Chapter 39
**Betha's POV**
And who the hell told them to change the program? Why is she so close to him?
"He's playing her boyfriend, Betha. It's *normal* that they'll be close," Coccette says beside me, unbothered.
I look back at Nathalie and Alex shooting their little pizza ad — smiling, laughing, standing like they're already halfway through a honeymoon — and I feel my eye twitch.
"Are you jealous, Bethany?"
My face goes red. "Huh — me? Jealous? No. No no no." I stop. Then I shake my head. Then I wave both hands just to really drive the point home.
Coccette smiles. "Sure. That's why you're the color of a tomato."
I turn back against my will, and somehow it's *worse* — Nathalie has one hand on his shoulder, the other holding a slice of pizza, and their faces are so close together that I can't even— I don't even understand what happens next. One second I'm standing there, the next second a scream tears out of me so loud I'm pretty sure I shattered at least one of Alex's restaurant windows. I could beat an opera singer. Easily.
Coccette, Ray, Emily, Alaric, Alex, and Nathalie all spin around and stare at me.
"You okay, Betha?" Ray asks, soft and careful, like I'm a stray cat he found on the street.
"Why did you do that?" Coccette whispers out of the corner of her mouth. "Are you *okay*?"
Emily rushes over. Alaric and Nathalie just stare at me like I've grown a second head.
*No. I'm just a jealous Bethany Kelman.*
Did I just think the word jealous? Oh, absolutely not. Not doing this again.
I laugh. Nervously. So nervously that Coccette bites down on her own laugh because she already knows — she can *see* the gears turning as I desperately search for a lie to bury this disaster.
"A mouse," I say. "I saw a mouse."
Alex's face goes white. "A mouse? In *my* restaurant?" He starts looking left and right, fully panicking. "It never happened. *Ever.* The hygiene here is perfect. I clean daily — I clean *obsessively* —"
Nathalie yelps and grabs his arm.
*Remove your hand from him.* I'm begging you.
She looks at me. "Where — where did you see it?"
"So you stopped our entire promotion," Alaric says, voice flat and cold, "for a mouse."
"I'm afraid of mouse too," Emily says helpfully, "so she has a point."
"Yeah, a mouse, sure," Coccette says, smiling serenely in my direction. *She knows.*
"It's okay," Ray says, shooting Alaric a look. "She was just scared."
"Scared?" Alaric raises an eyebrow. "Betha? The mouse should be scared of *her*, not the other way around."
Coccette bursts out laughing.
My face does something complicated — rage, jealousy, and a very specific desire to punch a very handsome man directly in his perfectly symmetrical jaw.
"For your information," I say, "I am an *elegant woman.* Elegant women are allowed to be afraid."
"Sure, Betha," Alaric says.
"Sure, Betha," Coccette says at the exact same time.
They glance at each other. They smile.
Ray steps forward before I can combust. "Okay, stop bullying her. She was scared. It happens."
"Scared or not," Nathalie sighs, "I'm exhausted. Can we just wrap up?"
"We didn't finish!" Alaric protests.
"Alaric." Ray pulls up the files. "We have a hundred good photos of Nathalie and Alex and at least two solid videos. We just need to post them. They're already there."
"They're *good,*" Alaric says, "but I wanted—"
"Perfection," Coccette finishes. "You're such a workaholic. I genuinely did not see that coming from you. The photos are nice, let it go."
Alaric exhales slowly — the exhale of a man in pain — and turns the monitor so we can see. He scrolls through them one by one.
They were nice. Really nice.
And I hated every single one of them.
Something in my chest was making a very strong case for throwing the computer at Alex's head.
Fortunately, Emily dragged me back to reality by asking, with complete sincerity: "Wait — is a Margherita the same as a Napoletana?"
And from across the room, Alex was already on the phone with the hygiene inspection service, voice low and urgent: "Yes, hello, I have an emergency. Come now, please."
*Oh no.*
*Oh no no no.*
He was never going to find a mouse. Because there was no mouse. Because I am a jealous idiot who screamed at a pizza commercial.
...He'll never figure it out, right? *Right?*