I’m so sorry, Rachel had texted Alice, along with the link to the Hot Hollywood Nights piece.

Alice didn’t know what to believe. Two weeks ago Griffin had sworn there was nothing going on with Kimberleigh. But this didn’t sound like nothing. They’d even quoted a source. They wouldn’t just lie about something like that, would they?

There were photographs of the two of them holding hands. And getting into the same car. They’d even given them their own portmanteau.

Kimbergriff.

Alice wanted to vomit.

She might be able to write it off as a couple of friends going out to dinner if it weren’t for the hand-holding. You didn’t hold hands with people who were just your friends. She and Griffin were just friends and he’d never tried to hold her hand. Of course, they’d never gone out to dinner together either—because they weren’t that kind of friends.

Clearly they also weren’t the kind of friends who told each other when they started dating someone. Because he hadn’t once mentioned Kimberleigh or the fact that he was apparently dating her now, despite his previous denial.

He didn’t mention it the next time he called either. Alice kept waiting for him to say something. Offer some sort of explanation for denying it before, or at least admit he’d had a change of heart and relationship status.

Nothing. Not a word.

Alice was too chicken to raise the subject herself. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that must mean he thought it was none of her business. And if they weren’t the kind of friends who told each other things like that, she wasn’t sure what kind of friends they were. Or if they even were friends, really.

She wasn’t sure whether she was more hurt that he’d started dating someone so soon after leaving her that drunken voicemail, or that they weren’t close enough for him to share major developments in his personal life.

Either way, he obviously didn’t have feelings for her, or he wouldn’t have started dating someone else two weeks before he was due to come home.

“I’m home!” Griffin called out as he burst through the front door.

Taco barked in excitement, waggling his whole body as he spun in circles. Griffin left his bags by the door and scooped the dog off the floor, rubbing his face into the soft, familiar fur as he went in search of Alice.

She wasn’t there. The house was dark and empty.

What had he expected? That she’d be waiting at the door to greet him alongside the dog?

A bit, yeah. Griffin had hoped maybe Alice had missed him as much as he’d missed her. That she’d want to see him as soon as he got back. But maybe that was asking too much.

It was a Friday night, after all, and she had a life that didn’t involve him. If she wanted to go out with friends—or even on a date, for all he knew—she was free to do so. She didn’t owe him anything, wasn’t even technically his employee anymore as of tonight.

He might want her to be his girlfriend, but she wasn’t. He didn’t have any right to expect her to be here on the night he came home.

Feeling like the high he’d been riding all day had been punctured, Griffin set Taco down and dragged his bags to his room. It was still a huge relief to be home, back in his own space, but without Alice it felt like something was missing.

Taco hovered at his heel as he unpacked and started a load of laundry. When that was done, Griffin wandered into the kitchen, wondering what to do about dinner. That was where he found the Post-it note Alice had left him.

Well, that was something. Confirmation she’d at least remembered he was coming home tonight. It didn’t explain where she was, or why she’d chosen to go out, but she didn’t really owe him an explanation.

She could do as she chose, and what she’d chosen was not to be home to greet him.

Griffin tossed Taco a dog treat, grabbed a beer for himself, and collapsed onto the couch, feeling dejected.

Alice finally came home three hours later, while he was watching SportsCenter.

“You’re back,” she said, stepping into the living room.

Griffin got to his feet, planning to hug her, but stopped when she didn’t move toward him. He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled instead. “I’m back.”

“How was your flight?”

“Good. Fine.”

This wasn’t the enthusiastic reunion Griffin had been looking forward to. He hadn’t spoken to Alice as much these last couple weeks, in part because the intensity of his schedule had started catching up with him, leaving him drained and exhausted, but also because he’d been avoiding telling her about the arrangement he’d made with Kimberleigh. He’d been trying to avoid even thinking about the Kimberleigh thing, because with everything else stressing him out, it had been too much to deal with.

But now he was back and it felt like Alice had pulled away from him. Like they’d somehow grown apart over the last few weeks when he wasn’t looking, and he hated it.

“I’ll bet Taco was happy to see you,” she said.

“He was.” Are you? Griffin bit down on his lip to keep the words from slipping out.

“The house is still standing.” She gestured around them. “As you can see.”

“Looks like you took good care of it.”

“I tried.”

“Where were you?” He tried not to let it sound like an accusation.

“Campus.”

He thought she hated going to campus. But maybe that had changed while he was gone. He guessed maybe a lot had changed while he was gone. “How’s the dissertation?”

She shrugged. “You know. Coming along.” Her gaze fell on the pizza box sitting open on the coffee table and her eyebrows lifted. “Pizza, huh?”

