Was it real?
Is it all in my head?
Am I delusional?

Probably.

And now, it's time to face the harsh reality.

I'm sitting by the dining table with my legs folded under my bum while my spoon hovers above a half-eaten bowl of cereal. The cute couple from the period drama is yelling at each other on the TV but I don't hear them as my eyes glide left and right on my phone, reading Roman's news.

'The business person of the year, Roman Rhode, is tying the knot with his partner and the elite's beloved Tiffany Carter.

The couple announced their engagement at the press conference, following Mr. Rhode's statement, "The launch in the Middle East was a success last year. Asia followed smoothly. Our next step is expanding into Europe. Together, we are shaping history for a better future."

Mr. Rhode continued, "Optimus Maximus has always been a family business. Our loving union will solidify our steps as we spread our footprint around the world."

With Carters by his side, we are sure America's most popular men's health magazine will break the charts across the globe. The couple is planning to say yes this summer in Rhode Estate, Upstate New York.'

In the photo, Roman is wearing his signature constant frown next to his fiancé. He looks great in a tux. And Tiffany... Fuck, I wish her smile didn't glow like that. She loves him—which makes me a bigger asshole. The pearl-cut diamond ring on her finger must have cost Roman a fortune. She looks like a swan in her black ball gown. No wonder why Roman called me a nobody. Next to her, I look like trash.

But why a ball gown and a tux?

Then it hits me. The photo must have been taken at the night of the movie gala. Roman's words in his office echo in my head. 'Instead of meeting you, I went back upstairs and proposed to the wrong woman.'

I wipe a tear just before it reaches the tip of my nose.

He must have feelings for her, right? Would a man in his position marry solely for business?

I guess he would, if he is a heartless robot.

My broken soul is aching, floating above me like a thundercloud. How can Roman treat me so low? And what good would come from a business if it binds you to the wrong person and strips you off your humanity?

The Viscount on the TV cries and calls his lover the bane of his existence. I snap out of my haze, scoff, then turn it off. The royal dickhead doesn't know what he's talking about. Try staring blankly at your phone for a month and living in a constant brain fog, only to be slapped back to reality with a news clip, jackass!

God, when is this suffocation going to end? I can't keep torturing myself.

Okay... I'm going to take a shower, get dressed, and try enjoying the rest of summer before August is over. And I know exactly what would cheer me up: Collecting a debt.

Olga picks up her phone at the first tone. "What's up, Abbs?"

"Ready for your payment?"

"Nope," she says and falls silent. I let out an evil laugh. "Ah, come on, Abby! I'll pay you two hundred bucks. Don't make me stand butt-naked on Times Square."

I chuckle. "Fine. You pick the spot. But it has to be public."

"Two hundred fifty."

"It's not negotiable!" I cry, carrying my mug to my bedroom. "I wore those boots for thirty days. You'll only wear them for thirty minutes."

She huffs... Then she puffs. "Madison Square Park."

"What time?"

"In an hour?" she suggests.

"See you there," I say, finish my coffee, and hop into the shower.

My wet hair dries by the time I reach the park. I place my sunglasses above my head and start giggling the moment I see Olga standing under a tree. She is wearing a long raincoat, holding a cardboard sign that says 'I LOST.'

"Three hundred," she offers. I laugh and shake my head. "Fine." She grabs the bulky boots from my grasp and puts them on.

I hang her raincoat around my arm while she wears the sign over her Brazilian-cut bikini. The cardboard is long enough to cover her entire upper body and her crotch. I'd call her fully covered, except for her side boobs and...well, her butt cheeks.

"Start the timer," she mutters.

I grin, take my phone out of my denim shorts, and set the alarm.

The park is buzzing despite the early working hours. A small camera crew takes over the far corner with a crowd circling around them. There must be celebrities because people are rising on their toes, trying to get snaps with their phones.

We are like celebrities too—the crazy ones. Every passer-by turns around to take a second look at us. Some even stop to take a selfie with Olga, and ask us what she's lost.

"Her sass," I burst, slapping her ass and laugh until I tear up. Olga gives me the side eye but laughs along. I love her for ditching work to do this today. She just wants to see me smile after a month of sulking at home.

When the thirty minutes are over, Olga puts on her raincoat. We stuff the cardboard into a trash can and take a stroll toward the production crew in the corner.

"How are things with Daniel?" I ask.

"If I say great, will you start crying?"

I giggle and shake my head.

"I've been meaning to get you to meet him. I think you'll like him, Abby."

