In hindsight, running a boyfriend-for-hire ad on her social media was a bad idea—monumentally terrible, in fact. That kind of idea deserved a warning label: PROCEED WITH CAUTION. MAY CAUSE FROSTBITE-LEVEL MORTIFICATION AND SERIOUS SELF-WORTH QUESTIONING.
But Savannah had limited options. She couldn't exactly nest by the curbside and snag herself a man, could she? To make matters worse, her family—bless their relentlessly nosy hearts—had spent the last two years taunting her about her relationship status (or lack thereof).
To the Moretti aunties and grannies, her love life was a constant hot topic. The cherry on top? Three high-profile weddings and two baby announcements were on the calendar this year, all requiring her attendance.
Savannah would rather eat a bucket of nails than walk to those events, single. She could not afford to sit through hours of the aunties' well-meaning but tortuous lectures on "putting herself out there."
The whole "boyfriend needed for hire" thing had started as a joke, escalating quickly into a drunken dare with her work best friend—only friend—Holly, after two margaritas too many on Valentine's Day. But as the months drew closer to her youngest sister's wedding, it started to feel like her only ticket out of this spinster nightmare.
Sitting on a cold park bench, ministering to the remnants of her lukewarm hot chocolate, Savannah began reevaluating every decision that had led her up to this moment, including the ill-advised social media post.
"I still can't believe you actually did it," Holly, perched beside her with a burger in one hand, said with an amused smirk. "That was one hell of a bold move, Vee. Bold but tragic."
"I know…" Savannah unburied her face from inside her scarf. "Well, I didn't expect anyone would take me seriously."
"Did they, though?"
"Nope. Not a single DM in sight!"
"For real?" Holly snickered. "How is that even possible?"
"You can laugh all you want," Savannah said, sinking deeper into her scarf. "I don't expect you to get being five-foot-four, a hundred and seventeen pounds, and still single at thirty-four."
"Savannah, slow down," Holly pleaded. "Besides, you're five-foot-six, not five-four."
"That's beside the point." Savannah gestured to her big thighs folded into her stretchiest pair of leggings. She'd strategically paired that with a puffy coat that could double as a sleeping bag.
"You're ridiculous," Holly said through softer eyes. "Anyway, why not take down the post since it isn't working and try dating someone in real life? I don't know. A blind date could come in handy. What do you think?"
"Men got preferences, Holly," Savannah sighed wearily.
"So you're saying you're not desirable?"
"Holly." Savannah drew in a deep breath. "I'm not you."
"Wow!"
Savannah quickly looked the other way, ignoring the sheer disgust in Holly's eyes just now. The kids laughing in the distance and having fun with the merry-go-round brought some little amusement to her heart, and, if she was any honest, a pool of tears welled in her eyes, too.
She imagined what her kids would look like if her engagement to Chad hadn't gone south. The fact that he would be at her sister's wedding with his new, impossibly thin, impossibly perfect fiancée was reason enough to make her curse at life.
"Hey…" Holly nudged her mildly as if reading her mood. "It's going to be all right, okay?"
"Funny you'd say that." Savannah gave her a flat look.
"Well, for one, it's practical, not funny," Holly said emphatically, taking a large bite of her burger. "And secondly, we can always hire a professional escort or something."
"Now, why didn't I think of that?" Savannah said with a huff, folding her arms. "Maybe it's 'cause even with no actual picture of me and a fake username, no one, absolutely no one wants to fake-date me."
"Savannah!" Holly yelled derisively.
"What?"
"What's your actual problem?"
Savannah kept mute, feeling no need to respond while ignoring the notifications on her phone.
"Care to see who that is? Could be your long-awaited prince charming you're ignoring right there," Holly teased, licking ketchup off her thumb.
As if. It's no one.
Savannah heaved a sigh in sync with her phone vibrating for the third time in a row. She ignored it still.
"Well, their loss if no one's sliding into your DMs," Holly said as if she could somehow read her thoughts. "You're gorgeous, end of story."
Savannah cringed at how Holly had said that in such a matter-of-factly tone.
"People are just… stupid, I guess," Holly added.
Or maybe they just know what they want, and that's not… me.