“The diet for the next movie starts Monday. I figured I deserved to treat myself in the meantime.”

“You definitely do.”

“You want some?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna head to bed.”

His head dipped in a single nod. “Sure.”

She hesitated, like she wanted to say something else, and he held his breath, waiting.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Alice disappeared down the hall, leaving Griffin alone and confused.

Alice was fully aware she was being petulant.

She’d gone to campus tonight specifically to avoid being home when Griffin got back, even though she hated working on campus. But she was still smarting over the Kimbergriff news, and yeah, she’d wanted to punish him a little. To show him that her life didn’t revolve around him any more than his clearly didn’t revolve around her.

It had worked too. Even though he didn’t say anything, she could tell he was hurt that she hadn’t been there to greet him when he got home.

Good. He deserved a little of his own medicine.

Except it wasn’t good, because it made her feel awful. She didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him how glad she was to have him back.

But she couldn’t, because he had a girlfriend now—a girlfriend whose existence he still hadn’t bothered to mention to her—and it made everything feel weird and terrible.

He hadn’t called as much over the last few weeks, in case Alice needed further confirmation that his attention had moved elsewhere. The few times they had talked, Griffin had sounded distracted and in a hurry to get off the phone again. He’d made it pretty clear where Alice stood. Avoiding him wasn’t just about pettiness. She needed to put some distance between them for her own protection.

Is he back? Rachel texted as Alice was getting into bed.

Yeah.

Well? How’d it go? What’d he have to say about Kimberleigh?

Nothing. We didn’t really talk.

I’m sorry.

It’s fine, Alice replied, even though it was nowhere near fine.

She switched her phone to Do Not Disturb and tried to sleep.

Griffin was up and moving around the house bright and early in the morning. Alice woke to the sound of him banging around in the kitchen, and the smell of bacon.

She tried to stay in bed, but her stomach rumbled in protest. It was Saturday, and if Griffin was off his diet until Monday, he was probably off the gym too. Which meant he’d most likely be around the house all day, and she’d have to face him. Maybe even talk about things, like the fact that he had a new girlfriend and whether it would be better for everyone if Alice moved out after all. Surely they wouldn’t want her around now. Too bad she’d missed her window on that apartment she’d been looking at. She’d have to start her search over again.

They definitely needed to talk about it. Today was probably as good a day as any—unless Griffin had plans with Kimberleigh today. She must be back in LA now too. God, what if he wanted to have her over to the house? What if that was who he was making breakfast for?

Alice couldn’t deal with that. No way did she want to hide in her room while Griffin and Kimberleigh fed each other bacon and canoodled on the couch. Or whatever it was they did when they were together.

She needed to get out of the house again.

Brunch? she texted Rachel. My treat.

Rachel responded in the affirmative, and they agreed to meet at their favorite breakfast place in one hour. Quietly as she could, Alice slipped across the hall to shower and get dressed, then crept back to her room for her shoes and laptop bag. Only when she was all ready to go did she venture into the kitchen, car keys in hand, to face Griffin.

He was sitting at the breakfast table smiling at his phone. At the sound of her approach he looked up, and his smile grew wider. “Morning! I made pancakes and bacon. They should still be warm. Well, maybe not warm. Warmish. Possibly cold, but cold pancakes and bacon are still pretty good.”

“Thanks,” Alice said. “But I’m meeting Rachel for brunch.” She felt a pang of guilt as his face fell. “Sorry.”

He shrugged and flashed a plasticky smile. “More for me.”

“I’m going to head back over to campus after that, so you’ll have the house to yourself for the day.” If you want to have your girlfriend over, she didn’t say aloud, but assumed he’d infer.

“Hey, Alice,” Griffin said, stopping her as she turned to go. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Um…” What did he want her to say? Was he hoping she’d make herself scarce all night too? Because there was only so much time she could stand to spend on campus.

“’Cause I was thinking,” he went on, “if you’re free, I’d make us dinner and we maybe could watch some more This Is Us.”

She was even more confused now. He was sure acting like he still wanted to be friends, but friends told each other about the significant others in their lives. So if he was cozying up to her while hiding the fact that he was dating someone…well, there was only one reason she could think of why he’d do that, and it wasn’t a reason that made her like him very much.

“Um,” she said again, because he was looking at her expectantly, and she had no idea what to say. “The thing is…”

“You’re busy.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—I thought you’d rather spend time with your girlfriend.”

His face froze, like a kid who’d been caught pocketing candy.

Alice’s fingers clenched around the strap of her laptop bag. “Kimbergriff? There was another piece about the two of you on Hot Hollywood Nights.”

