《Brothers of Paradise Series》


 Rogue C1

    The following story contains mature themes, strongnguage and explicit scenes, and is intended for mature readers.


    ****


    Prologue


    *****


    You were everything to me, and then you broke my heart.


    But I think that part was inevitable. We were destined to love each other. That¡¯s fair, isn¡¯t it, Hayden? At least that¡¯s the way it was for me. I don¡¯t think I ever had a choice, really, from the moment I firstid eyes on you, all those years ago.


    Sure, I didn¡¯t know it back then, but that doesn¡¯t make my love any less real. The truth is, you¡¯ve fascinated me since I was ten years old.


    I once told you that, remember? And you smiled at me with those amber eyes of yours and asked if I meant fascinating, like how a weird bug is fascinating, and my heart ached at wanting to make you understand just how much I loved you. How much you meant to me.


    How much I still love you.


    Things could have been so different, Hayden, if you would have just let me in when I asked the first time.


    If you had given us a chance.


    If you hadn¡¯t left after the ident.


    Maybe, just maybe, you¡¯ll let me in this time around. We¡¯re older and wiser. Things have happened that even the best of intentions can¡¯t erase. But some things haven¡¯t changed. Our hearts still understand one another. The distance and the silence hasn¡¯t changed that.


    Some love stories are simple.


    But ours never was.


    Hayden


    Hayden, 11


    It¡¯s hard to forget the day you¡¯re saved.


    I remember it like it was yesterday; the wind howling in the trees, the sound of heavy rainfall against the tin roof of my uncle¡¯s shabby car.


    ¡°They¡¯ve offered me a job,¡± he had told me. ¡°We¡¯ll get a ce to stay, too.¡±


    But the house at the end of the driveway isn¡¯t like any house I¡¯ve ever seen. It¡¯s a mansion. A white, sprawling porch wraps around the front, visible even in the darkness.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to live there?¡±


    ¡°No, there¡¯s a house down by the beach where we¡¯ll live.¡±


    ¡°They have their own beach house?¡±


    I can hear the weariness in my uncle¡¯s voice. ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t make this difficult.¡±


    I shrug and turn away from him. I¡¯ve been nothing but easy. Five moves in the past two years, with five different schools, too. I was the poster child for easy.


    I haven¡¯t seen much of Paradise Shores so far, but one thing is clear-this is a rich ce. People like us don¡¯t stay here, not for long.


    ¡°They have children,¡± my uncle urges. ¡°Mr. Marchand said he had sons. They should be about your age, I think.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°This will be good. It¡¯ll give us some stability.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Gary blows out a frustrated sigh. ¡°I¡¯m doing the best I can here, kid.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I bite out the following words, bitter in my mouth. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    One day, I won¡¯t need to thank anyone. I¡¯ll be as rich and as famous as those stars on television, on social media, who could go anywhere and do anything. I¡¯ll own a house like this myself.


    ¡°Come on. We can¡¯t stay out here forever.¡± Gary puts the car in drive and rolls up the wide driveway. His left knee is bouncing.


    Gary isn¡¯t usually nervous. I lean forward and try to get a good look at the house. It¡¯s at least three stories with white, wooden paneling. It has blue double-doors and the porch is nked by well-maintained flower beds. It looks like a house from amercial, the ones with golden retrievers and blond children with happy smiles.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    ¡°Are you really sure this is it?¡±


    Gary scoffs. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure, kid.¡±


    The front door opens. A tall man stands silhouetted against the light, a child standing to his right. He has a hand on her head.


    ¡°Gary?¡± he calls. ¡°Is that you?¡±


    My uncle swears and pulls his jacket up around his ears. He¡¯s buzzing with nervous energy.


    ¡°Stay here,¡± he tells me and steps out into the rain. It wets his thin bomber jacket and makes his brown hair stick to his head. It¡¯s so different from my ink-ck hair, the color from my father¡¯s side. It¡¯s the only feature I share with him, although he hasn¡¯t been aroundtely for me to double-check.


    I watch as he talks with the man, this Mr. Marchand. The girl at his side is peering out into the rain. She can¡¯t see me, not through this darkness and the rain. Besides, Gary always tints his car windows.

 Rogue C2

    She disappears back into the house. My stomach growls again, but I ignore it. It¡¯s only a nuisance when Gary hears it.


    I hate making him feel guilty.


    I hate being a burden.


    The girles running out of the house, a raincoat hastily pulled on and an umbre in her hand.


    She stops by my door and pushes back tresses of long, auburn hair. She¡¯s younger than me, but probably not by much. ¡°Hello? Are you in there?¡±


    I take a deep breath and double-check the Band-Aids across my right knuckles. Don¡¯t let them see that you¡¯ve been fighting, Gary had said, and shook his head when I¡¯d tried to exin that I was only defending myself.


    Then I open the door and set foot in Paradise Shores for the first time.


    Lily


    Lily, 10


    ¡°Lily!!¡± Parker calls from his room, right across from mine. ¡°Have you seen As?¡±


    I scratch the golden retriever behind his ear. ¡°No!¡±


    Rhys snorts from his ce in my reading nook and flips another page in his book. ¡°Liar.¡±


    ¡°He cut myputer time in half yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°Lily, are you sure?!¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°I can vouch for her!¡± Rhys calls. Somehow, his voice drawls, even when he yells. My brothers couldn¡¯t be more different if they tried.


    Heavy footsteps echo in the corridor, and then Parker¡¯s blond head pops into my room. His eyes zero in on As lying by my feet. ¡°Lily!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I asked you!¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°You did?¡±


    He groans and heads toward the dog. As bounces up, tail wagging, and Parker pats him on the head. ¡°You know walking him is my chore this week.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Screw you, Lily.¡±


    ¡°Mom told you not to say that,¡± I counter. I know it¡¯s a weak argument, but with three older brothers, I¡¯ve learned to use whatever excuses I can.


    Parker rolls his eyes. ¡°Mom¡¯s not listening right now, is she?¡±


    ¡°You cut herputer time in half,¡± Rhys points out, not bothering to look at us.


    ¡°Of course you¡¯re on her side.¡±


    Rhys-older than both Parker and me, although not quite as old as Henry-snorts again, like all of this is beneath him. He¡¯s getting frighteningly good at that. ¡°I¡¯m on the side of truth.¡±


    ¡°When it fits you, asshole.¡±


    ¡°Parker!¡± Only Dad uses that word.


    Rhys shuts his book with an audible snap. ¡°What¡¯s bothering you today, huh?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Save us both the trouble and just tell me.¡±


    Parker ys with As¡¯s cor. ¡°I don¡¯t think Dad should rent out the beach house.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like we use it all that much.¡±


    ¡°Yes, in the summer we do.¡±


    I frown. I have to say, I kind of get Parker¡¯s point. The little cottage is right by the shoreline, a stone¡¯s throw from our house. Previous summers, Mom would prepare little beds out there for us, and then we¡¯d lie and watch the stars through the window in the ceiling and eat marshmallows. If we were lucky, she would even tell us a story. The best ones were the ones she made up, because you never knew how they ended.


    Plus, her stories always involved four very brave siblings.


    I look at Rhys. ¡°Why is Dad letting someone else stay there? It¡¯s ours, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for the money,¡± Parker answers, his voice gloomy.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not, you idiot. Dad found a new groundskeeper. The guy is bringing a kid, too, apparently. So they¡¯re going to be living there.¡±


    ¡°Is it a girl?¡± I ask.


    ¡°What age is he?¡± Parker asks.


    Rhys rolls his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything else.¡±


    ¡°Hey, howe you found out? They haven¡¯t told the rest of us yet!¡±


    ¡°Dad told Henry, and Henry told me.¡± Rhys shoots us both a superior nce. ¡°They¡¯reing next week.¡±


    ¡°I hate being thest to know things around here.¡± Parker clicks his tongue at As. ¡°Come on, boy. Let¡¯s go look at the beach house while we still have a chance.¡±


    Rhys waits until they¡¯ve left my bedroom before hees over and leans on the back of my chair. He looks over my drawings in silence.


    I wait with bated breath for his verdict. Once, he¡¯d called an elf I¡¯d drawn inspired, and I¡¯d been on cloud nine all day.

 Rogue C3

    He points at one I¡¯m still working on. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten a lot better at drawing scales.¡±


    The giant dragon isn¡¯t done yet, curled around a castle, but I nod nheless. ¡°I¡¯ve been practicing.¡±


    ¡°It shows.¡±


    Henry and Parker are simr in many ways. Just as good as sports, although Henry is much better at games like Scrabble. Henry had been the one to teach Parker how to ride a bike, when Dad was away at work, even though he was still only a kid himself at the time.


    But Rhys? Rhys is mine, and I grin at his pride.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    He musses my hair in response and reaches for his book again.


    ¡°Do you really not know if it¡¯s a girl or a boy?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said, Lils.¡±


    ¡°But you might have just lied to annoy Parker.¡±


    The corner of Rhys¡¯s mouth curls. ¡°I really don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I pick up my pen and get back to work. The long wait for next week has begun, it seems, when we¡¯ll find out who the new ymate is. I hope it¡¯s a girl, and I hope we¡¯ll be best friends.


    I¡¯m seriously outnumbered in this household.


    Lily


    Lily, 10


    It was a boy, and he became my brothers¡¯ best friend.


    Hayden spent most of his time with them, ying volleyball under the summer sun or learning how to sail. In the evenings, they¡¯d lie side by side on the couch in the basement, testing one another¡¯s skill at Nintendo.


    But I didn¡¯t know that when he arrived. No, when he came to Paradise Shores, I was ecstatic. Hayden was the same age as Parker, but I was the only one home when he and his uncle showed up. A friend just for me, I thought. He wasn¡¯t a girl-it would have been better if he was a girl-but I¡¯d just have to make do.


    I¡¯ll never forget the way he¡¯d looked that night, in the rain outside our house. Water dripped down his face, dropped from his thick hair. I could see that his eyes were amber, even in the darkness. I¡¯d never seen that on a person before.


    I¡¯d have to try to draw it.


    ¡°What are you staring at?¡±


    No one has ever asked me that before. ¡°You.¡±


    ¡°Well, look somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s silly.¡± I offer him my umbre to share. ¡°It¡¯s raining. Come on, let¡¯s go inside.¡±


    He nces up at his uncle before a defiant sparkes into his eyes. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Are you hungry? I can make you an omelet.¡± Well, I sort of could. Mom tried to teach us the week before and I remember all the steps. I haven¡¯t actually done it on my own yet, though. But I feel very grown-up offering him that.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like omelets.¡±


    Well, that¡¯s kind of a bummer. I don¡¯t know how to make anything else. ¡°Do you like cereal?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Good. Come on, we have loads of different kinds. Parker likes to mix, but I don¡¯t.¡± I find his hand in the darkness and pull him toward the house. ¡°I¡¯ll even show you where the Cocoa Puffs are.¡±


    His hand is careful in mine. I nce back, but he¡¯s following me dutifully. We¡¯re the same height.


    I smile up at Dad as we pass him and the new groundskeeper.


    ¡°Lily?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make him some cereal.¡±


    Dad nods. ¡°That¡¯s nice of you, sweetheart.¡±


    The new groundskeeper shoots the boy a look, like he¡¯s telling him something. I don¡¯t know what it means.


    The boy nods.


    ¡°Go on, then,¡± the man says.


    I hang the raincoat on Mom¡¯s peg and grin at the new boy. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Hayden,¡± he says. He doesn¡¯t look at me-he¡¯s looking at the double-curved staircases that lead up to the second floor. Mom always keeps a vase of lilies on the table between them. It¡¯s the flower I¡¯m named after.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice, right?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    I look him over from top to toe. He seems pretty sullen, this dark-haired boy who doesn¡¯t smile, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll cheer up with a bit of food in him. Henry¡¯s the same, when he¡¯s hungry.


    ¡°Kitchen is this way.¡±


    He chooses Cocoa Puffs, and he doesn¡¯t mix different kinds of cereal together. It¡¯s a good start.


    I pour a small bowl for myself as well and hop up on a kitchen stool opposite him. Hayden eats in silence, and if he notices me looking at him, he doesn¡¯t mention it.


    But my curiosity gets the better of me soon enough.


    ¡°Well, my name is Lily,¡± I say.


    ¡°Huh.¡± He continues to eat.


    ¡°So¡­ You¡¯re going to live with your dad in the beach house, right?¡±

 Rogue C4

    ¡°He¡¯s my uncle.¡±


    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s nice.¡± I¡¯ve never met someone before who lives with their uncle. I need to tread carefully.


    ¡°Are you thirsty? Can I get you a ss of water?¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡±


    Mom would know exactly what to say-she¡¯s a great hostess. If only she was home! I try to make my voice soft, like hers. ¡°You¡¯ll like it here. This is a nice town, actually. And there¡¯s a great little cove by the beach. I can show you one day.¡±


    He just nods. God, but he¡¯s silent! No one in my ss at school is this quiet. Maybe something is wrong with him. He shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, and I notice his hands.


    ¡°Why do you have so many Band-Aids?¡±


    Hayden¡¯s eyes grow guarded. ¡°I cut myself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be.¡±


    I take my empty bowl to the sink and try to think. He¡¯s silent. He¡¯s a boy. And he looks pretty¡­ well, disheveled. I know that my mom wouldn¡¯t let my brothers wear a shirt that¡¯s the wrong size, like his, which hangs awkwardly from his shoulders.


    I feel a sudden and very heavy responsibility to be the perfect host. Dad is handling the business side-I¡¯ll handle the boy.


    ¡°Have you ever yed Nintendo?¡±


    His head snaps up. ¡°Once or twice.¡±


    ¡°Do you wanna y?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I say, heading for the staircase. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    An hourter, when Hayden¡¯s unclees to fetch him, they find us sound asleep on the couch in the basement, the TV still on.


    Lily


    The present


    ¡°Lily! Get in here!¡±


    I roll my eyes at Turner¡¯s voice. ¡°I¡¯ll take my sweet time, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°No, you won¡¯t. Have you forgotten that I¡¯m your boss?¡±


    ¡°Actually, your father is. Technically speaking he¡¯s both of our bosses.¡±


    Startledughter sounds from his ss office. ¡°That was a low blow. I¡¯m eating your lunch too as retaliation.¡±


    ¡°No, no, I¡¯ming!¡± I close myptop and hurry across the ten feet that separates our offices. Turner is sitting at his conference table, two poke bowls on the table. A sparkling water for me and a diet soda for him.


    ¡°You work too hard,¡± he chides. ¡°Dpress.¡±


    ¡°Well, we have to work hard. The Anderson deadline is in five days.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s almost ready, Lily. You¡¯ve done an outstanding job with the decor, not to mention thendscaping. It passed the house inspection with flying colors.¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    I nod at his words, poking at my raw salmon. He¡¯s right. But even so, the Anderson development is the first house I¡¯ve been running lead on since I was hired at Turner¡¯s familypany. Property development was never my dream, but I took enough architecture sses in college to understand the basics-not to mention the decor part.


    It¡¯s exhrating, the mix of responsibility and teamwork that goes into building. It had made Dad happy too. Yet another one of the Marchand kids choosing his profession.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I shoot him a smile. ¡°It¡¯s a thrill, isn¡¯t it? Building?¡±


    Turner nods. ¡°The biggest. You can spend years on a project, slogging over every detail, but then at the end, when you walk through the finished house¡­¡±


    ¡°Finally seeing your masterpieceplete,¡± I say, thinking of Michngelo and the Sistine Chapel that took him four years to paint. Studying art history in college hadn¡¯t exactly paid off, ording to my dad, but it had been some of the best years of my life.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let my father know you called his developments around the marina masterpieces,¡± Turner says. ¡°You¡¯ll be more popr with the old man than you already are.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°tterer. I already know I got this job because of you.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so maybe I put in a good word or two. But trust me, the board was inplete agreement.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for letting me know.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He nods at the ginger in my bowl. ¡°Still avoiding that?¡±


    ¡°Yep. Here.¡± I push my lunch toward him, and Turner carefully picks out the pieces with his chopsticks. If someone would have told teenage me that I¡¯d one day be working closely with Turner Harris, the school¡¯s ultimate jock and my brother¡¯s dickish friend, I¡¯d haveughed in their face. But things changed, I suppose. Once, I dreamed my future would be spent as Mrs. Hayden Cole and running my own art gallery.


    ¡°So,¡± Turner says, focusing on opening his packet of soy sauce. ¡°I¡¯m taking Catalina out tomorrow night. She needs to stretch her sails a bit.¡±


    ¡°The wind should be good. You and Parker?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t asked him yet, actually. I was thinking if you wanted to join¡­¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He grins. ¡°You haven¡¯t sailed in a bit, but I¡¯m sure you remember how to. You guys went sailing all the time growing up.¡±


    We did, but I¡¯m still not sure if I know the knots. My leg, too¡­ I healed great after the ident all those years ago, and there¡¯s no real pain left, but my leg still won¡¯t always co-operate. There¡¯s just a faint limp that lingers and sometimes it locks up. If the backstay fails, or if we get caught in downward wind, there¡¯s a chance I won¡¯t be able to pull my weight.


    ¡°We did,¡± I say. ¡°Thanks, but I think I¡¯ll stayndlocked tomorrow. I think I need a refresher course before I can y skipper again.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably a good choice,¡± he teases. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want you to get seasick all over Catalina¡¯s shiny new deck.¡±


    ¡°Ew, Turner.¡± I shake my head at him. ¡°I¡¯m not aplete novice.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± He smiles at me, and it feelsden with more meaning than usual. ¡°Are you going to the Maze Party this weekend?¡±

 Rogue C5

    ¡°Yes. The whole family is going, actually. I¡¯m sure the Harrises are attending?¡±


    He gives a nod. ¡°My parents will be there, yeah. But I was thinking¡­ how about we go together?¡±


    I¡¯m momentarily confused. The Maze Party is Paradise Shores¡¯ biggest event in the summer. A garden party hosted on thewns down by the beach, filled to the brim with familiar faces and cocktails. There¡¯s a small maze, constructed for the children, which gives the party its name. It¡¯s practically an institution. Turner and I had been there at the same time on several asions over the years.


    But now he wanted us to¡­


    ¡°Together, together?¡± I ask stupidly. ¡°Like a date?¡±


    He cocks his head, a faint blush on his cheeks. ¡°If you want to, yes. Or as good friends, as co-workers. I enjoy spending time with you.¡±


    My immediate instinct is to turn him down. It¡¯s a bad idea for about a hundred different reasons. I¡¯ve never been attracted to him, for starters. He¡¯s also my brother¡¯s friend. He was kind of a dick in high school.


    And there¡¯s a little voice whispering in my head, familiar and exasperating, saying that he¡¯s not Hayden. Every time I think I¡¯m ready to move on, I hear that voice.


    I tell it to shut up.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to,¡± I say.


    You think you won¡¯t get over pain, or betrayal, or loss, but you do.


    You get up every morning and the sun still shines. The waves still crash against the shore in the distance, and your mom still makes you buttermilk pancakes. The world keeps spinning. And you find that you carry on, too.


    After Hayden left, I ended up epting an offer from Yale, and it was everything I wanted. It had art and design courses. Interesting student organizations, closeness to the city, a lively student council. Close enough to New York, and therefore also Rhys. A semester spent in Paris to study art at the Sorbonne and practice my French.


    But it didn¡¯t have the seafood I loved.


    It didn¡¯t have the beach and the ocean.


    And it didn¡¯t have Hayden.


    Not that he would¡¯ve been there, even if he could. He¡¯d made that perfectly clear. For years, no one had heard anything from him. He didn¡¯t show up in Paradise Shores. He wasn¡¯t active on social media, not that he ever really was to begin with.


    Texting him that first month had been mildly humiliating. I¡¯d sent text after text without getting a reply, not until one day, he texted back eight little words.


    I¡¯m going away for a while. Take care, Lily.


    Nine words, actually, if you counted my name.


    That was all I got. Rhys got even less, and Parker was just confused.


    The one picture I got was through Hayden¡¯s uncle, inadvertently. He¡¯d showed it to my mom, who¡¯d shown Henry, and somehow it had made its way to me.


    It was Hayden in uniform. His thick, dark hair was gone, shaved close to the skull. A hat was tucked under his arm and he stood pin-straight, shoulders back. He was handsome, handsome in a foreign, adult way, in a way I¡¯d only been able to imagine. He stared straight into the camera, eyes solemn and distant, giving nothing away. Was he happy in the military? Had he found his calling?


    The man in the photograph gave me no answers, much like his real-life self.


    So I put the photograph out of my mind and focused on making something of myself. I spent five years in New York, living across the hall from Rhys and working at one gallery after another. It got boring eventually, and I missed the ocean and my family. So I came back to Paradise Shores and ended up in Harris Property Development, my father¡¯s rival. Now I have my own ce close to the ocean and I spend nearly every weekend at the family house, making pancakes and eating family brunch.


    It¡¯s a good life-despite the Hayden-shaped hole in it. So what if I¡¯d never considered Turner before? We were friendly. He was nice, and weughed together. I¡¯d made thepletely right decision in epting his suggestion for a date.


    I would wear my white,cey dress, my wedge heels, and I¡¯d drink champagne and enjoy myself with Turner. No expectations, no fears.


    Tonight, though, I¡¯m snuggling alone on my couch with the TV on. There is no point in stressing about a date that was days away. There¡¯s a new documentary about Italian art that I want to watch.


    The show has just started when my phone chimes. It¡¯s Parker.


    Guess who¡¯sing to town this weekend? he sent. Hayden!


    Hayden


    Hayden, 11


    ¡°This is a nice ce, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I look around the beach house. We¡¯ve already unpacked-it didn¡¯t take us long. There¡¯s a kitchte and a living room with tworge sofas. A gigantic bathroom with thergest shower I¡¯ve ever seen. Technically there¡¯s only one bedroom, but someone converted therge walk-in closet off the living room into a second one with a single bed.


    The floors are hardwood, and giant windows open up straight onto the ocean. The sound of waves made it difficult to sleep the first few nights.


    ¡°Yes, I suppose.¡±


    Gary shakes his head at me. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it, kid. So will I.¡±


    I guess I will. Gary and I have lived in worse ces. And the years with my father before that, when it was just him and me¡­ this would be nothing like that,pared to empty bottles everywhere and the sudden eruptions of violence.


    ¡°Where should we put her?¡± Gary is holding my mother¡¯s picture, framed. ¡°On the counter?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say with a frown. She would be staring at us eating.


    Gary looks around. ¡°The ce isn¡¯t that big, kid.¡±


    I point to one of the windowsills. ¡°How about there?¡±


    He puts the picture in ce and takes a few steps back, hands on his hips. ¡°Perfect. She¡¯ll be able to see the ocean, too.¡±


    A smiling, blonde woman looks back at us. She died when I was five, and in my mind, she¡¯s be a distant memory, a woman who smelled like vani and hugs. Gary doesn¡¯t look anything like his sister, but he¡¯s a good sort. He¡¯s made sure her picture was set up in every ce we¡¯d stayed in.


    ¡°That¡¯s good, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I head to the thick brochure on the counter. A giant brick building is on the front, students in uniforms sitting on the grass,ughing happily. ¡°Paradise Shores Preparatory School?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡± My uncle lifts the little clip-on tie that came with my uniform and turns it to and fro.


    ¡°Who names their town Paradise anyway? What kind of stupid name is that?¡±


    Gary chuckles. ¡°I know. This is¡­ Hay, this is batshit crazy. But the school is good.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s paying for this?¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.

 Rogue C6

    ¡°The Marchands. It¡¯s a perk of the job.¡±


    I run my hand over the pressed pants. They scream of money, of expensive fabric and high expectations. I have no idea what schools like this cost, but it has to be more than Gary makes. ¡°That¡¯s quite a perk.¡±


    He reaches over and runs a hand through my hair, mussing it up.


    ¡°Stop.¡± I pat it down so it falls over my forehead.


    ¡°This¡¯ll be good for us.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°All the Marchand kids go to that school. You can carpool in the morning.¡±


    Right.


    The Marchand kids.


    There was Henry, the tallest and most self-important of the group. He¡¯d reached over and shook my hand, as if he was an adult and not a fourteen-year-old with a cracking voice.


    Rhys didn¡¯t say much of anything, actually, but he¡¯d looked me over from top to toe like he suspected me of carrying some foreign disease.


    The blond boy my age, Parker, asked if I wanted to ycrosse on the backwn some time. I had said no. Lacrosse sounds awful.


    There is an entire world between them and me, and no way to bridge it. I¡¯m not even going to try. We sure as hell won¡¯t be staying in Paradise Shores with their wrap-around porches and expensive preparatory schools long enough for me to get to know these kids.


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°They leave by seven thirty tomorrow. I spoke to Mrs. Marchand, and she¡¯ll make sure there¡¯s a spot for you.¡± Gary gives me an unusually serious look. ¡°Be good in school.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I say, looking away. Be good. That was always the advice, everywhere we went. But it¡¯s hard to act good when you don¡¯t feel like you¡¯re particrly good. Not that the youngest Marchand seemed to care about that at all.


    Lily had looked at me with such curiosity that I felt like asking her if she wanted to take a picture instead. She¡¯s kind, though. Better than her stupid brothers, even if she definitely asks too many questions.


    She¡¯s pretty brave, too. I¡¯d seen her grab a live lobster by the tail and not flinch once as she tied its ws, saying that her father had taught her that. She had shown me her favorite climbing tree just a few days before. It was pretty tall, even if she was too old to climb trees. Lily hadn¡¯t liked it when I said that. Her hair had been a fiery halo around her head, her freckled face contorted in a frown. What do you know? she¡¯d hissed back at me. You¡¯re probably just afraid of heights!


    I had to climb the tree to show that I wasn¡¯t, of course. If Lily noticed that my hands were shaking a bit when I came back down, she hadn¡¯t mentioned it. Heights really weren¡¯t my favorite thing.


    But still. Lily is nice enough, for a Paradise Shores brat.


    Lily, 13


    Hayden reaches out. ¡°Hand me the bucket.¡±


    I give it to him, making sure that none of the saltwater tips out. ¡°Did you find one?¡±


    ¡°No, but that is getting heavy by now.¡±


    ¡°I can carry it.¡±


    ¡°I know you can.¡± Hayden shoots me a pointed look. ¡°But just because you can do something doesn¡¯t mean you should.¡±


    I roll my eyes at the clear innuendo in his words. ¡°Not from you, too!¡±


    Hayden shakes his head so that the dark locks fly and reaches down in the shallows. The tide is out, and there¡¯s no better time to go mussel picking.


    ¡°I won¡¯t. But at least tell me what you were actually trying to do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already had this discussion with Rhys.¡±


    ¡°So have it again, with me.¡±


    The water is cool against my ankles, soft wave after wavepping against our legs. I haven¡¯t seen Hayden in weeks, not since we left for our summer vacation to Europe, and this is what he wanted to discuss?R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    ¡°How did you even find out?¡±


    He shoots me another look. This time, his amber eyes are telling. Do you even need to ask?


    ¡°Parker should keep his mouth shut,¡± I grumble.


    Hayden¡¯s lip curls. ¡°You¡¯re stalling.¡±


    ¡°What have you heard exactly?¡±


    ¡°You got in a fight.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°It was so stupid. I was just trying to defend Henry.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he needs defending.¡±


    ¡°Well, he did. One of our cousins said something¡­ something stupid. And he had been annoying the entire week, stealing my pens and hiding them so I couldn¡¯t draw, mocking me about my hair.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s eyes steal up to my braid. ¡°Your hair?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. He said some stupid things about gingers. We¡¯re not even that redhaired-Mom calls it auburn!¡±


    ¡°Idiot.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. So I punched him.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s grin is savage. ¡°Nice, Lils.¡±


    ¡°Well, I thought so too. He deserved it. But I got in a lot of trouble.¡±


    ¡°I heard,¡± Hayden says, still grinning. He looks a bit wild, like he did when I saw him the first time, with too long hair and a too big T-shirt. Like he¡¯s actually from some other ce, where rules don¡¯t apply to him. ¡°Was it worth it?¡±


    I think about it for a moment. ¡°Yes. But it hurt like hell.¡±


    Hayden sets the bucket down carefully, making sure to anchor it between two rocks. ¡°Show me.¡±

 Rogue C7

    I make a fist. He shakes his head immediately. ¡°No, Lily, like this¡­ you have to tuck your thumb in.¡±


    ¡°I do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ll break it otherwise. Like this¡­¡± He reaches out and shows me how to ce my thumb and to clench tight, but not so tightly that my little finger folds inwards. ¡°See?¡±


    ¡°Ah. That feels better.¡±


    ¡°And when you aim, aim here,¡± he says, tapping against his cheekbone. ¡°If you aim for the nose, you might break it. That¡¯s good but it will hurt your hand more.¡±


    ¡°You know a lot about this.¡±


    He smiles again, crookedly. ¡°I had a life before Paradise, Lils.¡±


    I shake my head at him, smiling too. It seems impossible that he did. My life feels like it started the day he arrived. He never talks about his former life, either-and when he does, it¡¯s only like this, with little hints andments.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell him. ¡°I¡¯ll remember this the next time I have to punch someone.¡±


    ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll have to,¡± he says, slowly releasing my hand. ¡°You have a lot of people who would protect you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I say, rolling my eyes. The overprotectiveness had been with me my entire life. ¡°The brother blockade.¡±


    Hayden looks down, grabbing the bucket. ¡°Exactly,¡± he says.


    I sneak nces at him while we pick mussels. Marissa Briggs had told me in school the other day that she thought he was cute. In that foreign kind of way, she¡¯d said. I had no idea what she meant by that. Hayden is as American as theye.


    But he does have really beautiful hair. I¡¯d always thought so. Cute?


    Hayden is so much more than cute. Plus, he¡¯s my friend.


    One of my best friends, even, if you don¡¯t count Jamie.


    But¡­ maybe he¡¯s a little cute.


    Friends can be cute, right?


    Lily


    The present


    I pause on Parker¡¯s doorstep.


    Hayden¡¯s inside.


    Am I crazy,ing here to see him again? Knowing he¡¯s inside?


    My first response was aplete no. Who was he to show up in Paradise Shores? To tell Parker and not me? After ten long years?


    After what he did, leaving without so much as a note, I couldn¡¯t bear it. I couldn¡¯t see him. No, nope, finito. Conversation over.


    Except, of course it wasn¡¯t. Every cell in my body reacted to the possibility of seeing him again. I need it, to see what he looks like now, what changes the years have wrought.


    Parker had texted me the ns. They were going to dinner on Friday night, but before that they were sharing a few beers at his.


    Do you want to join?


    A simple question, but without a simple answer.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    In the end, I¡¯d found myself driving over to my brother¡¯s in a daze. Curiosity killed the cat, they said, and I was about to be one dead feline.


    I knock.


    Parker shoots me a grin when he opens the door. ¡°Lils, you made it. Did you park on the driveway?¡±


    ¡°Yes, like always.¡±


    ¡°Good. The street parking here is awful.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say distantly, walking into his house. ¡°I¡¯ve been here many times before.¡± Hayden isn¡¯t in the living room. Maybe he hasn¡¯t arrived yet?


    Parker grins at me. ¡°Still, one day you might forget¡­ And you¡¯d me me for the ticket.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I follow him into the kitchen. And there, leaning against the counter, is Hayden.


    My mind goes momentarily nk.


    He¡¯s filled out. That¡¯s my first thought. In my mind, he¡¯d still been the same young man I remembered, buting face to face with Hayden now, I realize that he was a boy before.


    He¡¯s a man now.


    His button-down stretches over broad shoulders and the cut of his trousers reveals strong thighs. There¡¯s a faint shadow of stubble across his cheeks and jaw. He never had that before.


    The way he holds himself makes me think of the young man in the photograph. The military has changed him, from the shorter cut of his hair to the thick, corded muscles hiding beneath his clothes.


    But his eyes are familiar, staring straight at me. They¡¯re the same dark amber I remember from my childhood, the eyes that once held so much feeling. There¡¯s no expression on his face now, and for the first time, I don¡¯t have the faintest clue how to read him.


    What is he thinking?


    ¡°Hi, Lily,¡± he says. His voice has deepened, too. It sends shivers through me. For years, I¡¯d begged and begged for that voice to be on the other side of the phone. I¡¯d answered every single out-of-state and hidden number that called me, just in case. It had nearly always been phone salesmen.


    I put my bag down on the hall table. ¡°Hello.¡±


    ¡°Here you go.¡± Parker ps Hayden on the back and offers him a beer. ¡°It¡¯s good to have you back, man.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. It feels good to be back, too.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while,¡± I say, and I wonder if he¡¯s the only one who hears the acid behind my quiet voice. If I ever thought I was over the anger of him leaving, I¡¯m now provenpletely wrong.


    His gaze on mine is steady, and I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m imagining it or if there¡¯s a faint trace of embarrassment in his eyes. ¡°Too long.¡±

 Rogue C8

    ¡°Where have you been?¡±


    ¡°Many ces. Wisconsin, first. Then a base down in Utah before I joined the Navy. I spent five years patrolling the Bering Straits. Then I returned to military school, before bing amander.¡±


    Parker shoots me a massive grin. ¡°He¡¯s a lieutenant now.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say. My voice sounds hollow. ¡°Congrattions.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The man in front of me looks like a more mature version of my Hayden, and he talks like him, but the words are entirely unfamiliar to me. Since when was he interested in the military?


    ¡°Are you here on leave?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Where are you staying, man?¡± Parker takes a seat on the edge of the couch. ¡°You know you can have one of the guest rooms over at the house. I¡¯m sure Mom would love to see you.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s expression is carefully schooled. ¡°Thanks, but I¡¯m staying in a house over on Elm Street.¡±


    ¡°Nice. Renting?¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    I frown. ¡°Have you seen Gary yet?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Okay, then. The silence between the three of us isn¡¯tfortable, and I wonder if Parker is noticing. He takes a sip of his beer and shoots me his trademark grin. Nope, it sure doesn¡¯t seem that way.


    Hayden nces away from me toward my purse. It isn¡¯t until he nces at my leg that I realize he¡¯s looking for a cane. My anger res up again, familiar and acrid. Of course he¡¯s wondering. He left before I was fully healed from the ident.


    ¡°Just a faint limp,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s minor.¡±


    He gives a sharp nod but doesn¡¯t say anything. The Hayden I remembered was silent when he was ufortable or overwhelmed by emotion, but I have no idea what it means for the new military Hayden, who disappeared for a decade without so much as a goodbye.


    Parker smiles at me. ¡°You¡¯re joining us for dinner tonight, right, Lils? I¡¯m taking Hayden out to the Yacht Club tonight to celebrate his return.¡± He ps Hayden on the shoulder again. ¡°The prodigal son has returned!¡±


    It takes me forever to gather my thoughts, but when I do, they¡¯reser sharp. Dinner with my brothers-with Hayden just across the table-is more than I can bear. I can¡¯t feign civility for that long, not around the people who know me best. Not when the only thing I want to do is ask Hayden why.


    Why did he break my heart? Why didn¡¯t he call?


    And why on earth has he suddenlye back?


    ¡°No,¡± I say, grabbing my bag. ¡°I actually have something nned, and just came by to say hi. Enjoy your dinner.¡±


    And then I flee, running from the troubled, amber eyes that I¡¯ve never been able to forget.


    I wake upte the next morning, the sun streaming in through my curtains. It¡¯s a beautiful spring day in Paradise Shores, it¡¯s a Saturday, and I have a sort-of kind-of date with Turner.


    The Maze Party.


    Hayden.


    Ugh.


    I put the pillow over my face and take ten deep calming breaths. Some of the anxiety goes away, but not fully.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    I swing my legs over the side of my bed and open the curtains. Seeing the ocean in the morning is my favorite thing in the world, watching as the soft rippling waves kiss the horizon. Some days I take a walk in the morning before work, nearly making it all the way up to the family house before looping back.


    But today my view is marred. Standing beside my gate is a tall man with a head of shockingly ck hair. He¡¯s dressed in casual clothing, a hammer in his hand. He turns, lining up a nail carefully on the gate in my fence.


    Oh no, he doesn¡¯t.


    I pull my silk robe on and tie it, hiding my pajama shorts and top, and stick my feet into the first pair of shoes in the hallway. I fly out the door and down the steps.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±


    Hayden doesn¡¯t even blink. ¡°Your gate is broken. I¡¯m fixing it.¡±


    ¡°I know it¡¯s broken,¡± I fret. ¡°But why are you here fixing it?¡±


    ¡°Because broken things should be mended, Lily,¡± he says slowly, like he¡¯s talking to a toddler. The spark in his eyes makes it clear he knows it¡¯ll drive me mad.


    ¡°Argh!¡±


    A smile breaks across his features. ¡°Deep breaths.¡±


    ¡°Stop being so damn infuriating.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful day,¡± he says. ¡°The sun is shining. The sea is calm. It¡¯s a Saturday, and there¡¯s freebor on your doorstep. What¡¯s not to like?¡±


    ¡°How did you know where I live?¡±


    ¡°Your brother.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill him.¡±


    ¡°Fratricide is still illegal in the state of Maine, thest time I checked.¡±


    ¡°Stop arguing with me. Why are you here, Hayden?¡±


    He bends to pick up another nail, looking for all the world like the definition of calm. ¡°I heard you had a problem to solve, so I¡¯m solving it.¡±


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t ask you to. And by standing on this side of the fence, you¡¯re technically trespassing, you know.¡±


    He steps through the gate and continues his work from the sidewalk. ¡°I¡¯m on neutral ground now.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t do this. You can¡¯t be gone for a decade and then just show up to fix things!¡±

 Rogue C9

    ¡°I¡¯ll be done soon,¡± he says calmly. ¡°So, you work in project development now?¡±


    I pull my robe tighter around me, caught off guard by his question. ¡°Yeah. But that doesn¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ I help with some of the projects. Managing contractors, overseeing sketches. I handle nearly all of the styling and decor choices before they go on the market.¡± I swallow, ufortable with his earnest gaze. He¡¯s looking at me like we¡¯re still friends, like we still have that childhood connection.


