Fake (West Hollywood 1)

Patrick had suggested I invite someone over and start behaving more like the house was my home. A big step. But then today seemed to be all about the big steps in our relationship. After Liv’s visit, he stayed by my side, but retreated into himself. Either due to guilt over his friend’s marriage being on the rocks and the part he’d played in that or concern over possible repercussions from Liv filing. The media was bound to want to link him to the latest developments. That story sold so well last time, after all.

To everyone’s surprise, however, there’d been no announcement. All was quiet in West Hollywood. Maybe Liv would rather be unhappy than alone. Who knows? Gran always said the only people who really understood a relationship were the people in it. Not that it ever stopped her from giving her opinion.

“She got my order wrong,” said Zena, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I snorted into my martini. “I did not. You were drunk and changed your mind like five times.”

Zena giggled. “I remember, that fool had just left me. What was his name?”

“We dare not speak it. He does not deserve to be named.”

“Amen.” She held her hands up in prayer. “But you did get my order wrong and you forgot my guacamole.”

“It was like my first week waitressing. I was an idiot baby who had no idea what I was doing. Stop picking on me, lady.”

Patrick watched us, bemused.

“I hope you didn’t tip her,” said Jack, stretched out in the corner with a beer.

“She snuck me a free margarita, so I took pity on her. We’ve been friends ever since.” Zena gave me a wink.

“How’s the shop going?” I asked.

“Ugh. When are you coming back? I cannot be left alone with the accounts—you know this. A shipment of new-season stock arrived just yesterday and I would kiss your feet if you’d come help me process it,” she said, giving me a come-hither look, batting her eyelashes and everything.

“Would you, now?”

“You’d have to demonstrate you’d properly washed them first, though. I have high standards.”

I laughed.

“Mine are diligently and thoroughly washed on a daily basis,” said Jack, raising one of his big black boots.

Zena looked down her nose. “I bend at the waist for no man.”

“Hear, hear.” I raised my drink in toast to her. Seriously. The woman was my second favorite vagina-wielding person after Gran.

“Are you thinking of getting more help?” asked Patrick, taking hold of my hand.

Zena raised a brow. “You’re not going to let Norah come back?”

“Norah does what she wants.”

“Good answer,” said Zena. “But yes, I have been giving serious thought to expanding the boutique for a while. What I’d really like to do is move to a bigger location.”

I smiled. “That’s a great idea.”

“I think so. But while things are going well, I don’t see me having the funds for another year or two. Especially with the wedding coming up,” she said. “A pity, because the perfect space has opened up down the street.”

“What about an investor?” asked Patrick.

“There is someone who’s interested but . . . they’d need to be silent,” said Zena. “I can count the people I’d trust to actually be actively involved on one hand. And the bulk of those people are busy with their own thing. Such as your fiancée, here.”

I cocked my head. “But I don’t have a thing.”

Patrick just looked at me.

“I mean, I had jobs that I liked. But I wouldn’t exactly call that me doing my thing, you know?” I asked. “I’ve been thinking about getting a thing, now that I’ve got the time and money.”

Zena raised a brow again.

“What would you like to do?” asked Patrick, giving my hand a squeeze. “I mean, if money were no object?”

“I don’t know.”

“You were talking about online courses.”

I shrugged. “I think I’d rather do than learn right now. Or do and learn at the same time. Cole has kind of inspired me with this entrepreneur business. Maybe I should talk to him.”

“Nah,” said Jack. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good-looking guy. But dumb as a box of hammers.”

Patrick bit back a smile and nodded in agreement. “Sad but true. You could talk to me, though.”

“Sure he is,” I said drily. “And I am talking to you.”

“You know the boutique just about as well as I do,” said Zena thoughtfully. “Just putting that out there. Though if you were serious about it, you’d need to make your mind up fast. That investor I told you about is pressuring me for answer. I also don’t know how long that other shop will be available, which is my main reason for considering doing this right now.”

“Investing in a business you have intimate knowledge of sounds sensible.” Patrick ran his thumb back and forth over my knuckles. “You know I’d be happy to help, Norah.”