Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl

Cap’s laughter cuts me off, and the damn thing is so loud it makes my ears ring. “Right, Harry. You’re splendid.” He shakes his head. “You can’t fool me. I’ve been there before, and I know you’re just a few seconds away from stripping off your clothes and lying naked on the couch in an attempt to fuse with the cushions.”

I roll my eyes. “That was you.”

“Uh, yeah. My heart was broken then, and yours is now.” He lifts up a hand to the rest of the group and shakes his head. “It’s like he’s trying to help me win the case.”

I want to ask them a hundred questions about how news traveled so fucking fast, but I fear I might not want to hear that information just yet. So, I choose deflection as a way to cope.

“Listen, guys, this is sweet, but I’m really just in the mood to be alone. I promise to shower and eat, and after last night, I promise not to binge drink again. Scout’s honor.”

Georgia’s eyes start to look kind of panicked, and she turns to Kline violently. My eyebrows draw together at the weirdness of how attached they are to staying here, but Kline comforts her easily and uses his voice to be reasonable like always.

“How about we hang out for just a little while longer?” he suggests. “Long enough for the women to dote on you with all the goodies they made the men go to the store and buy. Then we’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

I sigh heavily, but as the women separate instantly from the group of men and flock to the kitchen, it’s obvious the decision has already been made. Cap claps me on the shoulder and moves to join his wife at the kitchen island. “Just go with it, dude. It’ll be worth it.” He winks. “Cap-i-tain’s honor. ’Cause you know I’m not a Scout.”

I may be captive to their theatrics for the next thirty minutes, but I don’t have to be a willing participant. I turn the other way and walk into the living room to take a seat on the couch. Unfortunately, the women follow me, filling all the space around me, the seats on either side of me, the arms of the couch, and in some cases, perching atop the coffee table.

Cassie, however, makes sure to slap me on the shoulder before taking her spot. “We told you you were going to need us! We welcomed you into the club and gave you the password to the support system, but did you use it? No!”

The other women nod. “You should have called us in way sooner,” Lena insists. “I know how this whole thing works. Fashion is dog-eat-dog too. I could have helped you.”

I laugh sardonically. “Pretty sure your husband would just love if I contacted you regularly.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. Theo’s got no reason to worry, and he knows it. I show him at least two times a day that he’s the apple of my eye.”

“Oh my God,” I groan. “More than I needed to know.”

The women, it seems, feel differently. There’s so much hooting, I temporarily mistake my location for the center of a group of owls.

“Twice a day? Really?” Cassie growls. “Thatcher’s gotta step up his dick game.”

Lena laughs. “You have kids. It’s different.”

“Not if he wants to keep his cock crowned as king, it’s not.”

“Not to be dramatic,” Maybe chimes in. “But this powwow is supposed to be about Harrison.”

“No, no. Really, I’m fine with—” I try to defer, but it’s too late.

“Why didn’t you call us sooner?” Winnie pushes.

I shrug helplessly. I’m sweating. This is like being called to the witness stand in court times a thousand.

“Because things were going well. I didn’t need any guidance while things were going well.”

Cassie snorts. “God, I really do love men.”

“What?” I question.

“It’s never actually going well,” Winnie supplies. “Not until all the chaos settles.”

“And man,” Georgia chimes in, “you sure had a boatload of chaos going on over there.”

“It’s Hollywood,” Cassie says with a nod. “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t expect this.”

“Expect to get my heart broken?” I ask as all the women look at one another like Cassie just said something she shouldn’t have. “What are you guys talking about?”

Georgia looks panicked, and Cassie slides over on the coffee table to position herself in front of her.

“Okay,” I say. “Something is definitely going on. Who’s going to tell me what—”

“Harrison,” Cap interrupts, using my real name for what might be the first time ever. “Door.”

Now hot on the women’s suspicious trail, I wave him off. “You get it.” I have no fucking clue who it could be anyway. The gang’s all here.

“No,” Cap replies, surprising me entirely. “I think you should get it.”

Annoyed, I jump up from the couch and charge to the door, and when I arrive, I don’t open it gently. A dramatic, harsh motion swings the wood toward me, and the instant I take in the visitor on the other side—a wide-eyed Rocky, looking painfully beautiful with our baby in her belly—I turn into a man made of stone.