    ¡°Sounds challenging.¡±


    ¡°Not very. I mean, sometimes it really is, when we have deadlines¡­¡± I shake my head. ¡°We are not having this conversation. Not until you tell me where you¡¯ve been.¡±


    ¡°I told you yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, ¡®the military.¡¯ It¡¯s too short of an answer.¡±


    He looks away from me, calmly picking up another nail. He¡¯s wearing a gray T-shirt and for a moment I¡¯m distracted by his arm when he swings the hammer. Hayden had always been bulky, somehow; well-built. But now his muscles are the strong, well-defined ones of a man who uses his body regrly.


    He feels like a stranger.


    ¡°Like I said yesterday, I was at a training base in Utah for a while. Then I served in the Bering Straits for five years in the Navy. I helped train new recruits for a few years after that. Now I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°I never knew you had an interest in the military,¡± I say. ¡°You never told me.¡±


    He pauses in his movements, a hand hovering just above one of the broken hinges. He¡¯s not looking at me, eyes focused on his work. ¡°Well,¡± he finally says, bending down to take a closer look. ¡°It was a good option for me. I had been thinking about it for a while.¡±


    ¡°Sure you had.¡±


    He looks up at me, eyes turning yful again as he looks me over, taking in my pajamas and my bathrobe. ¡°Were you in bed, Lily? At ten o¡¯clock?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a Saturday!¡±


    Hayden¡¯s gaze snags at my feet, and then he bursts outughing. I haven¡¯t heard thatugh in ten years, and even back then, it was a rare thing. Goose bumps race along my arms.


    ¡°No way,¡± he says.


    I nce down. My feet are stuck in the stupid bunny slippers I had as a teenager. They¡¯re ratty and ugly and must have fallen out of the back of my shoe rack somehow.


    ¡°You still have those?¡±


    I wrap my robe tighter around myself and ignore the blush that heats my cheeks. ¡°Shut up, Hay. How long will you be?¡±


    ¡°About an hour,¡± he says, eyes still sparkling withughter. ¡°Going to invite me in for tea?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not. I have to get ready.¡±


    ¡°Maze Party?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, heading toward my front door. This absurd situation needs to end, and I need to get out of these terrible slippers.


    He¡¯s a soldier, he¡¯s travelled the world, and he¡¯s returned to Paradise Shores as a man. A man with muscles and a deep voice and amazing hair. And I¡¯m not exactly making a good impression.


    Look at your childhood crush! She¡¯s a mess!


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you there!¡± Hayden calls behind me.


    I m the front door shut and slowly sink to the ground.


    What have I gotten myself into?


    Hayden


    Hayden, 17


    I loosen the tie of my uniform and nod at Turner. ¡°Hand me a smoke.¡±


    He passes it to me with a nod to Parker. ¡°Are you sure Hayden can handle it?¡±


    ¡°Fuck off, Turner.¡±


    He grins at me. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡±


    Parker hands me the lighter. ¡°Of course he can handle it. Hell, Cole is my cover-up.¡±


    I nod. ¡°And what an honor that is.¡±


    ¡°Your cover-up?¡±


    Parker leans back on the bleachers. ¡°Mom would kill me if she knew I smoked. So I tell her my clothes only smell because of Hayden. Problem solved.¡±


    I take another drag and look out across the football field. The junior girls havecrosse practice, chasing one another across the field with high ponytails and short skirts. It only takes me a few seconds before my eyes find the girl I¡¯m looking for.


    Her auburn hair is longer, and she put in some highlights over break, but it doesn¡¯t change a thing. I could pick her out from a crowd blindfolded.


    She¡¯s hanging back, ying it safe as part of the defense. I know it¡¯s not a strategic decision. She¡¯d rather not y at all.


    ¡°Hayden, are you even listening, man?¡±


    I slide my gaze back to Turner. ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re hoping to score with rice Winthrop at homing. News sh-you won¡¯t.¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    Parker guffaws and punches Turner in the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been telling you for ages. Give it up.¡±


    I take another drag. ¡°She¡¯s dating someone from Rexfield.¡±


    ¡°A university guy?¡± Turner scowls. ¡°How the fuck do you know?¡±


    ¡°I hear things.¡±


    ¡°What is he, a psychic?¡±

 Rogue C10

    I snort and look back out over the field. No, but I have a rather good connection with Rhys Marchand, who dumped her before he left for college a few months back. I knew for a fact she was using this guy in the hopes that it would get back to him. I also knew Rhys didn¡¯t care in the slightest.


    Parker takes another long drag of his cigarette. The one w in his long, decorated career as a high school athlete. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask Tilly Davis.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are.¡± Turner says. ¡°You Marchands, you¡¯re not giving the rest of us a fair shot.¡±


    ¡°Not about to start now, either.¡±


    I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, but I ignore it. My dad had been trying to get in contact for weeks now. This time around I¡¯m not going to tell Gary about it. There¡¯s no point anymore.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Turner says. ¡°If I can¡¯t beat you, I¡¯ll just have to join you.¡±


    Parker frowns. ¡°What exactly do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°I could ask your little sister, right? Lily?¡±


    Oh, fuck no.


    The response wells up inside me immediately, but before I can express myself, Parker shakes his head. ¡°You do that, and I¡¯ll beat you up myself.¡±


    With my help.


    ¡°You¡¯re not good enough for her,¡± I say and tip my head back, letting out a plume of smoke. Turner is a yer and a cheat. Damn good at poker, though, and he has a hell of a right hook. But that doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s good enough for Lily Marchand.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    I know that firsthand.


    Turner grins at us. ¡°You¡¯re like fucking gatekeepers, you boys. Don¡¯t worry. I know the rules. I bet little Adam Bateman is about to find that out, too.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    He grins at me. ¡°What, something I know that you don¡¯t? This rarely happens, Cole.¡±


    ¡°What about Adam?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I think I¡¯ll gloat for a little while longer. I might-¡±


    Parker leans forward. ¡°Stop shitting around.¡±


    Thank God he is here, too. I can¡¯t act more protective of Lily than her own brothers, or it would be suspicious. I couldn¡¯t risk her family finding out about my impossible feelings. It would be even worse than Lily finding out about them herself.


    I¡¯d be out on my ass by daybreak.


    ¡°Yeah, Bateman asked her out earlier this week,¡± Turner says, his face smug.


    She hadn¡¯t told me that.


    Unease and nerves roll around in my stomach. Since Henry and Rhys left Paradise Shores, Lily and I had grown even closer. Parker was often away at practice or gone for a tournament, and there would be no one but me and Lily. Her feet on the wooden staircase leading up to the beach house had be my favorite sound.


    Lily told me most things. I was fairly certain she¡¯d never lied to me in in her life. But she hadn¡¯t shared this¡­ which meant something.


    Parker snorts. ¡°Bateman? I think just sending a look in his direction would make him bolt.¡±


    I can¡¯t for the life of me remember what Adam Bateman looks like. He¡¯s probably a normal, unassuming kid. Someone with a trust fund and well-known parents.


    Turner shakes his head. ¡°You¡¯re too protective, my friends. The girl¡¯s gotta live her life on her own terms sometime.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but not with the likes of you.¡±


    ¡°What, so I¡¯m good enough to be your friend but not your sister¡¯s date?¡± He clutches a hand to his heart, a hurt expression on his face. ¡°You wound me.¡±


    I force my clenched teeth to rx. It¡¯s a joke to him, perhaps, but what he described was my reality. ¡°Madison would go with you.¡±


    ¡°I know she would. Guess I¡¯ll have to revisit that.¡± He throws me a grin. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to ask someone?¡±


    ¡°To homing? No.¡±


    Parker aims a kick at Turner¡¯s shin, which he neatly evades. ¡°Hayden¡¯s too cool for school events.¡±


    I nod. ¡°It¡¯s a reputation thing.¡±


    It¡¯s not.


    I don¡¯t fit in and have no desire to spend another night with the shiny Paradise Shore kids. They never let me forget that I wasn¡¯t one of them-that my mother didn¡¯t drink tea with theirs at the country club, that I didn¡¯t return from winter break with a tan from a trip to the Bahamas-so I made it obvious I wasn¡¯t trying to fit in.


    If they wouldn¡¯t let me win their game, I made damn sure they knew I wasn¡¯t ying at all.


    Seeing the hard expression on my face, Turner backtracks. ¡°It¡¯s kindame, in a way. I get you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Parker jerks beside me. ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    He grabs his backpack and hurriedly snubs out his cigarette. ¡°Shit. I forgot. I have an emergency swim session that started¡­ five minutes ago. I was supposed to drive Lily home today after she was done here, but then Coach texted me¡­ I was going to let Mom know.¡± He shoots me a look I recognize well. ¡°Hayden?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll drive her home.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a lifesaver, man. I owe you.¡± He bumps my knuckles before heading off down the bleachers. Turner and I watch him go in silence. Parker¡¯s just as blond as he always was, but he¡¯s cut like a swimmer now. He doesn¡¯t owe me a damn thing.


    If anything, I¡¯m the one in his debt. Every moment I spent alone with Lily Marchand is sorted and filed into my own mental archives, treasured and valued. My memories with her were some of the best of my life.


    Once practice is over, I park right by the entrance to the girl¡¯s locker rooms and lean against the car. I fiddle with the packet of smokes in my pocket, but I know better than to pull one out. Lily has never seen me smoke.


    My body hums with the familiar mixture of energy and excitement that she produces. Time alone with just her, no brothers or family in sight, isn¡¯t always easy toe by.


    The girls start to file out. A few shoot me specting looks, but it brushes off me like smoke on water. The whole school knows I¡¯m with the Marchands. I¡¯ve heard the descriptions-a cuckoo in the nest, their charity case-whispered behind my back. The thing is, rumors don¡¯t sting when they¡¯re true.


    Lily¡¯s hair is a mess when she emerges, a sweaty gym bag in her hand. A soft calm overwhelms me at the sight of her. I would never need another cigarette in my life if she was by my side daily.

 Rogue C11

    Her green eyes glitter with a smile. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°I volunteered for chauffeur duty.¡±


    ¡°You mean Parker forgot?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°His loss.¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°My win.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a phrase.¡±


    She throws her bag into the trunk and skips over to the passenger seat. ¡°Yes, it is. I just invented it.¡±


    I put the car in drive and pull out of the parking lot. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve driven one of the Marchand cars. The engine purrs smoothly under my hands.


    ¡°Nicely yed today, by the way. I saw your game.¡±


    ¡°Hayden!¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t intentional.¡±


    ¡°Sure it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    I keep the smile off my face. ¡°You got some good passes in today.¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t. Don¡¯t lie to make me feel better.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not about to lie to make you feel worse.¡±


    I can¡¯t see her, but I know she¡¯s rolling her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t lie at all, silly.¡±


    ¡°Ohhh.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ohhh. What were you doing on the bleachers anyway?¡±


    ¡°Hanging out.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°With a certain blonde, perhaps?¡±


    I have to focus on the road to hide my surprise. There¡¯s a rumor about me and Belinda Richards, yes. But it¡¯s nearly entirely false. I didn¡¯t think it had reached any of the other sses, and certainly not Lily. I¡¯m not into blondes.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    She shifts, and her skirt rides up a bit, showing smooth, tanned skin. I grip the steering wheel tighter. No, blondes hold absolutely no appeal for me.


    Not when the girl next to me owns my heart and my soul.


    I turn the tables on her.


    ¡°Adam Bateman, huh?¡±


    Lily groans. ¡°How did you find out?¡±


    ¡°Turner.¡±


    ¡°Of course. He can¡¯t keep a secret to save his life.¡±


    ¡°So Adam is a secret?¡± I try to keep the edge out of my voice. I would have probably fooled anyone else.


    ¡°No,¡± she says softly. ¡°But I didn¡¯t want Parker to find out.¡±


    ¡°The brother blockade.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    If she¡¯s trying to avoid her brothers¡¯ interference, she probably wants to go out with him. Hell, it probably means she¡¯d said yes when he asked. My hands grip the wheel tighter still.


    ¡°When are you going out with him?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± she says. ¡°I said no.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, what? Do you think I should have epted him?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then why the what?¡±


    ¡°Why would you be worried about your brothers finding out?¡±


    Lily sighs like I¡¯m being slow, and twists in her seat. ¡°Their reaction will scare others away.¡±


    ¡°Which others?¡± I haven¡¯t heard of anytely, but if there was someone I¡¯d missed¡­


    Her voice is tight when she answers me. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not exactly swimming in offers, Hayden. But, you know¡­ if someone were to ask me, I¡¯d want to be able to say yes.¡±


    If she only knew how many of the good-for-nothing boys have the hots for beautiful, sweet, fierce Lily Marchand. I would know. I¡¯m the president of that particr fan club.


    ¡°I see. Clever.¡±


    She leans back against the seat and begins to unbraid her hair. I can see it from my peripheral view, thick and heavy around her shoulders. That fucking hair. It will haunt me, through this life and the next.

 Rogue C12

    She sighs. ¡°You were my first kiss, you know?¡±


    My heart stops for what feels like an eternity. She has never brought that up before.


    That kiss had been the scariest decision of my life, and it had hardly even been a decision at all. It had been instinct. She¡¯d been sitting across from me outside the beach house, eating freshly picked blueberries, and I¡¯d just leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. It was years ago.


    There had been absolutely no finesse to it.


    It had also been a mistake, arguably, for the way she¡¯d reacted. My brave, brave girl, and she¡¯d been shell-shocked. I¡¯d been terrified that I¡¯d screwed everything up after that.


    ¡°Hayden?¡± Her voice is quiet. ¡°Maybe you don¡¯t remember. It¡¯s fine, I was just thinking out loud.¡±


    Fucking hell.


    I wish I could look her in the eyes. I need to see what she¡¯s thinking in this moment. Is she just reminiscing with an old friend?


    Or is this¡­ an opening?


    ¡°I remember,¡± I say. ¡°You freaked out.¡±


    ¡°Did not.¡±


    ¡°Did too.¡±


    I can hear the smile in her voice when she continues. ¡°Okay, maybe I did, a little. I just didn¡¯t know what to do.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re cute.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what you¡¯re supposed to say, Hayden. You¡¯re supposed to tell me that I was a perfect kisser and a veritable vixen.¡±


    Hell, I can¡¯t hide the smile on my face. ¡°Lils, not even you were a seductress at age thirteen.¡±


    ¡°How rude.¡±


    ¡°Lily.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m honestly offended. Wounded, even.¡±


    I reach over and grip her thigh right above the knee, like all of her brothers used to do to one another. Only, I don¡¯t grip her as tight as they ever had. Sheughs and yelps, pushing against my hand. ¡°Fine, I¡¯m not offended.¡±


    I let go. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°So, was I yours?¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Was I your first kiss?¡±


    Did her voice sound hopeful? I turn up on Ocean Drive and consider my response. More likely than not, I¡¯m a desperate man, begging for her scraps of affection. And how I wish I could answer yes to that question, too.


    But I¡¯d never lied to Lily.


    ¡°No.¡±


    She snorts. ¡°A yboy by fourteen. I¡¯m not surprised.¡±


    ¡°It was before Paradise Shores.¡± I park on the driveway, right next to Rhys¡¯s expensive Mustang. A statement car, he called it. I called it pretentious. ¡°And it didn¡¯t mean anything.¡±


    Lily chuckles. ¡°Of course not. You were a kid.¡±


    I grab her sports bag from the back. ¡°Right. Exactly.¡±


    Maybe I should get that into my head too, one of these days.


    Childhood kisses don¡¯t count.


    A few monthster, at the ripe old age of thirteen, As had to be put to sleep. Eloise Marchand had tried everything she could, but the dog was too sick. Vet¡¯s orders. The dog had been sweet, and it was a shame, but I didn¡¯t take it as hard as the Marchand kids.


    Henry pretended like he didn¡¯t care-it was getting hard to tell if it was even a pretense anymore. Parker was a mess.


    Rhys and I, we brought out the big guns. We pulled out the sofa-bed in his room and brought up the old Nintendo. It had been years since thatst got yed. After my first arrival here, the boys had upgraded to newer and newer consoles. Now we regrly yed thetest releases.


    ¡°Here,¡± Rhys says. ¡°I found a six-pack in the basement.¡±


    I grab one of the beers he tosses my way. ¡°You sure?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Dad won¡¯t care.¡±


    Henry epts one too. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s as good a day for underage drinking as any other.¡±


    ¡°To As,¡± Parker says and raises his can. We all toast.


    Rhys turns on the t-screen TV in his room. The garish symbols and the cheery music of the old game flicker back to life.


    I have to give it to him, there¡¯s something nostalgic about the whole thing. It fits the mood. Maybe that¡¯s what he wanted to do-to bring the brothers together onest time.


    Henry is only here for the weekend, back from New York, and Rhys has to go back to college soon. Parker and I already have one foot out the door with graduation approaching.


    Henry reaches for one of the controls. ¡°Has someone checked on Lily?¡±


    Rhys nods. ¡°She wants to be left alone.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡±


    I take another sip of my beer and watch as the colorful Italian brothers race across a pixtedndscape of mushrooms and nts.


    Lily has never known life without that dog. She¡¯s kind, and she could take things hard sometimes. I¡¯d seen it happen before-with dropped tes or mean girls at school.


    It doesn¡¯t feel right that she¡¯s in her bedroom alone. I feel it in my bones, but out of all of us boys in Rhys¡¯s bedroom, I have the least reason to feel protective. I¡¯m not Lily¡¯s brother, thank God.

 Rogue C13

    But I¡¯m not her boyfriend either. I watch as Mario gets eaten by a flesh-eating flower on screen and fully empathize.


    Several hourster-and a couple of more six-packs-and we lost Henry. He mentioned an early morning and something about a remote conference call.


    I nce over at Parker. He¡¯s fallen asleep, one hand still on his remote control. Never one to give up on victory.


    ¡°In it to the end, huh?¡±


    Rhys rolls his eyes. ¡°He¡¯s got pride, I¡¯ll give him that.¡±


    ¡°Too much, sometimes¡±


    I stand and stretch from side to side, my body aching. The morning runs are good for me, but maybe I¡¯ve overdone ittely.


    Rhys shuts off the video game and the screen goes dark.


    ¡°Keep an eye on him, will you?¡±


    I look over at him. Rhys is tall now, the tallest of all the brothers, and just as unpredictable as always. ¡°On Parker?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s impulsive. You know that.¡± Rhys nces over at his bedroom door, shut now to avoid bothering the rest of the family. ¡°And Lily. Especially Lily.¡±


    I meet his gaze head-on and want to sink through the floor. If only he knew just how much I kept an eye on her. He¡¯d never invite me into their house again.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, man.¡±


    I nod goodbye and leave him to deal with his dozing brother. The house is dark and silent, but I know it by heart. I¡¯d snuck out of the Marchands¡¯ house enough times by now to know which floorboards to avoid.


    Stopping by the closed door to Lily¡¯s room is habit. I¡¯d been inside plenty of times, but never in the dead of night. And never when she was in bed.


    Her room isn¡¯t quiet. I can hear the sound of faint crying.


    Hell. She wanted to be left alone. Of course that¡¯s what she wanted. Lily doesn¡¯t break down in front of other people-we all know that. Rhys should have forced her out to be with us. Their teasing would have made her feel better.


    I pause with my hand on the doorknob.


    I shouldn¡¯t enter-I know I shouldn¡¯t-but walking away from Lily in pain feels like an impossibility. If the roles were reversed, she would never have left me alone.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    I turn the knob. Her room is softly lit by the fairy lights she¡¯s draped around her bed. I can faintly make her out, lying on her side, dark hair syed across her pillow.


    ¡°Lily?¡±


    The sound of her tears stops, but not without effort. ¡°Hayden?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    The sheets pool around her as she sits up. Her hair is a stark contrast against the white of her tank top. For a moment, she just stares at me in the darkness. The tear tracks on her cheeks break me.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be alone.¡±


    She scoots over and folds the covers back. It¡¯s not what I had in mind, but¡­ hell. It¡¯s undoubtedly a solution.


    ¡°Lily¡­¡±


    She swallows hard, but doesn¡¯t say anything, just looks at me. My heart breaks a little, seeing her so sad. The needing from her is palpable. She didn¡¯t want to be alone, either.


    I kick off my sneakers and pull off my sweatshirt. Dressed in just my T-shirt and jeans, I slip into her queen-sized bed.


    ¡°You okay?¡±


    Lily turns to me. With the soft glow from her fairy lights, her face looks magical. Familiar and achingly new at the same time. Her long eyshes cast shadows down her cheeks.


    ¡°No.¡±


    I smooth her hair back. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. So sorry, Lils.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    We just look at each other for a long moment before I stretch my arm out. She curls closer, cing her head on my chest. I can feel her breathing, the soft movements of her body tucked against mine. I¡¯ve never held her like this before.


    ¡°Don¡¯t cry,¡± I whisper. ¡°Everything will be all right.¡±


    ¡°I forgot,¡± she murmurs, turning up to face me. I¡¯ve never seen her so unguarded before-and never this close.


    ¡°Forgot what?¡±


    She closes her eyes. ¡°I hurt when you¡¯re in pain. I forgot that it goes the other way, too.¡±


    I run a hand over her long, silken hair and feel the soft rise and fall of her breath. Oh, Lily. If only I could stay here forever, holding her in my arms and dreaming of a world where we had a future.


    It took a while, but eventually she fell into a restless slumber. I followed suit soon thereafter, letting her deep breathing drag me down. It was the first night we fell asleep together, in her bed in the Marchand house in Paradise Shores, but it wouldn¡¯t be thest.


    Lily


    The present


    I pull the blinds in my living room and refuse to look at my front yard. Instead, I get ready in aggressive, fast movements. I shower with too hot water and use too much eyeliner.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine, Lily,¡± I tell myself firmly. A casual date with Turner, someone I have fun with at work. My brothers¡¯ best friend and someone I¡¯ve known for years. A party during the middle of the day, in my hometown, with family all around. There¡¯s literally nothing that could go wrong.


    Except everything.


    Why had hee back and sent my entire world back into uncertainty? The butterflies in my stomach feel unworthy of the woman I am now. I¡¯m twenty-eight, for Christ¡¯s sake, not a girl of eighteen with a childhood crush.


    When I dare to peek from behind my curtains, Hayden is gone. The gate is fixed, though. He¡¯s even cleared the path of fallen leaves. The man is aplete mystery to me.


    I look at myself in my floor-length mirror before I leave. A white dress with a boat-neck neckline hugs my chest, narrowing at my waist before billowing out in a ttering A-line skirt. My hair is long and loose, curled lightly at the ends. I¡¯m wearing my favorite pair of Tommy Hilfiger wedges. A bag is slung over my shoulder, made out of woven straw and leather straps. I¡¯d bought it in the south of France as a teenager, and it¡¯s still my favorite summer bag.

 Rogue C14

    ¡°Perfect,¡± I murmur to myself. Much better than the pajamas and bunny slippers from this morning. If I have to face down the biggest disappointment of my life, I¡¯m going to need some armor.


    I hear Turner¡¯s car on my small driveway before I see it. He¡¯s driving the small BMW today, and the top¡¯s down.


    I give him a wide smile as I step out of my little house. ¡°Hi!¡±


    He grins. ¡°Hey. Looking good, Marchand.¡±


    ¡°Same to you,¡± I say. He wears a navy-blue suit and a pink shirt underneath. A pair of Ray-Bans are perched on his nose, the same ssic Harris douchebag air he¡¯s had since high school.


    He opens the car door for me and I slide into the low vehicle. My heart is beating rapidly already, adrenaline making my thoughts sharp and clear.


    Turner backs out of the driveway. ¡°Hey,¡± he says. ¡°When did you get your fence fixed?¡±


    ¡°Pretty recently.¡±


    ¡°Looks good.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say weakly.


    The drive is short and the conversation easy, quickly turning to the uing Morris project. We¡¯ve never had a problem talking, Turner and I, at least not about the trivial things.


    The Maze Party is held on the greatwns next to the marina, right on the ocean. Marquees are set up and improvised hedges brought in. Great lemon trees nk the entrance, where dazzling golden letters spell Paradise Shores. A jazz band ys in the distance.


    Turner hands his car keys to a valet and offers me his arm with a valiant flourish.


    ¡°This is going to make waves,¡± I warn him, keeping my tone yful. ¡°My brothers will be here.¡±


    His answering smile is rebellious. ¡°They might have scared me off when I was a teenager, but I can take the Marchands now.¡±


    I spot my parents immediately, standing close to the beach. My dad looks as serenely cool as always, but my mother is wearing a wide smile. She¡¯s speaking with her hands, the way she does when she¡¯s genuinely excited.


    They¡¯re talking to Parker and a tall man with his back to us, dressed impably in a gray suit. He says something that makes my mother burst intoughter. Only when he turns do I recognize the profile.


    Hayden.


    ¡°A drink?¡± Turner asks, giving one of the waiters a wave.


    ¡°Yes, please.¡±


    He takes two flutes of champagne and hands me one. ¡°Remember when our parents made use to these parties?¡±


    I turn my back on Hayden schmoozing with my parents and give Turner my full attention. ¡°Yes,¡± I snort. ¡°Dragged us kicking and screaming.¡±


    ¡°And now we¡¯re here voluntarily. I even looked forward to it.¡± Turner shakes his head, looking momentarily embarrassed. ¡°Everythinges full circle, I suppose.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    I appreciate his sincerity, even if it makes me a bit ufortable too.


    He offers me his arm again. ¡°Shall we do the rounds? There are potential clients here, you know.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you insisted on going together? Towork?¡±


    He smiles back at me. ¡°Of course. Work hard, y hard. Is there any other way?¡±


    In a smallmunity like this, most faces are familiar. Turner and I work our way around, talking to old school friends and grandparents of friends and Turner¡¯s aunt and many, many more. It¡¯s a task to keep all the names and rtions sorted out in my head.


    Parker finds us quickly. He¡¯s wearing his old merino sailor¡¯s sweater, the cor of a polo shirt peeking out from the neckline. His pants are chinos-not even suit trousers.


    He grins at us. ¡°You two have be a proper little team, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Bonded in business,¡± I say, reaching out to touch the hole on his left shoulder. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you put on a suit, Parker?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± he answers without looking at me. ¡°Taking out Catalina this weekend?¡±


    Turner nods. ¡°I¡¯m thinking about it, yes. Want to join? We could go north, make a full day out of it.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s.¡± Parker leans closer, a conspiratorial look on his face. Dread rises in my stomach. I think I know what he¡¯s going to say, and I¡¯m not looking forward to it. ¡°Think you have space for a third crew member?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve tried, man, but your sister has staunchly refused to join me on the boat.¡±


    ¡°Nah, not Lily,¡± Parker says with a grin. ¡°Guess who¡¯s back in town?¡± He turns around and points-my brother, the paragon of subtlety-straight to Hayden. He¡¯s talking to two women I faintly recognize from high school.


    Turner¡¯s gasp is audible. ¡°No fucking way! Cole¡¯s back?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    He turns to me and apologizes for swearing, as if I was a delicate flower. ¡°No worries,¡± I say, thinking that I said many worse things when I first heard Hayden was back.


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°Two days ago. Just rolled up like he never left. Man, he always was a wild card.¡±


    ¡°Remember the time he got us all to spray-paint the-¡± Turner breaks off with a look at me. ¡°Sorry. We were kids.¡±


    ¡°I know you were,¡± I say dryly. ¡°I was there.¡±


    Hayden has seen that we¡¯re looking at him. I can see his eyes zero in on Turner¡¯s arm around me, his hand resting lightly on the dip of my back. His jaw is clenched tight.


    The blonde woman in front of him is talking and Hayden nods at something she says without sparing her a nce, his eyes focused on us. His gaze flicks to mine. It¡¯s expressionless, but I can see the challenge in it.


    You¡¯re here with Turner? his eyes ask.


    I meet his gaze head-on. So? I have every right to be.


    Parker and Turner break me out of our staringpetition. They¡¯re discussing ns for the weekend, focused on the winds.


    ¡°Of course he should join,¡± Turner says. ¡°I have to go and say hi¡­ Lily?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°You guys go and catch up. I saw some friends from high school that I¡¯m going to talk to.¡±

 Rogue C15

    Turner¡¯s confusion is short-lived. He nods and presses a small kiss to my cheek. The impulsive gesture makes me blush, knowing who¡¯s watching.


    ¡°Catch youter,¡± he says.


    I want to watch-to see how Hayden talks to him-but I turn my back to them. Losing sight of him hurts. His presence at this party feels heavy, and my body seems linked to his, like we¡¯re twos in orbit.


    Instead, I find Marissa and Leighton, two girls I¡¯ve known from childhood. They¡¯re the epitome of Paradise Shores, one engaged and the other just about to be a doctor, both of them beautiful.


    It¡¯s not long until the conversation turns to gossip. Who¡¯s dating who, what houses have been sold, did I know that Tyler Bates had just divorced his wife? After twenty-seven years?


    Finally, Marissa turns to me. ¡°All right, Lily, you have to give us the details.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°Turner! You¡¯re here together? What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re friends,¡± I say. ¡°We work together and enjoy spending time together. Nothing more than that.¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± Leighton says. ¡°There¡¯s always more than that.¡±


    ¡°Not this time. Not yet, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Only time will tell, I suppose,¡± Marissa says with a smile. ¡°But what about Hayden Cole¡¯s return? Did you know he wasing back?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°No, I had no idea. No one in the family did.¡±


    ¡°I remember him from high school,¡± Leighton says thoughtfully. ¡°Always so brooding, you know? He¡¯d be at all the parties, right at the cool kids¡¯ table, but there was something so¡­ aloof about him.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Marissa says. ¡°Understandably so, though. When did your family take him in? When he was ten?¡±


    ¡°Around then, yes,¡± I say. ¡°But he lived with his uncle. They had their own ce.¡±


    Leighton looks thoughtful. ¡°And then leaving for the military¡­ our very own veteran. I¡¯ve never known anyone who was in the Army.¡±


    ¡°The Navy,¡± I correct.


    Marissa shakes her head. ¡°So brave, truly. What kind of career path does that result in, though? Must be hard to give the most important years of your life to the military.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Leighton sighs. ¡°It¡¯s a shame, really.¡±


    My hand tightens on the champagne flute. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Lily, it¡¯s very impressive, don¡¯t get me wrong.¡± Marissa¡¯s eyes are wide. She looks surprised that I¡¯m not in agreement. ¡°But it¡¯s not really an up-anding profession, you know. It¡¯s just unfortunate that his prospects were wasted on enlisting. You want the best for him, I¡¯m sure. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°Hayden and others like him help keep us safe, so we can be here and drink expensive champagne and talk about who-divorced-who.¡± My words areing out stronger than I intend, but I can¡¯t seem to stop them. It¡¯s the same feeling I used to get when people asked if he was the gardener. ¡°They step up to the te day in and day out, and asionally pay the ultimate price for doing so. You can think what you like about the profession, but we owe people like Hayden respect.¡±


    Both Marissa and Leighton look stunned. They¡¯re silent for a moment, digesting my outburst.


    ¡°Well,¡± Leighton finally says. ¡°You¡¯re right about that. Supporting the troops is a very important cause, and I don¡¯t think Marissa meant to imply that it¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°No, no, of course I didn¡¯t. And the look suits him.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Leighton says with a nod. ¡°All that muscle? I¡¯d love a military man. Do you know if he¡¯s single, Lily?¡±


    ¡°Or how long he¡¯s staying?¡± Marissa asks with a smile.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    I swallow my difort and excuse myself as fast as possible. Not for the first time, I miss Jamie. But my best friend is still in New York, angry at me for returning to Paradise Shores.


    She would never have expressed herself so¡­ distastefully. ording to these women, Hayden is wrong to have enlisted, because that¡¯s clearly below people from this town, but he¡¯s gotten muscr from it so it¡¯s absolutely all right to sexually objectify him. It makes me want to throw up.


    The whole thing does. The people here, the expectant look on Turner¡¯s face that I¡¯m not sure I can live up to, Hayden disappearing and reappearing without so much as an apology.


    I need some space.


    I set my drink down on one of the tables and walk toward the beach. The grass is soft under my wedges, the sun strong as I venture out from the marquees. People are everywhere, politeughter and the sound of ss against ss. I¡¯ve just turned behind thest pavilion when I¡¯m stopped by a strong hand on my arm.


    He drops the hand the second I turn around.


    ¡°Lily.¡±


    Along with that elegant gray suit, Hayden wears an inscrutable expression. I can¡¯t tell what he¡¯s thinking or what he¡¯s feeling. He looks entirely at home here-like he fits in, in a way he never used to. If it wasn¡¯t for his unruly hair, I¡¯d think him a different man entirely.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I hiss, knowing I¡¯m being rude and not finding it in myself to care.


    He narrows his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re here with Turner?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I cross my arms over my chest. We¡¯re behind the pavilion and a hedge is hiding us from view. I don¡¯t like the intimacy. ¡°We work together.¡±


    ¡°You and Turner?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Turner Harris.¡±


    ¡°Yes! Why is that so hard to believe? How many times do you want me to repeat it?¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair. It¡¯s an achingly familiar gesture. ¡°Of all the men I was expecting to find you with, you really surprised me with him.¡±


    For a moment all I can do is stare. ¡°What does that mean? The men you expected to find me with?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s an idiot.¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s not.¡±


    Hayden exhales and the sound is impatient. ¡°Do you remember freshman year? He cut the ropes from the left side of the railings to-¡±


    ¡°He was fourteen!¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Still an idiot.¡±

 Rogue C16

    ¡°He was your friend, too.¡±


    Hayden looks away from me, a slight smile on his face. It¡¯s not a happy expression. ¡°No, he really wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be? The Maze Party is open to anyone with an invitation. Your mother was kind enough to extend-¡±


    ¡°Not at the party, Hayden. Here in Paradise Shores.¡±


    Hayden looks down at me. The mask is back up over his features, the one I remember from the first time I saw him. I used to think it was to protect his thoughts-his emotions. Now I don¡¯t know anymore.


    ¡°I grew up here,¡± he says. ¡°I wanted to return, see if the ce had changed.¡±


    I narrow my eyes at him. He might be a different man entirely, but I still know when he¡¯s lying. ¡°For ten years, you¡¯ve been gone, and now it¡¯s convenient to check in?¡±


    He ignores me. ¡°How¡¯s your gate?¡±


    ¡°In perfect condition.¡±


    ¡°Feel free to thank me whenever,¡± he says, shing a smile. ¡°I know you were raised to be polite, Lils.¡±


    ¡°In your dreams, Cole.¡±


    ¡°Oh, if you only knew what I dream of where you¡¯re concerned.¡±


    Hot tears pierce my eyes and I blink them away angrily. I¡¯m furious, I¡¯m not sad, and I¡¯ll be damned if he thinks I am. ¡°No,¡± I tell him. My voice is unrecognizable. ¡°Who are you? I don¡¯t recognize the boy I knew in this slickly suited up, snarky person. Who do you think you are, to make innuendos at me? You left, Hayden.¡±


    His face falls, and for a moment, I see the person I remember. Someone I used to consider my best friend, who I thought knew everything about me. His eyes ze and this time it¡¯s with sincerity. Hayden reaches out and wraps his hand around my wrist. His fingers scorch me with their heat.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave with him,¡± he tells me. ¡°Take a walk with me. Stay here with me, Lily.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because you don¡¯t care about him.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a good enough reason.¡±


    His voice turned dark, almost hoarse. ¡°Because I¡¯ve missed you.¡±


    No. No no no. Hayden Cole doesn¡¯t get to do this. To show up and transfix me again. My teenage heart had broken so hard because of him, and it¡¯s only now starting to mend. There¡¯s no chance I¡¯m falling back into this pit.


    ¡°You have no right,¡± I whisper, closing my eyes. ¡°You have no right to an opinion. Not about who I date, or their presumed intelligence, none of it. You walked out of my life, Hayden Cole, and only I can decide if I want you back in it or not.¡±


    His amber eyes, the ones I used to dream about, look back at me. There¡¯s pain in them. ¡°Lily¡­¡±R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    ¡°Bye, Hayden.¡±


    I leave him behind the hedge without another word, dabbing at the tears in my eyes and stering a smile on my face.


    Hayden


    Hayden, 18


    Mrs. Abrams raps her fingers across her desk. ¡°You know why we¡¯re here, don¡¯t you, Hayden?¡±


    I nce at the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes of this, that¡¯s all I need to live through.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°College counseling is mandatory for seniors, and yet you didn¡¯t sign up to the program. We had to call you in. Why is that?¡± Mrs. Abrams leans forward, a deceptively pleasant smile on her features.


    Because I already know where I¡¯m going, and it¡¯s not to an ivy-and-brick institution.


    ¡°I don¡¯t n on going to college. At least not right away.¡±


    She nces down at the papers on her desk. I recognize them: my transcripts. ¡°You could be a B-student if you tried, Hayden. You have a few Cs, but nothing major. You could go to college. Maybe not Ivy League, but you could certainly get into some of the better public schools in the country.¡±


    Is she going to make me spell it out? I shove my hands into my pockets.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have the money for that.¡±


    ¡°There are goodmunity colleges around here. And there are schrships. Although¡­¡± Her smile is apologetic. ¡°Unfortunately, with your grades, we probably couldn¡¯t make an academic schrship work. And your extracurricrs are¡­¡±


    ¡°Nonexistent.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes. But there are plenty of colleges that give out grants for students from less-than-ideal backgrounds.¡±


    ¡°Grants, but not full rides. I know how the situation is.¡±


    She flushes and fiddles with the papers. I wonder if she¡¯s ever met a student she can¡¯t help. The Paradise Shores kids here, even the ones with terrible grades and an addiction to coke, have prospects. Trust funds, legacy status¡­ the right sports interests.


