After an hour of fact checking in a tiny cubicle that was used for storage, I was more than ready to be done for the day. I technically only had to work in the Daily offices for three hours a week to meet my class requirements, and since I’d already surpassed that number, I was tempted to go home and take a nap. There was a reason I didn’t normally drink on weeknights. Several reasons, really. At the top of the list—feeling like crap during a long day of classes followed by mindless busywork designed to put me to sleep.

“Emma, there you are.” I turned around to find Jason grinning at me, a stack of files in his arms. “I snagged us a conference room to go through this stuff, if you’re ready for a break.”

I wasn’t sure that being cooped up with him in a windowless room qualified as a break, but I forced a smile and agreed. So much for that afternoon nap.

Once we were seated, he handed me the folder on the top of his stack. “I made copies of some of the resources I thought might be helpful for your project.”

“Thank you.” I flipped through the pages to find a list of contacts with the city, information on zoning and permits, and even the names of approved private investigators.

“Since it’s not in my area of expertise, let me know if there’s anything specific you need, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“How is it that an up-and-coming political reporter got stuck mentoring someone with no interest in politics?”

What I really wanted to ask was, how did I get stuck with a first-year reporter as my guide in the newspaper business? But I always tried to employ the “catch more flies with honey than vinegar” technique when interviewing someone, so I refrained from saying that. Barely.

Jason sat up straighter at the compliment. “I’ve done a little bit of everything, not just politics. I requested to be your mentor since most people around here are too busy to pay attention to anyone but themselves.”

It was his idea, as I suspected. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” I eyed the other files, wondering what else he wanted to talk to me about.

“Oh, you’re not.” His brown eyes crinkled as he smiled, reminding me why I’d always thought he was attractive. Still, it struck me as odd that he was being so insistent about spending time with me—first, by suggesting I apply for the externship, then volunteering to be my mentor. Although we’d been friendly acquaintances at school, we weren’t so close that I’d expect him to do me any favors. Was he just trying to be a nice guy?

“Okay, what else do you have for me?”

I finally escaped Jason after he spent an hour going over some of the articles he’d written for the paper and the tools and contacts he utilized to dig deeper into the stories. It was an interesting enough conversation, but after spending only four afternoons at the Daily, I could tell that the newspaper business was not for me. It was noisy, chaotic, and just not where I saw myself working. I preferred order and reasonable deadlines any day.

On the other hand, I loved the research I was conducting for my project. There was nothing quite like delving into an issue and examining it from all angles. But how did that translate into a career? Freelance journalism? Could I even make a living at that?

Once I arrived back at my apartment, I made a note in my phone to talk to Dr. Lancaster about it at our next meeting. My gaze caught on the contact information for the AutoShop where Jeremy used to work, and I debated for at least the tenth time whether I should investigate him. It hadn’t even been a week since I inserted myself into Nicholas’s business, and now I was contemplating doing the same to Cole. Then I remembered how happy Cole looked with Jeremy at the bar, and the idea of his brother taking advantage of him made my blood boil.

I jotted down questions and called the number before I could talk myself out of it. When I reached the manager on shift, I put on my most professional-sounding human resources voice and introduced myself as “Mary from Loft25 in Las Vegas” and asked for employment verification on Jeremy Reid.

“I already talked to someone about Jeremy last week,” the manager said with annoyance.

“Yes, and I’m so sorry about this, but the information that was input into our system was incomplete. Would you mind answering a couple of additional questions?”

“Fine,” he groused. “Give me a minute to pull up his file.”

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.”

While the line was quiet, I read through my questions and underlined the most important ones. I needed to get through them before the manager became suspicious. Well, more suspicious.

When he came back on the line, he gave me Jeremy’s last-known address, starting and ending wages, and overall employee evaluation. It sounded like he’d been a fairly reliable employee but not motivated enough to advance.

“Okay, last question. What was the reason Jeremy gave for leaving the company, and how much notice did he provide?” Technically two questions, but whatever.

“He only gave three days’ notice because he said there was an urgent family matter he had to deal with out of state.”

Interesting. “Thank you so much for your time.”

I finished making notes about what the manager said, then sat back and re-read them. Jeremy left what seemed to be a steady, decent-paying job to randomly move to Vegas and seek his brother’s help. He’d told Cole when he first arrived that he wanted to finally get out from under their mother’s thumb, but that didn’t sound like a decision one made on a whim. Had things with their mother deteriorated that quickly, or was something else going on?

After considering the problem for a while, I decided to let it go, for now. Maybe, just maybe, if I gave Jeremy the benefit of the doubt, he’d prove me wrong.

* * *

“Earth to Emma.”

I snapped my head up to meet Simone’s knowing gaze. “Sorry, what?”

“I’m getting this overwhelming sense of déja vu, and I can’t figure out why.” She examined her perfectly-manicured nails, her brow creased as if deep in thought, before snapping her fingers. “That’s right! This is almost an exact repeat of several weeks ago. Except, this time, you look more morose than flustered. Want to explain what’s going on?”

Pushing my half-eaten salad away, I shrugged. “I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Such as?”

Such as, I might be falling in love with one or more of my boyfriends. “My test tomorrow and an article I promised Jason I’d help him with.”

Simone shot me a withering glare. “You know, every time you lie to me, a fairy dies.”

I choke-laughed. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t even pretend this is about school or some article. I know you better than that.”

Usually, I appreciated Simone’s keen observational skills, but this wasn’t one of those times. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so overwhelmed, and if I started talking about everything, I’d probably crumple under the weight of it. Between my regular schoolwork and the school paper, my externship, and dating three guys, I was insanely busy. More than that, I was emotionally wrung out. I felt like I needed a time out from my life, but I couldn’t even fit that in.