Savannah managed a half-hearted smile, regardless. Knowing her friend well, Holly would do and say anything to get her out of a bad mood, and it usually worked—just not today.
"How's the ad thing coming along? You know, the one for Briggs &?" Holly asked in a casually curious tone while tearing open a fresh ketchup packet.
Savannah took a much-deserved deep breath, inwardly appreciating her friend's attempt to steer the conversation away from her failed dating attempt. "Well... about that, I'm still not over the fact that Ryan's team had to be paired with mine for this one."
Holly let out a loud, guttural groan and took a long sip of her soda. "Tell me about it. What was Matt even thinking? He could've just let your team handle the whole thing. You've already proven you're more than capable. Why drag Ryan into this when he knows you don't get along?"
"Beats me." Savannah slumped further into the bench, absently tracing the rim of her disposable coffee cup. The drink no longer interested her. Every twist in the conversation seemed to grate on her very last nerve for some reason. "Matt's the captain of this ship—or whatever fancy corporate title he has—and he should know me well enough by now. I can handle creative work. I don't need Ryan swooping in with his smug grin to save the day."
Holly gave Savannah a pointed side-eye glance. "So… did you tell him that?"
Savannah hesitated—not because she was rethinking her answer, but because she was just so over the endless back-and-forth with Matt about Ryan's involvement in the project. Just replaying the moment in her head made her sick to her stomach.
She let out a deep sigh.
"Well, did you?" Holly pressed, eager for an answer.
"Of course, I tried!" Savannah said, her tone half-irritated. "I've done everything short of directly accusing Ryan of bribing Matt to pair our teams just so he could ruin my life. Which, honestly, feels plausible."
"Or…" Holly dragged the word out like she was about to reveal the world's deadliest conspiracy theory, "maybe it's his way of getting close to you."
Savannah blinked hard.
"Think about it," Holly continued, undeterred. "What if he secretly likes you? And this is all just some elaborate plan to spend some more time with you?"
"Seriously?" Savannah snorted, shaking her head so hard she thought she might give herself bloodshot eyes. "In what universe could Ryan-goddamned-bloody-blue-eyes-Hartwell possibly like me?"
"In this one," Holly said, "if only you'd let bygones be actual bygones."
What the—
"How is it my fault if a guy decides to hold a four-year grudge because I spilt hot coffee on his shirt on interview day?"
"Maybe try actually apologising."
"More like butter him up, you mean."
"That's not as bad as you make it sound," Holly said dismissively.
Savannah blinked hard. Twice.
"I'm serious, Vee! Picture it: Ryan in a sharp tuxedo. You, in a stunning red dress. Him sweeping you off your feet during the slow dance at the wedding while your entire family sits there, eating their hearts out."
Okay, nope.
"I think we're done here." Savannah shot up from the bench, snatching her bag so fast that Holly's burger tumbled to the ground with a dull splat.
"Hey!" Holly's protest fell on deaf ears.
"Listen, H, I appreciate you keeping me company, but I'm officially behind on my mid-afternoon nap. Let's do this again some other time—preferably when you've completely rid yourself of such delusions.
"In the meantime, I'll pretend you never said what you just said."
Putting her bold-statement shades back on, Savannah stomped up the gravel path and out of the park.
She admittedly was more upset with herself than Holly for suggesting something ridiculous. Her mind had betrayed her at that moment, conjuring a scene that felt far too real: Ryan's smirk softening into something unreadable, his hand warm against the small of her back, his breath teasing the shell of her ear...
But things didn't happen like that. Savannah knew damn well they wouldn't. That was just her hormones talking—her being sex-starved and all. She and Ryan would never work. Not even in some alternate universe where pigs could fly, and Ryan Hartwell magically became a decent human being. Because news flash: she hated him as much as he hated her. If not more.
"Do you realise you're blushing right now?" Holly called after her, laughing as she jogged to catch up. "Because, Christ, you totally are!"
"I'm not," Savannah snapped, her voice pitched a little too high to sound convincing, even to herself.
Holly's laughter rang out behind her as she quickened her pace, determined to escape her friend—and her bloody conscience, which was embracing the role of devil's advocate all too suddenly.