“What do you do, girlie?”

“I’m a designer.”

“If I had a buck for every wannabe designer in this town …” The bartenders shook their heads.

I squinted.

Now there was only one. Much better.

The bartender, I think his name was Chris, set another shot in front of me. I took it and toasted him.

“Hey Ava, what’re—uh oh, I think you’ve had enough.” Jordan came up behind me and lifted the shot glass from my fingers.

I protested and tried to grab it back. She searched for a spot to put the glass but ended up downing it herself. “Problem solved,” Jordan muttered, setting the glass down in front of Chris with a look. “No more,” she told him, her eyes cutting to me.

What’d I do?

We’d been back in New York two weeks. Tonight was an escape valve from the hectic spring planning. “Celebrating” wasn’t the right word, since I couldn’t come up with anything to get excited about. But a few drinks had taken the edge off.

“Can you look after yourself for a second?” Jordan leaned over. “I’m going to find Lex.”

“Yes, Mom.” I sat on my stool and closed my eyes, listening to the hum.

The problem was I didn’t like to be left alone. Because whenever I was alone I started thinking about him again.

Call him.

I’d thought it ten times in the week since getting back from Cali, but for the first time in my entire life I couldn’t figure out what to say. Once or twice I’d even had the crazy idea of just showing up. But who knew what I’d find. If he’d even want to see me.

A voice cut through my haze and in craned my neck in its direction.

“Josh?”

The blond head swiveled from a few seats down the bar. He looked as surprised as me. “Ava! Shit. Long time.”

“Yeah, it has been.” I slid carefully off the bar stool, took a second to regain my balance on the spinning floor, and walked up to him.

“How’s Nate?” Josh asked when I leaned against the bar next to him. “Haven’t heard from him since an email a couple weeks ago. Sounds like he’s adjusted.”

My throat burned. “Yeah.” It hurt that he’d been in touch with Josh but not me but I couldn’t comment on it. It was my own damned fault.

“It was too bad he had to go at all, but that picture of you guys really blew up.”

“Uh-huh. Excuse me.” Suddenly feeling the four drinks I’d already had, I stumbled toward the bathroom. I hovered over the toilet for a minute or five before deciding I was safe.

Josh’s final words made it into my foggy brain as I leaned over the sink, staring down the suspicious-looking brunette in the mirror it took a second to realize was me.

I’d never seen the picture of me and Nate at the game. After the conversation with Nate, I didn’t want anything to do with Townsend Price or Alistair Townsend. Now in my buzz and with a few weeks of distance, it seemed safer.

I leaned a hip against the sink, bracing myself in case my balance let me down. Squinted at the tiny numbers and letters on the screen of my phone.

Voojgar.

Nope

Fiifle.

Urgh.

Gootke—

Close. I hit backspace a few times.

Fucking finally.

I typed in Nate’s name and mine into the Google window. And there it was. A picture of us looking cozy at Yankee Stadium and a news article to go with it.

Shit. They had really made him look terrible. I found myself getting angry on his behalf. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been so careful not to bias the case, and here they were making him look like the biggest scammer on the face of the planet.

I’d been putting it off but couldn’t anymore. Hitting a contact on my phone, I chewed my lip while waiting for an answer.

No answer. But I got a beep.

“Nate. It’s me. I know we’re supposed to be on a break. But this break sucks. What the hell is a break anyway? It’s like a break up with out the up part. Which doesn’t even make sense…” Focus. “Anyway, I saw the picture. It’s pretty shitty. I mean, it’s unflattering too, but what they wrote is shitty. I get why your dad was upset. But it’s not really your fault. Hell, it’s not really my fault either, but that’s not the point. Did I mention this break sucks?”

I pushed a hand through my hair that was falling in my face as I leaned over the counter.

“None of that’s why I’m calling. I’m sorry I attacked you when you told me about the move. I kind of get it, wanting to help your dad. Even if there’s no way I’m voting for him because he’s a—” Beep.

I frowned at the phone. If you couldn’t leave drunk voicemails on your sort-of-ex’s phone, what the hell good was voicemail?

I stumbled back out of the washroom. Looking around to orient myself, my eyes landed on Josh again. He was talking with a pretty girl with long, golden hair at the bar.

