Chapter Five,

Terrible Ideas

The light conversation emitting throughout the bookstore created a calming ambiance for the young woman placing new books onto the shelves. The newest shipment of Young Adult books came in overnight, and as she expected, many teens and young adults came into the store, claiming pre-orders and engaging in light conversation. The look in their eyes, the sheer excitement, and joy as they left with their new book, made her love her job even more than she already did.

These moments always transported her back to her own childhood, a time when young Yuly sought solace in her school library, immersing herself in the pages of enchanting worlds because reality had often let her down. Amidst the shelves of libraries and bookstores, she had discovered fleeting moments of happiness, few and far between since her father's death. Whenever she felt upset, angry, or alone, books became her sanctuary. It was almost enough to heal the wounds inflicted by yesterday's conversation with her mother and her melodramatic theatrics.

Almost.

Her mood plummeted at the mere thought, casting a shadow over the enjoyable moments of the day. She should have paid more attention when she rejected her mother's call, ending the conversation abruptly. She should have hung up, pretending to have a poor connection. But instead, she had answered. And worse, she had lied. Why on earth did she lie?

Yuly was many things—soft-hearted, a touch naive, and occasionally puerile. She could be overly emotional, often wearing her heart on her sleeve, and sometimes possessed a sharp tongue laced with sarcasm. But lying? Lying was never her forte. In fact, she was a terrible, terrible liar. So terrible that she had long abandoned the practice, even if it meant delivering uncomfortable truths. It was so out of character for her that she hadn't understood why she did it. And she regretted it. More than anything in the world, she regretted it.

How was she going to fix this?

"Yuly? Where are you?"

She raised an eyebrow at the husky, feminine voice calling out to her.

"Mia?" She peeked out from the aisle, her spirits lifting at the sight of her red-haired friend. As always, she was dressed immaculately. Only, this time, an assortment of shopping bags hanging from both hands.

"What are you doing here?"

"Come to the break room and see," Mia replied coyly, sashaying past her with the bags in tow. Yuly shook her head, placing the box of books behind the counter. Surely, the part-time staff could handle a few minutes without her.

Damiani Andreas had always been unpredictable, throughout high school, college, and especially now with her high-paying corporate job that supported her lavish lifestyle. Yet, Mia's unpredictability always added excitement to Yuly's life, and no matter what issues the two faced, their friendship remained constant.

Even if it meant Mia showing up with lavish gifts that overwhelmed her. It was Mia's love language, or so she claimed.

That was undoubtedly why her friend had appeared today. As she entered the break room, her suspicions were confirmed. The moment she stepped inside, her eyes landed on a breathtaking rosy silk dress with an elegant single sleeve, carefully displayed on the table. Beside it lay a sky-blue evening gown with a heart-shaped neckline, accompanied by a pair of gleaming silver Valentino shoes. Mia held two beautiful white sundresses in her hands, and there were still more bags to be seen.

Yuly sighed, closing the door behind her. "Didn't I tell you not to use me as an excuse for your shopping addiction? You really have a problem."

"Are we having this conversation again?" Mia rolled her eyes dismissively. "Fine. I remember. And do you remember when I told you I don't have a problem? It's all in your head, babe. Big-girl jobs come with big-girl paychecks. Why wouldn't I spend it?"

Right, she thought. Did the stages of grief apply to shopping addiction? Mia was definitely in denial.

"I don't know which is worse, your addiction or your bank account." Arms crossed over her chest, she surveyed the pile of bags. "Please tell me all of this isn't for me."

"Well, no—the Louboutin's are for me, and the Alaia dresses, too. But they were on sale! Should I have left them there? As for everything else, who else would they be for?"

Mia retrieved another dress, equally stunning as the previous ones. This time, a deep ruby-red gown with a heart-shaped neckline captured Yuly's attention. "You have an amazing body. Even I get jealous, so just imagine Jamilah's reaction when she sees you in these."

Jamilah Heart? Jealous? The thought had surely never crossed her sister's mind. And why would it, considering everything Jamilah already had? She was the pretty one, the thin one, the athletic one. The popular one.

While Yuly excelled academically and even graduated from high school a year early, it seemed inconsequential compared to being prom queen. All of her accomplishments seemed like that. There was never a reason for Jamilah to be envious of anyone, especially her younger twin sister.