I smile and tap her arm. "As long as he makes you happy."

When we reach the crowd around the crew, we rise on our toes and I spot a pair of green eyes behind the barriers.

"Nate!" Olga calls before I can stop her.

He is talking to a cameraman, but turns his head when he hears Olga's voice. Lifting an arm above his head, he waves back at Olga, then his eyes glide sideways and meet mine.

I'm not going to lie; I was mad at Nate for cock-blocking Roman at the gala. And I was ready to tear him apart for texting Roman about seeing me at the bar. Nate shouldn't have interfered, stood up for me or told Roman to stay away. But at the end of the day, Roman's the one who took me out on a date when he was engaged. He is the one who fucked me, then dumped me. I can't blame Nate for anything.

When I wave at him, Nate's lips curl into a tiny smile. Patting the cameraman's shoulder, he starts jogging our way.

I lean into Olga's ear, training my eyes on Nate's tall, approaching figure. "Why did you call him?"

"Is it weird?" she asks. "He's Daniel's best friend. We spend a lot of time together."

My eyes widen at this. I didn't know Olga hung out with Daniel's friends. She's never invited me! But then, I've been mourning for the relationship I never had for an entire month.

Nate breaks the plastic barrier that separates the crowd from the crew and signals us to enter. "What's up, Olga? Aren't you working today?" he asks, pressing his cheek against hers for a friendly kiss.

"I had a debt to pay," Olga replies, chinning toward me.

Nate raises his brows in amusement when our eyes meet again. "Hi, Abby."

I let out a chesty chuckle. He knows my name now. "How are you, Nate?"

"Good. Great... Busy," he says, shuffling his hair, which causes his white t-shirt to stretch around his broad chest. Not that I'm looking.

"Ooh, is it the bet with the boots?" he asks, pointing at Olga's shoes, and Olga replies by clicking her heavy heels together.

My gaze flies to my best friend. They must have spent a lot of quality time if Nate knows about our silly bets.

"Wait, were you guys here?" Nate asks, surprise edging is voice. "Did I miss the show?"

"Oh, don't worry. I have the good bits," I jump in with a chuckle, fishing my phone out of my shorts.

Nate leans in close and I start showing Olga's eye rolls, funny dances, and a couple of videos where she threatens to take the cardboard off entirely. As I scroll to the next photo, my finger freezes on the screen. Why am I showing Nate my friend's nearly naked photos? This is weird. I wiggle in my place and stuff my phone back into my pocket with a nervous smile.

Nate bites his lip and claps the awkwardness away. "Can I get you girls anything to drink? We have hot coffee, iced coffee, water, and orange juice."

"Iced coffee!" Olga cries and runs toward the catering table.

Nate and I giggle as we slowly follow her.

"You are a great matchmaker," I say. "Never seen her happier in a relationship."

"I have a gut feeling about these things." He reaches for the cooler and hands me a bottle of water. "Daniel loves her—We! We love her."

The bottle slips out of my hand. I catch it before it falls; then I start laughing.

Nate wipes the sweat off his face. "Yeah, don't tell her Daniel mentioned the L-word within the month of their relationship."

"I won't," I promise, still chuckling. "She deserves to hear it from him."

We clink our waters and take a sip.

Olga is now standing by a green screen, staring at the cast who are posing in front of a badass Halloween decor with motorcycles, dirt and buckets full of grime. Two models in chainmail bikinis are leaning on a dusty, topless guy holding a baseball bat.

"Let me guess. Your dates for tonight and a star baseball player," Olga says to Nate over her shoulder.

Nate becomes crimson in the split of a second. "I'm not seeing anyone special, Olga."

I can't help but giggle. Nate is cute when he's panicking.

Olga rolls her eyes. "You are taking the girls out tonight, though, right?"

Nate shuffles his hair. "Maybe."

I'm sweating more than I should. It's extra hot in the city at noon. I finish my water and tap Olga's arm. "I'm heading home. Got some work to do."

Her eyes widen as they fly back and forth between Nate, me and the girls. "I'll come with," she says and gets into my arm. "See you soon, Nate."

The sun shines into Nate's eyes and brightens the greens in them for a second. He parts his lips to say something, but someone from the camera crew hurries and hands him a chart, stealing his attention.

"I know I'll see you soon, Olga," Nate says, turning to the cast. "Take care, Abby."

"See you around," I say softly.

Nate raises his head slightly at the sound of my voice and smiles onto his shoulder.

Fighting my own smile, I lead Olga out of the set.