I take a deep breath and start typing.
Me: Remember the guy from Cancún, the one I had a one-night stand with?
Lexie: Flamingo Boy? How could I forget? He was all you talked about for weeks afterward.
Kayla: OMG, did you find him online?!?
Me: Worse. He’s my new neighbor. And my father’s star player. And I slept with him again. And now it’s a mess. ??
There’s a pause, and then my phone rings.
It’s a FaceTime call.
I answer, and two boxes appear on screen, one with each of their faces inside. Lexie looks scandalized, but Kayla, true to form, looks delighted.
“Start at the beginning,” Lexie demands. “Don’t leave anything out.”
I tell them everything. The date. Our hookup. Dinner at Adam’s house, where I discovered Knox is basically his surrogate son. The driveway confrontation where I ended things.
It all just spills out of me, and it’s a relief to get it off my chest. By the time I tell them about the phone call from Adam, my impulsive lie almost sounds logical.
Which is how I know I’ve completely lost the plot.
“So let me get this straight,” Lexie says, her tone all business. “You’ve been holding out on us for over a week, you found the guy from Cancún, you had amazing sex, and then you dumped him because of your job and your dad?”
It sounds totally unhinged when she puts it like that.
“That’s the gist of it.”
“So now he’s bringing a date to your dad’s house, and you told your dad you’re bringing a date too, except you don’t actually have a date?”
“Correct.”
Kayla laughs, her eyes shining. “This is the most chaotic thing ever, and I am here for it.”
“Well, I’m not.” I groan. “I’m completely screwed. What am I going to do?”
“You’re not going to do anything,” Lexie says matter-of-factly. “We’re going to hire you an escort.”
I blink. “What?”
“An escort,” she repeats. “It’s perfectly normal in big cities like Atlanta. People hire them for events when they need a plus-one on short notice.”
“Lexie, I cannot take an escort to meet my father!”
“Why not?” Kayla shrugs. “It’s not like you have to marry him. You just need someone to show up, act charming, and make Knox jealous.”
“This isn’t about making Knox jealous,” I protest weakly.
Lexie raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it, though?”
I open my mouth to argue, but the words don’t come.
She’s right. This is absolutely about making Knox jealous. Or at least not looking like a pathetic third wheel while he has a gorgeous dinner date.
“There is no way I’m letting Knox one-up you at your own father’s house,” Lexie says firmly.
“It’s not a competition.”