Something was bothering me about seeing him. About what he’d said.

Think, Ava. What would Nate do?

Probably not have four drinks to begin with.

I tried to remember the text of the article. Urged myself to put the pieces together.

“Hey Josh.” I leaned in between him and his friend.

“Hey, we were in the middle of something!”

“Sorry. You can have him back in thirty seconds.” I practically pushed her down the bar and wedged between them. “So how’s life at Townsend Price?” I asked casually.

Josh looked amused. And also drunk. “Good. Living the dream. It’s quiet without Nate.”

Click.

Big. Fucking. Click.

“Yeah?” I grinned at him. “How many associates are left?”

“Three.”

That’s it.

I shook my head, marveling. “So you’re it. One of the last guys standing. You’re still an associate and Nate got fired.”

He shrugged. “It worked out for the best.”

My voice cooled. “You did this. The photo, the article.”

“Nah.” But something flickered in his blue eyes.

“Who else would know Nate had these tickets? That he’s always at games on Fridays?”

Josh sighed. “Ava, shit. Anyone could know.”

“But no one would bother paying attention to who he went with unless there was a reason. You betrayed your best friend for nothing.”

I realized too late that I was shouting at him.

Apparently my buddy Chris and I were less tight than I thought, because he motioned for security, and two giant men promptly grabbed me and Josh—though it looked like Josh got it a little harder than I did—and deposited us on the sidewalk in front of the bar.

“Wait! What about my jacket?” But the bouncer had already disappeared back in side.

When I looked back Josh was bent over, one hand braced on the building to steady himself. “Damn. You just got us kicked out.” He laughed drunkenly.

“I’m so sorry to throw a wrench in your social life.” I crossed my arms across my chest and leaned against the building, still fuming.

He groaned. “I was going to get laid tonight, Ava. That girl was a sure thing.” He ran his eyes down my body while he wove on his feet. “You know, you and I never—”

I leveled him with a stare. “Not in a million years.”

“The ground’s spinning right now,” he mumbled.

“Tell me this.” I pointed a finger at him and narrowed my eyes, my other hand still braced on the building for balance. “Did you take the picture or did you get someone to take it?”

Josh shrugged. “Course I didn’t take it. But I knew someone was gonna be there. It wasn’t a big deal to get it and share it with the right people.”

“So you screwed over your best friend for nothing.” The realization did more to sober me than two hours of mainlining water could.

“It’s not nothing, Ava. Shit. When you’re not a Townsend, you have to color outside the lines to get what you want. Nate might have a good heart, but he’s still some rich kid who does whatever the fuck he wants and gets away with it.”

As an assertive woman and reigning president of the Nate Townsend fan club, I did the only thing possible.

I pulled my fist back and slammed it into Josh’s face as hard as I could.

“What the—?” He touched his nose. “You crazy bitch! I’m bleeding!”

I couldn’t see any blood, but my hand was starting to seriously hurt …

The police car parked at the curb hadn’t been on my radar until an officer stepped out of the car with a purposeful look on her face. My eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

Lex and Jordan came running out of the bar just as my hands were tugged behind my back. The cold metal on my wrists killed my buzz even more.

“Ava? What the hell is going on?” Jordan demanded.

“I have no idea!”

The female officer started to push me into the backseat of the car.

“Are you fucking serious?” Lex was vibrating with anger, but not at me. “She’s a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet!” she shouted at the officer. “I’ll be right there,” she told me, running around to peer in the window of the car. Her voice was muted through the closed window. “Don’t do anything reckless—er, anything else reckless. I’ll send John down.”

In a whirlwind of fluorescent lighting and fine print I was taken to the station, written up, and fingerprinted. Thirty minutes later I found myself in a concrete cube.

This was not how I’d thought tonight would go down.

I eyed up my cell mate. She was taller than me, like most of the world, but skinny. Her hair had seen better days.

Fuck. I was behind actual bars. I walked up to them, feeling them in my hands. It would’ve been cool if I hadn’t been so freaked out.

