“But it could be,” Reba pointed out, needlessly, because she wasn’t having sex with Keiran again.

Cherisse had sensed some things bubbling beneath the surface between her and Keiran. Things she’d pretended not to notice. Things she couldn’t ignore after the kiss, but she’d chosen to. Now, here they were. Why was she even pretending like she didn’t know how this could go sideways?

She didn’t want to keep talking about this. “So, who else is making a mess of their lives?” she asked cheerfully.

Remi’s gaze returned to the movie. “Well, that date I had the other night was going okay until I called her by another name while my hand was up her skirt. And with all the rain, I couldn’t leave right away, so it was an uncomfortable night.”

“Oh, shit.” Remi hadn’t mentioned the date, and Cherisse had been too occupied silently freaking out over having had sex with Keiran to ask Remi about it when she’d gotten home. God, she was a terrible friend.

“Whose name?” Reba asked.

Remi didn’t look away from the TV. “Let’s just say, Cherisse isn’t the only one having King-sized problems.”

Cherisse stared. “Oh.”

“Shit. We’re gonna need some stronger drinks and more pizza.” Reba got to her feet. “Mummy’s got some tequila stashed somewhere.”

“Yup.”

“I...” Cherisse had a ton of questions, but Remi shook her head, obviously not wanting to elaborate further. Which was fine. Remi was right on the mark about one thing, though. Cherisse did have a King-sized problem and no idea how to deal with it.

Chapter 23

Keiran

THE VENUE LOOKED JUST like he’d imagined, with the cozy corners, as they’d dubbed them, mini blanket fort sections set up with comfy pillows and cushions where people could go off and watch the movies being projected. There were snack sections, a selfie station equipped with props, and games to be played. They’d also set up a prize for the most creative sleepwear. Keiran was pleasantly surprised that they’d pulled this off.

The guests wore various types of sleepwear, ranging from cutesy sleep sets to ridiculous onesies. People had really gone all out with the dress code.

Eric and Ava had swept him and Cherisse up in a suffocating hug when they’d arrived, the bride and groom wearing matching wide-eyed looks of awe as they’d surveyed the décor.

“Oh my God, this is awesome!” Eric had gestured wildly at the cozy corners. “Blanket forts, yes!” He’d waggled his brows dramatically. “If the fort’s a-rockin’, don’t come knockin’.”

Keiran had rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s not that kinda party.”

“But it could be,” Ava had said, leering at her fiancé.

Keiran felt a sense of pride that they loved it. He and Cherisse hadn’t murdered each other; they’d survived working together. Of course, now they’d plunged headlong into this weird limbo because of the sex. The sex they were now pretending didn’t happen. At least Cherisse was, or maybe she was just a good actor. It was all Keiran could think about.