Sophia didn't know what she expected the Estrella Christmas launch party to be like, but it certainly wasn't this.

Callie had transformed a hotel ballroom into a fairytale Christmas market; Swiss cheese melted from baked bread, and fat bratwursts churned over open flames. Nearby, a group of carolers sang beneath a glittering tree. Guests clutched glasses of mulled wine, each one inspired by a scent in the perfume: cinnamon-orange, clove, honey-bourbon...

Fake snow fell from the ceiling. Sophia could see white bits collecting in Ophelia's red hair, and she plucked a piece out of her bangs.

"Oh, no." Her cousin wrinkled her nose. "Am I covered in them?"

"Completely."

Ophelia sighed. "Why is my hair a magnet for everything? Bobby pins, fake snow, small birds and insects..."

Sophia's phone buzzed.

She dove for it immediately. Finn, she thought, her pulse picking up. But it was only a text message from Louise, saying that she and Ella were just leaving.

Ophelia arched an eyebrow. "Is that Finn?"

She shoved the phone into her purse. "Louise. They're on their way."

"You're disappointed, aren't you?"

"I'm fine," Sophia said, scratching absently at her nose. "Honestly."

Ophelia gave her a doubtful look. Her cousin was dressed in an emerald gown, and it crinkled as she raised a glass of sparkling liquid, sniffing at it tentatively. "I can't believe you convinced me to come to one of these things again. You swear this doesn't have alcohol?"

"It's apple juice," Sophia said.

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

She'd checked. Twice.

Ophelia took a sip of juice, examining a bottle of perfume as Sophia spoke to a reporter. Her seventh reporter, if she'd been counting correctly; the rest of the night had been a blur of giftbags and glittery bows, Instagram stories and smiles. She'd posed for photos in front of a balloon arch until her feet ached from standing.

Her phone buzzed again as the reporter departed. Sophia fished it out of her bag, her heart pounding.

Louise had written, Here! Xx

She pocketed it. Ophelia gave her a knowing look.

"Are you sure you're not disappointed?"

Sophia sighed. "Maybe just a bit."

There. She'd admitted it. Ophelia looked as surprised as Sophia felt. "Oh. Well, has Finn texted since you've been back?"

"Once," Sophia said. "It was a picture of Opus eating a carrot."

"Opus?"

"She's our horse." Sophia paused. "My horse. I don't know." She plucked a glass of champagne off a passing tray. "Do I sound pathetic? I feel pathetic."

She took a large gulp. It wasn't that she missed Finn, Sophia told herself firmly; it was just that she'd gotten used to annoying him every day. It was strange not to battle with him over radio stations in the car. Or go for ice cream after one of his rodeo events ("Why," Finn would say, shaking his head, "would you get charcoal ice cream? That can't possibly taste good.")

No. She didn't miss him.

She just...

Sophia drained the rest of her champagne. She just wasn't opposed to seeing him again, and soon. That was all.

"Sophia! Fi!"

They both turned. Louise was pushing through the crowd, a tiny brunette whirlwind of energy. She was dressed in a low-cut red dress, holding two glasses of champagne — both, Sophia suspected, for herself.

A tiny blonde elf trotted behind her.

Sophia blinked. It took her a moment to realize that the elf was their fourth friend Ella, wearing what appeared to be a large green hat with pointed ears sticking out of the top. Glittering words on it read, "Santa's Little Helper."

"Hi." Louise kissed both her cheeks. "Sorry we're late."

Ophelia looked horrified. "What on earth is Ella wearing?"

"Oh, that." Louise waved her off. "She's in disguise. From the paparazzi." She bumped Ella's hip. "She's a famous musician now, you know."

Ella gave her a beleaguered look. "Could you speak any louder, Lou?"

"No offense," Sophia said wryly. "But don't you think the hat attracts more attention?"

"You'd be surprised," Ella said. "I've discovered that the best way to blend in with a crowd in Toronto is to make yourself as conspicuous as humanly possible."

Sophia smiled. "Can't argue with that."

She flagged down a waitress, offering Ella a gingerbread martini. Her friend shook her head, so Sophia shrugged, taking a sip. Cinnamon and clove flooded her senses: an intoxicating combination, but nowhere near as good as lemon and hay.

She froze.

Where the hell had that thought come from?

"What?" Ella asked, looking amused.

"Hmm?"

"Your face." She pointed at Sophia. "You're making a face."

"It's Finn," Ophelia said smugly. "She misses him."

Sophia rubbed her nose. "I do not!"

