirt.
“Do you see this bullshit?” he asks Austin, gesturing to the photos with a grin. “So weird that we’re the only ones looking like damn fools.”
“I bet Grace knows where the incriminating photos are hidden,” Austin suggests, and Flynn perks up.
“Good point.”
Charlie’s smile slips. “Now, wait a minute…”
“You asked for it, buddy.” Flynn slaps him on the back, and then greets me. “And you must be the lovely Jenn.”
“Nice to meet you,” I smile. “This place is beautiful—and so is the Vital build. Especially those floors.”
“Ah,” Flynn says, hand to his chest. “Thank you for noticing. The way to my heart.”
“… Is through complimenting his wood,” Charlie finishes.
I laugh.
“Let’s get you drinks,” Charlie says, clearly in his element as host. “You’re going to need one. Especially if you wind up doing karaoke later.”
“There’s karaoke?” I gulp.
“Don’t worry,” Austin murmurs in my ear, “Once Dash gets the mic, we’re all off the hook.”
“Phew.” I say, “Because you do not want to hear my ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.”
For the next hour, Austin takes my hands and introduces me to everyone. It’s a fun group, clearly all loyal friends, and it’s fun to sit back and watch them riff and joke with each other.
“No way did you hold the record for push-ups!”
“He’s right,” Seb tells me, mock-serious. “I’m all lean muscle.”
“Ahem.” Austin gives him a playful shove. “We all know who dominated in the gym.”
“Yeah yeah, professional athlete, whatever.”
Grace, Charlie’s girlfriend, catches my eye. “Time to hit the dessert bar?” she suggests.
I immediately get up. “Yes please!”
Grace leads me across the party, to where we find Callie and Piper by the buffet table. “Great minds think alike,” Callie grins, greeting me with a forkful of pie in her hand. Somehow, she’s managing to eat without smudging her amazing red lipstick, and I make a mental note to ask about the brand.
“We needed a breather,” Grace explains. “The guys are deep in bro-mode.”
“Hazard of the business,” Callie tells me. “You never know when they’re going to get nostalgic and start up with their old dorm games.”
“And by nostalgic, she means drunk.” Piper adds with a grin. She’s Dash’s younger sister, a perky blonde with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Believe me, I’ve seen some things.”
I laugh.
“Are you having fun?” Grace asks. “I know it’s a lot, meeting everyone at once.”
“It’s fine,” I smile. “He’s already been in the deep end meeting my knitting group. And Evelyn is a tough audience.”
“Ooh, you knit?” Grace perks up. “You wouldn’t happen to know a good place to get fine woolen yarn would you? One of my clients needs a source.”
“She runs a concierge service,” Callie explains.
“I’ll ask around,” I promise. “And let you know.”
“Thanks!”
We pile our plates with desserts, then find a corner to relax and chat. They ask me about working for Austin and share a little about their jobs, too. I laugh over how Grace and Callie met Charlie and Dash, respectively. Although I will eternally hate Karl the creep, I do enjoy sharing that immediately after I met Austin, he witnessed me punching a guy in the dick.
“You’re my hero!” Piper cheers.
“You’ll fit right in,” Callie agrees with a smirk.
Before I can process the warmth that I feel at her comment, a familiar chord sequence blasts through the bar. We turn. The guys are kicking off karaoke —with a surprising choice.
“What…” I begin, staring the five of them on a makeshift onstage, “is happening?”
“Their college karaoke go-to,” Callie explains.
“You have to give them points for taste,” Grace adds. “Kelly Clarkson is a queen.”
We remain in awed silence as Dash leans into the microphone for the chorus, an impassioned falsetto of ‘Since You’ve Been Gone!’
“Hands off, everyone,” Callie jokes, laughing. “That one’s mine.”
The rest of the guys are fast with backup, nearly yelling the chorus. It’s infectious, and the crowd calls back the lyrics.
“Austin mentioned something about karaoke,” I say. “But…”
“Kind of takes your breath away.” Grace smirks.
