Page 245 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Look,” I said to Dominic as he prepared to serve the ball, “Aiden and Cora were high school sweethearts. Natasha and I have done nothing but argue since we met. Trust me when I say she’s not interested in me. She still calls me Coffeezilla.”

“Coffeezilla? Wait!” Aiden exclaimed. “Is she the hot waitress?”

“What?” I growled.

“She is, isn’t she? The one you were arguing with at the coffee shop. The one who got fired because of you. Ha! I knew you liked her. You totally couldn’t stop staring at her ass.” Vincent went flying past him, returning Dominic’s serve.

“It’s just a business relationship.” I grimaced, diving for the ball. “She’s working on my new sustainability line because, while she’s a shitty barista, she actually knows her stuff when it comes to furniture. Go figure. But us pretending to be a couple is just a sham to keep Nana Dee happy. End of story.”

“Sure you two won’t be getting down to business?” Vincent teased.

I groaned. “You’re a dad now. I expect better of you.”

“Which is exactly why you should expect dad jokes. Every day, I fill up with more and more puns.” He laughed at the look on my face. “Anyway, you realize what you’re describing is almost exactly how my relationship with Piper began. Right down to the relationship we faked. And look at us now.”

Yes, married with a baby. But that was different. I wasn’t Vincent or Aiden, and this relationship wasn’t based on anything real. The only reason Natasha was pretending to date me was because she looked up to Nana Dee and didn’t want to upset her. That was as far as this went.

Dominic heaved as he surged after the ball, swung, and missed.

“That’s the match!” Aiden announced. “And it looks like we crushed you.” He high-fived Vincent. “Point for the Marrieds.”

“You’re not even married yet,” Dominic said.

“Soon-to-be,” he amended. “Which means you sad, relationship-faking singletons are buying dinner.”

“Hey, keep me out of Trent’s drama,” Dominic whined.

I shook my head. “Fine,” I grumbled. “I will get dinner.” Whatever would shut them up.

We grabbed our things from the side of the court and headed for the door. I strung my squash racket over my shoulder as we exited onto the street. A familiar figure came our way, and I staggered to a stop.

Of course. Because the universe clearly wasn’t done messing with me. She looked up at me, eyes widening in surprise.

“Natasha,” I said, undecided whether I should smile or frown. What were the chances? “Hi…”

“Hi,” she said, her eyebrows knitting together.

Five boroughs in this godforsaken city, and she had to be here? From the corner of my eye, I saw Aiden nudge Vincent.

“You didn’t strike me as a squash player,” she said.

“New hobby,” I said, resisting the urge to make a face. What was that supposed to mean? Another one of her backhanded observations? “What are you up to?” I asked, already counting the seconds until this conversation could be over. Her presence wasn’t totally unbearable, but finding her here out of nowhere felt like an ambush.

“We just escaped a truly abysmal show,” she said. “About the only upside was the costumes. Which were Stacy’s work, by the way.” Natasha gestured to her friend, a tall blonde in a floral pink dress. “Stacy, this is my new boss, Trent Saunders. Trent, this is my best friend, Stacy Rosen.”

“Nice to meet you.” I gestured around at my friends. “This is Aiden, Dominic, and Vincent. Guys, this is Natasha—the new designer at Saunders.”

“What perfect timing,” Aiden cut in. He was nudging Vincent again.

I scowled, shooting him a don’t you fucking dare look that he met with a smug, mischief-filled smile.

“What do you mean?” Natasha said.

“Well, we just finished our game. And you seem to be free now. We were just heading to dinner. How about joining us?”

Natasha’s eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by the invite. And so the hell was I. What was Aiden doing? “No, sorry,” Natasha started. “We actually⁠—”

“We were just talking about grabbing dinner,” Stacy cut in. “Weren’t we?”