There's a crowd of paparazzi swarming the entrance of HarborCrest Publishing House. I can see them from my office window, tucked in the corner. They've been out there since this morning, shouting questions at me as I shouldered my way through the horde: "How serious is your relationship with Maisie Rhodes?" "What's it like dating someone way out of your league?" "Is she embarrassed to be seen with you? Is that why she kept you a secret for so long?"

It hasn't been this bad until this week. Usually, there's only one or two of them, and once they realize Maisie isn't with me—and that I'm not all that interesting—they take off. But the last few days, there are at least fifteen of them out there, and I'm guessing it has everything to do with those pictures from New York.

There's a soft knock at the door that pulls me from my thoughts, followed by a voice saying, "Quite the crowd out there."

I swivel in my office chair to find Emilia, Gwen's sister, leaning against the doorway. She's clutching her laptop and notebook to her chest, wearing a white t-shirt tucked into high-waisted white jeans that flare just above her ankles, a navy blue sweater draped over her shoulders. She looks like she's ready to go sailing, but then again, all the Caldwells seem to look that way. Emilia and Gwen share the same espresso-brown hair, hazel eyes, and dainty nose—they could almost be twins if it wasn't for Emilia's bangs.

"Hey," I say, adjusting myself at my desk.

"Nice office," she comments, glancing around the room.

"Thanks."

"You know I've been in Boston for the past four weeks," she says, her fingers skimming the spines of the books on the shelf by the door. She walks along the length of it before her gaze shifts to my desk, landing on the little snail planter and my Best-Tea birthday card from Maisie. "And this is the first time I've seen you around the office."

"Really?" I glance at the card, then tug my keyboard closer. "I thought you were just avoiding me."

"Oh, come on, August. You know I'm not that petty," she says, sinking into the chair across from my desk. She crosses her legs, her long, manicured nails drumming on the laptop and notebook in her lap. "I know you and my sister had your issues, but I wouldn't do that."

I nod, knowing she's probably right—the Caldwells have always been considerate in that way. "How are Caroline and Dennis doing?"

She sighs. "Oh, Mom's joined some conservation committee or something like that, and Dad's been busy replacing the running rigs on the sailboat. Supposed to take it out with him later today. They're fine." She lifts a hand, brushing her bangs out of her face. "Dad keeps asking Gwen when you're coming back—apparently, he misses having you around."

I peek up at her from the edge of my monitor, raising an eyebrow. "Is that why you're here? Did Gwen send you to check up on me?"

"No, I'm actually here for work," she replies with a tight smile. I tilt my head at her, unconvinced. "Okay, fine, and a little bit for my sister."

I sigh as I glance back at my computer.

"She's seen the pictures of you and Maisie Rhodes—the ones where you two are, um... enthusiastically kissing," she says, shifting in her chair and scratching beneath her ear. "And she's just... well, she wanted me to ask why you're not returning her calls."

I let out a dry laugh. Because from what I remember, Gwen had made it clear during our last conversation that she didn't want to talk. She wanted space. She wanted time. We both agreed to keep our distance, and honestly, I was done with the back-and-forth—done trying to piece together something that had fallen apart so long ago.

"I've been busy with work and... I don't know other things."

"Maisie Rhodes things."

"Yeah, Maisie things."

I return to typing out an email, but after a few seconds, Emilia speaks up again. "Gwen mentioned a few times that she always suspected there was something between you two, but I thought she was just overreacting. You know how she gets when she fixates on something. But it looks like she might've been right after all."

I pause, shifting my gaze from the computer to meet her eyes. Gwen and I would spend summers together with Emilia, we'd celebrate holidays and birthdays, go on double dates, and visit her in New York for weekends. Seeing Emilia was just part of life. She and Gwen have always been close, which naturally meant I'd developed a friendship with her too. And after five years, we knew each other well. Emilia is the type who never holds back when she has something to say, which probably makes her so good at being a literary agent.

"Nothing happened between Maisie and me while Gwen and I were together if that's what you're asking."

"It's not, but the pictures floating around all over social media say otherwise. It looks like you two have been at this for years."

"I wouldn't cheat on Gwen."