Her eyes scanned the dresses, watching her excited friend take them out one by one. It was at that moment that Yuly knew what she had to do. She sat down, her tone serious as she spoke.

"I'm not going. I think I should just tell them the truth."

Mia paused, looking at her friend as though she had lost her mind. "If you tell the truth, you risk embarrassing yourself in front of your sister and her fiancé—your ex—for the rest of your life. You'd be a joke."

Ouch. Harsh. She cringed, eyes shooting to the side as she thought about it for a moment—the embarrassment of having to face James and Jamilah with the truth of her lie weighing on her for the rest of her life. It was mortifying. But if she didn't come clean, what would she do? She still had to tell them something.

"What if I say we broke up?" she suggested. "That's believable, right?"

"Would you believe it if I claimed to have a fiancé and then conveniently broke up with him right before introducing you?" Mia retorted, raising an eyebrow. "You'd think I was either hiding him from you or that I had made the whole thing up. If I didn't know any better, I'd think the same. If I would think that, imagine what your mom and Jamilah would think."

Yuly blinked, realizing the validity of Mia's argument. If Mia doubted her in that situation, there was no way her mother would believe the lie, let alone Jamilah.

Mia gave her a knowing look. "Exactly. I didn't think so, babe. That's why you shouldn't have lied. You've always been terrible at it."

It was a truth that didn't need rubbing in. Yuly groaned, burying her face in her hands. She could just change her number and not go? Act as though her phone broke? But a small, nagging voice in the back of her mind stopped her thoughts.

She couldn't just ghost her mom.

"You know," Mia continued, her voice taking on a contemplative tone, "you could hire someone to pretend to be your fiancé. Maybe a male escort? Although it would cost you. Honestly, I think my neighbor might be one."

She peered over her fingers, brows raised skeptically. "What do you mean you think?"

"I mean, I'm not entirely sure. But the number of women coming and going from his apartment is suspicious." Mia set the dresses aside, leaning against the table as if delivering breaking news rather than imaginary gossip.

Yuly grinned, deep dimples forming in her cheeks. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. So, hear me out. These are my working theories." Mia raised her fist. "He's either a trafficker." Her finger lifted. "A pimp." Another finger. "A prostitute." Her middle finger joined the others. "Or an escort." Her pinkie went up. Mia wiggled all four fingers, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "I'm putting my money on an escort."

Laughter escaped Yuly's lips, feeling a tinge of guilt for finding amusement in Mia's vivid imagination. "God, that poor man. Does he know you're such a weirdo?"

Mia scoffed. "Coming from you, that means nothing."

Sure. Maybe this was a case of the pot calling the kettle black. But Yuly wasn't the one building a fantasy life for her neighbor in her imagination. She was only, well...sleeping with him...repeatedly...in her dreams.

Ugh, wasn't that worse?

She brushed away those thoughts before they could take root. Mia's odd judgments aside, the idea tempted her, if only for a moment.

Escorts were prevalent in New York, she knew that much. They lived a luxurious life built on the riches of others, and that alone let her know it was impossible for her. She could never afford that, and she knew it. Even if Mia put in a good word with her somewhat suspicious neighbor.

"I can't afford an escort, even if I wanted one. And I won't accept your money. If you even offer, I'll call and confess."

"Okay," Mia drawled, elongating the word. Her expression shifted into one of deep contemplation, her nose scrunching. "How about bringing a Tinder date? You might find someone bored enough to agree."

This time, Yuly scrunched her nose in distaste. All she could think about was the dreadful date she had endured a few years ago. It had been worse than Nonna's blind dates.

But what if she did create a Tinder account? But, what if she did make a Tinder account? Somehow convince some stranger to go with her? She was desperate enough to try anything, but she doubted that would work.

"No," she sighed, shaking her head. "No one would agree to that. It's crazy."

"Crazier than lying about having a fiancé you don't actually have? Doubtful." Mia mocked, much too soon judging by the scathing glare sent her way. "Fine, I'll just shut up then. Tough crowd."

As Mia returned to her assortment of clothes and shoes, an idea began to form in Yuly's mind. A terrible, terrible idea.

And it involved the enigmatic amnesiac who had been haunting her dreams for the past week.