Page 64 of Never Been Worse

“You glittered your ex’s lawn.”

“And it got me arrested.”

“You know what I mean, Harper. You’re brave and smart and kind and funny, and whether or not you believe it, you’re spontaneous, too, in your own way.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I shake my head, stopping her. “And even if you weren’t, even if you were the most predictable person, even if you planned your outfits and meals and fuckingbathroom breaksa year out, I’d still be wild for you.”

She stares at me and opens her mouth.

“No. We’re not arguing about that. Come on,” I say, then slap her ass and roll out of the bed. “We can argue about how boring you are after I feed you breakfast.”

I reach for the bed, tugging on the blanket she buried herself under, and she squeals, giggling. She tries to grab the fluffy white blanket and pull it up to cover her, but I’m stronger, and soon the covers are in the corner of the floor. I pull on a pair of boxers from my drawer and walk toward her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to the side of the bed.

“Wes!”

“I need to feed my wife. You lay there looking too tempting, we’re never leaving this house.”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” she counters, and I glare at her. Then she lets out a little yawn, using her hand to cover it but failing. Looking at her and then the time, which is still earlier than she’s normally up, I let go, stepping away from the bed. I pull on a pair of shorts, then move to the blanket and toss it over her.

“Change of plans. I’m going for a run while you take a nap. Then we’re going to take a shower together where I’ll probably fuck you because by my calculations, it’s been much too long since I was last in you, and then I’m taking you to breakfast.”

She blushes and bites her lip, then looks at me. “Breakfast?”

“I want to take you out. Our first outing as something more.” I step closer to the bed, rolling onto it and pulling her closer until we’re bare chest to bare chest. My hand sinks into her tangled hair, holding her face close to mine. “You’re mine now, and I want to show you off.”

“What have the last two months been?” she asks breathily.

“It’s been wooing you,” I say matter-of-factly, pressing my lips to hers before standing again and moving to grab a sweatshirt.

“Wooing!?” she asks with a laugh.

I shake my head and smile.

“Nap,” I say, grabbing a pair of socks and heading out the door. “You’ll need the energy.”

TWENTY-FOUR

HARPER

It’s two days later when the front door rings. I look at my phone to check if I missed a call or text, thinking it might be Wes home from practice early and having locked himself out. Quickly, I make my way down the stairs, but when I open the door with a wide, expectant smile, it’s not my husband standing there at all.

Instead, Ava and Jules are standing there, Jules looking concerned and Ava looking nearly self-righteous with her hands on her hips, which isnevera good sign.

“What are you guys—” I start, but Ava pushes past me, Jules following behind her before I shut the door. “What is going on?” They stand there, Ava with her arms crossed on her chest, glaring at me, Jules a mix of worried and disappointed, already having nailed the mom look.

“What is this, Harper?” Ava asks, scrolling on her phone.

The tone in her voice creates a new panic, though, and I look at her confused. My mind runs through anything I didn’t tell her, any news that paparazzi could have spread that I didn’t warn them about, but I can’t think of anything. I called them to fill them in on the Willa Stone concert, the after-party, andourafter-party, and yesterday was a normal run-of-the-mill day where I didn’t even leave the house.

Maybe Leo released something, and Wes forgot to tell me?

“What’s what?” I ask, now a bundle of nerves. She puts her phone in my face, and I squint at it, trying to see as she jostles her phone around.

“This! This dress!” she says, and finally, I grab her phone to stop this back and forth, scrolling to see whatever it is she’sactuallytrying to show me. Then I freeze, my stomach falling to my feet, blood leaving my face, and I see what she’s so worked up about.

I knewit would hurt.

I knew it would slice deep, seeing my designs with someone else’s name on them, but fuck, it hurts a lot more than I anticipated.

Because there on the screen is a headline reading, “Clarissa Astor, Daughter of Fashion Icon Gerald Astor, Reveals the First Sketches of her Premier Legacy Line.”

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