The necklace was not from Jack. Which meant I’d spent the entire morning playing fake humble in front of the mirror for absolutely no reason other than to stroke my own delusions. The kind of delusions that had me rehearsing soft thank-yous and maybe-I’ll-kiss-you-back-laters when I next saw him. But when I casually asked... no, not casually, I full-on ambushed him beside the espresso machine with “Hey, thanks for the necklace, unless it wasn’t from you, in which case forget I said anything”...Jack’s eyebrows practically jumped off his face.
He said, “What necklace?”
And I blinked.
Not him playing coy.
Not him doing the mysterious billionaire act in the staff kitchenette while pouring almond milk into a mug that said “World’s Okayest CEO.”
But no. His confusion was disturbingly real.