“Oh god.” His face twisted into a scowl. “That.”

“Yeah,” Alice said. “That. You were holding hands with her, so I assume it’s true this time.” Deep down inside, she couldn’t help nurturing a small sliver of hope that it would all turn out to be some kooky misunderstanding, and he’d explain that he wasn’t dating Kimberleigh after all. Somehow.

His mouth hung open—exactly like a man caught in a lie and trying to think of another lie to take its place. “It’s complicated.”

And there it was. Hopes: smashed. She’d thought Griffin was different. Better. But it must have all been an act.

“Right, then. Thanks for the Facebook status update.” Alice turned and headed for the door, needing to get away from there. Away from him.

“Hey! Alice, wait.” He jumped up from the table and followed her to the door, arriving there at the same time she did. “Why are you so pissed at me?”

She thrust out her chin. “I’m not.”

“Liar. You’ve barely said two words to me since I got back. What’s going on? What did I do?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

“It’s obviously not nothing. Will you please just talk to me?”

She blinked away the tears blurring her vision, embarrassed by how childish she felt. “You made me think we were friends.” God, she even sounded like a child. No wonder he didn’t want to date her.

“We are friends.”

Sucking in a breath, she turned her face up to his. “Then why didn’t you mention that you’d started dating Kimberleigh Cress? If we’re really friends, why wouldn’t you tell me that? And now you’re offering to make me dinner like she doesn’t exist? What am I supposed to make of that?”

His eyes skated away guiltily. “I was going to tell you.”

“When? Before or after Netflix and chill tonight?”

“I was planning to tell you about it last night, but I only saw you for thirty seconds!” He flung it at her like an accusation, as if it was somehow her fault he’d been keeping his girlfriend a secret for two weeks.

“Why didn’t you tell me when it started?”

Griffin gnawed at his bottom lip, looking everywhere but at her. “Because I was ashamed.”

Alice didn’t try to hide her disbelief. “Of dating Kimberleigh Cress?”

“It’s not what you think. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“The internet begs to differ.”

“I told you not to believe what you read on the internet.” His eyes met hers finally. “It’s fake. It’s all for show.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“My agent cooked it up. She had my publicist make the dinner reservation and tip off the paparazzi so we’d be photographed together. The whole thing is a PR strategy.”

“You mean like Hiddleswift?” Alice couldn’t believe he’d do something like that. Obviously his career was important to him, but he’d always seemed to care more about the work than artificially inflating his viral appeal.

Griffin winced. “Sort of, yeah. Only I hope we’ll be a little more believable than that.”

“But…” She had so many questions, but she elected to start with, “Why?”

He hunched his shoulders as his face flushed. “Because everyone’s so afraid this movie’s going to flop, they decided we needed to create a distraction—a reason for people to buy tickets besides the movie itself. The reason I didn’t tell you was that I was embarrassed I’d agreed to such a cheap stunt. I wasn’t trying to hide it, I just wanted to tell you in person instead of over the phone. And I was hoping maybe you hadn’t seen the story—you really shouldn’t read those crappy gossip sites, you know. I told you not to believe anything they said.”

Alice felt some of her anger drain away. “Is the movie really that bad?”

“Yeah. It is.” He looked pained.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, unsuccessfully trying to banish his emotions. “That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it. Not over the phone, anyway.”

Stupid, stoic, insecure man. Too afraid to show any weakness or failings. Not that Alice had a lot of room to judge in that department.

“You could have told me,” she said.

He visibly swallowed. “I was afraid you’d think even worse of me.”

“Worse than what?”

“Worse than you already do.”

Her head spun, trying to make sense of his words. Is that what he really thought? That she didn’t think well of him? “I—I don’t—” she stammered. “I wouldn’t.”

Griffin cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. “Anyway, that’s why. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was going to tell you, I swear. I just wanted to do it in person, so—I don’t know, I just thought it would be easier to explain in person, but I guess maybe it’s not.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his athletic shorts. “And—uh—it’s obviously important that everyone thinks it’s real, so please don’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t.” Alice laid her hand on his arm, giving it a tentative squeeze.

The eyes he lifted to hers were heavy with emotion. “Are we okay?”

She nodded, suddenly very aware of the sound of her own heartbeat.

“Good.” He gave her a regretful smile. “You’ve got to go.”

For a split second, she thought he was throwing her out, before it came to her: Rachel. Shit. Would it be terrible to cancel? Yes, yes it would. It was too last minute. She’d already be on her way to the restaurant by now. Damn.

“What about tonight?” Griffin said. “Are you free?”

