Work In Progress (Red Lipstick Coalition #3) - Staci Hart Page 0,50

him in public? Pretending to be married? Sam and I pretended to date. But the funny thing about that is that you can’t really pretend. At some point, you’re just dating. Or, in your case, married.”

“Well, right, but if we’re only doing all that in public, it’ll be fine. You and Sam were different—you were both so into each other. It was plain as day. But Thomas Bane could never be attracted to me in a serious way.”

At that, Val turned the full weight of her gaze on me. “Please tell me you’re kidding. Not only are you a goddamn catch, but I’d like to remind you that I never in a million years believed that Sam could want me.”

I shrugged it off. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I just have to keep the fake feelings separate from the real ones.”

“In all your worldly experience?” Katherine asked plainly. “How will you know which is what?”

“I won’t. Which is why I’ll need you three. Tommy and I entering into any relationship that isn’t strictly platonic would be a mistake. I’m yoked to him for a year, and getting tangled up with him would only make things harder.”

Val smirked. “Oh, I’m sure getting tangled up with Thomas Bane would make it so hard.”

I shook my head, laughing. “And anyway, I’ll have a full year to figure out what to do about my hymen.”

“You’re absolutely sure it’s still intact?” Katherine asked before stating the obvious in that matter-of-fact way of hers. “Not having a hymen isn’t a test of virginity, but having one is definitely a sign that you are.”

Val made a face at her.

“I’m sure,” I said. “My gyno asked me if I wanted her to break it. I should have said yes, which I guess I still could.”

“Or you could have your husband break it for you,” Val said.

I rolled my eyes. “Mine’s apparently indestructible. It has proven immune to super-plus tampons, speculums, and roller coasters. And, I mean, it’s not like I haven’t—you know—myself, but I can’t use, like…internal toys or…ugh, God.” My cheeks were so hot, they hurt. I pressed my palms to them in an effort to cool them off. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Maybe you could take up horseback riding,” Katherine suggested.

“Or bobsledding,” Rin added helpfully.

“Or that snowmobile game at Dave and Buster’s,” Val said with a nod.

We all gave her a look.

“What?” she asked no one, blushing. “It’s like sitting on a vibrator for ten minutes. I don’t know what man invented it, but bless him.”

I laughed and picked up my mug for a sip.

They say that when a woman gets engaged, she becomes left-handed. Although I’d skipped that phase entirely and jumped straight to married, I found the sentiment was still true. And as the coffee cup rose to my lips, three pairs of eyes caught the gargantuan stone and followed its path.

“Jesus Christ,” Val breathed, her eyes widening. “Is that thing real?”

I lowered the cup and laughed. “I’m no jeweler, but I doubt it’s fake. I assume when his brother picked it out, he asked for the completely outrageous package. We’re hoping Page Six does a feature on it.”

“Gimme,” Val said, extending her hand for mine.

I obliged, and the three of them leaned in close enough for their heads to almost touch. The bright light over the island lit it up like a lighthouse.

“That is beautiful,” Rin whispered.

“That’s a Harry Winston,” Katherine said, shifting it under the light. “A custom. Three and a half carat, emerald cut. This ring probably cost over a hundred thousand dollars.”

None of us breathed except Katherine, who went on inspecting it with businesslike practicality.

“How in the world could you know that?” Val asked.

Katherine shrugged. “I know a few things about engagement rings, and I have a photographic memory.”

Val’s brows quirked. “But—”

“I hope he has insurance for this,” Katherine said. I couldn’t tell if she was evading or detached. Maybe both. “And I hope you get to keep it when you’re divorced.”

We laughed. What else could we do? It was all too insane for anything but hysteria.

In a year, I’d be a divorced virgin. Thomas Bane would be a thing of my past.

I ignored the shocking pang of sadness in my chest at the thought. Maybe we would remain friends. He could move on, find a real wife, and make a real life for himself. And as for me? The best I could imagine was that my shell would be broken, and I could take the first steps to building a