romance expert. In fact, the internet was responding so well to Rhiannon’s brand of snark, she’d felt free to get a little spicier on camera. Suzie and marketing had been surprisingly chill.
Except for when she’d said she’d rather gouge her eyes out than be in a relationship with someone. Suzie had edited that part out of the second video and glared at her while she told her to, of course, cool it.
“Have you heard from Annabelle yet?”
“Samson’s been in contact, but she doesn’t want to talk business until she’s stateside, which should be any day now.” Rhiannon had eyed him suspiciously when he’d told her that, because it sounded like a delaying tactic, but he’d thrown up his hands, pulled out his phone, and played a voice mail from Annabelle that was, almost verbatim, what he’d said.
She’d apologized, but oddly enough, he hadn’t seemed terribly put out by her general distrust. It was kind of nice, not to have to explain herself constantly.
“How was the beach yesterday?” Katrina asked.
Rhiannon adjusted her laptop screen. This was another reason she’d been staying in her L.A. apartment lately. Katrina saw too much. “Great. Samson is a natural in front of the camera.”
“He sure is. So are you. You have good chemistry.”
The words were delivered without inflection, but Rhiannon could hear the question in them. She kept her gaze glued to her computer.
What could she say? That after every filming, they sat around and talked about the most mundane stuff on the face of the planet? That she was learning more about him than she had any man in recent history? That “walk me to my car” had become a code for heading to whatever remote spot she’d parked her car and fooling around? “We haven’t had sex yet.”
“I didn’t ask if you had.” Katrina paused. “Oral sex is sex, FYI.” When Rhiannon cast her a startled glance, Katrina laughed. “Well, that tells me everything I need to know. Be—”
“Be careful. I know. I am.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” Rhiannon sighed. “He’s a good guy. And I never thought I’d say that about someone who ghosted me.”
“You know, in certain special cases, it’s okay to give someone the benefit of the doubt.” Katrina tapped her finger on her chin. “Someone wise in this house advised exactly that, no?”
The benefit of the doubt? More like a recipe for being let down. Or at least, that was what she’d always assumed.
Still assumed, that is. “Spoken like a romantic.”
Katrina snorted. “Hardly. Romance hasn’t come knocking on my door lately.” A meow came from the concrete. Katrina leaned over the side of the chair and picked up the kitten she’d adopted about three minutes after Rhiannon had given her that panicked go-ahead.
Rhiannon and the kitten eyed each other in respectful tolerance. She was glad she had agreed to this new roommate. Katrina needed more companionship.
“I went to that pho place yesterday.”
Rhiannon stopped pretending to work. “You didn’t tell me that.”
Katrina rubbed her face on Zeus’s head and smiled. It was a small, secret, vulnerable smile. “I couldn’t believe it.”
Rhiannon whooped and placed her laptop on the table, curling up to look at Katrina more head-on. “What are we up to now? Seven?”
“Yes.” Katarina’s chest rose and fell and she looked off into the distance. Her round, makeup-less face was soft and sweet. Back in the day, when she’d spent lots of time outdoors and at beaches and concerts, her skin had been burnished a golden tan at all times, but now her coloring was dependent on the time of year and whether she felt like sitting in the sun. “Seven establishments I’ve managed to comfortably patronize.”
“That’s amazing.”
“I never thought I’d see the day when I would celebrate being able to walk into a handful of places that aren’t my own home.”
Rhiannon didn’t care for the hint of disgust in her friend’s tone. “Hey, don’t think about what you may have done in the past. Think about how hard you worked to get here.”
Katrina gazed at the sprawling view laid out before them, the city of Santa Barbara spread like a necklace, the view of the Pacific obscured by fog. Other mansions dotted the hill, but this one was especially secluded, the backyard lush with greenery and flowers. When Katrina wasn’t creating high-end wearable art, she was gardening. “I am pretty happy with myself.”
“You should be. I’m happy with you.”
“I was telling my therapist . . . if I can frequent at least ten places, maybe then I’ll