    I take pity on her. ¡°I¡¯m going to enlist.¡±


    ¡°Really? Hayden, are you certain?¡±


    I¡¯m not. Not at all, actually. But it sounds like the best option for me, and on the best of days, the idea of leaving this ce behind and bing someone new is more than a little tempting. I¡¯ve always enjoyed the gym. Boot camp doesn¡¯t sound that bad.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I shrug. ¡°They pay for your college after, too. Or so I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    Mrs. Abrams looks at me for a very long while. It makes me ufortable, this level of scrutiny, before she finally sighs. It sounds resigned.


    ¡°I can¡¯t argue with your logic, Hayden. Serving your country is a noble thing. I don¡¯t think many of your peers would give it a second thought.¡±


    I lean back in the chair, ufortable with the praise. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s some information I can give you, of course. You¡¯ll have to give me a few days to look into the military colleges. I want to make sure that you get the best possible oue from this if you do decide to go down this route.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±

 Rogue C17

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± She gathers up my papers and slips them back into the file with my name on it. Case closed. I wonder what it says in Parker¡¯s file, and what advice he got. ¡°I¡¯ll be in touch.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°Take care, Hayden.¡±


    I grab my backpack and move to leave when a thought strikes me. ¡°Is this kind of thing confidential?¡±


    She gives me a nod, and I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m imagining things or if she looks a bit sad. ¡°Yes. Yes, it is.¡±


    ¡°Awesome. Bye.¡±


    ¡°Bye for now, Hayden.¡±


    Lily, 17


    ¡°That one looks like a penguin.¡±


    Hayden snorts. ¡°It absolutely does not.¡±


    ¡°You have to have some imagination. Like the one over there. It looks exactly like Henry¡¯s hair, when he slicks it back.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re actually right about that.¡± Hayden nces over at me, lying next to him on thewn. ¡°Have you spoken to himtely?¡±


    ¡°No. I guess he¡¯s too busy in the big city and all, setting up shop.¡±


    ¡°He obsesses over things. You know how he gets.¡±


    ¡°I know. He was itching to get out of Paradise, too.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Hayden turns over, arms under his head. They bulge against the fabric of his gray T-shirt. He¡¯d been pale when I first met him, pale and thin and with a head of too much hair. He wore the same Paradise Shores tan now that the rest of us did. He¡¯d filled out.


    But he¡¯d never been able to shake the hair.


    I long to reach out and run my fingers through it, but he only lets me do that when his guard is downpletely-when he¡¯s tired or upset and pretending not to be.


    ¡°How does it feel?¡±


    ¡°How does what feel?¡±


    ¡°Having graduated from Paradise Shores High.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Amazing.¡±R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    I raise myself up on my elbows. The sea is a glittering nket in the distance, close enough to the edge of ourwn that I can almost make out the sound of waves against the shore.


    ¡°Are you going to Turner¡¯s graduation party?¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡±


    ¡°With Parker?¡± There would be girls there. Plenty of girls-and I know what they think of Hayden. I wonder what he thinks of them.


    I wonder if he would ever think of me like that.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re very chatty for someone with a headache.¡±


    ¡°The headache was caused by the prospect of my aunt¡¯s dinner to celebrate Parker.¡±


    ¡°My point exactly.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow at him. ¡°It¡¯s infinitely better to stay home.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    He scoots closer, resting his head right next to my hand. His eyes are still closed and he lookspletely rxed for the first time in months.


    ¡°Have you decided?¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Must you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I reach out and put a hand on his back, warm from the summer sun. The muscles tense beneath my touch before he rxes again. I run my nails up and down, the way I know he likes. I¡¯d discovered itpletely by ident, but now I exploited it whenever I could.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spoken to the college counselor. Themunity college has a solid amount of grants. I¡¯m eligible for several.¡±


    His voice is tight. I know he doesn¡¯t like admitting anything that has to do with his prospects or finances, but these things are important. Plus, we¡¯re friends, aren¡¯t we?


    ¡°That¡¯s great.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Splendid.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°It is. Rexfield is great. You can do a three-year track, if you want. You¡¯ll be close by¡­


    He nces over at me. ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s that.¡±


    I run my hand down his shoulder des, pressing into the muscles, and smile when his eyes close again. ¡°You could even work for your uncle on the weekends or evenings.¡±


    Hayden sighs. ¡°I could. Hey, maybe I should skip the college counselor and just use you instead.¡±


    ¡°Well, I do know you better.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t have a response to that, but I can see the faint twitch in his lips.


    Hayden isn¡¯t really a big talker. He rarely, if ever, speaks about his family. He doesn¡¯t talk about his future ns or about things that bother him. I know that if you want information out of him, you have to push. I also think it¡¯s good for him-the pushing.


    And I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m the only person who dares.


    ¡°Things will work out, you¡¯ll see.¡± I rest my hand on his neck. He looks rxed enough, now. I slide my hand into his hair and smile when he sighs, this time in pleasure.


    Things will work out.

 Rogue C18

    How could they not?


    10


    Hayden


    The present


    Returning to Paradise Shores hadn¡¯t been an easy decision to make. I understood well enough that showing up here would open old wounds, reawaken things that I¡¯d fought so hard to keep under cover. But my uncle was getting older, and I wanted to talk things out with him face to face. I wanted to see the ce where I spent so many years.


    I wanted to see Parker and Rhys.


    And I really wanted to see Lily.


    Parker throws me one of the downhauls. ¡°Fasten this, will you?¡±


    I tie a quick, familiar knot. It¡¯s been a long time since I was on a sailing boat, a vessel made for speed and fun as opposed to defense and war.


    He shes me a grin. ¡°Been a while since we did this, brother.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good to be back out here.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve missed you around here.¡±


    I nod, not knowing what to answer. Parker was always liberal with his words, his offhandments made in good nature but often meaning far more than he intended them to.


    ¡°You entertained Mom real good yesterday,¡± Parker continues, jumping down to sit on deck. ¡°She was talking all evening about how d she was to see you again.¡±


    That strikes me as unlikely, even if I¡¯d tried toy the charm on pretty thick at the party. The older I get, the more gratitude I feel toward the Marchands. They¡¯d paid my tuition at Paradise Shores Prep for seven full years. Uncle Gary¡¯s handiwork was good, but it was definitely not worth the thousands upon thousands of dors in perks.


    Talking with them reminded me rather ufortably of the huge debt I owed them.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say.


    ¡°Sorry about Lily acting weird, by the way.¡±


    My head snaps up. Parker¡¯s not looking at me-his gaze is fixed on Turner. He¡¯s standing at the bow of the boat, a hand on the wheel and his eye on the horizon.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Parker shrugs. ¡°I think she was taken aback by you returning. She was¡­ well, she was pretty shook about you leaving so abruptly. You know, back in the day.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine,¡± I say, because I truly can. Familiar feelings of guilt and shame ripple through me. Leaving her felt like cutting off a limb, like relinquishing the most valuable and treasured part of me.


    ¡°She¡¯lle around. But you might have to grovel a bit.¡±


    ¡°I intend to.¡±


    Parker shoots me a sideways grin. ¡°Don¡¯t tell her I said this, but she was very fond of you, you know. I think she saw you as an extra brother.¡±


    Unexpectedly, I feel likeughing. It takes a bit of effort to school my expression into a neutral smile. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±


    The sight of Turner, serene look on his face at the back of the boat, wipes any mirth away. ¡°She¡¯s working with Turner now, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Property development.¡± Parker shakes his head. ¡°Dad is thrilled she¡¯s following in his footsteps. Not just Henry, but Lily too. Puts Rhys and me to shame.¡±


    ¡°It never seemed like her kind of thing,¡± I venture, hoping to get more out of him. I know I should just ask Lily, but we¡¯ll start arguing again, and I¡¯ll get distracted by her shing eyes or her pretty mouth, and I¡¯ll learn nothing at all.


    Parker shrugs again. ¡°I suppose not. But it¡¯s a bit artistic, you know, with those models and all? And I know she handles all of the decor decisions.¡±


    ¡°And dating the boss?¡± I ask, nodding toward Turner. It takes effort to make my voice dry, to shape the very serious question into a joke.


    ¡°Yeah, isn¡¯t that a mindfuck?¡± Parker shakes his head. ¡°I think it¡¯s a new thing, though. Nothing serious or anything.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    When I first made the decision to return to Paradise Shores, I¡¯d known there was a high chance that she was taken. I was keeping myself well-informed enough to know that she wasn¡¯t engaged or married, but that left a wealth of possible boyfriends.


    If her rtionship with Turner wasn¡¯t serious, was it more of a¡­casual arrangement? The need to find out was like an itch I couldn¡¯t scratch. Parker was an exhausted source of information, and I couldn¡¯t very well ask Turner. The man had pined after her in high school, had likely never stopped. I recognized a fellow spirit when I saw one.


    But she¡¯d gone to the party with him.


    I had watched them arrive from a distance, her hand tucked under his arm. Her beauty had struck me again, like it had a few days prior, with the force of a physical blow. She¡¯d been a cute teenager and had grown into a gorgeous woman.


    Her auburn hair was still long, but it wasn¡¯t the same wild mass I¡¯d been used to. It was shaped and softened, framing a face as freckled and opinionated now as it ever was. The body under the white, form-fitting dress was slightly fuller, too. Shapely curves that I ached to explore-to learn the ways she was different and rediscover all the ways she was the same.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    It had driven me half-mad to see her angle her face up toward Turner and give him her pretty smiles.


    I know you, I wanted to say. We might have been apart, but she wasn¡¯t fooling me. I know you inside and out, and you know me, better than anybody. And not time, not distance, not all the Turners in the world can change that.


    And I¡¯m going to remind you of that.


    The house on Elm Street is modest for Paradise Shores. It¡¯s close to the ocean, but not within view. It¡¯s two stories, but it doesn¡¯t have a pool.


    Still, it¡¯s leaps and bounds above anything I ever dreamed of when I used to live in this area. It has arge kitchen, arge living room, and a guest bedroom.


    It¡¯ste on Saturday evening when I finally close the door to my house and get in my car. There¡¯s a chance she¡¯ll say no. Actually, the odds are probably overwhelming.


    But I have to try.


    I know her, and I know there are things she wants to say to me. Things she has to say, if there¡¯s any possibility to mend what we once had.


    And I had been a coward once, running from what I wanted, toward what I thought I needed.


    But never again.


    Despite myself, my heart is in my throat as I park outside her house. She might not be home. She might even have guests.

 Rogue C19

    Turner might be visiting. The idea makes my stomach turn. I know I have no leg to stand on-no reason to be jealous-but damned if I¡¯m not regardless.


    I open the gate, now in pristine condition, and walk up to her front door. It takes Lily three excruciating minutes to open the front door, and when she does, she looks at me like I¡¯m her least favorite person.


    I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s debating whether she should hit me or hug me.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say.


    She studies me suspiciously. ¡°What are you here to fix today? My mailbox?¡±


    ¡°Not today, no. But I noticed that it could use another coat of paint.¡±


    Lily narrows her eyes. ¡°Hayden, I don¡¯t think-¡±


    ¡°I came to ask you to take a walk with me. Along the beach.¡± I gesture behind me, where the sound of the waves beckons. It¡¯s a melody I had missed.


    I can see the fight in her eyes. She¡¯s angry with me, and she¡¯s hesitant, but a part of her wants to. Say yes, I beg her internally. Let me make things right.


    ¡°Or have you be toofortable in your old age? I once remember a girl who dared me to climb trees and dive to the bottom of the pier.¡±


    Her eyes sh, just like I expected them to, like I¡¯ve seen so many times before. ¡°Oh, shut up, Hayden,¡± she hisses. ¡°Give me a minute.¡±


    When she returns, she¡¯s pulled on an oversize sweater and stuck her feet in a pair of loafers. The summer dress she¡¯s wearing underneath leaves her legs, lightly freckled and tan from the summer sun, bare.


    ¡°Did you go out on the Catalina today?¡± she asks as soon as we step out onto the beach. The sand is hard packed below our feet, making for a pleasant walk. With the sun about to set, I know we¡¯re going to have a view for the ages.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a beautiful boat.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    She nods, and I wonder if she¡¯s been on Turner¡¯s boat before. The thought turns my stomach to lead. If he regrly takes her out and kisses her under the open sky, with waves all around them, alone for all the world.


    I know I would.


    Silence settles between us again. It¡¯s not heavy, but it¡¯s not exactlyfortable, either. Once upon a time she was the only thing in my world that made sense-the only person I wasfortable with. My anchor and my wings, all in one.


    ¡°I¡¯ve missed this,¡± I say. ¡°The beach and the sailing. I never knew I¡¯d love the ocean before I came to Paradise Shores.¡±


    ¡°You took to it fast,¡± she says. ¡°Do you still know how to shuck oysters? How to eat lobster?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I had a great teacher.¡±


    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t exactly let you embarrass yourself.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Your pity is duly noted.¡±


    She smiles faintly, shaking her head. ¡°I never pitied you, dumbass.¡±


    ¡°No, of course not.¡±


    ¡°And if I did, it was only because you were too brooding for your own good. ¡®Oh, look how cool I am with my dark hoodies and my refusal of organized sports.''¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say, a smile hovering around my lips. ¡°As opposed to your incredible prowess incrosse.¡±


    Lily punches me softly. The motion rocks through me, sending shivers down my arm. The setting sun has set her hair on fire, and it¡¯s a beautiful halo around her face. The smile on her face is everything I¡¯ve dreamed of for years.


    ¡°That¡¯s a low blow, Cole. You know exactly why I barred you from ever watching me practice.¡±


    ¡°Well, you know I¡¯ve never been one for rules.¡±


    ¡°No, clearly.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t y anymore, I take it? Never went pro?¡±


    Lily pushes me firmly this time, sending me two steps away. I dance back, trying to keep the smile off my own face. I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m with her again like this. ¡°Are you still thirteen?¡± I ask her. ¡°What¡¯s next, will you ssh me?¡±


    Lilyughs. ¡°Only if you pull on my ponytail.¡±


    She means it in a teasing way, but my mind is suddenly filled with the vision of my hands in her hair. Wrapped around my wrist, tugging, or slipping through my fingers as she moans my name.


    ¡°You wish,¡± I say. My voice is just a little breathless.


    ¡°I¡¯d forgotten just how much of a pain you were, Hay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d forgotten how prickly you could be. And just how fun it is to provoke you.¡±


    She shoots me a small smile, but it turns thoughtful. When she speaks again, all the yfulness is gone from her voice. The reprieve-the time we could be our fun selves-is over.


    Lily¡¯s voice sharpens. ¡°Ten years is a long time.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± I agree, gazing down at her bare legs, at the faint trace of a limp as she walks. Seeing it never fails to bring the guilt to the surface. ¡°Did you need a lot of physical therapy? After the ident?¡±


    She whimpers, shielding her face from view, and I¡¯m struck dumb. Is she crying? I shouldn¡¯t have brought it up. I¡¯d hoped she would be okay with it. She didn¡¯t remember much from the incident itself, after all.


    But then she breaks intoughter. It¡¯s not entirely a happy sound. ¡°Is that your solution? Hayden, are we going to rehash everything that happened after you left? Month for month, year for year?¡±


    ¡°Well, no. We¡¯d need a longer beach, for one. And I don¡¯t n on keeping you out all night.¡±


    ¡°Good. I have work tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I need to know, though. Will you tell me?¡±


    She sighs, and shakes her head, but humors me. ¡°It took three months of daily sessions. I continued with it in college. I did a lot of yoga the years following, some one-on-one work with a personal trainer. The leg hasn¡¯t bothered me for years now.¡±


    Something squeezes inside me with every word. She talks about it casually, as if it¡¯s not the greatest single mistake of my life. As if I don¡¯t owe the universe or God or anything my own life in thanks for not taking hers that night.


    ¡°You had to put in a lot of work,¡± I say.


    ¡°I¡¯m alive, and I¡¯m fully mobile. We both know we got lucky that night. There¡¯s no need to dwell on it for my sake.¡±


    ¡°What did you-¡°

 Rogue C20

    Lily shakes her head so vigorously that her hair flies. ¡°No. If we¡¯re doing this, we have to do it question by question. I have¡­ I have waited a very long time to ask you some things, Hay. You can¡¯t deny me that.¡±


    I knew this wasing, and still, unease and guilt settle like a stone into my stomach. There¡¯s no way to exin it to her so that she¡¯ll understand. I¡¯ve always known that. As much as she feels like the only one for me, wee from different worlds.


    ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°Why the Navy? You never told me you were interested in enlisting before you left.¡±


    Am I imagining the trace of betrayal in her voice?


    ¡°It was a good option for me. I spoke about it with the college counselor at Paradise, actually, the year before graduation. The Navy and the Army have programs for kids like I was. There was no tuition to pay, a career pathid out for me.¡± I shrug. ¡°I had no money for college.¡±


    Lily is quiet, her arms wrapped around her torso. ¡°I see,¡± she says. ¡°I figured. It was a good option. You¡¯re right about that. I just didn¡¯t know you were¡­ well, interested in it.¡±


    Ah, Lily.


    Interest doesn¡¯t matter when you¡¯re poor and running from your mistakes.


    ¡°It¡¯s given me a home and a purpose. I might not have been ecstatic when I started, but I have nothing but gratitude now. It¡¯s my profession,¡± I say, and I mean it. The military taught me what it was to be a man-to have discipline and responsibility. To pick up a load and to bear it, and bear it well. It was something my parents had never managed. I¡¯d seen it in Gary, but I hadn¡¯t understood it myself until it was ced on my own two shoulders.


    She¡¯s quiet. There are a million things I want to ask her. I want to know what happened after I left. I want to know about Yale, about New York. If she still paints.


    I want to know if she thought about me, like I did about her.


    If her heart still aches too.


    Lily stops, turning to mepletely. A tear glistens on her cheek. The sight stops me cold in my tracks. If seeing her limp hurts me, her sadness and anger shames me.


    ¡°How could you leave without saying goodbye, Hayden? I loved you, you know. And you just left. How could you?¡±


    I swallow at her anger. It¡¯s well-deserved. ¡°I had to,¡± I say. ¡°I hate goodbyes. The thought of telling you bye, knowing you¡¯d try to convince me to stay¡­ It was more than I could handle. I¡¯m not sure I would do the same today. It was a coward¡¯s way out, and I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    It¡¯s the truth. If she would have asked me to stay, begged me, I don¡¯t know if I would¡¯ve been strong enough to leave anyway.


    And we would have had to live with the consequences of me staying, and I¡¯m sure that would have been so much worse. There¡¯s more I want her to know. About my crushing guilt, about conversations in the dark, about one-way tickets and her father¡¯s voice. It¡¯s time for you to leave, son.


    But there¡¯s no way I can make her see-there¡¯s no way to ask for her forgiveness. I know I don¡¯t deserve it.


    Lily wipes away a tear. I can see it, the way she puts steel in her spine and straightens her shoulders. She doesn¡¯t want my excuses.


    Her voice is furious when she speaks. ¡°All right, then. Thanks for your wonderful exnation. I always wondered.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine,¡± I murmur. Because I can. Because I would have gone out of my mind if she had suddenly left me.


    Her eyes are still angry, and her tone is too, despite the overly kind words. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be fair for a teenage crush to hold you back from a great opportunity, of course. You clearly made the right decision, Hayden.¡±


    The angry description slices through me. Teenage crush. I don¡¯t know what hurts the most-that she sees me that way, or that she thinks I saw her like that.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Her eyes narrow. The tears, brief and heartbreaking, have stopped. She¡¯s the steely girl I remember, turned into a strong-willed young woman. ¡°How could you not have left anything as an exnation? A text. A letter. Something.


    I frown. ¡°I wrote you a letter, Lils. I left it in the mailbox.¡±


    ¡°No, you didn¡¯t. There was nothing.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± I say quietly, remembering the scribbled words I¡¯d penned, right before heading to the bus stop. It had felt like cutting out my own heart.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t get a letter,¡± Lily says. Her voice is less forceful now-more uncertain. I can see it in her eyes as she thinks back, running through the events of a decade ago.


    ¡°Damn. I¡¯m sorry. I thought you¡¯d¡­ I always thought you read it.¡± I run my hand through my hair and watch as Lily wraps her sweater tighter around herself. She looks as miserable as I feel.


    I want to hold her-to warm her against my chest, to smooth my fingers down her back and tell her everything¡¯s going to be all right.


    That I¡¯m sorry and I¡¯m back now and that I have never, not for one second, stopped caring about her.


    But she doesn¡¯t want me to. She knows me better than anyone else, and still, the three feet between us might as well be worlds apart.


    ¡°Someone must have taken it,¡± she says. ¡°The letter. And I¡¯m pretty sure I know who.¡±


    ¡°Who? Lily, I¡­ I¡¯m sorry. What can I do? I know I¡¯ve been gone for a long time, and I have no right to ask for your friendship back. But I have to ask anyway. You know I do.¡±


    Lily starts to back away from me. There¡¯s urgency in her body now, the kind I remember well. She¡¯s about to start running.


    I take a step to follow, but she shakes her head.


    ¡°Friends. I¡¯ll think about it, Hayden. But for now¡­ I have to find out what happened to that letter.¡±


    I watch as she takes off at a run down the beach. She disappears on the boardwalk up to the road, back to her house, the girl I¡¯ve loved and lost and maybe, just maybe, found again.


    She never got my letter. Had never known I¡¯d written one.


    It doesn¡¯t excuse anything, of course. But for a moment, the relief I feel is so heady, it makes me lightheaded.


    I might still stand a chance.


    11


    Lily


    Lily, 17R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    Jamie grins at me from her seat in my reading nook. ¡°You¡¯re really going all out.¡±


    I smooth a hand over the miniskirt. ¡°Yeah. Is it too much?¡±


    ¡°Not at all! It¡¯s not every day you get invited to a senior party.¡± She puts on another coat of lip gloss. ¡°Are you sure we¡¯re invited, though?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Truth is, I¡¯m not sure at all. I¡¯d only met Turner when he came by to hang out with Parker, and we weren¡¯t exactly friends. But he wouldn¡¯t turn away his best friend¡¯s little sister, would he?

 Rogue C21

    I hope not. Not if my n is to work, anyway.


    ¡°You never straighten your hair. It looks good.¡±


    I unplug the iron and look at myself in the mirror. My hair is really, really long when the waves are straightened. My legs are on full disy and I¡¯d put on a pair of white sneakers. Heels are still beyond me.


    ¡°I do look pretty good.¡±


    Sheughs andes up behind me. With her spiky hair and glossed lips, she looks like a cute pixie. Jamie has never followed the rules, of fashion or otherwise.


    ¡°You do. Now, we stick together at this party, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. And we¡¯re not going to be homete.¡±


    ¡°And no epting drinks from strangers.¡±


    We nod at each other in the mirror. The senior parties at Paradise Shores are legendary. I¡¯ve never been interested in going-mostly because I know I wouldn¡¯t really fit in. Myst name gives me certain cred in these circles-thanks to my brothers¡¯ actions before me-but I wasn¡¯t the person people wanted at parties, usually.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡±


    I didn¡¯t lie to Jamie about my reasons, either. I do want to see what the parties are like, and I¡¯m tired of sitting at home in the evenings, pen in hand. But more than that, I want to stop being seen as someone¡¯s little sister. In the eyes of everyone¡­ yes. But particrly in Hayden¡¯s eyes


    Jamie¡¯s mom-who has always been cooler than my parents-drops us off outside of Turner¡¯s and tells us to have fun and call her if we need her. I open my mouth to tell Jamie how lucky she is, but she just rolls her eyes at me.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± she says.


    ¡°She¡¯s just so cool.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, dork.¡±


    We shouldn¡¯t have been nervous-no one checks us by the door. The bass is so loud it can be heard a mile away. Jamie grabs my hand and pulls me into Turner¡¯s kitchen. Guys in board shorts are standing around the keg,ughing loudly as someone attempts to do a keg stand. I don¡¯t recognize any of them. How many guests had Turner invited?


    I pour myself a ss and raise it high with Jamie.


    ¡°To staying outte,¡± I say.


    She grins. ¡°To being where we¡¯re not supposed to be.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go have a look around.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here before, right?¡±


    ¡°Once, for a thing with our parents.¡±


    ¡°Show the way.¡±


    We pass two teenagers making out so furiously against a wall that the painting above slips and hangs crookedly. It looks terrible-all tongues and teeth. Was that what they had done at parties like this? My brothers?


    Hayden?


    ¡°Ew,¡± Jamie whispers in my ear. ¡°Get a room.¡±


    Turner¡¯s living room is as massive as I remember. An L-shaped sofa stands in the middle, wrapped around an expensive-looking coffee table. Empty cans of beer are stacked in the firece.


    My eyes find the upants of the couch right away.


    Parker, his arms moving animatedly as he speaks to a brte, Turner next to him. I can tell he¡¯s drunk even from this distance.


    Hayden sits next to him.


    He¡¯s tucked a cigarette behind his ear and his arm is draped over the back of the couch, behind a blonde girl with a deep-necked dress.


    ir Davids.


    Parker spots us first. He flies up from his spot on the couch mid-sentence. It would have beenical, if his friends didn¡¯t all fall quiet. Ten heads all turn my way.


    I try out a little wave. ¡°Umm, hey.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to have fun.¡±


    Parker shakes his head as if to clear it. ¡°Do Mom and Dad know you¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I called them beforehand to inform them of our underage drinking. Don¡¯t worry, I mentioned you too.¡±


    ¡°You did what?¡±


    Jamie chuckles. ¡°Honestly, Parker, don¡¯t believe everything you hear.¡±


    His bloodshot eyes flick to her. ¡°Stay out of this, Moraine.¡±


    ¡°Bite me.¡±


    I roll my eyes at them both. ¡°There¡¯s no reason why I can¡¯t be here, Parker.¡±


    ¡°Because I say so, that¡¯s why.¡± I can see the decision in his eyes-it¡¯s already made: he¡¯s going to send me home. I can¡¯t bear it, not in front of his friends. In front of Hayden.


    ¡°You partied when you were my age.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m gonna drive you home.¡±


    Behind him, Hayden extricates himself from ir¡¯s tentacle-like arm. He puts a hand on Parker¡¯s shoulder, dark eyes meeting mine. For the first time, I can¡¯t decipher what I see in them.


    ¡°I¡¯m driving her home,¡± Parker says.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had too much to drink.¡±


    ¡°Fuck. Right. Well, I¡¯ll call a cab then.¡±

 Rogue C22

    Hayden¡¯s eyes slide back to mine. ¡°You should have told us you wereing.¡±


    ¡°Why, because I owe you two my itinerary?¡±


    His jaw clenches. It¡¯s a slight movement, but I see it. He isn¡¯t happy I¡¯m here either.


    My heart sinks.


    I feel silly. The borate eyeliner, the short skirt I¡¯d bought for this asion. Straightening my hair. I feel small.


    And I don¡¯t know if Hayden sees that in my eyes, sees what my own brother can¡¯t, but he gives a short nod. ¡°She should stay, Parker. Let her have some fun.¡±


    ¡°Shit. I don¡¯t¡­ Fine. But Mom and Dad can¡¯t know about this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not an imbecile, you jerk.¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He runs a hand through his hair. ¡°And¡­ don¡¯t tell Henry, either.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I have a chance to.¡±


    ¡°Stay with Jamie or me. Or Hayden.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, yes, I know, behave myself, etcetera.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not children,¡± Jamie says, her voice sharp.


    ¡°I know,¡± Parker says. ¡°Come on, have a seat.¡±


    The people on the couch part like the Red Sea when we return, Parker leading the way. I knew that the guys had sway in the school, surrounded by adoring fans, but I¡¯ve never seen it this clearly before.


    ir shoots me an annoyed nce as Hayden takes a seat next to me. He smells like smoke and soap.


    Parker peers into my cup. ¡°Did you at least get something good to drink?¡±


    ¡°Beer.¡±


    ¡°From the keg?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    He shoots me a sideways grin and reaches over, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the coffee table. I recognize the expensivebel. ¡°If you want the good stuff, youe to me.¡±


    ¡°I will. What¡¯s up with the cans in the firece?¡±


    ¡°A game. Think you can hit them?¡±


    ¡°What do I get if I get them all down?¡±


    ¡°Everyone has to do a shot. Want to try?¡± He hands me a tightly coiled ball of tinfoil, the same mischievous grin on his face that I remember from childhood.


    I nod.


    ¡°All right. Shut up, everyone! My little sister is going to have a go. Get ready to drink, you miserable motherfuckers.¡±


    Parker¡¯s back on my side. There was nothing quite like having his burly, good-for-nothing grin in your life.


    I aim and throw. Half of the cans topple.


    ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°No worries, no worries. You get to choose who has to take a shot.¡±


    ¡°One person?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I slide my gaze from Turner¡¯s smug appearance, to the proud gleam in Jamie¡¯s, to Parker¡¯sughing eyes-to Hayden¡¯s impassivity. He hasn¡¯t said another word to me since I arrived.


    ¡°Hayden.¡±


    Parker grins. ¡°Drink up, brother.¡±


    Hayden reaches for the whiskey. Not taking his eyes off of mine, he takes a long sip straight from the bottle. His hand grips it tight-long, broad fingers, tan from time spent in the sun. I¡¯ve never noticed them before. Somewhere along the line, they¡¯d be a man¡¯s hands.


    He puts the bottle down with a sharp sound. His eyes say one thing. Happy?


    I spend the next hourughing with Parker and flirting with Turner. My short skirt must have worked better than I thought, because I see Turner looking at my legs more than once.


    And maybe it¡¯s the beer, or the two shots I¡¯ve done, but I¡¯m enjoying myself-despite Hayden¡¯s sullen silence by my side. I hear ir try to talk to him, but he barely says a word, and she disappears in a huff.


    Parker challenges Jamie to beer pong. Turner asks me to join, and I start to rise, but a nce back at Hayden stops me. He looks¡­ well. I know that look.


    ¡°I¡¯ll sit this one out,¡± I tell Turner.


    ¡°You sure?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll join the next one, though.¡±


    Hayden has one leg over the other, eyes only on me. We¡¯re alone on the couch now. I see as part of his defensese down, slowly. He isn¡¯t entirely the Hayden he is when it¡¯s just me around, but the mask he¡¯d worn with the others is gone.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop on my ount,¡± he says. ¡°If you want to go with Turner.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s up with you?¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I tap my fingers against the back of the sofa and feel far braver than I should. ¡°You don¡¯t want me here.¡±


    ¡°Not true.¡±

 Rogue C23

    I inch closer, made braver by drink and attention. ¡°Did I ruin your game with the blonde?¡±


    He¡¯s annoyed, but he¡¯s surprised, too. ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡±


    It¡¯s been ages since he¡¯s been this standoffish with me. It used to be more often, when we were younger. When I pried too much or I got too close. But it hasn¡¯t happened in a long while.


    ¡°Good God,¡± I say, letting my hand trail closer to where his rests on the couch between us. ¡°Not even Parker was this hard to charm.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. You have your brothers wrapped around your little finger.¡±


    I nce back at him. He looks exasperated, his amber eyes glittering.


    ¡°But not you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°I like to think I have a bit more willpower.¡±


    ¡°An illusion,¡± I tease.


    ¡°Most likely.¡±


    His eyes fall to my hair. It¡¯s a curtain of dark red silk around me, none of the usual waves and bobs it carries.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look like you,¡± he says. A hand reaches up and traces a long strand of my sleek hair.


    ¡°Do you like it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± A long pause. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still me,¡± I say. ¡°And you¡¯re still you. Even if we¡¯re at a party.¡±


    His eyes find mine again, his hand still lost in my hair. I watch as they shutter. Slowly, he withdraws his hand. ¡°Yeah. Why did youe, Lily?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to party.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never been interested before.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to change my mind?¡±


    ¡°Of course you are.¡± He takes a sip of his beer and looks out over the crowd. ¡°But you¡¯re too good for this sort of thing. For Turner.¡±


    Oh, not this. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m tired of being put on some pedestal. I can take it from my brothers, but not from you.¡±


    His eyes slide back to mine. ¡°But not from me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Maybe it¡¯s the drink, or the tight dress I¡¯m wearing, or the way he¡¯s looking at me-but I feel brave. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to see me as a little girl in need of protecting.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s eyes darken, and for just a moment, I can read them clear as day. He¡¯s my Hayden again. ¡°I don¡¯t see you that way. You know I don¡¯t, Lils.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    He nces away, out over the crowd of people. I can see his jaw working, clenching and unclenching. Whatever is eating at him, it¡¯s deep.


    His voice is low when he finally speaks. ¡°But¡­ maybe I should.¡±


    Whatever hope I¡¯d harbored before is now a me, a wildfire, and I can barely get the words out. ¡°Why?¡± I breathe. ¡°We can be whatever we want to be.¡±


    ¡°We?¡±


    I meet his gaze head-on. He¡¯s being evasive, and we both know it. There¡¯s been a we since we were eleven and twelve, with bruised knees and dirt under our fingernails.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I repeat. ¡°We.¡±


    An odd emotion flickers through his eyes. It looks like regret and longing and something else, something soft and fragile that I¡¯ve never seen before.


    But when he speaks, his voice is hard like a whip. ¡°We¡¯ll never be a we.¡±


    Fine.


    I know when I¡¯m not wanted-and I can¡¯t handle any more humiliation doled out by Hayden Cole. I¡¯ve reached my limit.


    Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, I brush my straightened hair back and get up from the couch. I should find Jamie and make sure she¡¯s all right.


    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± I tell him.


    Hayden¡¯s hand reaches out and grabs my wrist, quick as a snake. ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    I shake off his touch. ¡°To dance. To drink. Isn¡¯t that what you do at these parties?¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair. I don¡¯t see the Hayden I used to know-not here in this smoke-filled house. ¡°Fuck, Lily, do you have to be here? Can¡¯t you just go home? I get if you don¡¯t want to do it for Parker, but would you do it for me?¡±


    The request hurts.


    ¡°If I won¡¯t do it for my brother, why would I do it for you?¡±


    Hayden doesn¡¯t respond, just staring at me with those dark, judging eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go find Parker. Go have fun with your girl. ir, was it? Or Belinda?¡±


    Not waiting for his response, I hurry from the living room and into the crowd of moving bodies.


    ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡±


    ¡°Of course it is,¡± Jamie scoffs. ¡°How else do you think the water polo team gets all that funding?¡±


    Parker shakes his head. ¡°Because we¡¯re a good team. A great one, even.¡±

 Rogue C24

    ¡°Great enough to score forty percent of all the school¡¯s funding for high school athletics?¡±


    I roll my eyes at them. Jamie has gotten deep into investigative journalism mode-which I usually adore-and Parker is deep into his umpteenth beer. It¡¯s not a goodbination. They¡¯ve been arguing for half an hour.


    Turner slings his arm around me casually and leans in to whisper something. ¡°It¡¯s like Ali vs. Frazier all over again.¡±


    ¡°Are we cing bets?¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°We should. Or we could get out of here.¡±


    Nerves flicker in my stomach. I understand the implication well enough-what he¡¯s really asking. There would be kissing involved at the very least, if not more, given his reputation. Do I want that?


    He¡¯s nice enough.


    He¡¯s not Hayden.


    What am I doing here?


    I shoot him a smile and pull away. ¡°Let¡¯s dance instead.¡±


    Turner nods good-naturedly. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    We join the other people on Turner¡¯s makeshift dance floor. Music is pounding from the speakers, the bass heady and strong. We dance opposite each other, smiling, being silly. Turner throws an arm around my waist and I smile at him, trying to decide whether I like the feeling of it or not. This kind of environment¡­ Everything is new to me.


    Turner turns me around, and I see Hayden. He¡¯s cutting through the dance floor. He¡¯s using his shoulders to get ahead, pushing people out of the way without so much as a second nce.


    I sway closer to Turner and meet Hayden¡¯s eyes head-on. I¡¯m not doing anything wrong. He was the one who said we couldn¡¯t be a we.


    He reaches us.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Turner says, a smile on his features. ¡°We were-¡±


    Hayden puts a heavy hand on Turner¡¯s shoulder and leans in to whisper something in his ear. I try to make out what it is, but the music is too loud and the whispers too low. The only thing I hear is the word brother.


    Turner shoots me a sheepish smile. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says, giving me a wink. ¡°Can¡¯t me a guy for trying.¡±


    I give him a wan nod and watch as he retreats through the crowd. Hayden is left, looking at me, eyes faintly narrowed.


    ¡°What did you just tell him?¡±


    ¡°Nothing he didn¡¯t already know.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°Just that he knows your brothers wouldn¡¯t be happy with him if he messed with you.¡±


    I cross my arms. ¡°And you¡¯re what, their enforcer? The attack dog?¡±


    His jaw works. ¡°Something like that, I guess.¡±


    There¡¯s tension in him, but it¡¯s in me, too. I don¡¯t have the energy to be thoughtful or understanding. I¡¯m pissed off and I¡¯m tired and I don¡¯t know who he is at the moment.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t do that for Parker. You did that for you, and you¡¯re a damn hypocrite.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s eyes narrow, but he doesn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°Nothing to say for yourself?¡± I¡¯m vaguely aware that I¡¯m talking too loudly, but there¡¯s no stopping me now. ¡°You¡¯ve been nothing but rude to me since I came tonight. For no clear reason, either.¡±


    Hayden nces at the people around us, jaw still working.