Mom would freak when she heard about this. Dylan had been busted for drugs in high school, but by Dad and not the cops. Dad’s gambling issues were bad but not illegal. My closest call was as an accomplice to stealing a street sign when I was twelve. As far as I knew, I was the only Cameron to actually land myself in jail. It would be the new reigning achievement in the Cameron Family Hall of Shame.

Minutes dragged by. The officers had taken my purse and phone so I didn’t have anything to do. No apps or celebrity gossip sites.

I called out. “Excuse me? What’s going on?” A telltale sensation crept up. It always happened when I got nervous. “Can I use a bathroom?”

A stern woman with a clipboard appeared. She eyed me like she wasn’t about to be impressed with anything coming out of my mouth. “Just cool your heels.”

I walk back to the bench and sat gingerly on it. I was in jail, my hand was really starting to hurt, and I had to pee like a racehorse.

The other woman looked over at me. “You hooking?” she asked in a low voice when the policewoman had gone.

“Am I—what?” I glanced down at my clothes. My skirt was pretty short, but my top was DVF. I sighed. “No. I hit a guy.”

She nodded knowingly. “Bet the asshole deserved it.”

I closed my eyes and leaned against the cinder wall of the cell. “Pretty sure he did.”

Just as I was reconciling myself to this fate, a voice cut through the din of the police station. “Yes, the paperwork is here. He’s not pressing charges. It was a misunderstanding.”

Impossible. I was definitely hearing things.

I rushed to the bars to try and see down the hall.

Nothing. I sank back to sit on the floor.

This was the last time I was going out, getting drunk, and hitting some guy. I’d learned my lesson. My hand, which was aching every time blood flowed to it, agreed with me.

Then the most perfect shoes in the world appeared. Black leather. Italian.

And I forgot the pain.

I dragged my eyes upward from the shoes, my breath catching when our gazes connected.

It wasn’t even a contest. Nate looked a million times more put together than me in one of his best suits. Which seemed bizarre, since it was one in the morning. But the moment his eyes locked on mine, I couldn’t have cared less what he was wearing.

I pulled myself up to standing. “Am I hallucinating? It’s been so long. No water, no food …” I held my hand in front of my face to see if it was moving.

“How long has she been in here?” he asked curtly over his shoulder.

“About forty-five minutes.”

Nate turned back to me. Coughed.

“I don’t have a watch,” I said defensively. “But that’s not the point. What are you even doing here?”

“Lex called me.”

This wasn’t adding up. I blame it on the booze. “Don’t you live in the Midwest now?”

“I flew home yesterday. I’d let Lex know I was coming back this weekend because—” he shrugged “—I guess I hoped she’d tell me I still had a shot. She seemed to think I did.

“My phone was off tonight but I woke up when Jordan pounded on my door. Then on the way down here I played your voicemail. It was pretty unreal. Even if you were drunker than a socialite on her twenty-first birthday.” Nate looked into me with those blue eyes. “Did you mean what you said?”

I nodded. But there was something else I needed to get out. “Nate, Josh was the one who leaked the photo. I’m so sorry.”

His face set in a grim expression. “Shit. I’ll deal with it. Later.”

My nerves started to ease for the first time in the month since he’d gone. “Nate? I’m so fucking glad you came.”

He reached through the bars to take my hand. “Me too,” he murmured.

“Me too.” We both turned to look at the woman behind me.

“Get me out of here,” I whispered.

“You got it.”

The police woman came back to discharge me. Once the door was open I sank, grateful, into Nate’s familiar arms.

The other woman from the cell piped up. “You her pimp?” she asked Nate.

The corner of Nate’s mouth twitched.

“Just say yes,” I muttered. We walked out, me leaning on him. My first breath outside felt like the best one I’d taken in my entire life.

“So you hit Josh,” Nate asked as we walked to his car. His voice held a smidge of admiration.

I nodded. “I am president of the Nate Townsend fan club,” I replied.

“The what?” He looked confused.

“Don’t worry about it, Superman.” I flexed my fingers, making a face as my knuckles burned.

“How’s your hand?” he asked, taking it to inspect before he opened the car door for me.

A giant sigh whooshed out. “Honestly, Nate? It hurts like a fucker. I don’t know how guys can do this all the time.”

He chuckled, and the sound made up for the pain in my hand and then some. “Me either.”