“Right?” Piper snorts with laughter. “At least they went with this song and not Usher. Nothing kills a buzz like having to watch my brother perform ‘Yeah!’”
“You know, we need to institute a girls’ night,” Callie declares. “Not that I don’t love these dumbasses, but I could use a night out that doesn’t devolve into shenanigans.”
“Great idea,” Grace agrees. “Jenn? What do you say?”
It sounds so nice, and I can’t believe my own luck—to find a guy like Austin, period. But the fact that he comes with a group of girls who eagerly welcome me in is something special.
“I’d love that,” I reply, but even as they start making plans, that flicker of guilt inside me flares to life again.
Because with every new person I meet in Austin’s life, my little white lie gets a whole lot bigger. The staff at Vital, Austin’s sister, and now all his friends, too…
They all think I’m someone that I’m not. Just how long am I going to let this last?
I excuse myself, needing a moment to breathe. I find the staircase, and head up to the roof. It’s quieter there, and I find a deserted corner to pace, my stomach churning with unease.
This is spinning out of control. When I decided to go along with the Jennifer Walker misunderstanding, I was thinking about working a while at Vital, proving my marketing chops, and then moving on. Now I’m having extremely serious feelings for an incredible man, as I meet his wonderful friends.
I want to say yes to girls’ night at the wine bar. I want to stay in this bubble with him. But that first lie is still looming over everything, tainting what should be a wonderful, carefree time.
I rest my arms on the ledge, looking out over the city. “Okay,” I mutter to myself. “It’s time to rip off the Band-Aid .”
“Austin,” I murmur to no one, practicing. “I feel like we really have something here, which has been a wonderful curveball.”
No—no baseball references. Too cute. “Which has been… Surprising and fast.”
I pace a few steps and spin on my heel. How can I explain what happened? Maybe try to laugh it off?
“Just one small thing,” I mumble to the invisible Austin. “It’s so funny, actually. Hilarious. It turns out there’s another Jennifer Walker, and maybe the recruiter thought I was her?”
No. There’s no maybe about it. I have to come clean with the whole truth, no matter how bad it sounds.
“There you are.”
I jump out of my skin and whirl around. Austin’s stepping out onto the roof, luckily far enough away that he hasn’t heard my babbling practice run. “I was looking for you downstairs. Everything okay?”
I swallow hard. “Everything’s perfect,” I say, which is painfully true. Everything but one, tiny lie. “I’m just… Enjoying some fresh air and the view.”
He stands behind me, wrapping one hand around my waist. “Thanks for coming with me,” he murmurs against my temple. “It’s been a long time since I’ve introduced someone to my friends, and… It feels pretty great.”
“I feel the same,” I begin, lump already threatening my throat.
But I can’t wait any longer. He deserves to hear the truth.
I turn to face him, gathering all my courage. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
“Okay,” he smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
“It’s about when we met,” I begin, my voice shaking a little. I want so badly to explain this in a way he’ll understand, but I’m afraid I’ve already left it too late.
“The dick-punching?” he asks, lips curled in a grin. “I remember. Vividly.”
“No, not that. The interview.”
My heart is pounding in my chest, but I force myself to keep talking. “You see, when I got the call from the recruiter, it turns out—”
“Yo, Austin!” A loud yell suddenly interrupts us. It’s one of the party guests, calling from the stairwell. “Toast time! Toast from the hosts with the most,” he adds with a drunk laugh.
Austin laughs. “Right behind you, buddy!” he turns back to me, smiling. “Joint public speaking, this many drinks in. It can only go well, right?”
I exhale. “Right.”
“What were you saying?” he asks, looking distracted.
But the moment’s passed. Now is definitely not the right time. “Nothing important,” I lie, pasting on a bright smile. “We can talk later.”
“We can do more than talk…” Austin gives me a wink. “Come on, you have to hear this. Dash wrote a limerick, especially for the occasion.”
He takes my hand, and I follow him back to the party, secret un-spilled, conversation un-had. I have no choice.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.