"Liar," Ophelia, Ella and Louise said together.

Sophia lowered her gingerbread martini. Her face must have been a picture because Ophelia grinned, adjusting a delicate green strap. "You scratch your nose," she said. "Whenever you're lying."

"I do?"

"You do," Louise confirmed.

Sophia frowned, touching her nose lightly. She wondered if Finn had noticed; he always seemed to know when she was lying.

"So." Ophelia poked her in the side. "Tell us about him."

"It's early days," Sophia hedged.

All three girls leaned forward expectantly. Guilt niggled in the pit of her stomach. She'd told Finn that she'd keep the truth of their relationship secret — hell, she'd even made him sign that stupid contract — but this was Ophelia. And Louise. And Ella. She'd known these girls since they were ten years old; they were family.

No.

She couldn't lie to them.

"Here's the thing," Sophia said, toying idly with the stem of her martini glass. "I'm not actually dating Finn. We're only pretending to date, so that I can rebuild my brand and Finn's sister — Gemma — can launch her wine business."

There was a long, extended pause.

"I—what?" Louise demanded.

Ella shook her head wordlessly, her long elf ears jiggling. It would have been funny if Sophia's stomach wasn't churning with nerves.

Oh, to hell with it.

She'd just tell them.

Sophia started at the beginning, with the photos of the ketamine, and then she told them everything. Meeting Finn. His sister's need for an influencer. Callie's ultimatum. By the time Sophia had finished, the carolers had been replaced by Michael Bublé's Christmas album, and all three girls were staring.

"Holy shit," Louise whispered.

Ella nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

Ophelia took a sip of her mulled wine. "Well, that's not going to last."

"That's the whole point, Fi," Sophia said.

"No," Ophelia said, "I mean you're going to catch feelings." She jabbed her glass at her. "This is the plotline of like, every Julia Quinn novel."

"Fi," Sophia sighed. "You know I never get your literary references, right?"

"You need to read more."

"I read!"

"Magazines don't count," Ophelia informed her. "Same goes for restaurant menus; even the fancy ones with things like fresno aioli on them."

"Wait, wait!" Ella held up a hand. She looked positively gleeful, Sophia thought with mounting trepidation. Like a tiny, gleefully demonic elf. "Can we bet on this? Because I'd put money on them getting together for real."

Louise snorted. "I give it three months."

"Oh, sooner," Ophelia said, smirking. "I'll put ten on a month."

"Twenty on two weeks," Ella shot back. "And I'll give you a shout-out at my concert in Vegas next month if I lose."

"Guys," Sophia said, horrified. "Nobody's betting!"

"Too late," Ella said. "We just did."

"Fine," Sophia sighed, signalling for another martini. "I'll put a hundred on us never getting together at all, then."

"Done," Ella said smugly. "But you're going to regret that, Soph. Mark my words."

Her phone buzzed.

Sophia dove for it. Don't get excited, she told herself; it's probably work-related. But then her eyes caught on the name, and she exhaled, all the breath leaving her at once. Her stomach twisted into a knot.

Ophelia smirked. "Oh, that's definitely Finn."

Louise swiped for the phone. "What did he say?"

"Lou!" Sophia took a step back. "Give me a second."

She scanned the text.

Toronto— Can you send me your flight details? I'm picking you up from the airport tomorrow; Tabby says she's busy.

And that was it.

Sophia pocketed the phone. She felt like all the air was being squeezed from her lungs. Well. That was...

Practical.

Sophia stirred her martini. Not that she wanted a Fitzgerald-style love letter — they weren't even really dating. But they were friends, weren't they? She plucked a meatball off a passing tray, chewing viciously. Friends texted each other.

Hell, Sophia had even gotten him a Christmas present. Those stupid pajamas with the pink horses on them that Finn had loved as a child. It had taken six hours of Internet scouring, a custom-made order, and the shipping was delayed, but it was worth it.

They were friends.

Friends.

Friends got each other presents, didn't they?

Louise and Ella exchanged a look.

"Do we need to kill him?" Ella asked.

Louise frowned. "I have access to a twelve-gauge shotgun and a boat. Don't ask me how."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ophelia said. "You can't dump him in a lake. Bodies release gases as they decompose, which means they float." All three girls stared at her, and Ophelia shrugged defensively. "What? I read a lot of crime novels."

"It's okay," Sophia said. "The text was fine. I'm not upset."

And this time, when Sophia went to scratch her nose, she managed to take a sip of her drink instead.