You were fired.”
“I wasn’t fired. I quit.”
“You say tomato. I say tomato,” she said, using the American and English versions of the pronunciations. “Did you marry that guy?”
She thought about lying, but it wasn’t a good idea. Camille was knee-deep in lies as it was. “Yes.”
“What?” The long lashes shading her cheeks flew up. “Where’d you meet him? I didn’t know you were seeing anybody, much less thinking about getting married.” Tasha studied her suspiciously. “Is that why you quit?” she said, with a flash of curiosity. “Where’s he from anyway? Somewhere in Europe, I bet.” An enlightening smile curled on her plump, red lips. “Ooh...that’s why Margo’s so mad because you up and quit.”
Maybe the best thing for everyone was to let Tasha think the marriage was real. “Look, don’t say anything to him about my employment at Disclosure Magazine or what happened. I don’t want him to start thinking he’s robbed me of my career.”
“Yeah, that’s not a great way to start a marriage, is it?” She paused, reaching for a goblet of water. “Maybe you should just tell him you’re an aspiring actress. That way, it’s easy enough to explain away your lack of real work.” Tasha was reiterating her parents objections to her acting career, or lack thereof, as Tasha was the epitome of an aspiring actress who hadn’t caught her big break.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I am curious about one thing though?” she said, with a hint of questioning in her tone. “When you called, why’d you say you were on a story?”
“I thought you’d try to talk me out of marrying Julian.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked. “It’s obvious he’s crazy about you.”
Surprise blasted through Camille. Tasha didn’t need to see her composure crumbling. She held her breath and arrested the astonishment, holding it inside.
“When were you going to tell me?” Tasha threw an accusing glare at Camille.
“When I called to invite you to be a member of the wedding party for the ceremony in France.” Well, it sounded good anyway.
“France?” Her mood changed, turning buoyant. “Are you shitting me?”
Camille shook her head. “His family lives in Marseilles. Most of the time.”
She looked at Camille’s attire again and drew a sharp breath, like she’d discovered the queen’s jewels. “This guy’s like super rich, isn’t he?” The words came out like a question but there was no inquiry in her tone.
Camille considered lying. Again. But abandoned the idea. “Yes.”
“Oh, man, no wonder you didn’t tell me about him.” Her devilish laughter validated Camille’s reservations.
“Precisely.”
“I wouldn’t have hit on him, though. Not when you’re so clearly into him.”
Camille snorted. “Since when did that ever stop you?”
“Well okay, there was that one time,” she said, as if it wasn’t as important as Camille had deemed. “But he provoked me.”
“Just stay away from Julian, okay.”
“Oh, no worries there.” Her mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile. “He’s not into me. He’s all about you.”
Good . She was glad Tasha saw it that way—no matter how distorted her view was. It saved Camille a lot of grief in the long run.
“Okay, so, remember not a word of Disclosure or any of that stuff.” Camille hoped her stern voice was effective.
“Mum’s the word.” Her friend nodded her head slyly. “So, when’s the French wedding?”
Camille had no idea. But she knew the European wedding needed to take place soon because of the pre-nup provisions. So, the sooner the better. “Probably a couple of weeks.”
“I’ll bet there are some hot guys in France. When do I get to come?”
“We’ll see what Julian says. I don’t even know where we’re going to live.” She laughed, her confidence wavering. “He said something about a family home in Marseilles.”
“Oh, god, you’re not going to have to live with his parents, are
“I wasn’t fired. I quit.”
“You say tomato. I say tomato,” she said, using the American and English versions of the pronunciations. “Did you marry that guy?”
She thought about lying, but it wasn’t a good idea. Camille was knee-deep in lies as it was. “Yes.”
“What?” The long lashes shading her cheeks flew up. “Where’d you meet him? I didn’t know you were seeing anybody, much less thinking about getting married.” Tasha studied her suspiciously. “Is that why you quit?” she said, with a flash of curiosity. “Where’s he from anyway? Somewhere in Europe, I bet.” An enlightening smile curled on her plump, red lips. “Ooh...that’s why Margo’s so mad because you up and quit.”
Maybe the best thing for everyone was to let Tasha think the marriage was real. “Look, don’t say anything to him about my employment at Disclosure Magazine or what happened. I don’t want him to start thinking he’s robbed me of my career.”
“Yeah, that’s not a great way to start a marriage, is it?” She paused, reaching for a goblet of water. “Maybe you should just tell him you’re an aspiring actress. That way, it’s easy enough to explain away your lack of real work.” Tasha was reiterating her parents objections to her acting career, or lack thereof, as Tasha was the epitome of an aspiring actress who hadn’t caught her big break.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I am curious about one thing though?” she said, with a hint of questioning in her tone. “When you called, why’d you say you were on a story?”
“I thought you’d try to talk me out of marrying Julian.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked. “It’s obvious he’s crazy about you.”
Surprise blasted through Camille. Tasha didn’t need to see her composure crumbling. She held her breath and arrested the astonishment, holding it inside.
“When were you going to tell me?” Tasha threw an accusing glare at Camille.
“When I called to invite you to be a member of the wedding party for the ceremony in France.” Well, it sounded good anyway.
“France?” Her mood changed, turning buoyant. “Are you shitting me?”
Camille shook her head. “His family lives in Marseilles. Most of the time.”
She looked at Camille’s attire again and drew a sharp breath, like she’d discovered the queen’s jewels. “This guy’s like super rich, isn’t he?” The words came out like a question but there was no inquiry in her tone.
Camille considered lying. Again. But abandoned the idea. “Yes.”
“Oh, man, no wonder you didn’t tell me about him.” Her devilish laughter validated Camille’s reservations.
“Precisely.”
“I wouldn’t have hit on him, though. Not when you’re so clearly into him.”
Camille snorted. “Since when did that ever stop you?”
“Well okay, there was that one time,” she said, as if it wasn’t as important as Camille had deemed. “But he provoked me.”
“Just stay away from Julian, okay.”
“Oh, no worries there.” Her mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile. “He’s not into me. He’s all about you.”
Good . She was glad Tasha saw it that way—no matter how distorted her view was. It saved Camille a lot of grief in the long run.
“Okay, so, remember not a word of Disclosure or any of that stuff.” Camille hoped her stern voice was effective.
“Mum’s the word.” Her friend nodded her head slyly. “So, when’s the French wedding?”
Camille had no idea. But she knew the European wedding needed to take place soon because of the pre-nup provisions. So, the sooner the better. “Probably a couple of weeks.”
“I’ll bet there are some hot guys in France. When do I get to come?”
“We’ll see what Julian says. I don’t even know where we’re going to live.” She laughed, her confidence wavering. “He said something about a family home in Marseilles.”
“Oh, god, you’re not going to have to live with his parents, are
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