Page 19 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

I wonder how much Brinley told Eden about…before. About the thing I’ve spent years trying to make up for. The thing I still can’t think about without my chest getting tight.

Thank god Brinley hands me the mushrooms to chop, or my anxiety might just burst through my chest.

“Eden got to meet the girls today,” Brinley says, obviously trying to brush over my silent standoff with her best friend.

“Yeah?” I ask tightly. “How was that?”

“They’re great,” Eden says. “Cat’s sweet, and Pippa’s hilarious. And Maura—I mean, what does she see in us? She seems way too elegant and talented to hang out with us.”

“Trust me, Maura has a goofy side,” Brinley says. “You just have to get to know her a little before it comes out.”

“I’m curious to meet her husband,” Eden says. “The whole contract marriage thing is…”

“Weird,” Brinley finishes. “In theory, anyway. When you see them together, though, you’ll get it. Those two make sense together.”

I swallow. Right—Eden’s going to meet my friends too, which opens up a whole new can of worms. Eden isn’t practiced at hiding things the way Brinley and I are. She’s never had to keep a straight face around Luke or sit through a group dinner pretending she doesn’t know. One wrong look, one offhand comment, and the whole thing unravels.

When it comes to keeping our secret, I trust Brinley implicitly, but I’m not sure I trust Eden. Not yet.

Now that the mushrooms are prepped, I pour a little oil in the green Le Creuset pot I bought Brinley last Christmas.

“What are you making?” Eden asks.

“Mushroom risotto.”

“It’s so good,” Brin raves. “The best you’ll ever have.”

Eden snorts. “You might be biased.”

“No, seriously, it’s perfection.”

I smirk. “Eden’s right. I can’t trust your feedback. Your ‘perfection’ is just a five-star Yelp review from someone who’s sleeping with the chef.”

She pouts. “Well, his mushroom risotto is my favorite.”

I shoot her a glance. “I thought chicken piccata was your favorite.”

“I can’t have more than one favorite?”

“By the definition of the word, no, you can’t,” Eden says. “You get one favorite.”

“Not fair,” Brinley moans. “Beau has too many good recipes. I need at least eight favorites.”

“Maybe you could have a favorite tier?” I suggest, watching for the oil to shimmer.

“Don’t pacify her,” Eden says. “She gets one favorite. Uno favorito.”

“Harsh but fair,” I say. “Mushroom risotto or chicken piccata, Brin?”

Brinley considers. “Hmmm…I think I have to go with spaghetti cacio e pepe.”

“What?” Eden sputters. “Since when did that get on the shortlist?”

“I told you I need eight favorites!”

I chuckle as I stir the mushrooms. Even if Eden’s not my biggest fan, it actually feels refreshingly normal to have her around. I can be just a guy, hanging out with his girlfriend and her best friend. I can pretend the whole setup Brinley and I have is normal, just for a little while.

Eden sighs. “Well, I should probably get back to working on my portfolio. If any of these jobs call me back, I’m going to need it.”