“This is a reconnaissance mission,” he says, rising to his feet. “Solange isn’t answering her text messages, so I’ve been ordered to return with answers, and I mean to comply.”

“Lina’s issuing orders now? Where’s your pride?”

He shrugs. “I’m whipped, man. And I couldn’t care less what you think about it.”

His moony expression tells only a tiny fraction of the story that led him to fall for his older brother’s ex-fiancée. Not all of it was pretty, but I can’t argue with the result: My best friend looks happy. I truly hope he stays that way.

Blowing out a breath, I stride past him and hold the door open. “You’re not staying long. I need to go into the office tomorrow.”

Max shakes his head. “On a Saturday? There’s more to life than work, you know.”

“Actually, right now, there isn’t. I’ll get to the good stuff later.”

I’ve relied on myself for a long time. My job helped me buy this place. Allowed me to pay off my loans. Gave me something to do. Without it, I’m not sure where I’d be. Max’s mother is also his employer; he can’t possibly know what it’s like to have a boss who doesn’t care whether he succeeds or fails. So, yeah, I’m keeping my head down and focusing on the one thing that’ll secure my place at Olney: partnership. Vacations, hanging out on the weekends, dating, starting a family—all of that will happen in due time.

We take the stairs rather than wait for the notoriously slow elevator.

“How are the fake dates going?” Max asks behind me as I open the door to my condo. “Is Solange dazzling them?”

I drop my keys in the bowl on the credenza, flip the lights on, and toe off my shoes. “She’s amazing, man. Engaging and supportive. Gets along with the women. And best of all, Peter doesn’t intimidate her.” Max tries to walk past me, but I block him with my outstretched arm. “Shoes.”

He grimaces while he removes them. “These new floors are making you an extra pain in the ass.” Grumbling, he strides to the kitchen and pokes his head in the fridge. “Grapes, dude? Seriously? Where’s the cake? The leftover pizza?”

“At the grocery store, you schmuck.”

He sucks his teeth, then straightens. “So that’s it? You’re done fake dating Solange?”

I blow out a harsh breath. If only. “Nope, still two more dates to go. We’re taking them to a party tomorrow. Some exclusive event in Adams Morgan.”

He crosses the room and flops onto my couch. “Okay, then. You’re almost there. Why aren’t you happier about it?”

“Solange and I kissed tonight,” I blurt out.

And I can still taste her lips on mine.

And I can still hear her breathy moans of encouragement.