    ¡°Do you know what I think the real reason is? You¡¯re afraid, Hayden. Afraid that I might go off and-¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    He grabs my hand and I¡¯m pulled through the throng of people, toward the back of Turner¡¯s house. Hayden turns a corner and ushers me into a dark hallway.


    ¡°Stop it.¡±


    ¡°Stop what? Asking you to exin yourself?¡±


    ¡°Yes, god damn it.¡± He reaches out and puts a hand on the wall behind me. I catch a whiff of his body spray, of beer and ocean and sweat. His breath ising faster than normal.


    So is mine. The storminess in his eyes feels reflected in my heart, every beat reminding me how close he is but how far away.


    ¡°You were the one who said we can¡¯t be a we,¡± I say, voice low.


    ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°So why would you care if I was with Turner?¡±


    Hayden doesn¡¯t answer. Our bodies sway closer, until our chests very nearly touch. He passed me in height a long time ago, but it isn¡¯t until we¡¯re this close that it¡¯s noticeable. I have to tilt my head back to meet his steely gaze.


    Only it¡¯s not steely anymore.


    It¡¯s crumbling, and the longing I see there is the same I¡¯ve harbored for months.


    I reach up and press my lips against his.


    Hayden hesitates-I can feel it in his body-before his lips move against mine. They¡¯re warm and soft.


    He opens his mouth to say something, but I don¡¯t let him. I kiss him again, desperate, pressing my body against his.


    Respond, I¡¯m begging. I want you so bad.


    My hand gets lost in his hair and I¡¯m tugging him closer, his lips gently pressing against mine.


    And then the dam breaks for him too.


    Strong arms wrap around me. I¡¯m forced closer until there¡¯s no space between our bodies, until his heart and mine beat in tandem through the thin fabric of our clothes.


    Hayden¡¯s lips are insistent on mine, soft and warm and tender in a way he so rarely is. I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s kissing me, or that I¡¯m kissing him.

 Rogue C25

    Hayden-my Hayden-is fisting his hands in my shirt as if he wants me close enough that we¡¯ll be one. His shoulders are taut under my hands, the skin of his back warm through his shirt. I want to touch him everywhere, my hands roaming as far as I can.


    His hands skim my waist, fingers dancing over the faint disy of skin where my shirt¡¯s lifted. The touch is electric.


    I¡¯m suddenly aware of everywhere we¡¯re touching. My breasts, pressed t against his chest. His thighs, strong against mine. The heat of his breath against my mouth.


    His lips skim my jaw and trail down toward my neck. He flicks my hair back impatiently and presses kisses to my skin.


    Kissing Hayden was better than I could imagine, but the feeling of his hot mouth on my neck undoes me. It spreads down my body, the fire, making my limbsnguorous and heavy. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his thick hair. I never want him to stop touching me. I never want him to let me go. I surrender to his imploring tongue, to the heat and the fire and the mes.


    I lean back, pressing my forehead to his. He smells like salt and home. Like boy-on-the-cusp-of-man and all I¡¯d ever want.


    ¡°Are you ever going to ask me out?¡±


    His breath ising hard. ¡°You know you can¡¯t date.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer, Hay.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t, Lily.¡± His voice is hoarse. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± He pushes me away and takes a step back. A hand in his hair, his chest heaving and eyes wild.


    I put a hand over my own beating heart. ¡°Hayden.¡±


    He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. ¡°Let¡¯s get you home.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± My lips still ache from his, body tingling.


    ¡°We can¡¯t do this, not here, not¡­ this shouldn¡¯t be happening. Let me drive you home, Lily.¡±


    Anger courses through me, just as suddenly as the desire. ¡°You¡¯ve had as much to drink as Parker. Why would you be able to drive when he can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Damn it. Fine, I¡¯ll walk you home.¡± He bends to grab my bag from the floor. I must have dropped it,pletely absorbed in him.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Lily.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I snatch my clutch back. ¡°I¡¯ll walk home alone, thank you very much.¡±


    He follows me out through the living room. ¡°It¡¯s not safe.¡±


    ¡°When was thest time anything bad happened in Paradise Shores? Besides, I¡¯d rather be alone than with you right now.¡±


    Hayden steps in front of me, hindering my progress toward the front door. The music is a loud beat in the distance, the hallway deserted. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I can be quiet.¡±


    Such a Hayden answer. ¡°You know that¡¯s not what I meant.¡±R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about what happened. I didn¡¯t mean it to.¡± He rubs his neck. ¡°It was a mistake.¡±


    A mistake?


    The pain and the hurtsh through me. As high as he brought me with his touches, he can bring me just as low with his words.


    For a second, all I can do is stare at him. When I finally answer him my voice vibrates with angry tears.


    ¡°If kissing me was a mistake, what does that make the rest of this?¡± I gesture toward the living room, the writhing bodies and alcohol and party drugs. ¡°Spending your time with these people, with Belindas and irs and¡­ people who couldn¡¯t care less about you. I don¡¯t for a second think that was the first time you¡¯ve made out with a girl half-drunk in a hallway.¡±


    He looks shocked, eyes wide. ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡±


    ¡°So what makes tonight a mistake, exactly? That it was me?¡±


    ¡°Lily, that¡¯s not what I meant.¡±


    ¡°No? Exin it to me then.¡±


    Hayden swallows, amber eyes locked on me. I can see him struggling for words, and for the first time, I don¡¯t have patience with him.


    ¡°Never mind. I¡¯m going home. Have fun without me here, bringing you down.¡± I head down the fancy ss steps from Turner¡¯s porch and try to stop the tears from falling.


    ¡°Lily!¡±


    I stop, a hand on the railing, and wait for the apology-the exnation.


    It doesn¡¯te.


    ¡°Take Jamie with you, at least.¡±


    A tear rolls down my cheek.


    ¡°I¡¯ll text her.¡±


    Lily


    The present


    I¡¯m reeling from Hayden¡¯s words.


    Did he really write me a letter? If he did, it never got to me. It¡¯s been ten years, but I¡¯m flung back into the same state of anguish as when I was eighteen, waking up one morning to discover he had left. My heart is pounding with beat after painful beat. I had thought that the old fracture was more or less healed, but it hurts like it had been broken just yesterday.


    I grab my jacket and my keys, hurrying out of the house and into my car. I¡¯m filled with urgency-just like a decade ago.


    When I¡¯d called everyone to ask where he was.


    When the days passed and there were no answers.


    When I finally gathered the courage to hobble to the beach house on my crutches, to knock on the door, and to ask Gary where his nephew was. He¡¯s gone, girl. I¡¯m sorry.


    The kind pity in his eyes had nearly made my knees buckle, as if he could guess just how hopelessly in love I was with Hayden. Hayden, who¡¯d left, without a care or concern for me.


    It¡¯ste when I park at Ocean Drive 12, but I know my mom will be awake. Dad¡¯s away on business, and for once, I¡¯m happy about that.

 Rogue C26

    I have never once spoken to Mom about Hayden. When I was younger, there had been times when I suspected¡­ but she never let on that she knew about us. But she must have known-and known all along, because there¡¯s only one person in this household who empties the mailbox.


    I find her sitting on the porch with the light on. She¡¯s reading a magazine, her hair-the same color as mine-braided down her back. It¡¯s hard, sometimes, to realize that we look so simr but are so different. She¡¯s never understood my love of art, for example, or Rhys¡¯s rebellion against status and prestige.


    ¡°Sweetheart? I didn¡¯t know you wereing today.¡±


    My hand clenches and unclenches at my side in anger and fear, fear of what I¡¯ll find out tonight. When I speak, I don¡¯t recognize my own voice. ¡°Ten years ago, Hayden left to join the Navy.¡±


    Mom puts down her magazine. Her gaze is curious. ¡°Yes, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°He put a goodbye letter in our mailbox, addressed to me. You took it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Lily,¡± she says with a soft sigh, turning to look out across the ocean. ¡°Yes, I did.¡±


    I sink into the chair next to her. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t right for you.¡±


    ¡°That was for me to decide. I spent years wondering why he left. Years! And you knew the whole time? How could you keep that from me?¡±


    She¡¯s quiet for a long time-so quiet that I wonder if she¡¯ll even deign to answer me. But when she does, her voice is low and thoughtful.


    ¡°I had someone like that once, sweetheart. Someone who wasn¡¯t good for me. Who couldn¡¯t give me the future I wanted, but who I loved more than anything.¡±


    I just blink at her. ¡°In France?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We went to the same high school.¡±


    I¡¯ve never heard this before. To the best of anyone¡¯s knowledge, Mom¡¯s life started when she met Dad on one of his business trips, just the way she wanted it. She rarely mentions her life before.


    ¡°He would disappear for months and then return, asking me to take him back¡­ asking me to give him another chance. He was charming, and tortured, and I loved him very much.¡± Her voice grows hard. ¡°He kept saying that he would change, but he never did. It was always the same story with him. And there was no ambition. He would have ended up a bum, and me right there along with him.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t Hayden.¡±


    ¡°It looked like it. I escaped that fate, and I¡¯d be damned if my own daughter fell victim to it.¡±


    ¡°But I wasn¡¯t you, and Hayden wasn¡¯t him. History wasn¡¯t repeating itself.¡±


    Her frown deepens. ¡°He had just crashed a car with you in it. You were considering going tomunity college and breaking your father¡¯s heart over this boy.¡±


    ¡°The truck driver was driving drunk! The police confirmed it!¡± I can¡¯t believe this conversation. For ten years, she had known, and never said a word. ¡°And what university I chose was my choice. Hayden broke my heart when he left, and you¡¯re saying you¡¯re happy he did?¡±


    ¡°Happy? I¡¯d just listened to a doctor tell me that he was unsure my daughter would ever walk again. Yes, I was happy when he left. I was relieved. I only wanted the best for you.¡±


    ¡°So why take the letter? Why not let me have an exnation?¡±


    Her eyes soften. ¡°A clean break, sweetie. You were healing physically. I wanted you to heal from him, too. And you did.¡±


    It hurts. It hurts like it had when he left, when I cried into my pillow for weeks, when Mom checked in and pretended as if I was only sad because of the ident. She¡¯d known exactly what I¡¯d been upset about-and she¡¯d never let on, never helped me through it.


    ¡°Did you read the letter?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Do you still have it?¡±


    Mom looks at me for a long moment. It¡¯s like she¡¯s evaluating if she can say no-if I¡¯m still eighteen and impressionable.


    I¡¯m not.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says finally. ¡°Are you sure you want it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I follow her into the house, as she walks up the stairs and into the master bedroom, heading straight into the adjoining walk-in closet. I¡¯d yed there as a child before I identally ruined one of her shoes. It feels like an age ago, a different time.


    Mom rummages through the wooden dresser. ¡°I know I put it in the back here somewhere¡­¡±


    I watch, arms crossed, as she runs her hand along the back of each drawer. Beneath my anger I can feel the hurt, running deep, threatening to consume me whole.


    ¡°Ah, here it is.¡± She fishes out a yellowed envelope from the back of her sock drawer. One word is scribbled on it-my name-in messy handwriting. My eyes burn suddenly with the threat of tears as I take it from her. For a long moment, both of us are quiet, just staring at the envelope in my hands.


    Mom clears her throat. ¡°He¡¯s back now.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s made something of himself.¡± There¡¯s a faint pause, and then she looks away. ¡°Served in the military.¡±


    ¡°The Navy,¡± I correct softly, still staring down at the envelope.


    ¡°Lily, ma ch¨¦rie, I¡¯m sorry. Genuinely. I never wanted to hurt you.¡±


    I grip the envelope hard and swallow against the lump in my throat. ¡°But you did.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Green eyes search my own. ¡°Can you forgive me?¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Tell me something. Do you still think you made the right call? Would you do it again?¡±


    Mom looks at me, her gaze sad. ¡°Yes,¡± she says finally. ¡°I didn¡¯t make him leave, but I tried to make sure you moved on. You were too young to throw away college for a boy.¡±


    ¡°All right. Then I can understand why you did it, but I can¡¯t forgive you.¡±


    ¡°Lily, I-¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m done for tonight.¡±


    I turn on my heel and walk away from her, down the hall, the stairs, out into the warm evening air. Away from that beautiful house, with its memories, beautiful and painful alike. The envelope feels red-hot, lying on the passenger seat as I drive the short distance home.


    When I¡¯ve parked on the driveway, I rest my head against the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths. It¡¯s too much-all of it. Mom¡¯s decision. That she¡¯d known all along.

 Rogue C27

    That Hayden didn¡¯t leave without a trace, after all.


    I grab the letter and cross the deserted street out to the beach. The waves are soft in the distance-the sound usually soothing-but nothing can soothe me now.


    Sitting down on the beach, I open the envelope with trembling hands and pull out the letter inside.


    Lily,


    I¡¯ve decided to join the Navy. They have a great program for college, after you¡¯ve served. You know that I never had a real shot at getting into any college around here, not to mention the great ones that you¡¯re headed to, so this is my best option. You have always wanted more for me, and more from me. I promise to do my best to live up to that faith.


    I want you to go to Yale, Lily. I want you to take so many art sses that you piss off your dad. I want you to wear the ck nail polish that your mom hates. I want you to never be in another car ident for the rest of your life. I want all of that for you, and I know I can¡¯t be a part of it.


    You always believed in me, and you always believed in us, that we were stronger than the world around us. So I know this won¡¯t make sense to you right away. Maybe it never will. I¡¯m sorry for that. I¡¯m sorry for a lot of things, but most of all, I¡¯m sorry for that, for breaking your belief in me. I have never wanted to hurt you, and knowing that I have cuts deeper than I imagined.


    And I¡¯m sorry for leaving when you¡¯re still healing from the ident. That night will haunt me for the rest of my life, but I hope it never haunts you. You deserve better than that. Your future is bright, Lily. Always has been.


    My world is infinitely better because you¡¯ve been in it. Thank you for everything. I hope you can forgive me one day, even if I don¡¯t deserve it.


    Hayden


    I read it once, and then I read it twice, having to stop when tears blur my view entirely.


    The ten years that have passed might as well have been a week, for all the strength I have left. I cry for myself-for how crushed I¡¯d been when he left and broke my heart without a word, while the exnation was hidden somewhere in the very house I lived in.


    I cry for young Hayden-for thinking he had no other choice, for leaving the one ce that was home because of me, and the one person he trusted failing to see how intensely guilty he felt after the ident.


    I cry for the ten years that feel wasted in longing. For how I¡¯ve seen him everywhere, in everything, even when I desperately wanted nothing more than to forget him. For how I heard his encouraging words in my head during difficult times. For how I could curse his very existence and at the same time wish he was right there alongside me.


    He had been honest. He had left because he wanted to pursue college.


    But the words written here, in a strong, sprawled hand, speak of anguish and desperation. Of guilt and fear. And somehow, I¡¯d failed to see that entirely, or even consider the possibility that he felt that way.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    So I cry for that, too, for good measure. For my own blindness, and for rity and insight thates too little, toote.


    Hayden


    Hayden, 18


    Gary rolls his neck and shoots me a look I know well. I put down my cup of coffee. I¡¯m not going to like what¡¯sing next.


    ¡°Your dad called again.¡±


    My breakfast turns to unease in my stomach. ¡°You answered?¡±


    Gary sighs. ¡°Yes. And I told him the same thing I¡¯ve said before-that you don¡¯t want him in your life. I didn¡¯t tell him where we are.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°He mentioned that he¡¯s been texting you.¡± Gary bends down to tie his shoce, the picture of studied ease. ¡°That true?¡±


    Damn. ¡°Yeah. I haven¡¯t been answering, though.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d he get your number?¡±


    ¡°Through Aunt E, I think.¡±


    ¡°Of course. That woman couldn¡¯t keep a secret to save her own life.¡± Gary sighs. ¡°You know it¡¯s your decision whether to talk to him or not. I can¡¯t decide that, kid, even if you know where I stand regarding that man.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Just¡­ be careful. Don¡¯t give him any clues about where we are, okay?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t. I won¡¯t.¡± I haven¡¯t seen my father in nearly six years and I have no intention of changing that. There¡¯s only so many times he can lure me in with the promise of an apology before I know to leave well enough alone.


    The years I¡¯d spent with Dad, after Mom died, were the worst of my life. I had been lucky that Gary had taken custody of me instead. He¡¯de to see how his nephew was doing, blissfully unaware of his brother-inw¡¯s addictions and violence. He¡¯d taken one look at the situation and called social services. Without him, I would have been in my tenth foster home by now.


    Plus, the absolutest thing I need is that man here, in Paradise Shores. The Marchands can never cross paths with that part of our past.


    There¡¯s just some filth that stains, never to be washed out.


    Gary throws me an apple. ¡°Don¡¯t forget your lunch box.¡±


    ¡°Funny.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a straight-upedian.¡± He grabs his jacket from the hook on the wall. Another day as the handyman. ¡°Won¡¯t you bete if you hang around here?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed that you¡¯re not hanging out with the other kiddos as oftentely, by the way.¡±


    I zip up my leather jacket and ignore him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna meddle. But Hayden¡­ You¡¯ve got a good job at the docks. A good ce to stay. Don¡¯t screw this up.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    He pulls on his cap and shoots me a warning re. If I thought I was too old for guilt, I¡¯m not. The familiar feeling creeps through me. I know this job is solid for him-I can¡¯t be the one to fuck that up.


    ¡°I know,¡± I tell him, one hand on the door. ¡°You don¡¯t have to say it.¡±


    ¡°Good. And about the girl, Lily¡­ Be careful, kid. Be very careful.¡±


    The sea is gray and so is the sky. On days like this, there¡¯s nothing charming about living right next to the ocean-it¡¯s cold and miserable. I take the long route toward the garage, avoiding the backwn and the Marchands¡¯ wrap-around porch. Gary¡¯s right.


    I have been riding with the Marchand kids less likely.


    I¡¯ve also been feeling intensely guilty, all on my own.


    It¡¯s hard to avoid thinking about the reason why. Lily. Beautiful, strong-willed, sweet, soft Lily. Lily-with-the-wild-dreams, Lily-with-the-shy-smile.

 Rogue C28

    Lily, who my own uncle warned me to stay away from.


    She thought I¡¯d been angry when she arrived at Turner¡¯s party, when that couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. Seeing her was amazing-it always was-but it drove me to despair. How could we act within the finely set parameters of our friendship in that kind of environment?


    She was too good for the good-for-nothings who went to those parties, with the alcohol and drugs and the closed bedroom doors. They were for people who wanted to escape, not for people with things worth fighting for.


    Turner had always joked around about Lily, and Parker had taken it good-naturedly, but I knew he wasn¡¯t just kidding. Any man with half a brain cell would see what a catch Lily Marchand was. And as for Turner, half a brain cell was exactly what he had.


    Lily had been angry with me for pushing him away, angry at me treating her the way I know she hated to be treated. And then¡­


    I try to stop my mind from going back there, to that hallway, to her body against mine, but it¡¯s pointless. The feeling of her lips is imprinted in my memory. I wake to feel them against my own, dreams receding like the high tide, too fast for me to catch.


    She¡¯d been a living me in my arms.


    Auburn hair soft through my fingers, her body soft and inviting. It had been easy, far too easy, to be swept up in her sweetness. I could still feel the sigh she¡¯d given against my lips, the soft sound of surrender, her trusting hands around my neck.


    Hayden, she¡¯d whispered.


    I knew I couldn¡¯t go there. Couldn¡¯t be what she wanted, give her what she needed. She might have a crush on me, but that would pass with time. All it would take was one good look at what I had to offerpared with everyone around her, and the illusion would shatter. She¡¯d break my heart, and I¡¯d break hers by not being more.


    I had to save us both from that if I was to have any hope of keeping her in my life, even from a distance.


    I cut through the garage to where Parker¡¯s BMW is parked. The trunk is already open, his sports bag thrown in there. The engine is running and the driver¡¯s door is open. I roll my eyes at his predictability and get into the passenger seat.


    A minuteter hees running into the garage with a protein shake in hand.


    He shoots me a grin as he gets into the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Forgot breakfast.¡±


    ¡°I figured.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to say, you¡¯ve got the timing thing nailed down.¡± He presses the controller and we both watch as the garage door opens slowly. ¡°It¡¯s a bit creaky, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°The door, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Parker looks sheepish. ¡°Sorry. I meant¡­ never mind.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask Gary about it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, man.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±


    He cranks some old-school rock as we roll through the broad, tree-lined streets of Paradise Shores toward the marina. Working on one of the fishing boats that left from the marina, I was at sea for days at a time. It was hard work, but it paid well. Parker taught sailing at the yacht club, so we caught a ride together most days. It was a good summer job.


    It also meant I didn¡¯t have to see Lily.


    Not that she hadn¡¯t avoided me too, since the party. I¡¯d tried nothing more than to catch her eye that first week, taking any opportunity to be where she might see me. ying video games with Parker, just across the hall from her? Check. But she made it clear that she wanted space and I wanted her happy, so I left her alone.


    It¡¯s just that I figured she¡¯d wanted a few days, a week tops. Not over a month. The suddenck of her in my life feels like a ck hole inside, swallowing all light.


    Parker¡¯s discussing the intricacies of fly-fishing when he suddenly goes quiet. ¡°You¡¯re not listening, are you?¡±


    ¡°Of course I am,¡± I say. ¡°ce bait on the hook. Let it fly. Catch fish. See?¡±


    He huffs out augh. ¡°Sorry. I know this is boring. I just have to¡­ Dad¡¯s taking me next weekend and I¡¯ve sort of be obsessed in preparation.¡±


    ¡°No worries,¡± I say. Each of the Marchand kids has their ownplicated rtionship with their dad. In some ways, Mr. Marchand isrger than life itself, with his cold eyes and calm, measured words. He invests millions at a time in building projects and is rarely home. And when he is¡­ I know he¡¯s impossible to impress.


    So I know Parker wants to make a good impression. Must be a nice feeling, to have standards to live up to.


    ¡°Is something wrong between you and Lily, by the way?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Look, I can¡¯t say I haven¡¯t noticed that the two of you barely speak anymore. That¡¯s cool, you know. You¡¯ve never exactly been friends, but I just wanted to check in.¡±


    Despite myself, I want tough. Trust Parker to be a monthte to the party, not to mentionpletely wrong in his assessment.


    ¡°No, we¡¯re cool. Everything¡¯s good. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not, mostly because I already spoke to her.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    He shoots me an amused sideway nce, long enough that I feel like telling him to keep his eyes on the road. ¡°Yeah. And she said the same thing. So I know you¡¯ve had an argument or something. Your stories are too simr.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    Parker sighs. ¡°Look, she¡¯s my baby sister. Just watch yourself, all right? Even if she gets cranky or annoying, which she can be sometimes, you still have to be nice.¡±


    I grit my teeth. ¡°Sure. Noted.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He turns up the volume and starts whistling, brotherly duty done. Not for the first time, I hate him a little bit. For his privilege and ignorance and thoughtlessness. But it passes, as it always does. I owe him more than he can fathom for his friendship and eptance. Not to mention, he¡¯s right on the money, too.


    I do have to watch myself around Lily. Even if the way things are looking, I might not be around her much at all.


    I walk home from the marinater that day. It¡¯s a long walk, and my body aches from the day spent haulings, but Parker finished early and already drove home. Besides, I don¡¯t want him around for what I want to do next.


    Lily¡¯s eighteenth birthday party is in a week. It¡¯s the massive event of the summer-the highlight of the Marchands¡¯ social calendar. Eloise Marchand has rented a marquee, waiters, catering¡­ the whole thing. Henry and Rhys are bothing back home for the summer and the house will be full.


    Lily has been dreading it and looking forward to it in equal parts.


    I¡¯ve only dreaded it-the house filled to the brim with snobby family friends and rtives-but I know it¡¯s important to her. To the family.


    Paradise Shores doesn¡¯t have much of a shopping center, but it does have a small jewelers store. Nothing too fancy, but I¡¯d seen them sell bracelets with charms, everything from seashells to unicorns to little Eiffel Towers. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s something her mom or grandmother would call tacky.

 Rogue C29

    But I think, if I manage to find the rightbination of charms, it might just say the things I can¡¯t bring myself to.


    Lily


    The present


    I look in the mirror. A casual skirt that reaches just above my knees. A blouse in soft blue silk smooths down my arms and leaves just a little bit of cleavage free. It¡¯s a perfectly respectable outfit for seeing an old friend.


    Because that¡¯s what he¡¯d asked for, on the beach, after revealing that he had left me a letter. Friendship.


    And in honor of what we once had, I decide that I¡¯m going to give it a try. Even if being friends with Hayden-who had meant everything to me-feels like dancing with danger.


    But I would have to ovee that. We might have been childhood sweethearts, but we¡¯re grown now. A lot has happened in those ten years. Lord knows I¡¯ve been on my fair share of bad dates, and no doubt he has as well.


    We should be able to be friends. And popping by an old friend with a pie is a perfectly ordinary thing to do. A wee to the neighborhood. I¡¯d done it for people in the past-why should Hayden be different?


    But as I park outside of the big red brick house on Elm Street, I¡¯m suddenly ovee with nerves. My heart is beating a steady, cacophonous rhythm in my chest. After reading his goodbye letter, I¡¯d felt raw, like I was still eighteen years old. The days that had passed since then hadn¡¯t made that any easier.


    ¡°Friendship,¡± I whisper to myself. ¡°Friendship.¡±


    I¡¯d missed him so much, and here I was, with another chance to have him in my life. Even if it hurt a little bit-even if it wasn¡¯t exactly what I¡¯d once envisioned-could I really deny myself the opportunity?


    I ring the doorbell. It¡¯s a little past seven in the evening and he might very well be having dinner or be out with friends. Maybe I should have texted, but I wanted the opportunity to chicken out at thest second if I wanted to.


    Hayden opens the door. Thick, dark hair falls across his forehead. It¡¯s wet-and so is the towel he¡¯s slung over his shoulder. Dressed only in a pair of cks and a gray T-shirt, it¡¯s clear he¡¯s juste out of the shower. His feet are bare.


    Amber eyes widen in surprise at seeing me. They flick down to the pie in my hands, my skirt, my small studded ballerina shoes.


    ¡°Hello. Sorry to drop by like this, unannounced. I was curious about this ce you¡¯re renting and I made tarte tatin. I know you used to like Mom¡¯s, so I thought¡­ well, it¡¯s like a wee present.¡± I hand it over to him, my stupid mouth still going.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No worries. And no need to return the pan. I have plenty. You¡¯d actually be doing me a favor if you took it off my hands.¡±


    This time he actually smiles, and when he does, hepletely takes my breath away. The T-shirt stretches tight over his chest and aroundrge, muscr arms. There¡¯s a faint scar around his left bicep, the hair on his forearms more pronounced than it was years ago. He¡¯s a man-and an extremely handsome one at that.


    ¡°Do you want toe in?¡±


    ¡°Me? Oh¡­ If it isn¡¯t a bother.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not. Come on.¡± Hayden pushes the front door wide and steps back to let me pass. As I do, I breathe in the scent of him. Shower soap, male deodorant, and just a hint of cologne. The scent does odd things to me. He never used to wear cologne.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°Let me just put this in the kitchen.¡±


    He walks past me, but I stay in the hallway, peering into the living room. The house is big, I can tell that much already. There¡¯s a massive firece. A dining-room table that fits eight people. Peering in the other direction, I see a white-and-blue kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances. This is a really nice house. There¡¯s a wide staircase that no doubt leads up to his bedroom.


    ¡°My mother hid the letter,¡± I say to no one in particr, heart still pounding in my chest. ¡°So that¡¯s why I never got it.¡±


    Hayden is back in an instant, a hand braced against the doorframe. ¡°She admitted it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say thickly. ¡°She¡¯d even saved it.¡±


    His amber eyes hold the question-I can see it clearly-but his voice is tentative when he finally asks. ¡°Did you read it, Lils?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    We look at each other. I can tell that he wants me to continue-to tell him what I think-but I feel too hot, all over, like I¡¯m exposed. He¡¯s always been able to see far too much of me.


    His words in the letter brought up my own feelings, and I¡¯d found that they weren¡¯t gone at all. They were just buried. My world is infinitely better because you¡¯ve been in it.


    I want to ask him if he still thinks that. If he thinks about kissing me, the same way I remember his lips on mine. If, staring at me now, he feels the same pull between us that I do.


    But he had asked for friendship.


    And he¡¯d left, letter or no letter. And I haven¡¯t forgiven him for that yet.


    So I turn my back on him-and the silent question in his eyes-and walk into the living room instead. It¡¯s cozy, with two couches arranged around a t-screen TV. It¡¯s way too big for one person.


    ¡°This is a great ce, Hay.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I was lucky when I found it.¡±


    ¡°Renting it with furniture and all?¡± I run my hand over the back of a couch. It¡¯s a soft linen fabric, very much the vogue at the moment. It¡¯s expertly decorated, if a bit nd with the colors. No personal touches. It looks almost like the sort of decor I do for Harris Properties when we stage houses.


    ¡°Yeah, it came furnished.¡±


    ¡°This is excellent,¡± I murmur, looking at a driftwoodmp in the corner. It¡¯s understated but works perfectly with the Paradise Shores aesthetic.


    Hayden returns,ing to stand beside me. The scent of man washes over me again. ¡°You work with this stuff now, right?¡±


    I nod. ¡°Yes, I do most of the decor and staging for the new properties before they go on market.¡±


    ¡°With Turner? At Harris Properties, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I help out a bit with the architectural ns, too. It¡¯s very fun.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± Hayden runs his hand over the back of the couch. It¡¯s a thoughtful gesture, andbined with the sound, I can practically hear what he¡¯s thinking.


    ¡°Just say it.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°I would have thought you¡¯d work with art. In a gallery, or painting¡­ It was always your dream. Not getting into the same sort of thing as your father.¡±


    ¡°I still paint,¡± I say, although it¡¯s not technically true. I haven¡¯t for months. Whenever I pick up the paintbrush, all I can think about are my shorings. It¡¯s not fun anymore. But I miss it. I miss it like a missing limb.


    ¡°Good,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re too talented to stop.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not that talented.¡±

 Rogue C30

    ¡°Yes, you are.¡±


    I roll my eyes and take a seat on one of the couches. Hayden follows me, sitting on the opposite one and stretching out his long legs. Friends, I remind myself.


    ¡°Tell me about the galleries you worked at in New York.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never liked all that artsy stuff.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always liked yours,¡± he says, voice entirely sincere.


    I rub the back of my neck. ¡°Thanks. Well¡­ I worked in a ce in Soho before switching to two on the Upper West Side. It was a lot of fun, that world. Seeing new artistse in and help curate exhibitions. I loved it. But everything has its time, you know? I missed the ocean, and I missed doing something practical with my hands. It was so conceptual all the time. I wanted to actually create, not just curate.¡±


    ¡°So you came back here.¡±


    I nod. ¡°I wanted toe back here and paint. To see the ocean every day, to be closer to my family. It was good to be away for a while, but it was even better to be back.¡±


    Hayden nods. ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    ¡°How about you? How does it feel to be back?¡±


    ¡°Weird.¡± He¡¯s quiet for a moment. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s Gary doing?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know him. He¡¯s doing the same old things he¡¯s always been doing. He¡¯s talking about trimming thewn mower for your parents¡¯ ce, getting it to go faster. I asked why speed was necessary, but he justughed me off.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s uncle had always been one for tinkering. ¡°Remember when he made us homemade rockets for New Year¡¯s one year?¡±


    ¡°Yep. I was pretty sure he was going to get fired for that.¡±


    ¡°What? My parents would never fire him.¡±


    His eyebrows rise. ¡°If they found out about those rockets, I¡¯m pretty sure they would¡¯ve.¡±


    I don¡¯t believe that. ¡°Well, he became my brother¡¯s hero after that.¡±


    Hayden snorts. ¡°That¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Anything Parker knows about cars today, he¡¯s learned from Gary. He still goes there sometimes, you know, just to ask for advice.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he told me something about that,¡± Hayden says.


    There¡¯s something I want to ask. Something that¡¯s been nagging at me for years, in the back of my mind. About being a fish out of water-dropped into a strange new ce.


    ¡°How was it, growing up with us? Truly?¡±


    His smile shes again. ¡°Truly?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Hayden shakes his head, still smiling.


    ¡°What¡¯s funny?¡±


    ¡°You,¡± he says.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You just are. All right, I¡¯ll try to answer your question.¡± He looks away, running a hand through his hair, the smile still ying around his lips. He¡¯s arrestingly handsome like that, sitting casually in his own home, freshly showered and shaved.


    ¡°It was great. You four, you were¡­ well, I think it¡¯s something you only see from the outside. But you have each other. And as intensely jealous as I was of that, I also loved being close to it. Seeing what a family was supposed to look like.¡±


    It¡¯s more than he¡¯s ever told me. I run my hand over the throw on the couch, thinking about all the times we were together, all of us. ¡°Everyone missed you, you know. After you left.¡±


    ¡°They did?¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Yes. Henry tried to hide it, but I could tell he was rattled. He was the one who kept us all updated on your military achievements.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s eyes are wide. ¡°He did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure it took meticulous research, but you know how he is. He has to have control over everything.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Rhys wasn¡¯t surprised, though I don¡¯t know why. Parker missed you the most, I think.¡±


    Hayden nods, but not like he believes me. More like he¡¯s humoring me.


    I frown. ¡°They did, you know. I know things wereplicated at times. But they did.¡±


    He nods and stands, stretching lightly from side to side. His gaze is softer, and I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s because of what I said or because he thinks it¡¯s cute that I tried. I never know what really gets through to him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been a bad host,¡± he says. ¡°Do you want something to drink? A piece of the tarte?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t eat my own gift.¡±


    ¡°Of course you can. I¡¯ll be right back, Lils.¡±


    I sit in silence on his couch, hearing the rustle and bustle in the kitchen as he prepares tes. It¡¯s oddly domestic in a way we haven¡¯t been for years, perhaps ever. As children, we mostly spent time together with my brothers. Any moments for just him and me had to be stolen, to be carved out and guarded. They were some of my favorite memories.


    My gaze snags on something on the mantlepiece. Arge, pinkish cone shell, with a paintedndscape on the side. No way.


    He kept it?


    I want to look at it-at the scribbled handwriting I know is on the other side-but Hayden returns. He hands me a ss of white wine and a paper te with the tarte on it. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t have tes and all that stuff yet.¡±


    ¡°Just winesses?¡±


    ¡°I found some in the back cupboard.¡±

 Rogue C31

    He takes a seat next to me on the couch, his big body so much closer than it was before. His arm drapes on the back of the sofa. My mind instantly wants to race ahead, thinking about the cone shell and what it could mean. I take a sip of my wine and try to ignore itpletely.


    Hayden smiles after he takes a bite. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve definitely missed this. Your family pretty much spoiled me for anything but French food.¡±


    ¡°You know I don¡¯t do this half as well as my mom, not to mention my grandma.¡±


    A shadow briefly crosses his face. ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°Yours is the best.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Thanks, but now I know you¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°Not a lie.¡± He takes another bite of the tarte. He¡¯d cut himself a huge slice, but it¡¯s already halfway gone. It doesn¡¯t surprise me. Together with my brothers, he always had a huge appetite. I guess it had to go somewhere-and now I know where. Straight into broadening his chest and strengthening those muscles.


    I take off my shoes and curl up on his couch, legs crossed, turning to face him. ¡°Let me guess what you didn¡¯t miss about Paradise Shores. The people. The organized parties. The water polo team.¡±


    He rolls his eyes. ¡°Oh, Lily, don¡¯t mention the water polo team. I¡¯ve missed them the most, I think. Not to mention their shaved chests.¡±


    ¡°The school uniform?¡±


    ¡°Every day in the Navy, I just kept thinking, this uniform would look so much better in the colors of Paradise High.¡±


    My smile is wide now. ¡°Mandatory sses in Latin.¡±


    ¡°Non sibi sed patriae,¡± he says, the pronunciation wless. ¡°You don¡¯t know how often that¡¯se in handy. I might be the only sailor in the Navy who can actually conjugate our motto.¡±


    ¡°Hanging on the bleachers.¡±


    ¡°My great pastime.¡±


    ¡°Smoking?¡±


    Hayden narrows his eyes at me. ¡°Smoking?¡±


    ¡°You used to smoke in high school, remember? I figured you¡¯d stopped.¡±


    He puts the empty te on the coffee table, turning to face me. There¡¯s an expression on his face that I can¡¯t quite ce. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s ufortable or embarrassed, but then he runs a hand through his hair and I know it¡¯s the former.


    ¡°You knew I smoked, Lils?¡±


    I grin. ¡°Of course I knew.¡±


    ¡°I made sure to never smoke when you were around.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I figured it out.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he says. ¡°A real Sherlock.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°You never called me on it?¡± He shifts closer, moving so that our knees almost touch on the couch. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a conscious movement or not, but his body has turned to face me too. It¡¯s hard to stop my pulse from increasing, or the painful tear in my chest. Friends, I remind myself. He wants to be friends.


    But I can¡¯t stop the faint protest. He kept the cone shell.


