The nicest dress I’ve ever worn was my slutty prom dress that I got at a department store. I’m not used to things this nice. We grew up with money compared to others in our small town. The ranch was profitable. But it was nowhere near the Livingstons. Or anything close to the world that Camden lives in.
“Asshole,” a voice calls from somewhere else in the penthouse. It’s so much open space that the voice echoes off the marble floors and walls. “Yoohooooo,” it calls again. “Looking for Mr. Cranky Asshole.”
Camden’s head falls backward, his throat bobbing with a long swallow. “Please don’t listen to anything she says, okay?”
“Is that Margo?”
“No. That would be Emma.”
A head pops into the doorway. She’s gorgeous. Her hair is a perfect blonde. I truly can’t tell if it’s natural or if she dyes it that color. “Oh my god, you’re here!” the girl shrieks, running into the room and scooping me into a hug.
My eyes go wide as I look to Camden from over her shoulder. She’s shorter than me, giving me a perfect view of a smirking Camden. He looks from us to two more figures that appear in the doorway.
“Okay, Emma, let her go. You’re going to scare her away before we even get to spend time with her,” a voice I don’t recognize says.
The blonde gives me one final squeeze before she pulls away. “I’m sorry. I’m a total hugger, and to be honest, I was wondering if Camden was making you up when he kept talking about you.”
“Hi,” I get out, giving her a friendly smile. “He talks about me a lot?” I push, looking to him with a wink.
He gives me a playful smirk with a shrug.
The girl—Emma—lets out a long sigh. “All the time, really. I thought for sure he had to be making you up. I mean, who would want to put up with him?” She gives him a look, one to which he flips her off.
“I’m Margo,” a girl with dark hair says. “And I’m also a total hugger, but we can shake hands, too, if Emma just overwhelmed you.”
I can’t help but laugh, holding my arms out for a hug. “I’m Pippa. I kind of saw you in Sutten at the gallery opening. My cafe did the food.”
Margo’s eyes go wide, and she looks over to Emma, who must come to the same realization as her because she gasps. “Camden! You’re dating the poor woman you were an absolute ass to at my wedding?”
“That would be me,” I admit, finishing the hug with Margo.
“Tell me you gave him a lot of hell before he got into your good graces,” Margo muses.
“Oh, I really had to work to get in her good graces,” Camden pipes up from behind Emma and Margo.
“I’m sure you did,” a man comments from next to him. I know it’s Beckham Sinclair—or Beck as Camden calls him—because there are many photos of them together on the internet.
“I’m Beck,” the man offers, holding his hand out in a very businesslike handshake. “And what Emma said. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I can’t believe it was you who did the dessert at our wedding. We still have people talking about how delicious it all was! God, I feel like a bitch I didn’t recognize you to begin with,” Margo adds.
I swat at the air. “It’s fine, really. I’m terrible with names and faces, so I totally get it. It’s great to meet all of you. Or officially meet you, I should say.”
Emma shakes her head, looking at me like I’m a ghost. “I remember how much of a tool he was to you. He must have really had to work for it.”
All I do is smile because there’s no way I’m going to tell them every single way he made up for it. A lot of it is far too intimate for me to tell people who are basically strangers to me.
“Let’s just say a lot has changed since then,” I answer.
“I’m shocked you don’t have your third wheel with you,” Camden notes, walking up to me and pulling me into his chest. I like that even with his friends around, he seems comfortable with public affection. “Where’s Winnie?”
Emma rolls her eyes, walking over to the racks of clothes and searching through the dresses. “She’s late and not answering my calls. Which is unfortunate because she has more gala experience than all of us combined.” She looks over at Beck and Camden. “Well, most of us. These two also grew up with that nice silver spoon in their mouths.”
“Winnie will be here soon, Em,” Margo offers, walking to where Emma stands. “But we don’t need her to have Pippa start trying on dresses.” She turns to me, a huge smile on her face. I remember thinking when we briefly spoke at her wedding that she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever met. It was her striking green eyes and the way she really looked at you when she was talking to you. “Is that okay with you?” Margo adds at the last minute.