"I know," Emilia says quickly. "I'm not accusing you. I can't imagine you doing that to my sister. You're like the Pillsbury Doughboy—too soft for that."

"Thank you," I say dryly.

"No, wait, I take that back. You're a cinnamon roll boyfriend."

"I think you're reading too many romance books, Em."

She waves me off and continues, "I think Gwen's the one overthinking things. She's been so stuck on what Maisie said about having that 'secret boyfriend' she's had for the last few months." Emilia even does air quotes, rolling her eyes before they lock back onto mine, mischief gleaming in them. "But I don't know... The math isn't exactly mathing correctly."

I know that look in her eyes—it's the same one she gets just before she launches into one of her latest conspiracy theories. It's usually the point where Gwen rolls her eyes and walks off, leaving me to hear all about how Emilia thinks the moon is just a projection in the sky. If it wouldn't ruin her preppy New England aesthetic, I swear she'd be wearing a hat that says, Dinosaurs Aren't Real.

"When did she say that?" I ask, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Emilia tilts her head, narrowing her eyes like I should already know. "On The Tonight Show."

I nod slowly. "Right, The Tonight Show."

She straightens up, her eyes beaming with excitement. "Wanna hear my theory?"

"Not really," I mumble.

"My theory is that what Maisie said on The Tonight Show about her songs being like her own personal diary was actually on purpose because the public perception of her has always been that she can't seem to hold a relationship for more than a few weeks, which is true, right?" She doesn't wait for me to answer before plowing ahead. "And that doesn't match lyrically with any of her songs. Out of the thirty-five-plus songs she's released, only five are about breakups—the rest are all love songs. So who better to help than her bestie friend of nine years, who has long-term relationships under his belt and works in the cozy, literary world of publishing, right when the whole world is obsessed with books?

"Because to me—and I apologize if this sounds harsh—but it seems a bit far-fetched to believe Maisie Rhodes would actually want to date someone as ordinary as her best friend when she could literally have anyone she wants. I mean, wasn't she dating Noah Wild last year when his new movie came out? But I don't know, those are just my thoughts."

Her words hit me square in the chest. I'm not sure if it's the idea of Maisie using me for her public image or the thought that she could have any guy she wants, but something inside me twists hard. I know this whole arrangement started because of bad PR, but I want to defend Maisie, to tell Emilia she's wrong, to tell her that Maisie is mine. But, no matter how much I try to convince myself that Maisie feels the same way, I can't help but wonder what's really going on in her head.

I sit there staring at her as she smirks, looking at me like she's just cracked the case on Jack the Ripper's identity.

"That's quite the theory," I finally manage.

"Tell me I'm right."

"It's, um—"

The door to my office swings open suddenly, and both Emilia and I startle as it slams shut just as quickly.

"Oh my god, August, do you know there are paparazzi outside your office building?" Maisie exclaims, glancing nervously out the windows of my office door. She shuffles over to reach for the blinds. "Can I close these?"

"Mace, what are you—"

"And," she continues, steamrolling right over me as she yanks the blinds shut, one after another, blocking the view into the cubicle area. "The entire romance department practically held me hostage. They are insane. They wouldn't tell me which office was yours until I answered all their questions about—oh, shit."

She pauses when she spins around to look at me, eyes widening as she looks from me to Emilia. "I'm sorry. You're in a meeting."

I stand from my chair, smoothing out my dress shirt and adjusting my collar. "Um, kind of, yeah."

"I'll go," she says, nodding quickly, glancing between Emilia and me. "I'm sorry."

"Maisie," I start, but she steps back, colliding with a box overflowing with freshly printed books waiting for their release date. The stack on top wobbles, and a few tumble to the floor.

"Oops, sorry," she says, quickly bending down to pick them up. I step forward to help her as she looks up at Emilia, still seated, and with a sheepish smile adds, "I swear, when it's not choreographed or scripted, I have no idea how to act normal."

I see Emilia's lips twitch like she wants to smile, and I can't tell if she finds it funny or if she's somehow weaving it into the conspiracy theory she just spun for me. Maisie stands up, handing me the pile of books.

"Mace, you can stay," I say, tucking the books under my arm and gently pulling her closer with my free hand, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Are you sure?" she whispers, glancing up at me. "I can hide in the bathroom until Ryan gets here. He should be here soon—I texted him like ten minutes ago."