Alice nodded, and that small sliver of hope fluttered back to life inside her. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

His smile got even wider. “Then I’ll see you tonight.” He stepped back and pulled the door open for her. “It’s a date.”

It’s a date?

What the hell had possessed him to say that?

He had definitely freaked Alice out. He could tell by the look she’d had on her face—and just when they’d almost seemed to be okay again.

Griffin knew he’d fucked up by not telling her about the Kimberleigh situation. He could see that now, but at the time he simply hadn’t given it that much thought. As far as he was concerned, it was just another tedious part of his job, like publicity shoots and press interviews. But of course Alice hadn’t known that. All she’d known was what she’d seen on the internet, because he hadn’t told her otherwise. And because he’d avoided going on the internet or reading any of his press the last few weeks, he hadn’t realized just how much traction the story had gotten.

This was why he was terrible at relationships. He got so caught up in his own shit that he didn’t always think about how it affected the people around him. It was just like his last ex had said: he was a self-involved asshole.

If he’d taken even a second to think about all this from Alice’s perspective, he would have realized how shitty it seemed. Of course Alice would be hurt when she read about it in the news instead of hearing it from him. And of course she’d assume there was a slimy reason he was hiding the Kimberleigh thing from her when he offered to make her dinner.

He was such an idiot.

You made me think we were friends.

The hurt in her voice when she’d said that had sliced through him like a hot knife. He hated himself for making her doubt their friendship. Christ, she was his best friend. Maybe it was crazy, but there was no one else he’d rather talk to about anything. He wasn’t someone who enjoyed opening up or letting himself be vulnerable in front of anyone, but for Alice? He’d gladly lay himself bare. He’d do anything for her. Anything.

He was going to prove it. And he was going to start by making her the best damn dinner she’d ever had. Griffin mentally sifted through every conversation they’d ever had for clues to her favorite foods. She tended to eat a lot of junk food and takeout, but he needed tonight to be special. He wanted to wow her.

It might be wishful thinking, but he couldn’t let go of the impression that she’d been relieved when he told her he wasn’t really dating Kimberleigh. Had she actually been…jealous? Maybe she was interested in him as more than just a friend.

Or maybe not. Either way, tonight would be a celebration. He’d show her how much she meant to him, how much he valued her friendship, and how glad he was to spend time with her again.

Italian.

She’d mentioned once that she loved Italian food. Not just pizza, but actual authentic Italian. He knew just the recipe to knock her socks off.

Smiling, Griffin pulled out his phone and started making a shopping list.

It’s a date.

Alice couldn’t stop replaying the words in her head. They’d been bouncing around in her brain all day, growing larger and more distracting with each passing hour. She was fixated. It was like an earworm, but instead of a song it was three little words that made her heart feel like it was going to burst.

Whyyyy had she said she was going to work on campus all day? She could have kicked herself. Why hadn’t she just told Griffin she’d changed her mind and she’d be back after brunch?

For that matter, why not just go home right now instead of sitting in this study carrel, totally failing to get any work done?

Because of those three little words.

It’s a date.

Had he meant it? Or had it just been an expression? Now that she knew he wasn’t actually dating Kimberleigh, Alice was back to being completely confused by the signals he was sending her. He’d said they were friends, but did that mean they were just friends? She couldn’t shake the sense that maybe he wanted more—but also she was afraid to let herself hope for something like that. But then there was the drunken voicemail he’d left her. It had to have meant something, right?

Alice had been the worst brunch companion ever this morning. She’d barely spoken beyond monosyllables, and poor Rachel had spent the whole meal trying to cheer her up, thinking she was upset about Griffin and Kimberleigh.

When Rachel had asked about it, Alice had been forced to lie. She’d told her that Griffin had owned up to dating Kimberleigh and that it was fine—which Rachel obviously didn’t buy, given Alice’s distracted state of mind.

It sucked not to be able to tell Rachel the truth. She needed someone to talk to about all this uncertainty she was feeling—she needed someone to tell her if she was insane to hope something might actually happen between her and Griffin. But she couldn’t tell anyone anything. She’d promised Griffin not to say a word, and she wouldn’t jeopardize his career by blabbing something he’d told her in confidence.

Instead, Alice had drowned her troubles in maple syrup and bacon waffles. She couldn’t even have more than one mimosa, because she’d driven, and because she was going to campus straight after brunch to try to get some work done.

Ha. Not likely. Not in her current state of mind.

Instead, she was sitting here in the library, idly scrolling through Twitter after giving up on working altogether.

“Alice?”

The familiar voice dragged her out of her own thoughts and triggered an icy surge of fear.

It was him.

Dr. Gilchrist.