“Are they expecting us?” Dahlia looks back at the three of us from her spot outside Lovely in Lace, the bridal boutique where we’re supposed to be fitted, and to pick out bridesmaids dresses.

“Of course. I set it up with Frederica myself.” I look back at my convertible and unlock the doors with the remote. “I’ll get my phone and try her, but we should give it a few minutes as we’re ten minutes early.”

“When do they open?” Emily stands beside Dahlia, leaning on the thick concrete banister of the brownstone.

“We’re the first appointment today.”

“On a Saturday?” Cherry asks from the bottom of the steps. “In June? They must not be hard up for customers to be opening this late in prime wedding season.”

“They aren’t.”

As I grab my purse from the cup holder and stand to lock the car again, I see Rosa rushing up the street.

“Sorry, I’m late. My coffee habit waits for no one.” She holds up her cup in one hand, and a tray with four others. “Coffee?”

“Sure. Thanks.” I’m the closest, so I snag the one that has ‘D/R Black’ written in chalk on the lid.

“Drink up, ladies. We may all need it.” Rosa looks over at me with a timid, hesitant expression on her face. “Especially you, Vanessa.”

“Me? Why? Don’t get me wrong. I love my caffeine, but why would I—”

Before I can finish my question, she sticks her phone in my face, screen facing me. “Sorry I had to be the one to bring you news like this.”

I pull back from the phone to focus my vision on what’s on the screen. “What? No. That…that can’t be.”

There’s an article on the New York Portal Online in the Life and Society section that reads ‘Most Eligible Incu-Billionaire Bachelor Coming Off The Market?’ My head tilts to one side to see if I’m reading it right, and I hone in on what’s below the headline. Jesus, it’s a picture of Liam with his arm around my waist as we leave the Wainwright Plaza. They must have taken it after the meeting with my mother, Craig, and Marty Pelham.

“Wait. That’s me. But… I don’t remember anyone with a camera. Oh my freaking God.”

I grab her phone for a closer look and almost drop my cup of coffee as Cherry, Dahlia, and Emily practically vault down the steps for a look. We’re cramped around a tiny screen but manage to gather the high points. Apparently, I’m officially dating Liam, according to this article. Suddenly I don’t feel so well.

That’s when the door to Lovely in Lace opens, and Frederica steps out on the landing. “Good morning, ladies. Welcome to Lovely in Lace! Come on in, girls. My team’s all ready to help you pick out your bridesmaids’ dresses. Hi, Dahlia. You look so beautiful.”

Everyone files inside past my old friend from college as she prattles on. I take a little extra time because my legs feel like rubber. Frederica reaches out for a hug when I’m close enough. “Congrats, Vanessa! I saw the Huff Post. You and Liam O’Sullivan, that’s awesome! Just remember me when it’s time to pick out the wedding dress.” My face has probably already turned a shade of green because she stops her insistent prattling and looks closely at me. “Honey, are you all right? You don’t look so well.”

“I’m…fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Come inside. I’ll have one of the girls make you some green tea.”

“Wait, did you just say Huff Post?”

She pushes the front door closed behind us and nods non-stop. “Yes! Isn’t is exciting?”

“But I just saw it on the New York Portal.”

“Right. That’s where I saw it first, but one of my staff has been following Liam on all the online news and social media sites since the story broke about his Top Forty under Forty award.” She lifts her hand to her mouth, covering one side in a secretive gesture. “That’s kind of how we source some of our top clients. In this business, the gossip rags are our friends. But yes, the piece on you and Liam is everywhere. Well, she hasn’t seen it in print yet, but give it time.”

“I think I need to sit down.”

“But, you don’t look pleased at all. Hang on. It’s not a rumor, is it? Wait, when did you find out about the articles?”

“Two minutes ago, outside your store.”

“Good God. Is it even true?”

Finding the nearest antique buttonback chair in the place, I slump into the soft cushion and lean my head back to try and control the nausea. The timing couldn’t be worse to get this news. I’m vividly aware that today is not my day. We’re here for Dahlia’s wedding, and I’m probably ruining it with this drama. Frederica excuses herself to find me something less harsh than coffee to drink. I have to be careful with the answers I give her, which is why I kept my mouth shut at her question about whether the article was accurate. I’m not ready to take a public stance on this fake relationship, but the media wants to back me into a corner.

No one from any of the media sites contacted me for official word, or even a comment. And I didn’t see one from Liam either. They all mention that details came from a source close to the family. Now I’m curious, on the defensive.

A source close to the family.

What source? Who leaked it?

My head starts to spin as I begin to obsess about who might be the culprit. The picture in the article was from that day at the Wainwright Plaza. Someone who knew we’d be there could be the source. Or maybe the paparazzi stalk that hotel all the time, and figured out who Liam was after the fact.

Cherry returns to the foyer. “Sorry I left you. Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “How the hell could this have happened so fast?”

“It’s the news. I wouldn’t worry too much. Think about it. It’s not like Liam himself confirmed that you’re an item.”

“But what if they ask me for a comment?”

“You’re a lawyer. You can handle them.”

“True. It’ll probably blow over in a few days.”

“Exactly.” She rests a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Do you think you’ll be okay to try on a few dresses? No one will be upset if you need to reschedule, but as were already here—”

“No, you’re right.” I get off the chair. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you can reach out to Liam first.”

Her suggestion makes me groan. I have no clue how Liam will react to our faces splashed over all the online news channels. He was the one who lied to my mother to begin with. But does he want the whole world in on this gag? What would he even get out of it? He never struck me as an attention whore. I mean, he didn’t even tell me about the Top Forty under Forty thing. Fuck, I’m so confused, my sanity hanging by a string when what I should be doing is enjoying this bridal fitting.

“No.” I give my head a shake to physically wipe away the thoughts. “I’ll text him later.”

“Sounds great to me.” She hooks her arm into mine and leads me to the main section of the boutique, where pale pinks, pastels and soft, creamy satin, tulle and lace dresses and ball gowns hang neatly on rows and rows of rolling racks. “Let’s find us some hideous bridesmaids dresses for Dahlia’s wedding.”