Page 68 of Unromance

“Thanks! It has pockets!” Sawyer did a little hop of excitement, the human equivalent of an exclamation point.

“Mine, too!” Bex said, matching her enthusiasm and shoving one hand in the pocket of her sapphire gown and twirling.

As they devolved into a conversation about a box of books Sawyer had apparently mailed Bex at some point between Christmas and now, Mason leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I’m going to do the obligatory rounds. You good?”

Sawyer barely missed a beat, glancing up at him and nodding. Unable to stop himself, he pressed a kiss into her hair before breaking away, but not before he saw Bex’s eyes widen. He supposed he deserved that, after all their insistence at Christmas that they weren’t dating. He hoped she didn’t give Sawyer too hard a time about it. Nevertheless, he was grateful Sawyer had a friendly face here besides his.

As he made his way around the room, smiling for the studio execs and genuinely laughing with his costars, he kept his head on a swivel. Partially checking in on Sawyer, who was still deep in conversation with Bex and now his costar Davi, and partially keeping an eye out for Kara’s arrival. After their call, he wasn’t nervous about seeing her again, but he would be happy to have it over with. Every eye in the room would be watching them for clues. Having number three and number five on your call sheet break up could alter the entire tone on set—and their production was already tense enough thanks to Richard.

Excusing himself to go to the bathroom, he took a few practiced breaths, wiggling his jaw back and forth to ease the ache in his cheeks from smiling so much. When he returned, he scanned theroom, eyes tripping over Bex and Davi whispering conspiratorially in a corner, sans Sawyer. He did another sweep of the room, cursing that she was so short, his attention finally catching on the sparkle of her dress by the bar.

Sawyer, gold chains in her silvery blond hair, smiling over at… Kara.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE DREADED EX– Tired: they’re the epitome of evil and you wonder how anyone ever dated them. Wired: you would’ve dated them, too.

Another Blanton’s?” the bartender asked, gesturing to Sawyer’s empty glass.

“Yes, please,” she said, hoping the desperation didn’t show in her voice. She was infinitely grateful that Bex was here to keep her company, but it still didn’t totally eliminate the fish-out-of-water feeling. Bex had introduced her to Davi Shah, who was equally as hilarious as she was beautiful, the two of them bonding over both having been stuck in an elevator with Mason. The conversation had eventually turned to set gossip, and Sawyer smiled and nodded and drank and pretended she had any idea what happened on sets. Her drink was empty all too soon.

This house was bigger than her entire apartment building, and the holiday decorations had definitely not come from the sale section at Party City. There was a tuxedoed pianist playing tasteful covers of pop songs, for fuck’s sake. At this point, if the queen herself showed up and declared someone the diamond of the season, she wouldn’t be surprised. Or worse, Usher would show up, and she would have to dance battle it out for Mason’s heart, a laShe’s All That.

“Make that two, please,” a husky voice called from her right.

Sawyer did a double take. She recognized her from the night at the bar—and the photos of her and Mason, photoshopped to appear torn down the middle.

The bartender placed their drinks in front of them, and Kara grabbed hers immediately, turning to face Sawyer, crystal glass extended. “Cheers.”

Sawyer took a beat too long to jump into action, too busy staring at her. Flawless amber skin, silky black hair that Sawyer swore was a mile long, enchanting dark eyes, a cute as hell little mole on her cheekbone. “Cheers,” she mumbled.

Her eyes widened as Kara threw back the entirety of the drink, and Sawyer tried not to do the mental math on how many dollars she’d just swallowed without tasting it.

“Another one, please,” she said to the bartender. “And we’ll pretend it’s my first.”

The bartender smiled. “I’m not here to judge,” he said with a flirty grin before spotting the ring on her hand, still wrapped around the glass.

And God, what a ring. Sawyer was wearing a gown covered in crystals, but the rock on Kara’s hand outshone her by far.

“Beautiful dress,” Kara commented, giving her an approving sweep from head to toe.

“Thanks, it has pockets,” Sawyer said automatically. She was fairly certain she was contractually obligated to reveal that fun fact.

Kara groaned. “Jealous,” she said, taking a small sip of her new drink. She ran a hand over her fitted teal sheath as if hoping pockets would materialize. “One of these days, I’m going to throw one of these, and either everyone has to wear Spanx and heels or no one does.”

Sawyer snorted into her drink, and Kara smiled. Goddamnit. Sawyer didn’t want to like her. She didn’t want to hate her either—she didn’t believe in that kind of petty woman-on-woman competition—but it didn’t change the fact that Kara had hurt Mason. But she also wanted to thank her, because without their second breakup, Sawyer never would’ve met Mason.

Kara groaned, glancing across the room as she took another sip of her drink. “That one’s my pockets.”

Following her gaze, Sawyer spotted Peter Levine. “Oh my,” Sawyer said with a barely suppressed giggle. Sawyer wasn’t incredibly savvy on the Who’s Who of Hollywood, but everyone knew Peter Levine, the son of a former Bond girl and a notorious party boy. There was a rosy flush to his cheeks, and if that weren’t enough to signal that he was already half in the bag, his over-the-top hand gestures would have given it away.

“Would you believe that this is our third party of the night?” Kara murmured under her breath. She held up her hand. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

Sawyer smiled weakly.

By comparison, despite tossing back her first drink, Kara seemed entirely sober. Seeming to read her train of thought, Kara nodded. “I don’t normally drink, but my ex is here somewhere, and we’re cool, but I know everyone else is going to make it weird, so—” She raised her glass by way of explanation.

Sawyer cleared her throat nervously, because now it felt like lying to pretend she didn’t know who she was. “Kara,” she began, not entirely sure how to broach this topic. Before she could find the words, a hand appeared at the small of her back. She knew it was Mason without looking, but even if she didn’t, the way Kara’s eyes went wide, gaze bouncing between the two of them, reading their body language like a book, would have given it away.

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