Liars Like Us

27

Vivienne looks him up and down, her eyes wide and her lips parted. Harper stares at him with obvious l**t, as if he’s a new Birkin bag. Even Taylor looks dazzled, blinking like a vampire in daylight.

Accustomed to stunning females into silence, Callum smiles wider. “I have some paperwork to drop off for Emery.”

In no particular hurry, he swaggers toward us.

Today, he’s in a deep blue suit that was probably handmade in Italy by a group of virgin monks and flown across the Atlantic on the back of a unicorn. His hair is perfectly combed. His beard is perfectly trimmed. His aura of s****l magnetism is perfectly devastating.

He stops on the other side of the counter and looks at Taylor sitting there. Noticing the tattoo on her exposed shoulder, he reads it aloud. “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

He looks into her eyes, then says softly, “Bronte’s a favorite of mine too. Not that anyone could love a monster like Heathcliff in real life, but what’s a good book if not an escape from that very thing?”

Taylor’s tattoo doesn’t include the name of the author who wrote that quote.

Which means that Callum not only knows one of the greatest works of classical literature—a novel written by a feminist before there was such a thing and considered by many to be the greatest love story of all time—he knows it by heart.

If the sound of ovaries screaming was audible, we’d all be deafened.

Two spots of pink appear on Taylor’s pale cheeks. Her voice hoarse, she says, “Yeah.”

Satisfied he’s seared her frontal cortex so badly, she’ll never be able to produce more than grunts ever again, Callum turns his attention to me.

“Hello, darling.” He holds up the manila envelope in his hand. “The contract. I look forward to your feedback.”

He sets the envelope on the counter, turns on his heel, and walks out.

When the door has closed behind him and the cloud of testosterone clears, my three friends turn to stare at me.

“Oh, stop gaping at me like that,” I say, having gone from weepy to irritated by witnessing yet another Callum McCord slay-the-ladies performance.

Viv breathes, “Who. Was. That?”

“A super-hot super baller,” says Harper. She lifts a hand to her cheek. “My face is tingling.”

“My cooch is tingling,” says Taylor, staring after him in wonder. “That dude knows Wuthering Heights?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Maybe there’s hope for humanity after all.”

I snatch up the envelope and tear it open. “Everybody calm down. He’s not that great.”

They look at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“You guys, seriously. Just because he’s rich, attractive, dresses well, and has read Wuthering Heights doesn’t mean he’s all that.”

Taylor says drily, “Pretty sure that’s exactly what it means, dumbass.”

“No, it doesn’t, because he’s also arrogant.”

I get no response. Everyone continues to look at me like I’m speaking a foreign language. Obviously, they require more evidence.

“And impatient.”

Nothing. Nada. Crickets.

I say louder, “And inflexible. Plus, he always thinks he’s right!”

“Duh,” says Taylor, laughing. “He’s a man. He’s still a fine piece of a*s, though.”

“Wait, don’t tell me you like him? You don’t like anyone!”

“I like him enough to peg him on the kitchen floor.”

“What does ‘peg’ mean? Have s*x with?”

Her smile is condescending.

“Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

“What’s that contract he was talking about?” asks Viv, edging closer and eyeing the paperwork in my hands.

“Yeah,” says Harper. “And why did he call you ‘darling’ if you hate him so much?”

“I didn’t say I hated him. I just think he’s a lunatic, that’s all. As for the contract…”

I slide the sheaf of papers out of the envelope and look at the top page. “It’s for our marriage.”

Silence.

After a moment, Viv says tentatively, “You’re getting married?”

Taylor says disbelievingly, “You’re getting married?”

And Harper says loudly, “You’re getting married? To him?”

“I haven’t decided yet. He is offering me ten million dollars, though. And you should see the ring! It’s bigger than my first car.”

Three pairs of eyes bulge as they stare at me.

I sigh, flipping through the pages. “It’s a long story.”

“f**k yes!” says Taylor, swinging her legs around so they dangle off the edge of the counter. “It’s story time, girls.”

I can tell by the way they’re all salivating that I won’t be getting off the hook until I give them something, so I grudgingly relent. “Fine. I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version.” I briefly sum up my encounters and conversations with Callum so far, then roll my eyes at the expressions on their faces.

“I know. It’s totally weird, right?”

“Weird?” repeats Harper with a dry laugh. “No, Em. It’s not weird. It’s amazing.”

“So you’d say yes?”

“Are you kidding me? I’d say yes, then climb that man like he was a tree and f**k him silly!”

“Same,” says Taylor, nodding.

I look at Vivienne. Appearing disturbed, she thinks for a moment. “I admit it’s tempting. But what about love?”

“What about it?” demands Harper, who’s now draped over the countertop on the other side of Taylor. “Love is overrated, in my opinion, and an unreliable basis for something as serious as marriage. I was madly in love with Chad, and look where that got me.”