    ¡°No. I figured it was important to you that I didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to be a bad influence.¡±


    ¡°My own brothers wouldn¡¯t even swear in front of me. You were the one who taught me.¡±


    His smile is crooked. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°And how to punch someone.¡±


    ¡°Have you had to do that?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I answer honestly. ¡°But I still remember. Look.¡± I raise my hand and make a fist, just like he taught me. Thumb on the outside of the fist, not inside, or it¡¯ll get broken instantly from the impact. Make sure you¡¯re not clenching so tight that your little finger starts copsing inwards.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he murmurs, taking my hand in both of his. He twists it around, looks at the cement of my thumb. ¡°Very good.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t forget,¡± I murmur. His eyes are warm this close, the same amber color I remember. His skin is tan, and there are small, faint lines around his eyes now. He¡¯s seen things-done things, things I can¡¯t begin toprehend. He¡¯s lived a whole life in the decade we¡¯ve been apart. So have I.


    But his hand on mine feels as familiar to me as my own. And while his hair might be shorter, it still curves over his forehead the way I remember.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Good.¡± Hayden lowers my hand slowly, until it¡¯s resting in both of his, in the open space between us. His thumb rubs a slow circle on the inside of my palm. The touch sends shivers up my arm and warmth through my chest. ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°What about me?¡±


    ¡°You told me that your brothers missed me. Were they the only ones?¡±


    My breath ising fast. What he¡¯s asking¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m sure your uncle did too,¡± I tease softly, and heughs. The throaty sound makes me lean in closer.


    ¡°Lily,¡± heins.


    ¡°I know, I know.¡± I look down at where my hand rests in his. ¡°I missed you too,¡± I whisper. ¡°You know I did.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t say anything for a long time, just sits there with my hand in his. They¡¯re warm and bigger than I remember, the skin dry and slightly calloused. I wonder what they¡¯d feel like on my cheek, cupping my chin, sliding down along my neck and further down still.


    My heart feels like it might beat out of my chest. Isn¡¯t he going to respond? My heart aches for his words and my body for his touch.


    His hand drifts to my knee, resting easily there. There¡¯s barely any pressure but my body still curves toward the touch. It¡¯s an automatic reaction where he¡¯s concerned.


    ¡°Lily,¡± he murmurs, close enough that I can feel his warm breath against my mouth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    He bends his head and slowly, giving me more than enough time to pull back, presses his lips against mine. They¡¯re warm and soft and strong, kissing me with a powerful restraint. It¡¯s a test, I realize.


    He¡¯s testing the waters.

 Rogue C32

    His hand on my knee tightens slightly, fingers slipping under the skirt to softly caress my leg. I deepen the kiss-how can I not? His taste and warmth is everything I need. Everything I¡¯ve missed, for years and years. Kissing Hayden was never just kissing. It¡¯s life-giving.


    Warm lips coax my mouth open and I wee his tongue inside. He¡¯s kissing me sweetly, our bodies barely touching. I can feel my heart opening.


    Hayden¡­


    For so long, I¡¯ve dreamed of this. Of him, back in my arms. Of his lips against mine and the soft, warm gaze of his eyes that only I get to see. How hands that are hard and calloused can be tender, the feeling of his body when he¡¯s close to release but fighting it. Fighting it like he does everything in life.


    Except he left.


    I break the kiss and put a hand on his chest. ¡°Hayden, we can¡¯t.¡±


    He leans back. There¡¯s fire in his eyes, and I realize just how tightly leashed he kept himself, to kiss me so gently for so long. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°I just can¡¯t.¡± I shake my head and stand up. I struggle to get my shoes on and try to close my heart. It can¡¯t open to him again-I can¡¯t handle the pain. It would kill me this time.


    ¡°Lily, I didn¡¯t mean to push you away.¡±


    ¡°I know. And we¡¯re friends. We still will be. Thanks for the wine, and for the¡­ for the dessert.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. Anytime.¡± Hayden¡¯s eyes search mine. I can tell he¡¯s curious as to the sudden change in me, but I can¡¯t exin it. I just know I¡¯m in dangerous territory.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says again, and I don¡¯t know for what. For kissing me? For leaving? Foring back?


    Who was I kidding, thinking I could handle being just ¡°friends¡± with him?


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you around,¡± I say, and practically run for the door.


    Lily


    Lily, 18


    Rhys is sprawled on my bed. His head is in a book, which is nothing new, but his hair is. He¡¯s shaved it short, all the long tresses gone. Something changed in him after he left for university.


    ¡°Can you exin to me again why the cousins from Maine are invited?¡± I ask him.


    ¡°Why, because it¡¯s Lily Marchand¡¯s eighteenth birthday party, of course!¡± I know he¡¯s not mocking me-he¡¯s mocking Mom.


    ¡°But I haven¡¯t seen them since I was thirteen.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s to humor Aunt ine. You know her and Dad don¡¯t see eye-to-eye.¡±


    ¡°I know. But why use my birthday party for it?¡±


    He flips a page. ¡°Family politics.¡±


    ¡°I hate it.¡± I put the final pearl pin in my hair. It¡¯s in a massive updo, the way I know my grandmothers-both of them-prefer. But I¡¯ve let some soft curls fall down, framing my face and my neck. A small act of rebellion.


    My dress is gorgeous, though. Deep blue, with a low back and a twirling A-line skirt. It took me nearly five months to sew.


    I hear Rhys flip yet another page. His ability to read and simultaneously keep up a conversation has never stopped making me envious. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen Hayden around,¡± he says.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, fiddling with my zipper. ¡°He¡¯s working at the docks this summer, on the fishing boats.¡±


    ¡°Well, he can¡¯t be at work all the time.¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t know his schedule.¡±


    That¡¯s not entirely true. I see him leaving the beach house in the mornings sometimes, and I asionally catch him returning. It¡¯s the only glimpse I have of him, now.


    It¡¯s been over a month since the graduation party and we still haven¡¯t properly spoken. I felt silly, a girl who threw herself at him at a party, dressed up to the nines, only to be reprimanded and turned away.


    But as much as his rejection hurt, not talking to him might almost be worse. In the beginning, I¡¯d avoided him because of my own hurt pride. I¡¯d put myself out there and he¡¯d turned me down, in and simple. And when he¡¯d tried to talk to me¡­ Well, I¡¯d turned away. The idea of him exining it to me again-how we couldn¡¯t be together-hurt too much.


    So I know it¡¯s on me now, to start a conversation-but how do you begin? If there is a roadmap back to our casual friendship, I certainly don¡¯t have it.


    ¡°Is heing tonight?¡± Rhys asks.


    I smooth a hand over the silk of my dress. ¡°I think so.¡±


    In truth, I have no idea at all. He might stay away entirely.


    But I hope he doesn¡¯t.


    ¡°A drink?¡±


    I shoot the well-meaning waiter a small smile. ¡°Can¡¯t. I¡¯m not twenty-one.¡±


    He looks sheepish. ¡°Sorry, miss.¡±


    ¡°No worries.¡± I¡¯d like nothing more than a cool sip of the champagne my dad¡¯s serving tonight, but I know that the approximately sixty guests would crucify me for it.


    The bad thing about being the guest of honor? Everyone has their eyes on you.


    Jamie threads her arm through mine. ¡°Come on, Lils. You don¡¯t have to stand by the front door the whole night. Let someone else wee the guests.¡±


    We walk through the house to the backyard, where soft music drifts from the live band my mom hired. They¡¯re good, I have to give it to her. Canap¨¦s are served, and I manage to nab one of the small quiches with tomato relish on top.


    Jamie grins at me. ¡°Thank God your mom hired the same caterers as for their wedding anniversary. Remember their desserts?¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding? I still dream about them.¡± I pretend to swoon. ¡°Oh, you fair chocte eir.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I came, you know,¡± she says, eyes glittering with humor. ¡°For the desserts. Sorry, Lily.¡±


    ¡°I should be offended, but that¡¯s why I came, too,¡± I say with a grin.


    A strong arm wraps around my shoulder, and I look up to see Henry. He¡¯s freshly shaven, hair pushed back neatly. He looks older every time I see him-the kind of person who was never really meant to be a child in the first ce.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    ¡°Hey, Lilypad.¡±

 Rogue C33

    ¡°You made it!¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He gives me a sideways hug. ¡°How could I miss this? My baby sister is finally grown up.¡±


    Parker joins us, shooting Henry a grin as they bump fists. ¡°d you¡¯re here, man.¡±


    ¡°Likewise. Sorry I couldn¡¯t make it to your graduation.¡±


    ¡°No worries,¡± Parker says, eyes happy and open-although I know he¡¯s not entirely over it. ¡°Have you seen Mom and Dad yet?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I spoke with them before. Is Rhys around?¡±


    I nod to where Rhys is engaged in a discussion with our grandmother, Evelyn. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she¡¯s berating him about his new haircut and he¡¯s countering her with metaphysical arguments or a Nietzsche quote, the weirdo.


    ¡°I saw Hayden earlier,¡± Parker says. ¡°He¡¯ll join in a bit.¡±


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Henry nods. ¡°Is he still living out in the beach house with his uncle?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I wonder how much longer Dad will let him stay.¡±


    Parker frowns, echoing my own expression. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s an adult now. The deal was surely that he¡¯d be taken care of as long as he was a child and under Gary¡¯s guardianship.¡± Henry¡¯s words, so matter of fact, feel like daggers.


    ¡°Henry, you can¡¯t say stuff like that,¡± I say. ¡°Stop being an ass.¡±


    He looks both amused and affronted, eyebrows raised high. ¡°What? It¡¯s just the truth.¡±


    ¡°Nah, man, Hayden¡¯s been like a brother to us,¡± Parker says. He looks just as insulted as me. ¡°That ce is his home. He can stay with Gary as long as he likes.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure. Let¡¯s get a ss of champagne and enjoy Lily¡¯s birthday. We don¡¯t need to discuss this now.¡±


    Or ever, I want to add. I already know that Hayden will have to leave one day, and just imagining it breaks my heart.


    The evening is a blur of names and faces andughter. As much as I thought I¡¯d hate it, I find that I actually don¡¯t. A few of my girlfriends from school are here, and so are Parker¡¯s and Rhys¡¯s friends. The Maine cousins are nice.


    The only one missing is Hayden. I keep ncing over at the beach house, but it looks deserted and distant. No dark-haired, brooding boy in sight.


    I¡¯m taking a break from dancing when Turner shows up, a small smile on his face. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Hi. Parker¡¯s somewhere around here, I think.¡±


    Heughs. ¡°I know, but I wanted to say happy birthday to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°This party¡¯s really something.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you could say that again.¡± I nce out over the marquee, the hanging lights, the smell of lilies from the many bouquets. ¡°Mom sort of went all in.¡±


    ¡°How about a dance?¡± He nods toward the dance floor.


    The music is soft and soothing, and I want to say yes. But the memory of the graduation party holds me back. ¡°And what if someone interrupts us?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t back off so easily this time, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°Because all my brothers are here this time.¡±


    Turner shoots me a grin. ¡°Let them do their worst.¡±


    Turner¡¯s a good dancer. He leads well, and I don¡¯t step on his feet, not once. He¡¯s taken the same sses at Paradise Shores that the rest of us have, but unlike most of my brothers, he seems to have actually paid attention.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    My parents are dancing, too. I watch as they glide gracefully around us and feel the familiar ache in my chest. There¡¯s so much pressure to be like them. Beautiful. Sessful. Universally adored. Even this party, which my mother threw out of love for me, reminds me of it. The expectations have nearly suffocated the joy out of Henry. I don¡¯t want them to do the same to Rhys or Parker. Or to me.


    As if he can read my mind, Turner nods. ¡°It¡¯s a lot, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    He leans in. ¡°Parker has grabbed some of the champagne bottles. There¡¯s a sub-party going on in the basement.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a what?¡±


    ¡°A sub-party. Come on, let¡¯s escape for a bit.¡±


    He¡¯s right. Rhys is already in the basement, opening a bottle. He hands me a flute of sparkling champagne. ¡°d you could make it, my dear.¡±


    I sink down onto one of therge sofas and bend down to undo my painful high-heeled shoes. ¡°Thank God for this.¡±


    Turnerughs and sits down next to me. ¡°All we need is some food, now.¡±


    ¡°Parker¡¯s on it,¡± Rhys says. ¡°I think he¡¯s gonna get Jamie and the girls too.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°We want you to enjoy yourself, Lils.¡± He reaches over and tweaks my nose in a way he hasn¡¯t for years. ¡°Soon enough you¡¯ll be on your own here for senior year, with all of us gone for college. Let us spoil you a little longer.¡±


    And they do. There¡¯s music and games and drinks, not to mention an entire tray of roastmb vol-au-vent that Parker somehow managed to score. I have to filter in and out, to mingle with the guests, but together the whole thing feels a lot less lonely.


    There¡¯s only one person missing. I had hoped he woulde, but as the hours wear on, I don¡¯t think he will. This isn¡¯t his scene on the best of days, and especially not with me this dolled up¡­ with the house filled with strangers. Strangers with trust funds and upturned noses.


    Still, I had hoped.


    It¡¯s many hourster when I¡¯ve finally said goodbye to all the guests. Turner is in the basement with Parker, both of them passed out. My parents said goodnight ages ago, and the caterers have all packed up and left. I¡¯m officially eighteen.


    It¡¯s still warm outside, though. I stand in the backyard and take a few deep breaths. Salt and ocean spray hangs in the air, and the stars stretch out in a glittering nket above me. The lights are still lit under the marquee, and without any guests, the ce looks magical. The only music still ying is the sound of waves against the beach. I close my eyes and breathe in the salty air.


    A familiarugh, soft and low, rings out in front of me. My eyes snap open, only to see the one person I thought would never show.

 Rogue C34

    He¡¯s wearing a dark suit, the one I know he bought for his graduation. It¡¯s a little short in the sleeves and snug over the chest, which only makes him look manlier. His dark hair hangs over eyes that dance withughter.


    Hayden looks so handsome that I think my heart might break from the sight. I know I¡¯ve been in love with him for a long time, but it strikes me then just how far I¡¯ve fallen. There¡¯s just no one else for me.


    There never will be.


    His lips curl, just slightly. ¡°What are you doing out here, Lily?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m enjoying the night,¡± I say. ¡°The stars.¡±


    ¡°More than your party?¡±


    ¡°It was nice, too,¡± I say. ¡°A bit boring at times.¡±


    ¡°Did Henry show up?¡± he asks, taking a step closer.


    ¡°Yes, he¡¯s here. We had a sub-party.¡±


    ¡°A sub-party?¡±


    I step closer to him, too, and realize that I¡¯m not wearing my shoes anymore. The grass is cold between my toes. ¡°With champagne and games.¡±


    He nods. ¡°And you had some?¡±


    ¡°Just a bit.¡±


    He lifts an eyebrow, in that way he¡¯s always been able to, and I can¡¯t help but smile. ¡°All right. Maybe a few sses. But not too much.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m d you enjoyed yourself.¡±


    We¡¯re quiet, just watching each other. I wonder what he¡¯s thinking, if he¡¯s missed me as much as I¡¯ve missed him. If he feels like I do-filled with electricity from his nearness.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t youe?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here now.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± I gesture at the empty tables. ¡°Earlier.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    Hayden frowns, like he¡¯s not sure if he should tell me the truth or not. The little crease between his brows makes my hand ache. I want to reach out and smooth it away, to run my fingers over his cheek. ¡°To tell you the truth, I wasn¡¯t sure if you wanted me here.¡±


    ¡°I always want you around.¡±


    He looks away, as if he¡¯s shocked by my admission. As if he doesn¡¯t already know how much I want him. ¡°Yes, well, I screwed upst time. I can only say sorry so many times.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to say sorry,¡± I say, shaking my head. Not that-anything but that. I want him to say what I¡¯m feeling, that our kiss was everything, that he wants me as much as I want him.


    He doesn¡¯t say that. He just smiles, small and true, and hands me a golden box. ¡°Happy birthday, Lily.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve.¡±


    ¡°Open it.¡±


    I unwrap it slowly, looking from him to the gift. I hope he didn¡¯t spend a lot of money on it, knowing how hard he works for his keep. But I know better than to bring that up.


    ¡°It¡¯s just something small,¡± he says with a shrug. ¡°But I¡­ well.¡±


    I open the lid to a reveal a gold bracelet resting on tissue paper. Small charms hang from it at evenly spaced distances. There¡¯s a seashell, shaped like a cone. A little painter¡¯s palette. There¡¯s arge tree-the one we used to climb in, I imagine. A tiny golden dog.


    Shivers race across my arms as my eyes flicker between the shooting star and the dog, wondering how he captured my heart in such small icons.


    ¡°Lily?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± I whisper. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Fastening it around my wrist is tricky one-handed, so Hayden helps me. I can smell the faint trace of soap and sea wafting from him.


    ¡°There,¡± he murmurs, letting his hand linger at my wrist for a second longer. A calloused thumb smooths over my palm before he takes a step back. ¡°It suits you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you again.¡± I touch a finger to the small dog, for As.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±


    ¡°Do you want toe in?¡±


    He nods, eyes glued to mine. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I lead him up the stairs to the porch and through the kitchen door. The rooms downstairs are dark and empty. Abandoned cups and sses are everywhere, and in the corner, the rest of the food is packed up in one of the caterer¡¯s big cooling boxes.


    ¡°Are you hungry?¡±


    Hayden¡¯s eyes are still glued to me. ¡°No.¡±


    I swallow. The way he¡¯s looking¡­ he looks hungry. ¡°All right.¡±


    We walk up the stairs as silently as we can. Both of us know which floorboards to avoid, which part of the old railing creaks. I gently shut my bedroom door behind us.


    The air between us feels heavy with things unsaid. I sit down on my couch, motioning for him to sit beside me. He doesn¡¯t join me.


    ¡°Lily, I¡­¡± He trails off and shakes his head. His eyes stop at the photos I have on my wall. Parker, Dad and me on a sailing boat. Riding on Rhys¡¯s back in front of the Eiffel Tower. Mom and I by the Colosseum.


    ¡°I missed you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for pushing you away.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s eyes snap back to mine. ¡°That¡¯s all right. You were right to be angry.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I was.¡± I touch a finger to my bracelet again. ¡°This is amazing.¡±


    He has his hands in his pockets, eyes dark. He doesn¡¯t say anything. He never has, really, about what we are. Neighbors? Friends?


    Something more?

 Rogue C35

    His gift makes it feel like we¡¯re something more. Something I¡¯ve dreamed about for longer than I can remember. An us. A tangible unit.


    I can see the same storm in his eyes, too. He can hide many things, but not from me.


    My lips tingle at the memory of his touch. I¡¯d felt like I was close tobusting under his insistent mouth. His hands on me¡­ I thought I had been so familiar with them. Having held hands with him as a kid or seen them working, skillfully shucking oysters together in the summer.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    But they had felt entirely new when they were wrapped around my waist.


    ¡°Hayden¡­¡±


    He reaches out and grips the doorpost. To a stranger, he might have looked unbothered. But I can see how hard he¡¯s struggling to keep his expression neutral.


    ¡°Lily, we can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You keep saying that. Don¡¯t I deserve to know why?¡±


    He shakes his head, but it doesn¡¯t feel like a no. It feels like despair.


    I don¡¯t understand why. He had been so responsivest time-he¡¯d kissed me with reckless abandon. I know what I¡¯d felt in those touches.


    I know he wanted me too.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be right.¡±


    I get up from the sofa. Hayden looks good in a suit. Unusual. Different, even though the scowl on his face is the same. ¡°Because we grew up together?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Reaching out, I run my hands up hispels. The chest underneath is solid to the touch. ¡°But I don¡¯t see you as a brother.¡±


    His low exhale of breath washes across my lips. ¡°Thank God for that.¡±


    Putting a hand on his neck, I bury it in his dark hair, the way I¡¯ve seen girls do before. My breasts are pushed against his chest-I made sure of that. Last time, he¡¯d groaned into my mouth when he skimmed them with his hands.


    ¡°And you don¡¯t see me as a sister,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    His pupils are massive, the heart underneath my palm beating fast. ¡°Hayden,¡± I beg.


    He closes the distance between us. The kiss is bruising in its intensity. My lips mold to his obediently, savoring the warmth.


    Hayden sighs into my mouth and wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer against his body until there is no air at all. I don¡¯t want there to be, pressing closer still, my arms around his neck. We kiss like we¡¯ve never done anything else and never want anything else.


    He nips at my lower lip with his teeth andughs when I draw back in surprise. ¡°Can¡¯t help it,¡± he whispers.


    I smile and do the same to him. I¡¯m rewarded with another bruising kiss, his tongue slowly finding its way into my mouth. I kiss him back, my hand lost in his hair and my nipples hard against his chest.


    I¡¯ve never felt anything like this before.


    We end up on my sofa, somehow, both of us pulling down the other. Ind on hisp, a thigh on either side of him, my dress riding high. Hayden presses kisses along my jaw and neck, down across my corbone, setting my body on fire. Everything feels hot-too hot.


    His hands cup my breasts, reverently, and I gasp as he smooths his thumbs over my nipples. His lips travel upwards again, back to my jaw and my ear.


    I reach down to the zipper at the side of my dress, feeling brave. This is going to happen. I want him, and he wants me, and I have him here with me. I want to feel his skin against mine. Nerves race through my system as I grab ahold of the zipper.


    Long fingers circle my wrists. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    Hayden shakes his head. ¡°No. We¡¯re not going further than this, not right now.¡±


    I frown at him. This burning feeling, the one I¡¯m falling in love with, pulses throughout my body. I don¡¯t want to stop touching him, and I don¡¯t want him to stop touching me.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because it would be too fast.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    He leans in closer, putting his lips right next to my ear. ¡°You have nothing to prove, Lily.¡±


    I sigh, rxing against him. ¡°You know I hate it when you say no to me.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he says,ughter in his voice. ¡°But I¡¯m not pulling rank. Just slowing things down.¡±


    ¡°Fine. You¡¯re too moral for your own good.¡±


    ¡°Only for your good.¡±


    ¡°If people knew,¡± I say darkly, pressing a kiss to his neck, ¡°just how moral you are.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d never be able to show my face in these parts again,¡± he murmurs against my cheek. His voice is husky, the warmth between us still there. Just because we¡¯ve stopped doesn¡¯t mean our bodies have stopped desiring. And I can feel his arousal, thick underneath me.


    Hayden Cole is hard because of me. The simple fact makes my mouth dry. He wants me.


    I move off hisp, sitting to the side of him, and press my lips to his neck. ¡°But you want me?¡±


    Hayden swallows. ¡°You know I do, Lils.¡±


    My hand creeps across his thigh. I¡¯m so nervous I can barely get the words out, but there¡¯s pleasure in that, too. In knowing that I¡¯m the reason his breathes fast. That he¡¯s as lost to this as I am.


    ¡°Lily¡­¡±


    I pause, my hand by his zipper. ¡°We don¡¯t have to go further than this. I just want to¡­¡± I can¡¯t say it. He¡¯s silent, hanging on to my words, amber eyes gazing into my own. It takes me a minute to find the courage. ¡°I just want to see how much you want me.¡±


    Hayden swears, and I take it as encouragement. I run my hand over the hardness in his jeans and his head falls back against the couch. ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to stop?¡±

 Rogue C36

    He swallows. ¡°You should, baby.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer.¡± I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips again. They¡¯re soft against mine, moving insistently. His hips buck lightly against my hand and I feel giddy with power.


    I tug the zipper down and reach inside.


    There¡¯s a bit of fumbling at first before I manage to close my hand around the hot skin. Hayden lets out a faint groan. ¡°Lily¡­¡±


    I try to pull his jeans down. He helps me, tugging at them with harsh movements, until they¡¯re tucked underneath his hardness. I nce from his face, nearly pained with need, to the clear evidence of it.


    He¡¯s big against his stomach. Swollen and red, the head lightly glistening. It makes my stomach ache with want. What would it feel like to have that inside of me? Would it even fit?


    As I watch, it throbs.


    ¡°Fuck. Lily, just knowing you¡¯re watching me¡­¡±


    I run my hands down his abdomen and trace the happy trail. Looking him in the eyes, I wrap my fingers around his shaft. It¡¯s hot to the touch, the skin soft but so hard underneath. ¡°Do you like that I¡¯m seeing you?¡±


    His response is through clenched teeth. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I start to stroke, up and down, like I¡¯ve heard about. Like I¡¯ve seen. He¡¯s so big that I¡¯m tempted to use two hands.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± I whisper to him. ¡°Tell me what to do.¡±


    Hayden reaches down and puts his hand around mine. He squeezes, showing me how much pressure he prefers. ¡°Like that,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°Wont it hurt you? If I grip you this hard?¡±


    He shakes his head once. ¡°No.¡±


    But he looks like he¡¯s in pain. His head falls back against the edge of the sofa, and I can see the muscles in his throat work as he swallows. I feel too warm, too aware, too needy. Knowing I¡¯m the one making him feel this way¡­ it¡¯s intoxicating. I¡¯ve only had one ss of wine but I feel high off this feeling.


    I grip him tightly and stroke slowly. Hayden¡¯s breath ising fast. He¡¯s watching me through hooded eyes and I love the zed, adoring gaze. I feel powerful. For once, I can make Hayden as unsettled as he makes me, and just as vulnerable.


    I let my other hand travel further down. There¡¯s so much of him I want to explore, but I don¡¯t know how much he¡¯ll let me.


    I tug his boxers down further to free the heavy weights below, cupping them in my hand.


    Hayden¡¯s eyes widen in surprise and I quickly release them. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°No, no¡­¡± He finds my free hand and gently puts it back. I cup them again, tugging lightly. ¡°Fuck, Lily¡­ how do you know how to do this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You do,¡± he breathes, reaching over to smooth my hair back behind my ear.


    I smile at him. ¡°As long as I¡¯m making you feel good¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, you are.¡±


    I nestle closer to him and begin to stroke in earnest. Hayden¡¯s breath ising fast, and his eyes are half-closed. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve bewitched him.


    ¡°Faster,¡± he murmurs, eyes closing entirely.


    So I speed up. I¡¯m gripping him tight, pumping away, my own desire rising in time with his. I want to know what happens at the finish line. I want to hear him.


    His hardness is throbbing in my hand, and the heavy balls I¡¯m cupping contract suddenly.


    ¡°Shit.¡± His hand covers mine, his hips jerking. ¡°I¡¯m close. Lily, I don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°I want you to,¡± I whisper. I want him to lose control entirely. I want to be the one who causes it.


    Almost involuntarily, his hips buck once, as if he¡¯s thrusting into my hand. I feel electrocuted by the sight-of him sopletely undone. I¡¯ve never seen him like that before. I stroke with both my hands, fast and hard. Hayden¡¯s hand creeps up around my waist, pulling me closer, almost by reflex.


    Hayden lets out a muffled groan. ¡°Lily¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur, hoping I¡¯m encouraging. ¡°Come for me.¡±


    He erupts in my hand and I watch, transfixed, as he spills across his stomach. Hayden groans, low and dark.


    I keep stroking, watching his face in awe. He looks raw, naked and undone and so painfully beautiful.


    He pulls my hand away softly. ¡°Sensitive,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be, Lily.¡±


    I lean against his shoulder and peer up at him. He looks exhausted and spent, a faint smile ying on the edges of his lips. He wraps an arm around me without looking and I rest my hand on his chest, feeling the beating heart below.


    ¡°I feel pretty proud of myself,¡± I say.


    ¡°You should. Lily¡­ that was amazing.¡± He lets out a tired chuckle and reaches to run a hand over the bracelet at my wrist.


    ¡°Just wait till I do that to you,¡± he murmurs.


    Nerves and heat chase one another inside of me at the words. His smile is wicked, face close to mine. I can¡¯t help but kiss him again-and for a few minutes, both of us get lost in each other once more.


    Finally, I rest my forehead against his.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    ¡°Does this mean we stop avoiding each other now? And the inevitable?¡±


    Hayden shudders against me. ¡°I couldn¡¯t even if I tried, Lils. And trust me, I¡¯ve tried.¡±


    Hayden


    The present


    The wide desk feels unfamiliar under my hands. Grown-up. Different.

 Rogue C37

    Myptop is familiar-as is the work I was doing. Ones and zeroes sh before me. I don¡¯t do this often anymore, but when I do, I have to make sure it¡¯s perfect. My former brother-in-arms, now turned business partner, is an absolute genius withputers. Me¡­ not so much.


    ¡°Concentrate,¡± Finn says on the phone. ¡°You¡¯re slipping.¡±


    I swear at him. ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been out of the game for too long.¡±


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°All I hear are excuses.¡± I watch as hepletes a loop, finishing off the coding with an eloquent flourish. The screen goes ck for a moment before it returns to the graphs and numbers I¡¯m more familiar with.


    ¡°All right. Now this I know what to do with.¡±


    Heughs. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s good that we have our respective fields, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s stick to that,¡± I say, finding the numbers I need. ¡°We¡¯re pulling in considerable capital from the East Coast now. You saw that I got Hornby Defense involved, too. With their backing, we don¡¯t need to take in any more outside investors.¡±


    ¡°Yep, I read that email.¡±


    I shake my head at Finn through the webcam. ¡°You could respond to them once in a while, you know. So I know you¡¯ve actually read them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± In the silence, I hear the cking of his fingers against the keyboard. ¡°So, how¡¯s home treating you?¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I pause for a moment. ¡°Weird.¡±


    ¡°Being back?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I never go back. Saves me the trouble.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a coward¡¯s way out.¡±


    He scoffs. ¡°That was your way out up until a month ago, so quit ying.¡±


    He¡¯s right, of course, as he is about so many things. Finn has always been a straight shooter. There¡¯s nothing he won¡¯t call you out on, no bullshit he¡¯ll tolerate. It¡¯s why he¡¯s excellent at security software. He finds ws and points them out ruthlessly, designing systems tobat all forms of security breaches. Thest system we designed together just hit the market, and it¡¯s drawing in considerable cash.


    ¡°At least I got my head out of my ass,¡± I say, knowing it¡¯ll draw a chuckle. ¡°If you ever feel like getting some sea breeze¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± he says. ¡°I know where you live, Cole.¡±


    ¡°Is the updateplete?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Go y with your childhood friends.¡±


    ¡°Fuck off, Finn.¡±


    Heughs. ¡°Talk to youter.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll update you on the shareholder meeting next week. And please answer my emails.¡±


    ¡°Yes, boss,¡± he says dryly and hangs up.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    I sigh and close myptop. There¡¯s never a shortage of things to get done. Bing an independent contractor and entrepreneur meant bing my own boss, and there was a part of me that relished it. But it also meant I could take on as much work as I wanted. The more hours I put in, the more money I make. And my pile of cash would grow, and grow, and grow.


    I might never be able to buy respectability in the eyes of the Paradise Shores elite, but I could buy wealth.


    And wealth is power-in allnguages.


    I look around my fancy home office. I hadn¡¯t lied to Lily. The house hade fully furnished. Only, I wasn¡¯t renting. I bought it.


    It had been a crazy decision. And nobody knows-not even Gary. I want the house to be a surprise. A ce for him to retire one day. Paradise Shores had be his home as surely as it had mine, after nearly twenty years in the area and in the Marchands¡¯ service. I also know that he couldn¡¯t live in the beach house indefinitely-not once he retired.


    He¡¯d done so much for me. It had taken me a few years of adulthood to fully realize just how much. With a child¡¯s eye, it had sometimes seemed self-evident that he was my caretaker. My mom was dead and my dad a drunk-of course my uncle took me in.


    But things aren¡¯t that simple, and I know now that a weaker man wouldn¡¯t have been as generous or as strong as he had been.


    But the house would alsoe as a surprise to Lily and her family.


    The thought of her made me groan.


    Oh, Lily.


    I¡¯d screwed it up when she came to my house a few days earlier. I hadn¡¯t been able to stop myself from getting too close, from asking what I wanted to know.


    She was kind to tell me her family had missed me. I¡¯m sure Parker had, but I couldn¡¯t for the life of me imagine Henry or her parents giving me a second thought.


    Lily, though. She had. I¡¯d suspected she would, and knowing I¡¯d hurt her by leaving was painful. It was a wound I¡¯d made worse rather than better by kissing her.


    But damn, what a wonder kissing her was.


    The sweetness of her lips, the way she¡¯d leaned into me. The soft skin of her leg where my hand rested. The kiss was painful in its carefulness, in the way I had to hold back ten years of want and need and sorrow.


    It had been an innocent kiss, but it had meant so much more. And Lily knew that too.


    Hell. I knew why she¡¯d left so abruptly-I understood it. I¡¯d stirred up things I should have let lie. Damn it, Cole.


    The strategy of this operation was simple: ask forgiveness. That was my goal in returning. If I could have her friendship, if I could just have her in my life, it would have to be enough. I knew well enough that I could never ask her to be mine again. I¡¯d hurt her too badly for that.


    But now I¡¯d gone and messed up the prospect of a friendship, too. It¡¯s been two days and I haven¡¯t heard a word from her.


    Everything in me tells me we need to talk. Knowing she¡¯s in this town and not seeing her, not going to find her, feels like torture. She¡¯s like a ma to me. Always has been.


    But my fear wins. Without time to think, she might push me away. And if she did¡­ It would kill me.


    At the same time, I can¡¯t just leave it, either. So I do the only thing I can think of. I drive to therge arts and crafts store just outside of Paradise Shores. Lily had said she still painted, but her eyes had betrayed her. It might not be aplete lie, but it wasn¡¯t entirely truthful, either.


    And the Lily I¡¯d known had only ever wished for one thing, every birthday and Christmas. More art supplies.

 Rogue C38

    I ask one of the employees to help me pick things out, and by the end, I leave the store with a giant basket filled to the brim with brushes, acrylics, rolled-up canvas and y. It¡¯s an assortment of everything I know she likes. Or liked, once upon a time.


    She¡¯s at work when I stop outside her little beach cottage, so I ce the basket on her front step. I scribble something on a little card and ce it on top, wedged in between a set of fan brushes and a sponge.


    And then I drive away, feeling satisfied. It doesn¡¯t matter how many times I say sorry-sorry for everything, for the other night, for leaving her ten years ago, for not staying in contact. It¡¯s just words, and actions speak louder.


    I just pray I didn¡¯t screw everything up by kissing her.


    Hayden


    Hayden, 18


    Lily is sitting in myp, her hair a curtain around me, her smiling lips against mine. ¡°Just stay.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    ¡°Hayden¡­¡± She kisses me again, and I forget what we¡¯re arguing about. That happens a lot these days. My hands trail down her back, finding anchor at her waist. She¡¯s as familiar as the back of my hand and still as stunning as the dawn. Kissing her never stopped striking me silly.


    I pull back, tipping her head so I can reach her neck. It hadn¡¯t taken me long to realize that¡¯s where she was the most sensitive.


    Well¡­ the most sensitive part I could get to while she was clothed. I feel her pulse flutter under my lips.


    ¡°Your grandma hates me,¡± I say. ¡°If she wasn¡¯t invited for Friday night dinner¡­ then maybe.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡±


    ¡°Lily, it¡¯s absolutely true.¡±


    Her breath ising fast. ¡°Okay, maybe, but so what? You¡¯re one of us.¡±


    Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. I might be epted among the younger Marchands, and tolerated by their parents, but I was an absolute outsider among the extended family and their friends. The cuckoo in the nest.


    ¡°Come anyway,¡± she whispers. ¡°Come for me.¡±


    ¡°Lily¡­¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t enjoy myself if you¡¯re not there.¡±


    For Lily, I¡¯d brave the wolves and the devil himself.


    ¡°I¡¯lle by around dessert,¡± I murmur. ¡°Just to say hi.¡±


    She hums in pleasure against my lips. ¡°Promise me.¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She kisses me again, achingly soft, her hands ying with the hair at the back of my neck. ¡°I barely see you these days. I can¡¯t spend the evening without you, too.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± I know she dislikes my job on the fishing boat. She never says it, of course, but it took me away from Paradise Shores for hours on end, not to mention the asional overnight trip. It sometimes got windy or stormy, too, and I knew she hated those times, imagining all the things that might happen at sea. My girl has too good of an imagination.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    But it paid well. So well, in fact, that I¡¯d more or less decided to skip the idea of the military ormunity college altogether. I could stay here and work for another year.


    ¡°What about Parker? Won¡¯t he suspect something?¡±


    Lily shakes her head. ¡°We¡¯ve managed to keep it a secret for weeks and weeks. Why would he?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t hang out with him as much anymore,¡± I whisper, shifting so I can touch my lips to her corbone. ¡°He¡¯s already asked me what¡¯s taking up all my time. Twice.¡±


    Lily¡¯s fingers undo the first two buttons on her blouse. ¡°Lie.¡±


    I grin and watch as her bra is slowly revealed. White, prim cotton with ace trim. Unbearably sexy. Her skin is tan from the summer sun, lightly sprinkled with freckles, her hair framing her beautiful neck. I kiss down the slopes of her breasts, toying with the idea of just getting the top and bra off her. But we¡¯re short on time, and I don¡¯t want her to ever feel rushed or used with me.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll have to,¡± I say, thinking about Parker. It¡¯s understandable that she doesn¡¯t want him or her family knowing about us. It would onlyplicate things.


    ¡°Mmm.¡± Lily bites her lip, her eyes twinkling as she leans back to pull off her shirt. ¡°Whoops?¡±


    I shake my head at her, but my hands are already moving to the fastening of her bra. ¡°We have very little time, baby.¡±


    ¡°Five more minutes.¡±


    ¡°All right. And then I¡¯m out of here before your parents get back.¡±


    She moves closer to me, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping her as we meet, skin to skin. ¡°That¡¯s a deal, Cole.¡±


    In the end, I have to run, but it¡¯s worth it. The scent of her hair and skin cling to me throughout the evening, reminding me of what I¡¯ve somehow gained. Lily is too good for me-that¡¯s true-but for the time being, I¡¯ve decided to let myself dream that we are possible.


    She wants me, just like I want her.


    She likes me, just like I like her.