"That's okay," Emilia cuts in, standing from her chair. "I was just leaving anyway. Emilia, by the way." She reaches out her hand.

"Hi, Maisie. Nice to meet you," Maisie says, shaking Emilia's hand. "And if you're part of the romance department, I take back what I said earlier. You all are totally sane."

I brush my thumb over my lips as I watch them shake hands before I add, "Uh, Maisie, Emilia is actually an agent for one of the authors I edit for. And also... Gwen's older sister."

"Oh," Maisie breathes out. She's still shaking Emilia's hand. "You're that Emilia."

"I am," Emilia confirms.

An awkward silence settles over the three of us. I rub the back of my neck, Maisie bites the side of her lip, and Emilia glances around the room nervously before finally speaking.

"Well, I should go. It was nice to finally meet you in person. I've heard so much in the past," she says to Maisie, then turns to me patting my shoulder. "August, see you around."

We both watch as Emilia leaves, the door clicking softly shut behind her. And I hold my breath, half-expecting Maisie to bring up Gwen and her sister—to say she knew it, that she thinks I'm getting back together with Gwen. After all, why else would Emilia be here?

But Maisie just turns to me with a smile and bright blue eyes, and if she's bothered, she doesn't show it. "Hi," she says.

"Hey." I smile, instinctively stepping toward her before catching myself and leaning against the edge of my desk instead. Every part of me is screaming to close the distance—especially with that little plaid pleated mini skirt she's got on and that oversized burgundy cardigan. She looks like some sexy librarian that a high school boy would wet dreams over, and all I want to do is hoist her onto my desk, slide that cardigan off her shoulder, and kiss her right there. "What are you doing in my office?"

She glances around. "I haven't seen it yet and I thought I'd drop by before the tour started and I won't have the opportunity to see it."

I set the books down and I shove my hands into my pockets. "So? What do we think?"

"It's nice." She takes a few steps, her eyes wandering around the room as I watch her. She heads over to my bookshelf, and I straighten up, following her. "It's giving cute librarian."

"Cute?"

"Would you prefer 'saucy'?" she teases, picking up a copy of The Hot Doctor and turning to me as she drops her jaw dramatically, tapping the cover for me to see.

I snatch the book from her hands as she moves toward my desk, my eyes flicking down to its cover. "I was hoping you'd go with 'hot' again."

"You kept my plant," she says, ignoring my comment, turning to me with the most adorable pout as she holds up the planter for me to see.

"I keep most of your things," I confess, stepping closer to her. I gently take the plant from her hands, studying its sail-shaped planter before meeting her ocean-blue eyes. "I have a Maisie-sized closet full of your things at home. All five of your Grammys included."

"Is that where they went?" She tilts her head up at me, scrunching her nose as I place the plant down next to my monitor. "I didn't realize I had you storing so much of my stuff."

"About five years' worth of things," I say, giving in to the temptation. My fingers graze the pleated edge of her skirt, remembering how soft and silky smooth her skin was in that bed a few days ago. I pull my hand back quickly and drag my palm across my jaw, taking a step back to create some distance between us.

I remind myself that we're not supposed to touch like that when we're alone. I'm finding it harder and harder to care though.

I used to have so much control when it came to Maisie, so much restraint. But now that I've kissed her, tasted her, slept beside her, I feel like I'm barely holding on—like everything I've tried to keep locked away inside me is rattling loose, screaming to be let out.

I turn to the books on my desk, stacking them neatly in the corner, trying to keep my hands busy—trying to keep them from finding her again.

"Did you really come just to see my office?" I ask.

"I, um," she starts, letting out a breath and then clearing her throat. "I thought maybe we could get coffee before I leave tomorrow for LA. You know, one last picture for the paparazzi before we aren't seen together for a few days. And then maybe a movie later at your place? You think you could maybe get off work early?"

"Um, yeah," I say, rubbing the spot between my brows before turning to face her. "Yeah, I think I could sneak out for the day."

——————

Okay, friends, how are we feeling so far? What are we thinking? Are we okay?? Any predictions?

We're officially past the halfway point, with an estimated 40 chapters in total, and boy, am I excited for this second half!