There was Angelica’s voice in my head, repeating something she’d beaten into it dozens of times over the years. I’d never had a problem with it before, because it was all about positioning and marketing, not lying.

“I suppose we could go with that,” I said, overcoming only one of my many qualms.

“But? What else is holding you back?”

After half the jar of Twizzlers, I was finally sugared out. I set the whole thing on the coffee table, leaned back, hugged a throw pillow to my chest. It’d taken a long time for me to open up completely to Presley back in college, a long time to trust, and now she was the one person I knew I could tell anything. Even when I was still working it all out in my head.

“It’s super sweet that Holden sprung this on Angelica for me, but”—I shook my head—“it’s too big of a sacrifice.”

“For him.”

“Of course for him.”

“What if you let him decide that?”

“He already thinks he did. He invited me to move in with him.”

Presley’s eyes widened and she mouthed, Woooow.

I mouthed back, I knooooow.

“I can think of a way you could make it worth his while.” Presley’s grin and the naughty spark in her eye made it clear exactly what she meant.

“Wouldn’t that be one step short of prostitution?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“No money exchanged,” she said without hesitation, still grinning.

I shook my head. “I’m not sleeping with him.”

The grin dropped off her face and she asked, “What’s important to Holden? Is there anything you could offer up to make it more even? Because I totally see what you mean. He’s being awesome, but how’s he going to feel in three months?”

I popped up off the sectional, pressing my lips together, my mind sparking thanks to her questions.

I knew exactly what Holden wanted, and it was as high stakes to him as my career was to me.

“What would it take to get about a quarter million of my money for an investment?” I asked her.

A loud exhale burst out of my friend. “Whoa. Slow your roll, my friend. What is this crazy talk?” Presley asked.

“If I wanted to invest in a business—”

“What business?”

“Any business,” I said impatiently.

“Chloe,” she started, but I didn’t let her continue.

“We’ve switched from friends to business for a minute. I’m asking you, as my financial manager, if I could access two hundred fifty thousand dollars of my money within, say, a few weeks.”

“Give me a few minutes.” Presley stood and went to a carry-on bag that was sitting on the floor outside of her home office. She took out her laptop, went back to her place, and sat down.