    And for the first time in a very long time, I¡¯m happy.


    And if she wants me to show up to her family¡¯s ce for dessert¡­ well, I¡¯ll damn well try. I take a shower. I shave and get dressed, wearing the one button-down I own over my worn-out chinos. The only nicer shoes I have are my old boat shoes, inherited from Henry, but they¡¯ll have to do.


    Lily¡¯s parents have always been kind to me. A reserved kindness, true, but still. I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯d be happy if they knew¡­ But maybe they¡¯de around. But her grandmother, Evelyn? The first time she met me, she had asked if I was the pool boy. I¡¯d been thirteen years old.


    And the Marchands didn¡¯t even have a pool.


    She would hate me with Lily.


    I pause on thewn behind their house. The dining room is well-lit-I can see it from here. There has to be at least fifteen people in there. The whole n and all of the extended rtives.


    Great.


    I usually go in through the back door, by the kitchen, and I head there now. Thest thing I want is to open the front door and arrive smack dab in the middle of mingling Marchands in the foyer.


    I reach the back door and it swings open on quiet hinges. I¡¯d oiled them just two weeks earlier so they wouldn¡¯t make a sound when I snuck out of from Lily¡¯s bedroom.


    I wipe off my shoes on the doormat and straighten the button-down. It¡¯s been a hell of a long time since I¡¯ve worn something like this. The house smells like pumpkin soup and cinnamon, and I close my eyes and just breathe. This house has never felt like home to me. It¡¯s never been uplicated. But one day¡­ one day, maybe I could have a home like this for myself.

 Rogue C39

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    The voice is softly spoken and cultured. I recognize it immediately. Grandma Marchand herself, right in the kitchen next to me. So much for a stealthy entrance.


    ¡°Yes. I think it¡¯s been going on for a while now,¡± Eloise says.


    I push back against the door. Thest thing I want to do is interrupt the two matriarchs while they¡¯re conspiring. I know very well that they hold my potential fate with Lily in their hands.


    ¡°Hmm. Not surprising, I suppose. Teenagers will be teenagers.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re worried, you and Michael?¡±


    There¡¯s a faint, heartbreaking pause as Eloise Marchand deliberates. ¡°Well, he has no real college prospects. That¡¯s a shame, too, because the boy is bright.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Grandma Marchand says, in a way that implies she¡¯s not. ¡°Lily¡¯s got a big heart and she¡¯s as stubborn as her father. Do you think she¡¯ll make a stupid decision because of this boy? Stay here just to be close to him? Go to the samemunity college as him? If he¡¯s captured her as thoroughly as you think¡­¡±


    ¡°She might,¡± Eloise says.


    ¡°And give up her spot at Yale?¡±


    ¡°She hasn¡¯t gotten in yet, Evelyn.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    An elegant snort. ¡°But she will. She is a legacy, two times over. Of course she will. And this boy¡­ He might stand in the way.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of. Still, the decision needs to be Lily¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Grandma Marchand says. ¡°And in making that decision, we need to make sure that she has the proper guidance.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to her.¡± I hear the mming of pots, closer to where I¡¯m pressed against the back door. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure she knows that no boy is worth sacrificing her future for.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Least of all that rogue, too. Where did you say he came from again?¡±


    I don¡¯t need to hear anymore.


    I wait for a few more moments, until I hear them leave the kitchen, before I slip out through the door.


    The waves are soothing against the beach. A few almost make it all the way up to the stairs to the beach house. They inch closer, but I know they won¡¯t make it. They¡¯ve tried for years-every night at high tide-but they never make it.


    The ocean isplete ckness. I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ve been sitting out here. It feels like I¡¯ve been alone with my thoughts and the ocean for an eternity.


    The dinner party will be finished up by now. Michael Marchand will drive the olddy home. Lily will stand on the grand porch, the pearls she hates to wear around her neck like a noose, and wave goodbye like the good girl they want her to be. The good girl she is.


    I can see her in my mind¡¯s eye. Her hair is piled high on her head in a nod to old-fashioned customs. Her dress is perfectly ironed. All of her, one gigantic do not touch sign.


    Eloise and Gran weren¡¯t wrong. I¡¯m beneath her, and we all know it.


    And I would rather die than let her sacrifice her future just because of my lowly prospects. Her love would turn to resentment soon enough, when she¡¯s denied the same opportunities her brothers are, because of me. Because she didn¡¯t go to Yale. Because her boyfriend doesn¡¯t drive a sports car. He currently doesn¡¯t have a car at all.


    It¡¯ste when I hear the soft padding of her feet on the sand. She¡¯s barefoot, walking from the main house. The perfect dress is hitched up to give her more legroom, and she¡¯s released her hair. It tumbles wild and free down her shoulders, a river of auburn curls.


    She¡¯s so beautiful it hurts.


    Lily takes a seat next to me on the steps. We sit in silence for a while, watching the waves as they fight against nature¡¯sws to make it up the beach.


    I can tell that she wants me to talk. To exin myself-why I didn¡¯t show up, despite promising to. But I can¡¯t tell her what I overheard. The words won¡¯te. Not for the first time, there¡¯s absolutely nothing I can say to make this right or to exin myself.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I finally murmur.


    ¡°Hiya.¡±


    ¡°How was dessert?¡±


    ¡°Disgusting. Liquor-infused cherries. You didn¡¯t miss a thing.¡±


    And there she goes, trying to make me feel better even though she doesn¡¯t have a clue why I¡¯m down. Lily¡¯s kindness has always been one of the most amazing things about her. I¡¯ve never understood how one person could carry so much understanding and love.


    But that¡¯s also why I need to ask her something, even if the answer will break me.


    ¡°That sounds awful.¡±


    ¡°It was.¡± She scoots closer until we¡¯re sitting shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. I can see the goose bumps on her legs.


    ¡°You¡¯re cold, Lils.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    I shrug out of my hoodie and wrap it around her. She nestles into my side until I¡¯m forced to wrap an arm around her shoulders. It feels better than it should.


    ¡°Lily, have you thought more about college?¡±


    She takes my hand and puts it on her bare knee. Her soft skin is riddled with goose bumps and I rub my thumb in little circles, trying to keep her warm and failing. ¡°A bit. I¡¯ve been reading course catalogs this week.¡±


    ¡°Yale?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and Princeton.¡± She traces one of my knuckles. ¡°And Rexfield College. They have some interesting courses in art design.¡±


    I feel nauseous, all of a sudden. ¡°They do?¡±


    Lily¡¯s voice is soft. ¡°Yes. And I know it¡¯s not as prestigious as the others, but I don¡¯t really care about all that. What¡¯s really important is that I get a good education.¡±


    ¡°Your parents would hatemunity college.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, they¡¯de around. I¡¯m thest to go.¡± She shoots me an exasperated nce. ¡°After all of Henry¡¯s sess, do you really think it matters what I end up doing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I think it matters.¡±


    Her green eyes soften, just slightly. ¡°I¡¯d be close by, you know, if you continue to work at the marina. If you apply too, we¡¯d even be going to the same college.¡±

 Rogue C40

    ¡°You always spoke about Yale,¡± I murmur. ¡°It¡¯s your dad¡¯s alma mater.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Not you, too. Have you and my dad finally begun to see eye-to-eye?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes we do,¡± I say. When ites to her and her happiness, I figure we might be on the same page entirely. And in this regard, I know I¡¯m not a part of the calction.


    She senses my hesitation. With a small sigh, she leans her head against my shoulder as I tighten my grip around her thigh. Lily has never been closer to me than she is now, with no brothers around, just the two of us together on the beach without secrets or pretensions.


    But she has never been more out of reach.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a thought so far,¡± she murmurs. ¡°We can talk about it moreter.¡±


    Her voice might be soft, but I can hear steelcing her words. She would go to the mat for this if she had to. Fight with her parents over this. Turn down her legacy and an opportunity that kids like me didn¡¯t even dare to dream of.


    For me.


    And fuck if that didn¡¯t terrify me.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about it moreter.¡±


    There¡¯s no sound but her soft breathing and the waves gently crashing against the beach. I¡¯m so used to the smell of salt by now that I barely register it anymore, but it suddenly hits me with the same force it had the first time. The sound of the ocean has be home, even if I¡¯d never meant it to. Somewhere along the line I had forgotten that I wasn¡¯t from here.


    I¡¯d forgotten who I was, and suddenly I can¡¯t stay here for even a second longer, or it would tear me apart.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I say and grab her hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    She smiles at me as I pull her into standing. ¡°Where to?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere. Anywhere. Away.¡±


    Lily pulls my hoodie tighter around her. Her eyes search mine, and I don¡¯t know what she sees in me, or if she realizes just how close to the edge I am in that moment-that there¡¯s a storm inside me that I need to let out or it would drive me mad entirely-but she just nods.


    ¡°Okay.¡± There¡¯s a smile as dazzling as the night sky on her lips and trust in her gaze. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Hay.¡±


    Lily


    The present


    The first thing I think is, This must have cost him a fortune.


    The second thing is, He got me pastels. I haven¡¯t painted with pastels in forever.


    The third thing is lessplimentary. How dare he?


    I carry the giant basket inside and put it on my dining-room table. It¡¯s filled to the brim with the very best supplies a girl can ask for. It¡¯s with shaking hands that I pull out a jar of gesso, and I can¡¯t help the smile that breaks across my face at the packet of charcoal crayons. It¡¯s been over a year since I did this-since I painted just for fun. Looking at these supplies, at the millions of possibilities¡­ it does something to me. Tightens my chest and opens my heart. Dangerous, dangerous.


    There¡¯s a note, too. His handwriting has improved,pared to the ten-year-old letter.


    Sorry for the other night.


    Let¡¯s give friendship another try.


    I promise I¡¯ll behave. -Hay


    Friendship. Hees back out of the blue, not a call or a text in ten years. He goes out of his way to be at events I¡¯m at, fixing my damn gate without my permission. He tells me he¡¯s sorry for leaving and asks for friendship.


    Okay. All right.


    I can handle that.


    But I can¡¯t handle him asking me, in that deep voice of his, whether or not I missed him while he was away. I can¡¯t handle Hayden kissing me like he¡¯s afraid I¡¯m going to break, like I¡¯m all he¡¯s ever wanted, like he wants to start something anew. It wasn¡¯t a kiss for old time¡¯s sake-it was a make-up kiss. A start-things-again-kiss.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    My hands mp into fists of their own ord. How dare he.


    I¡¯d worked so hard to get over him. So hard to ignore the painful beat of my heart when I thought of him, the constantparison when I was around other men.


    Why did he still have the cone shell?


    I¡¯d seen it on his mantlepiece. Arge cone shell with a delicately paintedndscape on it. A zing sunset cast against trees, a full moon. I¡¯d made it for his fourteenth birthday. I knew that if I turned it around, on the inside of the shell, I¡¯d see the scruffy handwriting that thirteen-year-old me had worked so hard to perfect. To Hay, love Lils


    He¡¯d kept it.


    He¡¯d even brought it with him to his rental-a house so clinically decorated that it practically screamed bachelor pad.


    Why?


    I pick up the big basket and carry it to my guest room. I put it on the bed and close the door behind me. Until I figure out what to do with Hayden, I won¡¯t use a thing. I don¡¯t want his gifts until theye with a proper exnation-or when I¡¯ve decided I can live without one.


    As it so happens, I might just be able to get one tonight.


    My mother likes Friday night dinners. It had been a standing routine growing up. On Friday night, at seven o¡¯clock, she¡¯d serve some amazing dish in the main dining room. In the summers, we would barbecue on the porch and Dad would handle the grill. Sometimes we ate roasted lobster, giggling as we waved the ws around, pretending to fight one another.


    Being back in Paradise Shores meant going to Mom¡¯s Friday night dinners, as often as possible, or suffer her wrath.


    Sometimes it was just the family, but more often than not there were plenty of people. Friends of my parents were invited to join, as was the extended family. Sometimes the neighbors. Growing up, Hayden was often there, especially if he¡¯d already been ying with my brothers beforehand.


    After the argument I¡¯d had with Mom-after she hid that letter for ten years-I hadn¡¯t nned on going this Friday. But then she told me she had invited both Gary and his nephew. For old time¡¯s sake, she had written in the text, but I recognized it as an attempt at an apology.


    She¡¯s trying to make amends.


    And while I don¡¯t forgive her¡­ I also don¡¯t want to pass up on the opportunity. When I arrive at the family house, my parents¡¯ driveway is already filled with cars. I recognize the ck Mercedes that Hayden¡¯s currently driving. Parker¡¯s Jeep is there too. I¡¯m thest to arrive.


    They¡¯re out on the porch and I hear the sounds ofughter and ice against ss. Parker spots me first. He has his sunsses on, sitting on the settee, a beer in his hand.


    ¡°Finally!¡±


    I shake my head right back at him and head to the barbecue. My dad is focused on the steaks, a look of supreme confidence on his face. He treats everything in life like he does his business deals. ¡°I¡¯m only five minuteste.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure,¡± Parker says.

 Rogue C41

    Dad wraps an arm around me. ¡°Hello, sweetheart.¡±


    ¡°Hi.¡±


    He frowns down at me. ¡°I heard about the Anderson project from Reed Harris.¡±R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He said his son was running lead on it¡­ with help from you.¡±


    ¡°I worked on it, yes. We just recently sold it. Turned a solid profit.¡±


    Dad nods and turns back to the grill. ¡°That¡¯s good. Cut your teeth, sweetheart.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t say it, but I hear the implication. And in a few years¡­ you might work with me. I know he doesn¡¯t consider Harris Development proper builders, not in the way he is.


    ¡°I will,¡± I say, knowing it might be a lie. I¡¯m not sure I want to work with this, not forever.


    My dad gives a nod. ¡°Your mom is inside.¡±


    I know when I¡¯m dismissed.


    Hayden¡¯s standing at the end of the porch. He¡¯s wearing dark-blue cks and a button-down. It¡¯s simple clothing, but he fills them outpletely. There¡¯s no doubt just how muscr he is.


    His eyes meet mine. There are questions in them, questions I know he¡¯ll askter. About the kiss. About the basket. About us.


    He nces down at my dress and I see the exact moment he realizes just what I¡¯m wearing. I have to admit, after eleven years the fit isn¡¯t quite what it used to be, but somehow, that only works to my advantage. The blue dress hugs my curves and the scalloped back shows off more skin that I usually would nowadays. Still, it¡¯s modest enough for a Friday family dinner.


    His eyes flick back to mine with surprise. Yes, I want to tell him. You remember this dress. It¡¯s what I wore to my eighteenth birthday party-the night we became us. For a while, at least. Before he broke it.


    I turn my back on him.


    Garyes up the stairs to join us. He¡¯s rarely at Friday night dinners, and I¡¯ve always wondered if he feels ufortable with the odd mix of friendship, family and work. But Hayden¡¯s presence isn¡¯t something he¡¯d miss.


    My dad shakes Gary¡¯s hand.


    ¡°d you could join us tonight.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the invitation, sir.¡±


    ¡°Have a seat. There¡¯s wine and beer.¡± Dad raises his voice. ¡°Parker, get Gary something to drink.¡±


    My good-for-nothing brother shoots out of his chair to do as Dad bids. I resist rolling my eyes and step past them into the kitchen. Mom is working on the final touches.


    She stops when she sees me. ¡°Ch¨¦rie¡­ I¡¯m d you came.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s tradition.¡±


    Mom nods, her eyes glinting mischievously as she looks at my dress. As if she knows exactly why I¡¯ve dressed up.


    She¡¯s put her hair up in a big bun and gold earrings dangle from her ears. The years have been good to her. It¡¯s vanity, but I hope I¡¯ll age like her. Like nice, aged French wine. Like a woman who gave up her home country for an American businessman. Who dedicated her life to raising four children and making this small, seaside town her home. She hasn¡¯t always been easy to please-God knows that-but¡­ I¡¯ll forgive her eventually for the letter. I know that.


    ¡°Help me with the haricot verts?¡± Her voice is tentative, pointing at the small casserole.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°A bit more salt.¡± She¡¯s quiet, both of us working in silence for a few beats, before she surprises me by talking about Hayden. ¡°The military¡­it¡¯s not exactly a ce for just anyone. I didn¡¯t know he had that streak, but when I think back on it, I think it was just the right ce for him.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Can you imagine Parker in the Army? Rhys?¡± Mom takes a tray of baked potatoes out from the oven. They smell amazing, filled to the brim with herbs and seasoning and cheese. Dad might know how to grill-the only thing he knows how to do in terms of food-but Mom reigns supreme in here.


    ¡°Henry, maybe,¡± I say.


    She nods, a smile on her face at the thought of my oldest brother. The wonder child. ¡°Yes, Henri would manage it. He¡¯d probably excel. But no, I can¡¯t imagine any of you others would, apart from Hayden.¡±


    I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s genuine in her praise of Hayden, or if she wants to get on my good side again, but I decide to not question it.


    ¡°Are we ready to sit down to dinner?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, carrying the potatoes. ¡°Do you want to tell your dad to take the meat off the grill?¡±


    We all take a seat around the dining table. Hayden takes the spot opposite me, and I can tell that he¡¯s searching for my gaze, but I avoid making eye contact with him. I¡¯m feeling too much, not all of it good, and I don¡¯t trust my gaze. He¡¯s always had a way of being able to read me.


    But as it turns out, it¡¯s difficult to avoid looking at someone who¡¯s the clear subject of conversation. Mom asks him repeatedly if he got hurt in the Navy. Dad asks about rankings and career prospects. Parker makes sly innuendoes about scars and women, drawingughs from all corners of the table.


    Hayden grins and bears it all.


    The boy I remembered would have hated being the center of attention, had disliked praise, but now he handles it with grace. The expression on his face is one of serenity.


    And when Hayden regales us with a story from his time patrolling the Bering Straits, nobody eats, hanging on to his every word. My dad and Parker can¡¯t get enough of the details.


    ¡°And you were right off the coast of Russia?¡±


    Hayden nods. ¡°We¡¯re in international waters, but the storm caught us off guard. There was no warning-nothing. We wouldn¡¯t make it to port in time, so we had to ride it out at sea. That¡¯s not unusual in the Straits in September, these storms, when the sea ice is starting to form in the Arctic. It¡¯s one of thest patrols of the year before we need to use the ice-breakers.¡±


    ¡°The waves?¡±


    ¡°Over forty feet.¡±


    Parker whistles. ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°Thing is, the wind is so strong, it¡¯s pushing us closer to their border. Andmand knows that the closer wee, the more antsy the Russians are getting.¡±


    Mom frowns. ¡°But you¡¯re not meaning to. It wouldn¡¯t be intentional.¡±


    ¡°One would think that matters, but in these situations, it doesn¡¯t. A breach of naval space is a breach of naval space.¡± Hayden shrugs. ¡°We would be on edge too if the situation was reversed.¡±


    Dad is leaning forward. ¡°What did you do, son?¡±

 Rogue C42

    ¡°The USS Denver is a big ship. But it¡¯s not an aircraft carrier or a destroyer, it¡¯s a cruiser. This was a regr patrol. So I had one of my lieutenants radio in tomand and make sure they made contact with the Russians. That had to be step one, that they knew this wasn¡¯t intentional. And in the worst case so that they could help us if we went down.¡±


    Gary draws a breath. ¡°Hayden¡­¡±


    He shoots his uncle a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s rare. But we didn¡¯t have cargo or bast, only bast water.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± My father reacts immediately. Ships and boats, and you¡¯ll have his rapt attention. ¡°You¡¯re telling me a US cruiser went to sea without proper bast?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was a tactical decision, but one that backfired given the unexpected storm. We were rolling heavily. We went from thirty degrees heeled over to one side, only to whip to the other at thirty degrees, all in the span of seconds. The crew was¡­ well. It took its toll.¡±


    ¡°Did you have steering-way?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We had to fight for every inch to make sure we met those waves head-on. But she¡¯s a well-maintained ship, and the crew is worth its weight in gold.¡±


    ¡°What did you do?¡± I murmur, looking at him. It¡¯s easy to picture him in his uniform, out under a darkened sky, thousands of miles from home. The waves crashing around him, barking orders.


    Hayden¡¯s gaze softens. ¡°You do what you can. You give the right orders and you follow the ones given to you. And then you hold on, and you pray for luck, and hope you win the fight against the sea.¡±


    There¡¯splete silence around the table. I can see the pride in Gary as he looks at Hayden. Oddly enough, it¡¯s also mirrored in my dad¡¯s eyes. Who knew?


    ¡°We¡¯re so thankful you¡¯re back,¡± Mom says finally. ¡°And no more active service, huh?¡±


    ¡°Not sure yet,¡± Hayden says carefully, avoiding my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll have to see. I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯m staying.¡±


    My mom shoots him a massive smile. ¡°Will youe tomorrow? To the marina?¡±


    Hayden looks confused, but nods. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Mom is on the organizingmunity for the Junior Sailing Regatta,¡± Parker exins. ¡°I¡¯ll be there, helping out. You should join, man.¡±


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯d love to.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll text you the details,¡± Parker says. ¡°Lily will be there too, won¡¯t you?¡±


    I grit my teeth and nod. ¡°Yes. Yeah, I will.¡±


    Mom puts a hand on mine and I resist the urge to withdraw it. ¡°Lily is painting children¡¯s faces, the dear. It was so poprst year that we had to get her back a second time.¡±


    Hayden looks straight at me. There are a million things in his eyesughter being the main one. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see that.¡±


    The rest of the dinner is uneventful. We make it through the main course and dessert without any mishaps or odd questions. I even manage to avoid talking directly to Hayden.


    But Mom turns to me after dessert, and judging by the teasing look in her eyes, she¡¯s about to put an end to the peace. ¡°Lily, how¡¯s Turner? Is it time we start inviting him to a few Friday night dinners?¡±


    I can practically see Parker¡¯s grin next to me, just like I notice the sudden edge in Hayden. God, get me out of this dinner, and save me from my own meddling mother.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± I say, gritting my teeth. ¡°We just went to an event together. It¡¯s too early for family dinners.¡±


    Avoid Hayden¡¯s gaze, avoid Hayden¡¯s gaze¡­ It¡¯s a mantra in my head now.


    ¡°But you¡¯ve known him forever,¡± Parker points out. ¡°It¡¯s not a stretch, exactly.¡±


    Dades to my rescue. His face is marred by a frown, as it so often is. ¡°They work together. There¡¯s no denying he¡¯s a good man, like his father. But mixing business and pleasure is never a good idea.¡±


    ¡°Yes, there¡¯s that. Thanks, Dad. I¡¯m very concerned about what it might do to our professional life. Now, let¡¯s move on from my dating life.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    But no, apparently we aren¡¯t quite done. Hayden frowns, suddenly looking like a mirror image of my father. ¡°Not to mention, Parker and I knew Turner quite well in high school. I¡¯m not entirely sure about some of his actions.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± my dad says, leaning back. ¡°Parker, is that true?¡±


    Parker shoots Hayden a look so filled with surprise it¡¯s almostical. ¡°Well, yes. Technically. But he¡¯s grown up since then.¡±


    ¡°He has,¡± Hayden says thoughtfully. He¡¯s leaning back in his chair too, muscled arms crossed over his chest, looking like the sole authority on the topic. ¡°One wonders how much, though.¡±


    I¡¯m so angry. It¡¯s a hot furnace inside me, burning and burning. Now he¡¯s protective? Is it the kind of protective you are of a friend? The same kind of friend you kiss-or the friend you send tonic gift baskets to with notes asking for friendship?


    ¡°Turner¡¯s a great person.¡± It takes effort to keep my voice calm. ¡°For the moment, I¡¯m not interested-but if I want to date him, I will.¡±


    My emotions are like a yo-yo. One pull from Hayden and they bounce, sending me reeling again. And I¡¯m tired of it.


    I stand to clear the tes after dinner. I¡¯ve barely made it to the kitchen when Hayden follows me, carrying tes of his own.


    There¡¯s tension in his shoulders. They echo the same unease in mine. He puts tes down next to the dishwasher and taps his fingers along the countertop.


    I fill the machine with dishes and let the silence stretch on.


    He finally speaks up. ¡°Did you get the basket I left you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And¡­?¡±


    ¡°And what does it mean? Is it a friendship basket? Is it a sorry-I-kissed-you basket?¡± I ask, not saying the third option. Is it a sorry-I-left-you basket? I-want-you-back-basket?


    ¡°You¡¯re angry. Damn.¡± He runs a hand through his hair. ¡°It was both, I suppose. A sorry-for-everything basket.¡±


    ¡°For everything? It was a good basket, Hayden, I¡¯ll admit, but still¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he says, leaning closer. ¡°It¡¯s not enough.¡±


    I close the dishwasher and face him entirely. ¡°Why did you kiss me the other night?¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a moment, like I¡¯ve surprised him by needing to ask. But then his eyes ze. ¡°Honestly? Because I wanted to.¡±


    It sets something off in me. It¡¯s anger, and it¡¯s need, and it¡¯s so many more things. Because I wanted to. Well, I¡¯d wanted to as well. But now it¡¯splicated things, and I¡¯m no closer to getting answers. I still don¡¯t know what I am to him. A fun fling from the past? A childhood friend he remembers fondly?


    Parker walks into the kitchen. ¡°Hey, guys. Care for a drink? We could head downstairs and let the elders do their thing.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m heading out.¡±

 Rogue C43

    Parker frowns at me. ¡°Already? Not a single drink?¡±


    ¡°No. I have an early morning tomorrow.¡± I kiss him on the cheek as I pass. ¡°Have one for me. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow at the marina.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    I don¡¯t say goodbye to Hayden. I head straight out to my parents and Gary, kissing them goodbye and thanking them for the dinner. I can¡¯t stay around Hayden another minute, or I¡¯ll demand proper answers to my questions. And then I¡¯ll break-and it won¡¯t be pretty when I do.


    I hear them talking as I leave, but I don¡¯t turn around. More goodbyes and are you really leaving, too?


    Hayden is following me out, but I still don¡¯t look back. I keep walking. He¡¯s taller than me, though, and with his long legs he catches up with me easily. ¡°Damn it, Lily. Wait a second.¡±


    I turn on my heel, taking the path behind the hedges to the greenhouse. I open the door to the smell of hydrangeas and sun-ripe tomatoes straight on the vine.R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    Hayden closes the door behind him. He nces around, eyes narrowing at the abundance of green. My mom had it built six years ago and it¡¯s been her pride and joy ever since. It¡¯s so filled now that once inside, you¡¯repletely concealed from view. But of course, he hasn¡¯t seen it before.


    ¡°This is new.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I wrap my arms around my chest. ¡°Just another thing you missed while you were gone.¡±


    He takes a step forward. His face is set in hard, rough lines, nothing at all like the charming appearance he presented at dinner. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the kiss, all right? Truly.¡±


    Iugh. It¡¯s not a happy sound, not at all. It¡¯s too hot in here-balmy, even. I can already feel sweat down my back, anger making my cheeks flush. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re sorry.¡±


    Hayden scowls. ¡°Why are you angry, Lily?¡±


    ¡°How could I not be? Youe back here and you fit in with the family. You joke around and make Momugh. You say you¡¯re back indefinitely.¡±


    I must look a mess: crazed expression, arms moving. I don¡¯t stop, either. I walk up to him and shove him hard, backwards.


    He takes it in stride. ¡°Lily?¡±


    ¡°Why did you kiss me?¡±


    ¡°Because I wanted to,¡± he repeats. ¡°Because I¡­¡± He shakes his head, but doesn¡¯t try to stop the blows I¡¯m aiming at his chest, my fists barely connecting, tears burning behind my eyes.


    ¡°You can¡¯te back here and kiss me and act like we¡¯re friends, as if you didn¡¯t break my damn heart.¡± There¡¯s so much inside of me-ten years¡¯ worth of anger and resentment-and it¡¯s alling out.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°How could you? You just left!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Hayden wraps his arms around my waist, steadying me against him. He doesn¡¯t stop me from hitting. It¡¯s like he¡¯s taking it all, offering me his flesh as payment. ¡°I had to.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Another hit. ¡°Why?¡±


    His voice is pained. ¡°I had to, Lily. I didn¡¯t want to. It killed me to leave you.¡±


    ¡°It killed you?¡± I tear at the buttons of his shirt, needing to get closer to him. Needing the connection of skin, my nails on him, to make him hurt like I¡¯ve hurt. ¡°You didn¡¯t even say goodbye. I spent years wondering if it was something I did.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s mouth is there, kissing away the hot, angry tears on my cheeks. ¡°No. No, nothing you¡¯d done, baby. Never anything you¡¯d done.¡±


    I bury my hand in his hair and meet his lips with my own. It¡¯s fire and me, the two of us, colliding without restraints. We¡¯re still arguing, just with our lips. I punish him with my lips and he responds with his tongue. It¡¯s a fiery dance.


    His hands skim the side of my chest and I shiver. My nipples are taut against the fabric of my dress; I can feel it.


    ¡°You can¡¯t juste back here,¡± I say, my hands finding the buttons on his shirt. I tear and rip and get them open.


    ¡°I know.¡± He helps me with my own clothes, tearing at the zipper of my dress. ¡°I know. Fuck, this dress, Lily¡­ When I saw you¡­ You kill me.¡±


    I get all of his buttons undone and he releases me long enough to tear the shirt off his body. My hands feast on him-on the long clean line of his shoulders, so much broader now. The smattering of hair on his chest that he never used to have. The taut muscles of his stomach. Mine, my mind says. Always.


    ¡°Here.¡± He pulls me to a wrought-iron chair in the corner. I push him down onto it and straddle him. This is going fast, too fast, and not nearly fast enough. Ten years of anger and disappointment and resentment. Ten years of loving him from a distance.


    Hayden¡¯s breath is hot against my neck. He pushes my dress down and presses kisses to my corbones, my chest, my breasts. He kisses me like I¡¯m a lifeline. Below me, I can feel the strength of his arousal, tearing at the fabric of his jeans. I want him inside me as badly as I want to hurt him. The greenery around us is a beautiful backdrop to our anger, hiding us from the outside world.


    ¡°Lily,¡± he murmurs. His hands find the sp of my bra and snap it open in one smooth moment. He pulls it off me, baring me to his view.


    ¡°See?¡± I ask, though I don¡¯t know what I mean. See what you do to me?


    But Hayden understands. His hands smooth up my waist to cup my breasts. He leans forward, closing his lips against one of my nipples. He sucks strongly, alternating with a bite that sends me gasping.


    ¡°Asshole.¡±


    Heughs around my nipple. ¡°I know.¡±


    I pull at his hair, tug and grip as he presses bruising kisses to my skin. I missed his hair, the thick, silky ckness that¡¯s so uniquely him. Nobody else has hair like Hayden.


    ¡°You had to shave this off,¡± I tell him. ¡°I saw a photo.¡±


    He nods. Strong hands pull at the fabric of my dress, bunching it high on my waist. He¡¯s fighting, always fighting, but this time to get us closer together. ¡°You had a photo of me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Gary showed us.¡± I kiss him again, a searing warmth ring through my body. The fabric of my panties is so thin that I can feel the roughness of his jeans below, rubbing at me through the underwear.


    The anger is like a kindle to my fire, to my desire, to my need to be one with him. I run my nails up the muscr grooves of his back and Hayden groans against my neck. ¡°Fuck, Lily.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you remember?¡± I whisper in his ear. ¡°I hurt when you hurt.¡±


    His hands move, tearing, tossing, getting fabric out of the way. He kisses me deeply as his hands grip my ass, holding me against him, against the hardness in his jeans and the strength of his chest.


    It¡¯s easy to move my hips like this, to rub against him. Friction is our friend. ¡°Siren,¡± he groans.


    ¡°Asshole,¡± I say again.


    Hayden slips his hand into my panties. The first touch of his callused fingers sends me gasping. It¡¯s been too long, too long since I¡¯ve been touched. Desire throbs between my legs. Hayden finds my center easily, circling a few times.


    And then, gently, he slips a finger inside me. Once, twice, he pumps it, my world changing with every delicious intrusion. I know what he¡¯s doing. He¡¯s making sure I¡¯m ready for him.

 Rogue C44

    ¡°Yes,¡± I groan against the curve of his ear. ¡°Please.¡±


    Hayden knows what I need. Themunication between us is instinctual, natural. He undoes his fly and pulls down his briefs and there¡¯s a bit of positioning and then he¡¯s rubbing his hardness along my wetness and I can¡¯t breathe for wanting him. There are things we should discuss-things to say and confirm-but I can¡¯t find the words. Can¡¯t even think them.


    ¡°Lily,¡± he breathes, and then he pushes inside me in a single, strong thrust. The sudden force of our joining jars me and sends me off bnce. I grab his shoulders for support, digging my nails in deep. I can feel him throb inside me.


    Hayden releases a shaky breath and grips my waist with hard, demanding hands. I don¡¯t know how I made it ten years without him-without this.


    I grip his hair. ¡°Tell me why you still have the cone shell.¡±


    Hisugh is breathless. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I saw it on your mantlepiece.¡± I rise on my tiptoes, feeling him inside me, before I let myself drop back down. Every inch of friction is delicious. ¡°Don¡¯t lie.¡±


    ¡°Because you gave it to me,¡± he growls. He rolls his hips and grips my hips so hard I know I¡¯ll have bruises. Every thrust of his hips is punishing, reaching ces deep inside me. He fights to fill me just as I fight to get closer to him.


    I grip his hair too roughly and breathe his name, just like he used to whisper mine. ¡°Hayden.¡±


    He gives me everything, and I take it, holding on to him tightly. There¡¯s no time for tenderness, both of us struggling with the strength of our emotions.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have left.¡±


    Hayden thrusts into me hard, his body shuddering. ¡°I know that,¡± he groans. ¡°Don¡¯t you think I know that? Don¡¯t you think it kills me?¡±


    He buries his head against the crook of my neck, one of his hands working at the top of my legs. The fact that he remembers how to touch me-how to get me to the edge-makes me angrier. But as my orgasm barrels through me, as pleasure crests through my body, there¡¯s nothing but blinding ecstasy.


    He groans against my neck as hees and I hold him through it, hands in his hair, pressing him closer. He grips me just as tightly.


    I cling to him through the aftershocks, through the trembling in his own body. It¡¯s too much. There¡¯s nothing left, no pretension to hide behind, no it¡¯s-nice-to-see-you-again.


    We¡¯re bared entirely.


    For a long time, the only sound was our heavy breathing and the feeling of him inside me, still pulsing. I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. He still smells like salt and Hayden and home.


    ¡°Lily,¡± he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me.


    We sit there, just breathing together. And for a minute I let myself believe. That we¡¯re still an us. That we¡¯re still together. That he cares.


    But only for a second.


    And then I stand up warily, aware that we need to clean up. That we¡¯re in a greenhouse on the edge of my parents¡¯ property and we should have left fifteen minutes ago, and that I¡¯m no closer to understanding why he left than I was a week ago.


    Hayden looks up at me as he tucks himself back in and zips his pants up. He bends over to grab his shirt from the floor, and in the sh of a moment, he¡¯s back to looking respectable


    I pull my dress back down and snap my bra back into ce. It¡¯s enough to shove my arms back through the holes of the dress.


    ¡°Do you have a tissue?¡±


    Hayden shakes his head. ¡°No. But I¡¯ll go get-¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll just head home.¡± Plus, I really don¡¯t want the others to know.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m good.¡±


    ¡°Lily-¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± I grab my purse from where I¡¯d tossed it, abandoned in a flower bed. It¡¯s a bit dirty, but nothing I can¡¯t fix. Hayden looks at me with a mixture of resentment and anger-his eyes betraying his own sense of confusion. There was a time when I¡¯d give everything to solve his problems for him. But I can¡¯t, not anymore.


    ¡°Let¡¯s talk,¡± he says, as if we haven¡¯t already tried that.


    ¡°I have to go. I have to clean up.¡± I push the door open and hurry toward the driveway. It¡¯s not a lie-I do need a tissue. But it¡¯s more than that. Another moment in there and he would¡¯ve seen the hot tears that overflow and race down my cheeks.


    Hayden


    Hayden, 18


    Mile after mile of dark road. I take us out of Paradise Shores, in toward the country, the road guarded by the dark outlines of maple and birch. There¡¯s no one on the road except us.


    I don¡¯t have a goal in mind, I just want to feel the wheels beneath me. Driving at night feels like flying. It feels like freedom.


    Lily has her feet up on the dash. Her hair is syed over her shoulders, and in the dim lighting it looks much darker than usual. She¡¯s been quiet since we left the house. I can tell she¡¯s still curious, but she¡¯s not pressing. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever loved her more than I do right now.


    I reach over and put a hand on her smooth leg. Just to double-check that she¡¯s here-that I haven¡¯t lost her. Yet.


    Lily threads her fingers through mine. Her skin is warm and soft, and she turns my hand over, lightly tracing each knuckle. ¡°They¡¯re getting so rough,¡± she murmurs. ¡°From the fishing boats.¡±


    Haulings and burning rope through my hands has taken its toll. They¡¯re cracked in ces, calluses sore on the inside of my palms. Against her soft skin my hands must feel like sandpaper.


    I start pulling my hand away, but Lily won¡¯t let me. ¡°You¡¯re not getting away,¡± she says and turns my hand back over. ¡°I can read your palm, you know.¡±


    ¡°My future?¡±


    Maybe she hears the tightness in my voice, or she can sense my emotions, but Lily just shakes her head. ¡°Of course, but that¡¯s to be expected. I¡¯m more advanced than that.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I can read your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Through my palm?¡± She¡¯s being outrageous, and I know it¡¯s to cheer me up. It makes me feel even less deserving of her love, but I can¡¯t give it up.


