Page 27 of The Wife Situation

He does a double take. The small notebook he was writing in is snapped shut, and he places a pen on top. His mouth opens and closes as he searches my face like I’m a ghost. “Alexis?”

“Remember when I mentioned you were being weird as fuck?” I don’t even address him using my full name.

He lifts a brow. “No, I don’t recall that one. Please, enlighten me.”

“Okay, well, you’re doing it again. And it’s giving me whiplash.”

“I’m not sure wha?—”

“Thanks for saving me a seat,” a deep, familiar voice says behind us.

My eyes nearly bulge out of my head as I see two Eastons standing in front of me, wearing the same exact thing.

“You’re so rich that you have a fuckingclone?” I gasp.

“Weston,you didn’t,” the one sitting beside me says.

“Weston?” I turn and look up at him, grinning. “You’retwins?”

Easton glances at me. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t care enough to learn every detail about you. I’m not obsessed,” I harshly whisper.

“Not yet,” he whispers, placing the glass to his lips.

I’ve tried to forget he exists since I crashed into him at the W. Somehow, here I am, with this man for a third time. And I was tricked into it.

Weston takes my hand, stealing my attention away as he places his lips on my knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Lexi. I toldyou I was sorry already, and I have had a pleasure hanging out with you. Now, you two have some chatting to do,” he says with a wink.

My mouth falls open as Weston turns and walks out of the building. He waves at me as he makes his way in front of the windows until he’s out of sight. Then, I awkwardly sit next to Easton, the man I thought I’d been with for the last thirty minutes. The man I thought I’d somewhat warmed up to. But no, we’re actually still atsquare one.

Moments later, Weston returns with the bouquet of yellow roses. “A pretty girl shouldalwayshave flowers on a date.”

“Date?” I ask, confused.

“Perfection.” He laughs, squeezing Easton’s shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

The bartender comes over and takes my order—single malt whiskey.

I don’t say a word for a few minutes, and it grows awkward. The conversation in the Mustang makes more sense. When I’m handed my drink, I take a sip and glance at Easton. I think he’s as shocked as me.

“Anything else I should know?” I ask.

This man is a bag of surprises.

“Sorry, he’s very charming and flirty.”

“I’m confused how he knew anything about me.” I try to put the pieces together, but it doesn’t make sense.

“The photos in the park started this,” he says. “And now, my brother is trying very hard to play matchmaker—to his own demise.” He rolls the ice around in his glass. “I’m not sure what’s more unbelievable—him creating an elaborate scheme to take you out, or that you fell for it.”

He glances over at me, but I see the smile threatening to emerge.

I scoff. “Oh, I can’t believe I fell for it either. You,thatcharming?”

“Actually”—he tilts his drink toward me—“I’m charming when I want to be. I could easily be the man to sweep you off your feet and have you begging for more of me—ifI wanted. Don’t get it twisted, darling.”

When he looks at me, it’s as if he peels off my mask and sees the raw me. “Well then, kinda glad you don’t want to.”

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