“Okay, fine, you’re right. But I don’t feel like talking about it right now.”

Simone studied me for a few seconds before hopping out of her seat. She dumped both of our trays, then grabbed my messenger bag and held it out to me. “Let’s go do something fun.”

“Like what?”

“Go to the mall, see a movie, get a pedicure. Whatever.”

Groaning, I took my bag and followed her. “I have too much to do.”

“Admit it, the only thing that will get you of that funk is quality girl time.”

Well, obsessing about the Ts, Jeremy, and my mother was getting me nowhere. I could admit that much. “I do need to shop for a cocktail dress.”

“Perfect! What’s the occasion?”

“Nic’s sister’s engagement party in Pasadena.”

Simone halted her steps. “What? When? Why didn’t I know about this?”

I continued walking, and she had to jog to catch up with me. “Engagement party. We leave a week from tomorrow. I forgot to tell you about it.”

“How could you forget to tell me? It’s Pasadena with Nicholas’s snooty family. That’s big. Huge, even.”

“Nic just told me about it Friday. And maybe I’ve been trying not to think about it too much because of the snooty family part.”

She linked her arm through mine. “Well, clear your schedule for the rest of the afternoon, Em, because we’re going to find you the perfect dress.”

After two hours spent wandering the mall, we finally found the dress.

“Are you sure I can get away with wearing red to an engagement party?” I asked as I admired myself in the mirror. Unlike the one I wore the night I met the Ts, this crimson dress clung to my skin without being slinky. In fact, it checked all the right boxes—pretty, classy, and a tad sexy. “Isn’t there some rule about not drawing attention away from the bride?”

“It’s a Valentine’s Day engagement party, which means the bride is practically asking for every woman to show up in red. Plus, that rule only applies to the wedding.”

“Valid points,” I conceded.

“Your red stilettos will look perfect with this dress. You have to wear them.”

I pictured the designer stilettos Cole gifted me before our first date and had to agree they were the ideal style and color. “Even though Cole gave them to me? That’s not tacky?”

Simone tapped her forefinger against her lips, considering. “Maybe if he was an ex-boyfriend, but since he’s a current one, it’s totally okay. And you need them as armor against all the bitches who will attack you for showing up with Prince Nicholas.”

I groaned. “Do you think it’ll be that bad?”

She gave me an encouraging smile. “Maybe not. Maybe you’ll feel exactly like Cinderella at the ball. Just beware of ugly stepsisters.”

I double-checked the tag on the dress. “Okay, I’m getting it.” Thank goodness it was on clearance. Otherwise, I’d have to go with my second choice, a nice but relatively boring black option.

Simone gave me an impromptu hug. “That’s my girl.”

After purchasing the dress, then handing the last of my budgeted cash over to a clerk for my favorite lipstick that I’d been out of for weeks, I sighed. “This is it. I can’t buy anything else.”

She pouted. “Okay, okay. But we’re stopping for frozen yogurt. My treat.”

On the way out of the store, I tried not to look in the direction of the shoe department, but a pair caught my eye, and I couldn’t look away. Was it my imagination, or was a heavenly light shining down on them?

Before I even knew what happened, I stood directly in front of the display and held one of the most perfect shoes I’d ever seen. It was a black peep-toe bootie with a wicked heel and thin black laces threading through the entire shoe.

“Try them on,” Simone said, coming up behind me.

“I can’t.” I attempted to put the shoe back on the table but failed, instead just holding it and staring.

“Sure, you can.” She summoned the salesman and asked for the booties in my size.

“Simone, no. If I try them on, I’ll want them, and I can’t afford it.”

“I’ll buy them—”

“No way. You already bought the dress I wore on New Year’s Eve.”

“I told you. It was one of many hanging in my closet.”

“Now who’s killing fairies?”

She tried to scowl but ended up laughing. “Fine, I may have picked it up with you in mind. But if you don’t let me buy these shoes for you, I’ll get them in my size and wear them all the time to spite you.”

“That’s cruel.”

“I know.”

I caved and tried them on, just like I knew I would. They weren’t comfortable, of course, but they fit perfectly and looked so damn amazing. I was seriously in love.

“We’ll take them!” Simone handed the box to the hovering salesman. Once he’d taken them to the counter, she said, “They’re an early birthday gift. Now I won’t have to stress over what to get you. Think about all of the time and effort you’re saving me.”

I didn’t want to accept such an extravagant gift, but I knew she would come back and buy them for me anyway. At least they weren’t a designer pair like the ones Cole gave me.

“I’m officially a shoe whore,” I said with a resigned sigh.

Simone visibly brightened. “Ooh, sex in exchange for shoes. I like it.” She circled me, looking me up and down. “I’ve never thought about going there with you, but you’re hot, and we’re still in college. We should be experimenting, right?”

“Shut up and go pay for the stupid shoes.”

“You know you want me,” she called over her shoulder.

I shook my head, unable to tamp down my smile. Simone drove me crazy at times, but she was the best friend I’d ever had. She was brilliant, beautiful, and confident in a way that would be intimidating if she wasn’t also generous and down-to-earth. And we never got into those catty arguments I’d experienced with every other female friend at one point or another.

Now, more than ever, I appreciated her friendship. I had a feeling most girls wouldn’t be so supportive of my decision to date three men. She didn’t judge or gossip about me. Simone might want to hear the dirty details, but I never detected an ounce of jealousy in her. She was genuinely interested in my happiness. I couldn’t ask for anything more.