    ¡°Oh, yes. It¡¯s a secret, ancient practice from¡­ Antarctica.¡±


    My lips twitch. ¡°You learnt this from penguins?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mock me.¡±


    ¡°All right, all right. What am I thinking, then?¡±

 Rogue C45

    She settles into the seat and traces a line across my palm, avoiding a sore spot. ¡°You¡¯re thinking about the car. It runs very smoothly, because I know Parker asked Gary to change some thingamajig or add oil or something. And you¡¯re enjoying the way it feels.¡±


    She¡¯s right about that. The car is an old, beautiful Jeep, only used by the kids. I¡¯ve driven it before, but only with Parker, when he¡¯s been too drunk to drive himself after a party. I¡¯ve driven it when I¡¯ve picked up Lily, too, after school. I know where the keys are kept in the garage.


    But I¡¯m not supposed to take it out for a spin like this.


    ¡°Yes, I did think that. That¡¯s an easy one.¡±


    Lily flicks my thumb. ¡°You¡¯re thinking that you¡¯re going to take Sunday off work to join Parker and me when we go sailing.¡±


    ¡°Good try, Lils.¡± I nce over at her. She¡¯s smiling, looking mischievous and too cute for her own good. ¡°But you know I have to work.¡±


    ¡°Fine, you¡¯re thinking that you wish you could take Sunday off.¡±


    ¡°All right, then it¡¯s correct. And I can tell what you¡¯re doing, you know. These are obvious thoughts. Is this really the way they do it in Antarctica?¡±


    Lily chuckles. ¡°You¡¯re such a demanding customer.¡±


    I nce at the dashboard. It¡¯s past one in the morning. We¡¯ve been driving for an hour already, and I know I should start heading back. But I don¡¯t want to end this-just her and me, and nothing butplete freedom. It doesn¡¯t matter that it¡¯s only an illusion.


    ¡°Very well. You¡¯re thinking about me.¡± Lily¡¯s voice turns low, the way it does when she¡¯s shy and pushing through, or when she¡¯s trying to seduce me. It usually doesn¡¯t take much.


    ¡°You are sitting right next to me. It would be rude if I wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Idiot. Fine, you¡¯re thinking that I¡¯m the best, the brightest, the most incredible person you¡¯ve ever met. The smartest, the funniest, the most beautiful¡­¡±


    I pull my hand out of hers. ¡°You¡¯re too good at this. It¡¯s freaky.¡±


    Lilyughs again. The sound tightens something in my chest, the feeling entirely too familiar. She grabs my hand back and presses a kiss to the back. I keep my eyes on the road, tension slowly draining from me. Things will be okay as long as we¡¯re together.


    ¡°I love you,¡± she says softly. ¡°You know that, right?¡±


    My mind goes nk for a moment. Nothing else matters. No one else, nobody that¡¯s not me or her. I want to make this momentst forever. The road is straight and narrow, trees shing by in the midnight darkness.


    ¡°I know, Lils.¡±


    She puts my hand back on her thigh, her skin warm and soft. ¡°Good. I just wanted to make sure you did.¡±


    And I need to make sure she knows it¡¯s the same for me. That she¡¯s everything I want-everything I need-but the words won¡¯t form. If I say it, if I make it real, she could be taken from me.


    ¡°Lily¡­¡± But I can¡¯t finish the sentence. I keep my eyes glued to the road ahead and smooth a circle with my thumb on her skin.


    She doesn¡¯t seem to mind my silence.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I know too, Hayden,¡± she says gently. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind tonight? You know you can tell me. Or not, if you¡¯d rather keep it to yourself. But I¡¯ll always listen.¡±


    I can¡¯t tell her what her mother and grandmother said. I know I can¡¯t.


    And how do I exin my own feelings? She¡¯d protest them right away. I know that.


    Lights sh ahead. It¡¯s the first car we¡¯ve met in over an hour.


    ¡°Hayden?¡±


    It¡¯s a truck.


    And it¡¯s not staying in the rightne. I watch in slow motion as the truck drifts over to myne, until the lights blind me. A lot of things happen at once, then. I hit the horn. Lily screams and my heart leaps into my throat.


    I swerve, tires screech, and then everything goes ck.


    It¡¯s adrenaline that keeps me going. Things move in shes, an eternity passing in each heartbeat.


    ¡°Lily?¡± She¡¯s not responding. Her door is smashed, hit by the truck. It¡¯s buckled inwards. Her eyes are closed.


    ¡°Lily!¡±


    There¡¯s no response. Her leg¡­ I can¡¯t look at it. Get her out. I need to get her out. I push open my own door, breaking the ss to do so.


    And then I pull her out. The car is gone, smokeing from the engine. Do cars explode? Someone told me they don¡¯t, but I can¡¯t take risks.


    I unbuckle her seat belt and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her out. It¡¯s hard to walk with her in my arms and I don¡¯t dare carry her far. Her leg¡­ it looks bad. That runs on repeat in my head. This is bad, this is bad, this is bad.


    She still hasn¡¯t opened her eyes. ¡°Lily? Lily.¡±


    No response.


    I pat my pockets and fish out my phone.


    911 operators.


    Beeping noises.


    shing neon lights.


    People in scrubs barking orders.


    using eyes and frantic yelling.


    I¡¯m next to her in the ambnce the entire way to the hospital. The ambnce staff made me lie down, but I can see well enough what they do. They stem the bleeding, but I can¡¯t be sure if it was fast enough. So much of her pretty dress is soaked through with the most garish red. Too much. It¡¯s too much.


    She¡¯s unconscious, but I repeat her name anyway, just in case. ¡°Lily. Lily. Lily.¡±


    ¡°Lie down,¡± they tell me. I hear terms like cracked ribs and fractured femur, but the words don¡¯t mean anything to me. I don¡¯t feel any pain.


    They roll her away from me as soon as we arrive in the emergency room, taking her to surgery. I¡¯ll never forget that, the long, barren corridor and her small frame on the hospital bed. A man pushes me back firmly when I try to follow.


    ¡°Family only,¡± he says.


    So after they¡¯ve bandaged me up and given me painkillers, I sit in the waiting room outside the operating room. Every ticking hand of the clock is torturous. The scene reys over and over in my mind.

 Rogue C46

    Bright lights on a dark road that I couldn¡¯t evade.


    The sound of metal bending and breaking as we¡¯re rammed by a truck. Lily¡¯s weight in my arms as I drag her out of the wreckage. The car so bent I had to force my door off the frame to open it.


    Lily¡¯s mother is the first to arrive at the hospital. Eloise is still in her pajama bottoms, a frantic look in her eyes. Parker is right behind her.


    He looks the way I feel-hollow inside.


    The questions are relentless. No, Lily wasn¡¯t conscious, and yes, I had been the one driving. No, I didn¡¯t know what happened. The truck hade out of nowhere.


    Parker grabs my shoulder and shoots me a wild, bloodshot look. ¡°Thank God you¡¯re all right, man.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you know when she¡¯ll be out?¡±


    ¡°No. They said family only, so they haven¡¯t told me anything¡­¡±


    Mrs. Marchand¡¯s eyes narrow to slits. It¡¯s a look I¡¯ve seen before, in her daughter. It¡¯s only a matter of minutes before we¡¯re escorted down to the room being prepared for Lily.


    She¡¯ll be out of surgery in mere minutes, they say, and so far everything¡¯s good-but the following days will be crucial.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Crucial.


    The word bounces around in my head. How did I only have a few fractured ribs and she has to fight for her life?


    When Lily is finally rolled into the room, her face is pale and serene, as if she¡¯s just sleeping. Her hair frames her face, devoid of makeup or her usual teasing smile. She looks so young like that.


    Like Sleeping Beauty, who only needs a kiss to be woken up. Instead, she¡¯s sedated and fighting for her life.


    I choke back my fear and nausea.


    Commotion in the hallway makes all of us turn our heads, Eloise most of all. Then I recognize the voice.


    ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°Down here, sir. Sorry. Let me just-¡±


    More words are exchanged, muffled by the thick walls, before a livid Mr. Marchandes through the door. He¡¯s wearing a suit and carrying his overnight bag, and his expression wracks guilt through my body.


    His face crumbles the second he sees his daughter.


    I stand in the corner and watch as they crowd around Lily in the bed. Please, I pray. Please, please, make sure she¡¯s all right.


    They ask me to exin it to them. Exactly what happened-why she¡¯s lying in that hospital bed, connected to tubes and wires.


    ¡°He was on the wrong side of the road,¡± I say, my voice cracking. There had been a lot of smoke.


    ¡°Speak up, son.¡±


    ¡°A truck. On the wrong side of the road.¡± I shake my head, trying to clear it, and I¡¯m rewarded with a thunderous ache. ¡°I don¡¯t know why. Maybe he fell asleep at the wheel¡­ I tried to swerve, but I couldn¡¯t get out of the way fast enough. It hit¡­ it hit us straight on the passenger side.¡±


    Lily¡¯s mother gives me a weepy look and reaches out to rest her hand on my shoulder. It¡¯s the one that¡¯s bruised, but I know she doesn¡¯t know that.


    ¡°Are you okay, Hayden?¡±


    I don¡¯t deserve her sympathy, not with her daughter only a few feet away and fighting for her life. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    She nods and turns away. I can tell that I¡¯m forgotten the instant her eyes fall on her youngest child, her only daughter. Lily looks like a doll in the giant hospital bed.


    Her father is still looking at me. ¡°What were you doing out sote?¡±


    ¡°Driving.¡± The re of the truck¡¯s headlights sh before me. ¡°We just wanted to¡­ to get away for a while.¡±


    His eyes narrow, and I know exactly what he¡¯s seeing in that moment. He¡¯s seeing everything. My pathetic longing for his daughter, her sweetness being taken advantage of. Making her stay out toote.


    Considering not applying to Yale.


    Crashing a car with her in it.


    If I could sink through the floor with shame I would.


    There¡¯s a low groan from the bed and he turns away from me. Lily isn¡¯t conscious, her eyes still shut, but she¡¯s making noise. My heart feels like it might burst from the mingled fear and relief.


    Over the next week, one after another, her family and friends appear. Rhys, white with worry. Parker is there daily, his shirt buttoned wrong. Henry is the picture of calm andposure, but when he thinks no one is looking, I see his jaw tense with fear. Jamie stops by with cookies but breaks down in tears at the sight of Lily. Parker consoles her, his own face drawn tight with worry.


    All because of me. I caused all this.


    So I sit by, gripping the armrest of the chair in the corner as I watch her family crowd around her in the hospital bed.


    It takes a long, long time for her to wake.


    But eventually she does.


    Hayden


    The present


    After the greenhouse, I go home to my empty house, my empty bed, my empty life, filled with regrets.


    Fuck.


    We were doing everything in the wrong order. It didn¡¯t matter that it had been¡­ well, the most life-changing, soul-altering sex of my life. Being with Lily again-being inside her-was nothing short of a religious experience.


    But she¡¯d run out of there like she was chased by the devil.


    And I was him.


    Of all the times I¡¯d dreamed of being with Lily again-fantasizing about it-it had always been in a bed, for starters. It had been sweet and gentle, and she¡¯d moaned my name against my lips. I would make her shatter over and over again with my mouth before I¡¯d push inside her, making sure she was on fire and begging me to.

 Rogue C47

    I had never imagined it mad and crazy in her parents¡¯ greenhouse at ten o¡¯clock at night, and over before it had barely begun.


    Sleep doesn¡¯te easy to me that night, not when I know deep in my bones that she should be lying next to me-that she still cares for me too.


    I go for a run the next morning along the beach, catching the sunrise. And with each step, I formte a n. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve been taught to do these past years. Strategize, strategize, strategize.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I show up at the marina that afternoon, dressed in chinos and a white T-shirt. I don¡¯t own the kind of boat shoes that everyone around here wears anymore, but that doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ve always failed to fit in to Paradise Shores. Why should that change now?


    There are sailing boats everywhere, their small white sails like bobbing marshmallows in clear-blue water. Children of all ages mingle around, dressed in life vests. The Junior Regatta is a massive deal for the Sailing Club, just like it was when I was a child here. Henry won his year; I know that Parker did too.


    Rhys, of course, didn¡¯tpete.


    I scan the crowd for Lily. I¡¯m going to find her and apologize. Properly, this time, with a n for the future. I¡¯m going to rify a few things, too. That I¡¯m still crazy about her-and that I want to give us another shot. Fuck all the talk about friendship. It clearly hadn¡¯t workedst night.


    I don¡¯t see her, but what I see instead puts a smile on my face. Parker is dressed in the old sailing club jacket, the one he wore all the time in high school. He¡¯s helping a few children get fitted with life jackets. Some of the kids are small, way too small to actually take part in thepetition or try sailing today. But it¡¯s not hard to imagine younger siblings wanting to wear one as well, even if they¡¯re safe and dry on the dock the whole day.


    I head over. Parker shoots me a tired look when he sees me. ¡°Hey, man.¡±


    ¡°Hey. You look like you need help.¡±


    He hands me a life vest. ¡°Please.¡±


    I crouch down next to him and help the next kid whoes up. It¡¯s a girl, no taller than my hip. She stares up at me with wide eyes and hands me her life vest.


    ¡°Here.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I flip it over and hold it out above her head. ¡°Pop up in here for me.¡±


    She sticks her head through the hole, arms stick-straight. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Hayden,¡± I say, bending to reach the straps. I tighten them around her methodically, making sure the thing can¡¯te off. ¡°What¡¯s yours?¡±


    ¡°Isabe.¡± She can¡¯t quite pronounce her ls, and the namees out scrambled. I can¡¯t help but grin.


    ¡°It¡¯s very nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°You too.¡± She gives the life vest a sharp tug and then smiles, looking up at me. ¡°I¡¯m just like my brother now.¡±


    ¡°Awesome. High five.¡±


    She gives me a high five before running off to join her mom, standing next to us on the dock. I see Parker struggling with finding the right size for his kid and figure I might as well keep helping him. This is what I came here for, anyway-at least outwardly.


    Volunteers set up a table behind us on the dock. It doesn¡¯t take more than a nce to see what¡¯s happening. It¡¯s a face-painting booth, and Lily is manning it.


    She¡¯s wearing a pair of shorts that show off her legs, tan and freckled. Her hair is in a loose bun, little tendrils of auburn hair curling around her face.


    Seeing her nearly brings a blush to my face as I rememberst night. She¡¯d been¡­ well. It had definitely taken the edge off ten years of wanting her.


    She looks like my past and my future and everything I¡¯ve ever wanted.


    I turn back to the line of kids. There¡¯s fewer now, as most have left to watch the start of the race. Parker shoots me a not-so-subtle thumbs-up and a grateful smile.


    One of thest kids on the dock is a boy, no older than ten. He hasrge sses and looks doubtfully at the life vest I hold out to him.


    ¡°It¡¯s your size,¡± I assure him.


    He nods. ¡°Cool. Yeah¡­¡±


    But as he steps closer, I can tell something¡¯s wrong. I slip it over his head and speak calmly as I crouch down. ¡°What¡¯s your name, buddy?¡±


    ¡°Fredrick.¡±


    ¡°Hi. My name is Hayden.¡± I fasten the straps on his right side. ¡°How are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He pauses. ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m a bit nervous.¡±


    ¡°About hitting the water?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I sit back and look at him steadily. ¡°You don¡¯t have to if you don¡¯t want to, you know.¡±


    ¡°But my sister¡¯speting today.¡±


    ¡°And your family wants you to try sailing as well, with one of the instructors?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. My dad thinks it would be good for me. But I¡­¡± He looks over at one of the small dinghies resting close to us, its small sail bobbing joyfully. ¡°They¡¯re so small.¡±


    I resist the urge to smile. ¡°I get you, buddy. It¡¯s not easy getting on a boat.¡±


    ¡°No. Have you ever been on one?¡±


    ¡°I have, yes. But I¡¯ll tell you a secret.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I was just as scared as you were the first time.¡±


    ¡°You were?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I had no idea what to do, or why people would do it for fun.¡±


    ¡°So why did you go?¡±


    I shake my head at my own childhood stupidity, reaching out to adjust his life vest just a tad. The boy is looking at me with rapt attention and I know I have to make this good.


    ¡°Because I wanted to impress someone.¡±


    The boy nods, like this is a perfectly valid reason. ¡°Of course.¡±

 Rogue C48

    ¡°But then I was hooked. I loved the wind and the waves, learning how the sea works. I even joined the Navyter.¡±


    His eyes grow wide. ¡°You did? Like, as a soldier-sailor?¡±


    I have to stop myself fromughing. ¡°Yes. Exactly like that.¡±


    ¡°Did you have to fight?¡±


    ¡°No, I was lucky enough to avoid that. But I patrolled for a long while.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s cool. And you started to learn here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, this was the first ce I got on a boat. But,¡± I say, crouching down again, ¡°there¡¯s no pressure. Sometimes you¡¯re scared and it¡¯s the good kind, you know? Where you have to do it anyway to grow. But then there¡¯s the kind of scared that gives you a stomachache, and then it¡¯s important to listen to it, and say no.¡±


    The boy nods throughout my little speech, as if my words make sense. They do to me, but I¡¯ve never tried to exin this to anyone before.


    He pushes up his sses. ¡°I think it¡¯s the first kind of scared.¡±


    ¡°All right. In that case, let¡¯s get you on a boat today, buddy. You can do it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I can.¡± He tugs on the life vest. ¡°But maybe not quite yet.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all right. Let¡¯s see¡­ Do you see thatdy there?¡± I turn and point to Lily, currently painting the face of a small girl with pigtails. ¡°You could get a tattoo. Something for luck.¡±


    ¡°My mom would kill me if I got a tattoo.¡±


    Damn. I thought it would sound cooler than paint. ¡°Well, it¡¯s only temporary. Maybe an anchor on your arm, like a real sailor?¡±


    His eyes light up. ¡°That would be really cool.¡±


    There are only a few other kids waiting to be sized up, and I know Parker can handle it. I nod toward the face-painting table.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Is it okay if you go first?¡± he asks me, with perfect sincerity.


    I blink. ¡°Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course.¡±


    Lily sees us as we approach. Her eyes meet mine, and the look isden with things unsaid. I want to know what she feels about yesterday. I need to know if she regrets it, if it was as explosive for her as for me.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say. ¡°This little man wants a tattoo of an anchor on his arm, like a sailor.¡±


    Fredrick leans closer and looks curiously at Lily¡¯s brushes and face paints. I¡¯ve seen how good of a painter she is, and this is nothing for her. The kids are getting a masterpiece for free.


    She smiles at him. ¡°Of course. Do you want it in any specific color?¡±


    ¡°Blue. But¡­¡± He looks up at me. ¡°Hayden is going first.¡±


    I nod seriously and start to roll up my sleeve. ¡°Yes, I am. Could I also get a blue anchor?¡±


    Lily shoots me a delicious smile. She¡¯s enjoying this. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I take a seat in the chair. Fredrick is watching us, his eyes interested. He follows Lily¡¯s movements as she dips a brush in water and then swirls it around and around in the azure paint.


    ¡°Did you know he was in the Navy?¡±


    She nods at him. ¡°I did, yes.¡±


    Frederik narrows his eyes at me in usation. ¡°Do you know thisdy?¡± He asks it as if it¡¯s a crime. I see Lily trying and failing to hide her smile.


    ¡°I do, yes,¡± I admit. ¡°I¡¯ve known her since I was your age.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± He looks thoughtful, watching as Lily starts on my arm. Her touch is careful, the paint is cold against my skin. ¡°Was it scary being in the Navy?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes, yes.¡±


    ¡°When you were attacked?¡±


    ¡°We were never attacked, buddy. But sometimes you¡¯re in situations that are tense, or you get caught in storms, or have to do drills that are pretty ufortable.¡±


    ¡°What did you do? To make it through?¡±


    I try to focus on his honest questions and not on the fact that Lily is only inches away, painting away silently and listening to my every word.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Hmm. You take it one step at a time. Focus on what you can change and let go of what you can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense,¡± he says, nodding seriously. ¡°Oh, that looks good.¡±


    I nce down at my arm. Lily has painted an intricate anchor, with a rope wrapped around it. She¡¯s mixed some green in with the blue and it almost looks like a proper tattoo. I¡¯ve always known she¡¯s amazingly skilled with this sort of thing.


    This close, I can practically count the freckles that dot her nose. It had been too dark in the greenhouse. I need to be with her again-to see her in sunlight.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Lily looks up at me. ¡°Yeah. Of course.¡± She leans back and clears her throat, shooting Fredrick a smile. ¡°You ready to get the same thing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He jumps into the chair I just left, legs swinging. I watch as Lily prepares the brush, as she starts to paint on his skin with smooth, skilled strokes. She could do this blindfolded.


    He looks up at her. ¡°Do you sail too?¡±


    ¡°Not very often, anymore. I did when I was a child, though.¡±


    ¡°Do you like it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it can be nice.¡±


    He sighs, a massive, exaggerated child-sigh. ¡°I have to sail today.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡± Lily¡¯s voice is soft. I watch as she fills in the outlines of the anchor.

 Rogue C49

    ¡°Well, I want to try. I¡¯ve never tried before and there¡¯s a ce over there where you can try.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great. You should.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I was a bit nervous to, but Hayden told me not to be.¡±


    I smile. ¡°Well, it¡¯s okay to be nervous, as long as you do it anyway. But only if it¡¯s the first kind of scared. Right?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± He looks down at his arm. ¡°Is it done?¡±


    Lily¡¯s voice is amused. ¡°Almost. Is your brother or sisterpeting today?¡±


    ¡°My sister is.¡±


    ¡°Ah. I used to be here just like you, every time my brotherspeted, to watch them sail. It¡¯s fun to try what they like to do, but it¡¯s okay if you want to try something different instead.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He¡¯s quiet for a moment, looking down at her painting. ¡°I think I¡¯ll try it, and then I¡¯ll tell my parents I want to y basketball instead.¡±


    She nods at him, smiling. ¡°That sounds great. You¡¯re done.¡±


    Fredrick twists, trying to get a better view, and then breaks into a grin. ¡°I look like a pirate,¡± he tells me. ¡°Pirates have these, you know?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. And now we match.¡±


    He raises his hand to mine for a high five before he says goodbye. Lily and I watch as he runs off to join his parents, standing off to the side. Their eyes are fixed on the boats in the marina. It¡¯s getting to be time for the race proper, and spectators line the dock.


    Lily is washing her brushes, carefully avoiding my eyes. ¡°So,¡± she says. ¡°You were scared sometimes in the Navy?¡±


    I resist the urge to groan. ¡°That¡¯s what you got from that?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s either that or the fact that you¡¯re great with children.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Well, of course there were times that weren¡¯t that fun.¡±


    Lily nods. She¡¯s close to me, and the scent of her hair, the caramel shampoo and sunshine is intoxicating. I wish I could have her next to me forever.


    ¡°You¡¯re an amazing painter.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t painted in ages,¡± she says bluntly. ¡°I lied when I said I had.¡±


    I make my voice soft. ¡°Yeah, I figured.¡±


    ¡°Of course you did. Oh God.¡± She covers her face. ¡°Hayden, about yesterday-¡±


    ¡°Wait. Let me go first.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that we¡­ that can¡¯t happen again.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯m sorry about it happening like that, and I¡¯m sorry about my reaction to Turner¡¯s name at the dinner. You were right to be angry with me. About all of it.¡±


    She lowers her hands, brilliant eyes staring up at me. ¡°I still want some answers.¡±


    ¡°I know. And I should never have asked you to be friends again,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°It was wrong of me, when I so clearly can¡¯t help myself. I can¡¯t be just friends with you, Lils.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be just friends with you either.¡±


    Hope stirs in my chest. ¡°I know this isplicated. And I should have said that right away, that what I really want is for us to do things right.¡±


    ¡°Things?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Damn it, I¡¯ve never been good with words. She¡¯s the one who used to kill me regrly with affection. ¡°Let me take you out on a date, Lily. Let me do this properly. Give me a chance.¡±


    Lily takes a deep breath. I know we¡¯re standing too close, bodies nearly touching, but I don¡¯t care if the entirety of Paradise Shores sees us right now-as long as she says yes.


    This girl has had me wrapped around her finger since we were children, and it¡¯s never been clearer to me than right now just how much I need her to be a part of my future.


    ¡°If I say yes,¡± she murmurs, ¡°you have to be honest with me. Talk to me if you feel like leaving. If you want out, if you¡¯re feeling trapped, if something¡¯s not all right. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay. I can do that.¡± Communication. It¡¯s not too big of an ask, not really.


    ¡°What would we be?¡±


    ¡°Whatever we want to be. It¡¯s you and me, Lils. We¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± She offers me a small smile, and the relief that I feel at her eptance threatens to bring me to my knees. Thank you, God. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me this right away? When you got back? Instead you insisted on friendship.¡±


    Well, she wanted honesty. I nce away at the race, at the boats fighting for first ce, struggling to find the words to exin myself.


    ¡°I was too afraid,¡± I say finally.


    ¡°Afraid?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was scared to death that you would throw me out on my ass, Lily. You could take one look at me and kill me with your words.¡±


    Her eyes soften slightly. ¡°What did you just tell that sweet boy about courage and fear? About doing things even though you¡¯re nervous?¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, he had to try sailing.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    I lean in, close enough that I can feel her soft breath. She doesn¡¯t back away. ¡°I have to beg the girl of my dreams for forgiveness. I¡¯d rather look death in the eye than be refused by you.¡±


    Lilyughs breathlessly. ¡°So dramatic, Hayden.¡±


    ¡°Only with you.¡±


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°When what?¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.

 Rogue C50

    ¡°When are we going on a date?¡±


    I let my eyes wander along the brightness of her eyes, the pert nose, the full lips, the teasing smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to cook you dinner, and then we¡¯re going to watch a movie, and then I¡¯m going to drive you home.¡±


    She smiles. ¡°We¡¯ve done wilder things than that. Are you losing your touch?¡±


    I flick her nose. ¡°We were teenagers. We¡¯re not anymore, and I¡¯m going to do this right.¡±


    Hayden


    Hayden, 18


    It¡¯s over two weeks post-ident when Lily¡¯s finally discharged from the hospital. When the doctor read out the verdict, both Eloise and Rhys openly cried. Lily would walk again.


    She would heal fully, even if she might have a slight limp and would likely have to eat painkillers for a long time. But she¡¯d make a nearly full recovery, with a bit of work with a therapist.


    Her father announces that he¡¯s taking a month off to personally look after his daughter¡¯s recovery at home. Because it¡¯s going to be a process, even if I know Lily will manage it.


    The first thing she did when she opened her eyes was smile. She gave everyone in the room a tired, soft smile, and a whispered hello. I¡¯d had to wipe my own eyes then, hidden in the back of her hospital room.


    She was all right.


    The days pass quickly after that. I want to see her alone-I need to talk to her-but she¡¯s never alone. Herrge bedroom in the Marchand house is filled to the brim with flowers, friends and family. I once saw Rhys chucking some lilies out, and he shot me a sideways grin.


    ¡°She¡¯s getting a headache from the scent.¡±


    I¡¯d nodded, biting my tongue to keep from asking how she¡¯d been that day. She had family who cared-she had friends who cared-and she was universally adored. But it didn¡¯t stop me from ncing at her window every chance I got. Our few interactions had been brief. They were always supervised by her mother or one of her brothers.


    For the first time, I¡¯m annoyed at our own secrecy. If I had been her boyfriend, epted and weed, I could have walked up to the front door with a bouquet myself. I would be let in with a smile, escorted to her bedroom and given as much time with her as I¡¯d want.


    But I¡¯m not her official boyfriend.


    And I had been the one who drove that car.


    Most of ourmunication is via text instead. It¡¯s not the same, something Lily often writes. I miss you is amon text.


    I feel too guilty to write the same thing back.


    But there was one thing I¡¯d underestimated, and that was Lily herself, with her iron will. I¡¯ve just gotten back to the beach house after a full day at sea when my phone vibrates. Come to the back porch. Hurry.


    She¡¯s sitting in one of the chairs, a thick afghan wrapped around her to protect her from the evening breeze. Her leg is in a thick cast all the way to her hip and crutches lean against the wall. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve seen her cast, but it still sends pain through me. It had been so close.


    She hasn¡¯t seen me yet. A small sketchpad is resting on herp, and she¡¯s drawing softly, biting her lower lip. The setting sun brings out the fire in her hair. Even sitting down, she looks like a living me, and I¡¯m as drawn to her as ever.


    ¡°Lily?¡±


    She looks up from her drawing. Her smile nearly splits her face in half. ¡°You came!¡±


    ¡°Of course. Are you okay being out here?¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Oh, yes. Absolutely. I can¡¯t take another day in my room, or I¡¯ll go insane.¡± She pats the chair next to her. ¡°Come here. Please.¡±


    I sit down next to her and take her hand. She grasps mine back, strong and steady. For a long moment, she just looks at me in that way of hers. I can only gaze back, her eyes green and vibrant. To think that the world came close to losing them entirely. Because of me.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault, Hayden,¡± she says softly.


    I don¡¯t answer her. There¡¯s no point, is there? We¡¯re going to disagree on this.


    ¡°Did you hear me? It wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Well, the police investigation is still ongoing. It could be.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t. It¡¯ll be ruled an ident, and the car was insured. You¡¯re in the clear, Hay.¡±


    More guilt ripples through me. I¡¯d crashed one of their cars. I know that Gary has been speaking to Mr. Marchand about it, though he¡¯d waived off my offers to pay for reparations. More of a debt I would never be able to repay.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Are you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°They told me you had two broken ribs and a cracked corbone.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°All nearly healed.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± With a sigh, she pushes up into standing. For a moment, she looks so much like her old self, with her hair blowing in the wind and the grin on her face. She looks proud of standing with no crutches, even if it scares me.


    I wrap my arm around her waist just in case. It feels good to have her close again-too good. I¡¯ve missed her so much.


    ¡°Look,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m on my feet. I can only hop so far, but as soon as my leg is mended, I¡¯ll be walking again. Running, even. I¡¯ve decided to take upcrosse again. Do you think I can still make the varsity team?¡± Her eyes are glittering with sarcasm, but the smile she shoots me is hopeful.


    I swallow down my emotions. ¡°You¡¯re okay. You¡¯re truly going to be okay.¡±


    ¡°Of course I am! Look!¡± She spins slowly on one foot, a hand on my arm for support. ¡°One more week and you¡¯ll see me running. Usain Bolt better watch out.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t run.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll start.¡± She reaches up and presses a small kiss to my lips. It¡¯s the first time since the ident, and she doesn¡¯t seem to care that her parents are around or that anyone might see. ¡°I¡¯m going to be fine.¡±


    Relief so heady it makes my knees weak sweeps through me.


    ¡°Thank God for that.¡± I pull her closer. ¡°God, Lily, I was so scared. You were unconscious. And there was so much¡­ Damn.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she murmurs against my neck. ¡°I know, Hay. Thank you for taking care of me.¡±


    I rest my head against her hair and close my eyes. It¡¯s a thank-you I don¡¯t deserve, but I ignore my guilt, lost in the familiar scent of her hair. She¡¯s going to be fine. The apology is dancing on my tongue. I want to go down on my knees and ask her for it, but I know she won¡¯t let me. Lily has always had an impressive track record in trying to make me feel better. But that¡¯s thest thing she should have to do at the moment.


    Lily gets tired fast and I help her back up to her room, my arm still around her waist. Her parents are somewhere in the house-I can hear them talking-but we manage to avoid them.


    She sits down on her bed. ¡°I wish you could stay.¡±

 Rogue C51

    ¡°Me too, baby.¡±


    ¡°Kiss me again.¡±


    I do. Her lips are warm against mine, her taste sweet. I feel like I¡¯m drowning and flying at once, afraid to touch her because of my own shame and guilt.


    Lily leans back. ¡°You¡¯re being too careful.¡±


    I shake my head at her. ¡°Lie down, Lils. Do you need another pill?¡±


    ¡°No. They make my head a bit fuzzy.¡±


    I frown at the bottle of painkillers. ¡°Is that normal?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you worrier, the doctor said that would happen.¡± She burrows down in her covers and I hand her the book she¡¯s been reading. ¡°Here I am, in bed and it¡¯s not even eight p. m.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    I roll my eyes at her. ¡°You¡¯re healing.¡±


    ¡°My new hobby. Come closer, Hay.¡±


    I bend down obediently and close my eyes as Lily runs a hand over my cheek. Her fingers feel cool against my skin. ¡°We¡¯re in this together, Hayden. Aren¡¯t we?¡±


    I nod, feeling like my heart might break from the war between guilt and desire wagering inside it. ¡°Yes, we are.¡±


    I close the door softly behind me and head down the stairs. I¡¯ve nearly reached the kitchen door when Michael Marchand stops me with a single nod of his head. He has his hands in his pockets, the thick hair brushed back. I¡¯ve always tried to stay out of his way-the business tycoon of Paradise Shores-but I can¡¯t hide anymore.


    ¡°We need to talk, Hayden.¡±


    The small, faint trace of hope I¡¯ve harbored sinks like a stone. Of course we need to talk. I can imagine what he¡¯s going to say, the words that will cut like knives. The usations. The betrayal of trust. The crashed car. The time hase.


    ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°I have great respect for your uncle,¡± he says quietly. ¡°He¡¯s been a fine employee all these years.¡±


    Unease makes my stomach flip. Where is he going with this?


    ¡°I¡¯ve always been happy to pay for your schooling. You¡¯ve been a good friend to my boys, too. Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed that.¡± He pauses, waiting for my response. It¡¯ste and it¡¯s summer, but he¡¯s still in a button-down and cks. I¡¯ve never seen him in a T-shirt.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I saymely.


    He nods, like I¡¯ve said the right thing. ¡°Now, I¡¯m going to talk to you man to man, because you¡¯re grown. The same way I talk to my sons.¡± His voice turns cial. ¡°I¡¯m not going to insult us both by asking why you were driving my car in the middle of the night with my daughter in it. I¡¯ve got eyes of my own, as does my wife.¡±


    I want to sink through the floor. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Lily¡¯s always been a bit¡­ wild. I¡¯m not surprised that she¡¯s drawn to you. But I am surprised that you gave in. You know it¡¯s not in your best interest.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± My voice sounds weak to my own ears. I find myself agreeing with everything he¡¯s saying.


    ¡°And it¡¯s definitely not in Lily¡¯s. My daughter nearly died two weeks ago, partly because of you.¡± He holds up a hand, as if to stop me from protesting. I wasn¡¯t about to. ¡°Now, I know the truck was in yourne. The police have confirmed that. But she shouldn¡¯t have been out there in the first ce.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say again.


    ¡°You know where I¡¯m going, I¡¯m sure. You¡¯ve figured it out yourself.¡± He pauses, face impassive. ¡°You¡¯re not wee here anymore. Not around my daughter, and not in my house. It¡¯s time for you to go, son.¡±


    The painces through me at the words. I¡¯ve always known this isn¡¯t home, not really. A ce where you¡¯re staying thanks to someone else¡¯s mercy can never truly be home. But for years, it had been as close to one as I¡¯d evere.


    I can¡¯t argue with him. There¡¯s no point, no point at all. Because he¡¯s right. I hurt her, and I don¡¯t deserve her. And if I stay, she¡¯ll have to fight with her parents over this. Over me.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Now, don¡¯t look sullen. We can find somece for you to go, I¡¯m sure. It¡¯ll be a quiet thing between the two of us. Do you need college tuition? There are good schools out West. I could make some calls. How does one of the UCs sound?¡±


    I¡¯d rather kill myself than ept more charity from him. ¡°No, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t turn down a good opportunity because of pride, son. I¡¯d let you pay me back.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I grind out.


    ¡°Very well. Make your arrangements soon, then.¡± He takes a step forward and shakes my hand. ¡°Don¡¯t be a stranger to your uncle. Make something of yourself.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°Do you need money for bus fare? ne tickets?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    He pauses for a second. His eyes are clinical, like we¡¯ve just signed a business deal. ¡°It¡¯s nothing personal, Hayden. It¡¯s just better this way.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    I walk back to the beach house. I pack a bag with my clothes and my belongings. I write a note for Gary, too short by far to epass all that he¡¯s been for me. I promise to call as soon as I can.


    I write a letter to Lily and slip it into the Marchand mailbox.


    Then I grab the pamphlets Mrs. Abrams gave me about enlisting and military colleges and board the first Greyhound out of Paradise Shores. Because Mr. Marchand had really only told me what I already knew. It¡¯s time for me to go.


    It¡¯s better this way.


    Lily


    The present


    I try to focus on the blueprints in front of me. Stop thinking about Hayden. But it¡¯s very, very difficult. My mind keeps wandering to the past weekend, to the greenhouse and the conversation we¡¯d had the day after.


    We¡¯d slept together again-and not in the romantic, soft way. It had been passionate and intense and everything I¡¯d ever wanted.


    And now¡­ now he wants to give dating a chance. Tonight, after work, I¡¯ll head to his house for dinner. His idea.


    Maybe I was being stupid, agreeing to the prospect of dating him. I knew I risked getting hurt again. I didn¡¯t want that. But for years, I¡¯d lived carefully and quietly, been the good girl at every turn, and that got old, too.

 Rogue C52

    My mom used to say that sometimes, the only thing a person can do is take it day by day, and that¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do.


    Blueprints¡­ arge room with a firece. Dining room. Yes. I need to work on a staging theme for the new development over in Restwick. We have less than three weeks before it hits the market, and it¡¯s bound to cause a bidding war. This area of New Ennd attracts a lot of buyers, and Harris Property is sure to take advantage of that.


