Page 74 of Say It Isn't So

“I’m telling you,this woman pushes all my buttons,” I tried to explain to Noah, who I had on a video call even knowing the time difference, because I needed to talk this out.

It’d been twenty-four hours since Bianca and I’d last seen each other, and I was officially in another city and still couldn’t get her out of my mind. I wasn’t one for talking about my feelings or the opposite sex, but sometimes it was just necessary. This was one of those times.

Noah walked across his house, holding his phone in front of him as he went. “Why have I never met this Bianca girl before? She sounds like a real firecracker.”

I laughed. “She is. I knew her when I was dating Rina. Her parents were the ones who set me up with a job.”

He shook his head, trying to follow me. “The same parents who then kicked you to the curb?”

“That was her father,” I explained, but it was useless. “I don’t care about the past, but her father does, and he’s so stuck on this idea that I’m going to do something to hurt his daughter or bring her down.”

“You?” Noah laughed. “Does he know you?”

“Yeah, but he also knows I was poor and came from a low-class life in Minnesota.” I scratched my chin and sat down on the bed.

“Sounds like he’s a little closed-minded. You need to forget about him and just focus on this Bianca girl if you think there could be something there. We’ll call that door number one. But if you can’t do that because you know her old man’s going to be a problem, then you need to go to door number two and forget about this little run-in you had with her. Chalk it up to an international,” he paused, “whatever it is.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” I said, frustrated. In every way. “I’m really trying to remember that she’s forbidden fruit, but she doesn’t make it easy.”

“Smart man, I’d say that’s your best course of action. Go with door number two.”

I exhaled. I was about done with this call. I had been hoping that if anyone could help, it’d be my best friend, but I didn’t think there was anything even he could do or say to make this situation better.

But as if he could read my mind, Noah stopped me. “Hey, man, wait a second. Tell me about Rina again. What’s the deal there? You said she made it clear she also wants you, which, by the way, is a dream. How’d you get so lucky to have two women fighting for your heart? Wait, this sounds like that show Crystal’s always watching with her girlfriends.”

“Shut up,” I said, laughing to myself, but shaking my head because I was not able to listen to him go on anymore. We were getting way off course here. “Rina is a hard pass. I told her that, but she doesn’t seem to believe me.”

“Wow, I feel bad for you,” Noah joked.

I stood up again. “And we’re done here.”

“Stop by when you get home. Maybe we can collect a few more women and get a camera crew to document it all. We’d make a mint selling it to a network.”

Shaking my head for the umpteenth time during this call, I was thankful when I saw an incoming call from Bianca. “I’ve got to go, I have another call coming in.”

Before I answered Bianca, he asked, “Is it Bianca? No, Rina.”

He should only know, it wasn’t as hot as you’d think having two women wanting to be with you. In fact, it was worse than having a hangover because this headache, at the thought of hurting someone in the end, was constant.

When I switched over, I heard nothing but heavy breathing over the line. “Hello?” I asked, wondering if she’d called me by accident. “Bianca?” I tried again.

Finally, she’d answered, her voice sounding hoarse, “Hey, Knox. I have a bit of a problem.”

Just as I was about to ask what sort of problem we were talking about, a knock sounded on my door. “Hold on a second,” I told her before answering it.

I opened the door and was surprised to see none other than Bianca. She gave me a lopsided smile as she dropped her hand with her phone and gestured to the floor where her pile of luggage sat. “How do you feel about sharing a room this week?”

* * *

Bianca

Okay, I knew what you were thinking. This was all a ploy. But it wasn’t, I promise.

See, the person from the office who booked my Paris travel and lodging must have had a screw loose because it was bad. Very bad. First, they’d decided the train would be better than an airplane, making my trip a little over six hours longer. Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, my room at the hotel had never been confirmed, so I didn’t have one, and no matter the amount of begging and bribing, I wasn’t getting one. As the very French manager put it, “It’s fashion week, darling.”As if I didn’t know—hello, that’s the whole reason I’m here.

So after a lot of calling around, it turned out there was not a single available room in the entire city. Again, because it was fashion week.

And that was how I’d gotten here—Knox’s room—hoping he’d share his room with me and that this wouldn’t be awkward or, worse, bring whatever was simmering between us to a screeching halt. But desperate times called for desperate measures, so here I stood, waiting for him to answer my question. “Well?” I prompted, pouting and bringing my hands to prayer position.

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