    As I look through our filester, my gaze gets caught on a small, abandoned storefront here in Paradise Shores. It¡¯s a tiny ce, really, but it¡¯s still on the market. The location is good. As is the natural light.


    It¡¯s easy to imagine paintings on the wall and the soft artificial lighting of a gallery. Or an art studio, for kids in the region. Maybe both.


    Could Ibine them? Showcase up-anding artists during the days and have sses in the evening?


    Before I can stop myself, I¡¯m pulling up all the stats I can find about the property. The year it was built, the square-footage. It¡¯s doable. The space is good, and I have the money for it. It could possibly even be discounted, having been for sale for so long. I¡¯ll basically be doing them a favor by taking it off the market.


    My heart is beating fast, and for the first time in a long while, it¡¯s because of art. I¡¯d given up even trying tobine it with my life in Paradise Shores-I¡¯d thrown myself into family life and work and reconnecting with this ce. But now, I¡¯m realizing maybe I don¡¯t have to leave that life behind. Maybe I can have both.


    I photocopy the listing and slip it into my purse.


    Turneres into my office after lunch, his trademark smile in ce. ¡°Did you get my email on the Craft house?¡±


    ¡°I did, yes. I¡¯ve looked over it. I agree with yourments.¡±


    He breathes a sigh of relief. ¡°Good. I usually have full faith in the architectural design team, but this time, it just seems¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too art nouveau. We¡¯re never going to get it sold with those ns.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. I understand the virtues of design and all, but very few people want a perfectly round living room.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Or a concrete shower.¡±


    ¡°Send me any notes you might have, and I¡¯ll forward it together with my own.¡± He stops by the door to my office, hand tapping against the frame. ¡°Thanks forst week, by the way. For the Maze Party. It was fun.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it was,¡± I say, with a smile. ¡°And you were right. It¡¯s important to me, our friendship and our work together.¡±


    He nods. ¡°Ipletely agree.¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t want to jeopardize that.¡±


    ¡°Me neither. And for the record, it wouldn¡¯t. I wouldn¡¯t.¡± He shrugs, looking a bit ufortable, before shooting me another big smile. ¡°Anything is at your pace, Lily.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Now back to work.¡±


    I smile. ¡°Sure, sure. I¡¯ll send you the email as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic.¡±


    He leaves and I¡¯m left with my work and my thoughts. I know Turner wants more from me, but it¡¯s not fair to him to suggest another attempt at a date. Not after what happened at my parents¡¯ dinner-not knowing that what I feel toward him is nothingpared to the tangled jumble of emotions that Hayden evokes.


    And there¡¯s no denying I¡¯m excited about tonight.


    The butterflies multiply in my stomach until I have a veritable garden by the time I have to leave work. For so many years, I¡¯d missed having him in my life, and here he is now. I¡¯ll be damned if I don¡¯t take advantage of that.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I pack up work and head home with my thoughts swirling. It doesn¡¯t take me long to change into the casual dress I¡¯d already picked out that morning, to brush my hair out and put on a bit of lip gloss. I put on upbeat music in the background, trying and failing to still my nerves.


    I park outside Hayden¡¯s house on Elm Street. I wonder, not for the first time, how he affords what must be a significant rent. He¡¯s been here for nearly two weeks by now, and it can¡¯t be cheap. But his financial situation has always been a sore topic. I remember that from childhood, from asking about college prospects and jobs and getting monosybic answers. It used to kill me that he didn¡¯t want me to help. Now I understand that it came from pride.


    I walk up the steps with a wine bottle in hand. I raise my hand to press the doorbell, but the door opens before I can ring.


    Hayden is so handsome it hurts. A in white button-down makes his dark hair stand out in contrast, the cut of his shoulders wide and imposing. It never stops hitting me just how different adult Hayden is from the teenager I once loved.


    His eyes, though. He looks at me like I¡¯mte-like he¡¯s been waiting forever, like he can¡¯t look away-even though I¡¯m bang on time.


    ¡°I saw the car.¡±


    ¡°I brought wine.¡±


    The house smells delicious, like something rich and cheesy. I can¡¯t stop myself from taking a deep whiff. ¡°This smells amazing. Are you cooking?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t changed that much, Lils.¡±


    ¡°Take-out?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I got food from Michngelo¡¯s. Risotto and pizza. Figured we could share?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, absolutely.¡±


    We grab the food as he leads me through the house and out to his backyard. It¡¯s a beautiful little ce, with green grass and a deck for dining.


    We take a seat opposite each other, the food in between us. For a while we do nothing but look at each other.


    I smile, just a little. ¡°So, how do we do this?¡±


    ¡°Dating?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I have no idea.¡±


    My smile grows bigger. ¡°We never did, in the past.¡±


    ¡°No. We were just¡­ together.¡±


    ¡°But you must have been on dates since then.¡± I make sure to keep my voice light and ignore my unease at the idea. ¡°The concept is fairly standard. Eat, talk, flirt. Repeat.¡±


    His smile is reced by a faint frown. It makes him more handsome somehow, set against the square jaw and the dark hair falling across his brow. ¡°I haven¡¯t dated a lot. It¡¯s not exactly a possibility in the military.¡±


    The answer makes me unreasonably pleased. ¡°That¡¯s understandable.¡±


    ¡°What about you? The Yale men must have been lining up, not to mention New York.¡±

 Rogue C53

    I shake my head. ¡°Not exactly, no. But I have been on some dates.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine. Flowers, candles?¡± Hayden¡¯s voice is light, too, but he¡¯s not meeting my eyes anymore.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± I say honestly, though there haven¡¯t been many. I¡¯ve only dated three guys since leaving Paradise Shores for college. Since him. ¡°There¡¯s often wine, at least.¡±


    Heughs and proceeds to open the bottle. ¡°As you wish,¡± he says with a flourish, pouring me a ss. He puts the bottle down afterwards.


    ¡°You¡¯re not having any?¡±


    Hayden shakes his head. ¡°Not tonight.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, now I feel like a lush.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. It¡¯s¡­¡± He runs a hand through his hair, the telltale sign of nerves. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to talk about happy things on our first date together. I want to know about Yale and school and rehabilitation. About New York. About your future ns.¡±


    ¡°We can talk about that, too, if you want,¡± I say. ¡°Or about the first thing. You never have to tell me anything.¡±


    He shoots me a smile, and it¡¯s grateful and rueful at the same time. ¡°Well, you always managed to get everything out of me in the end, anyway. Why should it be any different now?¡±


    I smile back at him. I remember whispered confessions in the dark, over a decade ago, about things in his past. Hayden never liked opening up. He fought it tooth and nail, every time, against his own best interests.


    ¡°All right. Well, I don¡¯t drink anymore.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Stopped about five years ago.¡±


    Hayden had never been a massive drinker, although I remember him drinking at parties. I remember us in a hallway, our first kiss tasting like whiskey and danger. ¡°What made you decide to stop? Not that it¡¯s a bad thing, of course.¡±


    He looks away, jaw working. ¡°You know that my dad struggles with it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I remember,¡± I say, although from what he¡¯s told me, struggles with it is a mild way to put it. I know he¡¯s always wanted to hide this part of his history from me, and always hated when it showed through. I never truly understood why. I still don¡¯t.


    ¡°It can be gic. Addiction can, I mean. And I¡¯m not going to be like him.¡±


    ¡°Hayden, from what you¡¯ve told me, you¡¯re nothing like him at all.¡±


    He looks at me with eyes that hold a fair amount of disbelief. His armor is still up, though, and I know better than to push. ¡°Thanks. But that¡¯s the reason. I don¡¯t want to fall victim to the same thing. I don¡¯t trust myself enough for that.¡± He¡¯s quiet for a beat, looking at his ss of water. ¡°Or rather, I don¡¯t trust the part of me that¡¯s his.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Have you spoken to himtely?¡±


    ¡°No, not for six years. Last I heard, he was somewhere in New Jersey. But I¡¯m not looking for him and I don¡¯t want him in my life.¡±


    shes of what he¡¯s told me run through my head. The images aren¡¯t pretty. I know there was heavy drinking; I know there was violence.


    ¡°Gary isn¡¯t in contact with him either?¡±


    Hayden scoffs. ¡°No. Lord knows he always hated his sister¡¯s husband. That didn¡¯t change after she died.¡±


    ¡°You never told me how she passed.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he murmurs, eyes unreadable. ¡°I never did. And I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a topic for our first date, Lils. Even with you.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± I take a deep breath and paint a smile on my face. Grabbing my winess by the stem, I pour it out in a nearby pot. ¡°You know what? Who needs wine anyway.¡±


    Hayden lookspletely stunned. He blinks twice before he breaks into surprisedughter. ¡°You¡¯re crazy.¡±


    ¡°Always was. Anyway, that nt looked a bit dry. You should take better care of this ce.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right.¡± He puts a spoonful of risotto on my te. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know. But I should probably cut down anyway. You¡¯re practically doing me a favor. Thanks, Hay.¡±


    He shakes his head, like he doesn¡¯t believe that at all, but doesn¡¯tment. The small smile on his face is back and I feel warm inside. It feels unreal to sit here and share a meal with him. With Hayden, who I dreamed of every night growing up. Who wore the school uniform with such disdain. Who never teased me the way my brothers did.


    ¡°So,¡± he says, voice deepening. ¡°Tell me about Yale.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, well, I was there for four years. I don¡¯t know where to start.¡±


    He gives me a look that sends shivers down my body, all the way to my toes. There¡¯s something about his gaze-there always was-that reaches all the way to my very core. ¡°I have nothing but time.¡±


    So I tell him. I tell him about the annoying professors and the brilliant ones, about the seminar tutor who asked a student out during ss and got fired, about thete nights at the library. Heughs when I talk about my crazy roommate who used to wash her socks in the sink and hang them along the heater, even when I told her repeatedly that it would cause a fire.


    And he reluctantly shares things from the Navy.


    He tells me about weeks spent in training, about hikes with fifty pounds worth of gear. About his journey to be a lieutenant.


    ¡°Do you want to go back?¡± I ask, pulling my legs up on the chair. The sun has set, and there¡¯s a faint chill in the air, despite the season. ¡°I mean, are you here on leave at the moment?¡±


    Hayden leans back. Even as a grown man-one without a leather jacket and a scowl-there¡¯s irreverence in his pose. I wonder if that¡¯s one of the reasons I was always drawn to him, even from the start. He was everything I wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°I meant what I said at dinner the other night. I¡¯m here indefinitely.¡±


    ¡°Indefinitely?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± His eyes roam my face, as if analyzing my reaction. ¡°Not going back to active service anytime soon.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve quit?¡±


    ¡°Not really. I¡¯m more like a consultant at the moment, actually. I work with one of my old brothers-in-arms. We have a business, selling security solutions both to the private sector and to the military.¡±


    I¡¯m momentarily stunned. ¡°Wow. That¡¯s impressive.¡±


    ¡°It pays the bills.¡± He nces at my arms, wrapped around my waist, and frowns. ¡°You¡¯re cold, Lils.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you are. Quit being stubborn.¡± He grabs the tes and nods toward the door. ¡°Let¡¯s go inside.¡±

 Rogue C54

    I follow him with our sses in hand. Despite myself, I¡¯m nervous. When we¡¯re just sitting and talking, it¡¯s easy to forget that we¡¯re two adults, a man and a woman, who had sex just a few days ago. It¡¯s easy to slip back into thefortable role of Hayden and Lily, childhood friends, and abandon the rest.


    It¡¯s not so easy when he¡¯s walking in front of me, all shoulders and roughness and thick, silky hair.


    Hayden holds the door open for me. ¡°You got it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    We end up on the sofa, side by side, in his impably decorated living room. There¡¯s nothing overly romantic about the situation-we¡¯re old friends-but my body feels taut with anticipation. I remember the feeling of his mouth on mine, of his body driving into mine just days ago. Something tells me Hayden is remembering the same thing.


    He clears his throat. ¡°Do you want to watch something, Lils?¡±


    ¡°On the TV?¡±


    Hayden¡¯s lowugh feels sensual, rippling across my skin. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Um, yeah. Sure.¡±


    He turns it on and we scroll aimlessly through a streaming service. The room is dark, and it only adds to the hard beat of my heart.


    ¡°What do you feel like?¡±


    Like you, I want to answer. I don¡¯t, trying to focus on the options he flits through. Documentaries, movies, TV shows¡­ It¡¯s not long until my gaze snags on an old action film. It¡¯s a ssic, one my brothers watched with Hayden before I was allowed to.


    I point at it. ¡°Remember?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You made me re-watch it with youter, when your mom told you you could.¡±


    ¡°It was never as good as Henry and Rhys made it out to be.¡±


    ¡°Nothing ever could be. They just wanted to rile you up.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s watch it,¡± I say, grabbing the nket from off the side of the sofa.


    ¡°For old time¡¯s sake?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Are you cold?¡± I hold up the edge of the nket. Hayden looks from it to me, amusement dancing in his eyes.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, voice serious. ¡°Very.¡±


    I blush. It¡¯s obvious he isn¡¯t cold, but he still settles close to me, the nket draped over our legs.


    The movie starts and I can barely focus on a word that¡¯s being said. I¡¯m too busy thinking about all the ces we¡¯re nearly touching.


    ¡°Remember this part?¡± Hayden says, voice amused. ¡°Parker tried to recreate it for that talent show.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. And he forced Henry to make him a wooden sword.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± He shakes his head, his profile achingly handsome. ¡°And he made me fight with him on thewn. Gave me a bruise too, smacked me right on the wrist.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he says, shooting me a sideways grin. ¡°I smacked him right back.¡±


    I can¡¯t help but smile. ¡°You were thick as thieves.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we were.¡± Hayden moves in closer and grabs my ankles, resting by his thigh. He pulls my legs across hisp so I can lie fully stretched out. ¡°Okay like that?¡±


    I nod, unsure of my voice. ¡°Yeah. Thanks.¡±


    Like old times, I feel like saying, the two of us watching something in the basement, hidden under nkets, kissing and stopping as soon as we heard footsteps.


    I try to focus on the movie but his hand on my leg is infuriatingly distracting. He keeps it there, warm and rough, just resting on my calf. His thumb smooths back once, twice, three times¡­


    Heat rises through my body. I want to be closer-I want his hand higher-and my traitorous body is remembering the night in the greenhouse. I didn¡¯t get enough of him then. I don¡¯t think I ever will.


    But his hand stays right there, just below my knee, softly stroking my skin.


    We watch over half the movie before I gather the courage. It¡¯s Hayden, I tell myself. It¡¯s just Hayden, even if there¡¯s ten years of distance between us. So I sit up.


    He looks at me. ¡°Everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Just switching around.¡± I grab a pillow and put it squarely on hisp. Then I turn around, lying so my head is there instead. I pull the nket over me again.


    Hayden lets out a dark chuckle. ¡°This is familiar.¡±


    It is, just like the times we pretended to watch a movie just to fool around instead. His hand is resting lightly on my hip, and I lift the nket to pull his arm tighter around my waist. It¡¯s warm and heavy, lying there, and I let my fingers trail up the muscr forearm.


    He sighs, and it sounds like surrender, before he holds me more tightly. His hand is close to the underside of my breast, thumb caressing again through the fabric of my dress.


    ¡°Lils¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    He bends, so close that I can breathe in the scent of him, of man and cologne and warm skin. I want him to kiss me. His dark hair tickles my cheek as his lips brush my ear. ¡°I¡¯m not going to take you to bed tonight.¡±


    ¡°Oh, damn it, Hayden.¡±


    His huskyugh sends shivers down my arms. ¡°Disappointed?¡±


    I turn my face into his chest, hiding my expression. It doesn¡¯t help. His chest is rock hard. I mumble something unintelligible against the warmth. I am disappointed-just a little bit.


    ¡°We¡¯re not in a rush.¡± Hayden¡¯s arm tightens around my waist. His fingers brush the underside of my breast. ¡°I¡¯m going to do this the right way.¡±


    I wiggle closer, wanting to feel his mouth on mine. ¡°We¡¯ve already had sex again.¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s not going to happen again for a little while.¡±


    I run my hand up his chest and curve it around his broad neck. ¡°Why? The greenhouse was¡­ explosive.¡±

 Rogue C55

    He closes his eyes momentarily, and when he opens them again, they burn into mine. ¡°Yes, and then you ran from me. I¡¯m not going to risk that happening again for a little while.¡±


    He bends down and brushes his lips against mine. I kiss him back, our lips meeting in the softest of touches. It quickly turns heated and my fingers weave their way into the thick locks of his hair.


    Hayden groans into my mouth and cradles me closer. His lips open mine softly, and I nearlye apart at the first taste of his tongue. The world centers around the two of us, and nothing else matters. Not the sound of fighting armies on the TV or the years of separation. It¡¯s just the two of us again.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    His hand cups my breast, a thumb flicking gently over my taut nipple. I can¡¯t help the moan that escapes me and he chuckles.


    ¡°So eager¡­¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± I kiss him deeply again. ¡°It¡¯s been a while.¡±


    ¡°Since the greenhouse? It¡¯s been three days.¡±


    I smile against his lips. ¡°Far, far too long.¡±


    Hayden grips my waist and pulls me closer, kissing me thoroughly. He has a way of touching me thatpletely undoes me-the mixture of devotion and need. Like he¡¯s gripping me tightly despite himself, fingers stroking my skin with adoration but body pulsing with want.


    I want to feel his skin against mine, his body heaving, the both of us stretched out-


    Hayden pulls away with a wry smile. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, making my mouth dry. If the greenhouse was intense, the next time will be tortuously slow. I can see it in his eyes.


    He puts two fingers under my chin and turns my face up. His lips trail slowly down my jaw, along the sensitive skin of my neck. I shiver when I feel them against my ear.


    ¡°It¡¯s time for you to go home now, Lily, or I¡¯m going to break my own resolution.¡±


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s a good thing.¡± My voice is only a little breathless.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to rush things with you.¡±


    ¡°Where did you get so self-disciplined?¡± I mutter, thinking about the recklessness he often disyed as a child.


    Haydenughs and lifts me off him in one clean, strong movement, making it very clear that he is most definitely a grown man now. ¡°The Navy is sort of big on that, Lils.¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡± Despite myself, I¡¯m d we¡¯re taking it slowly. It feels right¡­ proper, somehow. Like he¡¯s here to stay-like we¡¯re starting something again. And when we kiss goodbye that night, it¡¯s a sweet kiss filled with promise and hope.


    Hayden


    Gary looks familiar opposite me. There are more wrinkles on his face, true, and the hair he has left is pierced with gray. But he has the sameughing glint in his eyes.


    It was my idea to take him out to lunch at the Yacht Club¡¯s terrace. We¡¯re by far the roughest types here, but I don¡¯t care. The food is delicious and we¡¯ve wiped our tes clean.


    He offers me a cigarette, but I shake my head.


    ¡°When did you stop?¡±


    ¡°Years ago,¡± I say. ¡°You haven¡¯t seen me smoke in a long time.¡±


    ¡°Goodd. Do as I say and not as I do, and all that.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    He turns to look out over the waves. We¡¯re at the table furthest out on the terrace, closest to where the waves crash against the plinths beneath us. ¡°So,¡± he says. ¡°How does it feel to be back? Really?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good. Weird, you know.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think of this as a home when I lived here,¡± I say. ¡°Buting back now¡­ it feels likeing home.¡±


    Gary¡¯s smile is quick, there and gone in a sh. He nods and flicks ash off his cigarette into the tray. ¡°This is the ce you¡¯ve been longest, so it¡¯s not surprising.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I guess.¡±


    ¡°And seeing the Marchands again?¡± The way he asks it, I know he¡¯ll be okay with whatever I say. If there is one thing Gary understands, it¡¯s the fine line we walk between being white trash and hired help, between friends of the family and an employed charity case.


    He understands the mixed feelings it brings.


    ¡°It¡¯s been good. It¡¯s easier now, being grown and self-sufficient myself.¡± I lean against the railing of the terrace and sigh. ¡°Parker is as easygoing as always.¡±


    ¡°The boy missed you,¡± Gary says. ¡°He woulde to my garage sometimes to tinker with the cars, but I know he was just fishing for information about you.¡±


    I sigh, not knowing what to say. Gary has never asked me why I left so abruptly after the ident. I think, of all people, he was the only one who truly understood why I had to leave. I think a part of him even respected me for it.


    ¡°I hope you told him great things.¡±


    ¡°Of course. You were themander of the entire damn Navy by the time you were twenty-three, kid.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°What am I now?¡±


    ¡°If you had waited another few years toe back, I could have promoted you to president.¡±


    ¡°Of the country?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Sky¡¯s the limit.¡±


    ¡°Not for people like us,¡± Iugh. ¡°President. Holy hell.¡±


    Gary snuffs his cigarette out in the tray, his face taking on a pensive look. I might have been away for a while, but I know what it means. It means he¡¯s going to say something that¡¯s difficult for him.


    ¡°Not for you, Hay. Damn¡­ when you told me you were promoted to lieutenant¡­ Well done.¡±


    I focus on the horizon and keep the sudden tightness in my chest at bay. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, of course.¡± He clears his throat. ¡°How was it, meeting Lily again? I know you were fond of her back in the day.¡±


    I try not to let my surprise show. I had been so cautious back then to make sure he never found out, especially not after he warned me to be careful with her. I know he hadn¡¯t wanted me to screw up our situation-the tuition, the employment.


    ¡°She¡¯s good,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s been nice to see her again, too.¡±

 Rogue C56

    ¡°Mmhmm.¡± There¡¯s a wealth of insinuation in the sound. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. I trust you to make your own decisions.¡±


    I fight the urge to roll my eyes, like I¡¯m sixteen again. ¡°I know, I know. Be careful with her.¡±


    ¡°Nah, you¡¯re a grown man now. I don¡¯t want you to get hurt, but I know you can handle it.¡±


    The wind smells strongly of salt and seaweed as it blows past me, ruffling my hair. I blink a few times to get the full meaning of his words. Is he really saying what I think he¡¯s saying?


    ¡°You were warning me to be careful for my own sake?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He looks at me like it¡¯s obvious. ¡°It wasn¡¯t hard to see how you looked at her growing up, kid. But people like the Marchands? They¡¯re heartbreakers.¡±


    My mouth feels dry. ¡°They¡¯ve always been good to us.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and don¡¯t I know it.¡± For the first time, I hear the rancor in his voice. I recognize the feeling. It¡¯s shame, and guilt, and the loss of pride thates with having to ept charity. ¡°Eloise and Michael are good people. But they¡¯re not easy people, and they¡¯re not our people.¡±


    It¡¯s not afortable thought-not with my hopes for Lily. ¡°Did you think dinner was awkward on Friday night?¡±


    ¡°You mean apart from the looks you and Lily sent each other?¡±


    I¡¯m quiet for a beat, just looking at him.


    He smiles. ¡°Come on now, don¡¯t scowl at me. I¡¯m just pointing out the obvious. I don¡¯t think it was clear to anyone else. And besides, her brothers are oblivious, which you¡¯re damn lucky about.¡±


    ¡°I know that.¡±


    ¡°If you want my advice-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°-then do what makes you happy. Life¡¯s too damn short, and you and I both know it can turn on a dime.¡±


    ¡°Really? You¡¯re not warning me to avoid screwing up a good situation for us? That¡¯s a change.¡±


    He shoots me a wry smile. ¡°You¡¯re not a child anymore. You have work, you have a future. I¡¯m getting closer to retirement every day, and I have my savings. I say you go a bit wild again, kid.¡±


    I shake my head, but I can¡¯t stop the smile on my face. He¡¯s right about that. We¡¯re in a very different situation than we were ten years ago-not to mention twenty. We¡¯d gone from town to town, barely surviving on the meager paychecks Gary had made from working in garages and on farms.


    Things are different now.


    ¡°About that,¡± I say, leaning forward. ¡°I have something I want to tell you.¡±


    ¡°You really are running for president.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Gary throws his hands heavenward. ¡°What a waste.¡±


    I take a deep breath, ying with the edge of the tablecloth. ¡°The house on Elm Street? I¡¯m not renting it. I sort of¡­ well, I bought it.¡±


    ¡°You bought it.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Remember what I¡¯ve told you about the security business I have set up with my old buddy from the Navy?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Security consulting.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s taken off.¡±


    I¡¯m expecting congrattions, amazement-not the widened eyes of disapproval. ¡°How much in debt are you? Your mortgage?¡±


    ¡°I paid half in cash,¡± I say. ¡°The interest rate is set over ten years. It¡¯s a financially sound decision, Uncle.¡±


    ¡°Quit ying. I¡¯ve seen what houses here go for, Hay. There¡¯s no way you could afford that. Hell, if you add up everything I¡¯ve made in life, I couldn¡¯t afford a ce in Paradise Shores. How did you get the money? I won¡¯t have you caught up with loan sharks just to impress Lily Marchand¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not caught up with loan sharks. The security business is going great. We¡¯re making a lot of money. A lot of money, Uncle. You don¡¯t need to worry about me. And for the record, the house was expensive, but it¡¯s not exactly an oceanside vi.¡±


    He leans back, the red color slowly draining from his face as he processes my words. I can see when it finally sinks in.


    ¡°So what you¡¯re telling me, boy, is that you¡¯re rich now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯mfortable.¡±


    ¡°No, don¡¯t pull that middle-ss bullshit with me. Tell me like it is. Are you rich, Hayden?¡±


    I know what he means. I know what he¡¯s referring to-the kind of stability people like us could spend their entire lives chasing and never get. The kind of safety we¡¯dcked for decades.


    He means security.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I tell him.


    Gary closes his eyes momentarily, and then he¡¯s out of his chair and his arms are around me. I can count the hugs my uncle has given me on one hand. He let me eat when he didn¡¯t have enough food for the both of us, but physical affection has never been for us.


    I wrap an arm around him. Only then do I realize that his shoulders are shaking, shaking hard withughter. He wipes a tear of mirth from his eyes.


    ¡°Holy hell, Hay. You made it. You fucking made it.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ well. Yes.¡±R¨ºAdt??St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only


    ¡°Yes you did, kid. God, there was a time when I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d make it to your eighteenth damn birthday¡­¡± He reaches for a cigarette, and I can see that his hand is slightly unsteady. ¡°If your good-for-nothing father could see you now¡­ Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize to me.¡±


    ¡°No, if only Alice could see you now,¡± he says, and when he looks at me, I see that his eyes are zed. I know he has the same eyes as my mother, the same hazel color. It¡¯s the only real resemnce between them. ¡°She¡¯d be over the moon.¡±


    ¡°That her son got rich?¡±

 Rogue C57

    He shakes his head. ¡°That you made something out of yourself. That you¡¯re not going to be your father. That you were dealt a pretty shit hand of cards and you¡¯re standing tall. A fucking homeowner. My nephew¡¯s a homeowner. Not even your grandfather could say that.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what to say. His praise is sudden and unexpected, so much more than when I graduated from military college. He¡¯d flown in then to see me, standing in one of the back rows, sunsses glinting in the sun.


    ¡°You were dealt a pretty shit hand of cards, too,¡± I say. ¡°You were given a sullen and ungrateful seven-year-old and you decided to take him with you.¡±


    ¡°Of course I did, kid.¡±


    ¡°Not everyone would have made the same decision,¡± I say. The words are hard to say-I have to force them out-but they¡¯re important. It¡¯s important that he knows this. ¡°I didn¡¯t be rich on my own. You helped that happen.¡±


    He runs a hand along his neck, staring at the table. ¡°Nah. You did that all on your own.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not. I know how much I owe you, Gary.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t owe me a damn thing.¡±


    ¡°Will you let me say thank you?¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Fine. Go ahead, boy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m going to live in Paradise Shores. I don¡¯t know what lies in store in my future. But I do know that the house here is too big for just me. There¡¯s a spare wing with a guest bedroom and a kitchte.¡±


    His eyes narrow at me, but I keep going, ignoring the look he shoots me. I know I have to phrase this offer right-and I only have one shot.


    ¡°You can¡¯t live in the Marchands¡¯ beach house after you retire. I don¡¯t know what your ns are, but if you want it, the house is yours to use.¡±


    He shakes his head but says nothing. I wonder if it feels too much like a handout-like the kind of charity I¡¯d been to the Marchands.


    ¡°There¡¯s arge garage and toolshed that needs to be filled, and I don¡¯t have the time.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°I could use someone to look after the nts.¡±


    Gary looks out across the ocean for a long time. I wonder if it¡¯s as much a part of him now as it is of me. He grew up ind, far away from the coast, from boats and marinas and the sound of seagulls. But somehow, it¡¯s be home for the both of us.


    ¡°Someone to mow thewn,¡± he says finally.


    ¡°Exactly. I won¡¯t have the time.¡±


    He reaches over and offers me his hand. There¡¯s a glint in his eyes I haven¡¯t seen before, and btedly, I realize they¡¯re zed with tears. I shake his hand.


    ¡°I ept, kid.¡±


    Hayden


    The drive to Lily¡¯s house that evening doesn¡¯t take long. The streets of Paradise Shores feel as familiar to me now as they did when I left, structured and ordered, winding around a central square. Turning up on Ocean Drive to the boardwalk, the caf¨¦s, the marina in the distance. Knowing that the Marchand house is on the far north of Ocean Drive, Lily¡¯s cottage to the south.


    The sun hangs low by the horizon and the ocean glitters with an orange hue. For the first time in a long while, my shoulders don¡¯t feel quite so tense. Gary had epted my offer without much hesitation. And Lily had, while maybe not forgiven me entirely, epted me back into her life.


    I park outside her house and smile as I open the gate. It¡¯s still perfectly oiled and functioning. There are a few shingles on the roof that need to be changed too-I saw that from the start-but I know I have to start small.


    Lily opens the door before I can knock. There¡¯s an apron around her waist, her cheeks pink and blooming with heat.


    ¡°Hi.¡±


    ¡°Hello.¡± I bend and press a soft kiss to her lips. The happiness in her eyes nearly undoes me, knowing how much I¡¯ve missed it, how close I was to losing it forever. ¡°What¡¯s that amazing smell?¡±


    ¡°Do you like it?¡± She dances over to the kitchen. Arge pot is on the stove. ¡°I¡¯m trying to make bouibaisse.¡±


    ¡°The French seafood stew?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Remember?¡±


    ¡°I do. It¡¯s amazing.¡± I follow her, standing close enough that I can smell the fresh scent of shampoo clinging to her auburn hair. It¡¯s braided along her back. I¡¯m struck again by an image of it wrapped around my hand as she¡¯s bent, as she moans- I cut off that line of thinking. I¡¯d decided to take things slow. I couldn¡¯t afford to mess this up again.


    ¡°The one your mom used to make.¡±


    ¡°The very one.¡± She stirs the pot, leaning back against my chest. ¡°I think you liked it growing up, unless you were faking.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t. Don¡¯t you know I¡¯d never fake?¡±


    Lilyughs. I run my fingertips up her bare arms and watch as goose bumps follow my touch.


    ¡°Neither do I,¡± she says.


    I brush a kiss against her neck and try to ignore the arousal her words produce. ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°The stew can handle being on its own for a bit.¡± She turns in my arms, pressing the soft length of her body against mine. For a few minutes nothing else exists but the feel of her soft lips. I make my touchzy, sweeping my hands slowly over her back, her hips, her shoulders. Savoring every inch of her.


    Lily¡¯s the one who touches her tongue to mine first, and I can¡¯t help but smile at the intrusion. She¡¯s always hated being treated as if she couldn¡¯t keep up. My decision the other night must have felt like we were children again.


    I slide my hands down and cup her bottom. It¡¯s easy to push her closer against me, against the hardness that¡¯s making it hard for me to think rationally. It always has been, where she¡¯s concerned.


    Lily chuckles and starts to kiss my neck. ¡°You really can¡¯t fake anything with me.¡±


    ¡°Not that.¡±


    She slides her hand down and traces a finger along the bulge in my pants. It¡¯s already straining against the fabric and I hiss at the feeling of her nail, softly tracing the length.


    ¡°All this could be solved so easily, you know,¡± she murmurs. ¡°You know I¡¯m willing.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± I grab her wrist and pull it away from my groin, not without some difficulty. It¡¯s almost painful how hard her words make me. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I turn her back to the stove. ¡°The stew is boiling.¡±


    ¡°Shoot.¡±


    I smile against her hair and watch as she stirs. It¡¯s funny how right everything feels when she¡¯s in my arms. My fears and problems fall away, the past and the future too. As long as she¡¯s by my side, everything feels possible.


    We eat by candlelight at her kitchen table. The food is delicious, and I tell her so, even going in for seconds. There¡¯sughter in her warm eyes when I reach for another piece of bread, ready to dunk it in the stew.

 Rogue C58

    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I was just wondering where all of it goes.¡±


    ¡°The food?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. But then¡­¡± She lets her eyes trail down across my chest, down my body, hidden beneath the table. ¡°It¡¯s fairly obvious.¡±


    I quirk my lips into a smile. ¡°Are you implying that I need to go on a diet, Lily Marchand? What a rude thing to say.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not. And don¡¯t you get any more in shape, either, or I¡¯ll never sleep with you again.¡±


    Iugh, despite myself. ¡°Isn¡¯t that counterintuitive? Most women seem to want muscles. The more the merrier.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I¡¯m not exactly in your kind of shape. It¡¯s hard already to imagine taking my clothes off with all that going on.¡±


    Lily says it lightly, her eyes teasing, but I can¡¯t help but wonder if she¡¯s serious-if there¡¯s a thread of insecurity lingering under her bravado. I remember the shy girl from all those years ago, her hands courageous but trembling.


    And there is nothing even remotely wrong about her shape. There¡¯s rather too much right about it, if parts of my anatomy have anything to say.


    ¡°Your body is insane, Lils.¡±


    Sheughs, a faint blush on her cheeks. ¡°Hayden.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d want you regardless, you know. But that¡¯s the truth. There¡¯s no part of you that doesn¡¯t entice me.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t seen me naked yet,¡± she says, voice amused. Her eyes promise pleasure, sending shocks of want through me.


    ¡°Of course I have.¡±


    ¡°I mean, not now. Not since you came back.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± I tap a finger against my temple. ¡°Infallible memory.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve changed, dumbass.¡±


    I frown and pretend to look confused, letting my eyes wander over her corbones, her smooth shoulders, the slopes of her breasts under the shirt. The curve of her waist before it dips out into hips that I remember gripping tightly.


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t see anything different. I¡¯ll suppose I¡¯ll just have to take a closer look to see.¡±


    Lily grins at me. ¡°I suppose you have to, then.¡±


    ¡°And when the time is right, I will.¡±


    After dinner, I walk around her small house. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯m properly let in. The cottage might be small, but it¡¯s cozy, and every inch of it bears her imprint. Its Lily¡¯s personalitye to life.


    I pause at the framed pictures on the wall. One is Lily in her graduation gown from Yale. She¡¯s posing in front arge brick building, her hair straight and gleaming, a cap on her head. There¡¯s an unexpected stab in my chest at the sight. Yale, one of the many reasons I left-to ensure she got the future she deserved.


    She pauses at my shoulder. ¡°Oh. It was a massive ceremony.¡±


    ¡°Did your familye?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they drove up for the day. Henry came in from New York, Parker too.¡± She¡¯s quiet for a beat. ¡°Rhys was the only one who didn¡¯t make it.¡±


    ¡°Rhys wasn¡¯t there?¡± I find that hard to believe. The Marchands¡¯ middle son had always been Lily¡¯s protector, the one person who¡¯d championed and understood her dreams of art.


    She shakes her head. ¡°No.¡±


    I wrap an arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to her hair. There¡¯s more, I¡¯m sure, that¡¯s happened in the years since I wasst in her life on a daily basis. She¡¯ll tell me when she¡¯s ready.


    ¡°What about this?¡± I point at a picture of Lily in front of a gallery. She¡¯s wearing a sleek silk dress, her hair long and glorious over one shoulder. There¡¯s a ss of champagne in her hand. Looking at her makes me want to stand next to her and wrap an arm around her waist. You can look, but not touch.


    ¡°A gallery opening. The first exhibition I curated myself.¡±


    ¡°In Manhattan?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was modern art.¡±


    ¡°Do you miss it? The art scene.¡±


    She shakes her head, and I¡¯m close enough to see the freckles that smatter across her nose. ¡°No. There was too much pretension. Art is supposed to make you feel, and it¡¯s supposed to be fun. There¡¯s skill to it as well, of course, but¡­ I couldn¡¯t stand those environments.¡±


    I pull her toward the couch. She sinks down next to me. ¡°And here in Paradise? There¡¯s not much art around here.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I sort of want to change that.¡± Lily¡¯s smile is crooked, her eyes mischievous. It¡¯s a look I recognize well. It means she¡¯s about to say something to shock or tease me, or suggest we do something that will definitelynd us in trouble.


    ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a ce on Porter Street. A small locale, nothing more. But it¡¯s not too expensive, and I think I can get a good deal through Harris Development.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯ll transform it. Art on the walls from people in the area, maybe showcasing art from further afield every now and so often. And I could host art sses.¡±


    The excitement on her face stirs something simr in me. I can see her vision, and I know she¡¯d execute it beautifully. ¡°I think you should, Lils.¡±


    ¡°Really? I¡¯d be using a fair bit of my trust to buy it. And it would be a risk. It might never make financial sense.¡±


    I shrug. ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t, you¡¯ll sell the ce a few years down the line. It¡¯s not a big deal.¡±


    Her smile broadens. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I thought you¡¯d caution me against this.¡±


    ¡°Me neither. Have you forgotten?¡± I lean forward, nipping at her earlobe, loving the sound of herughter. ¡°I¡¯m the wild one, remember. The one from the wrong side of the tracks.¡±


    ¡°There are no tracks at all around here.¡±


    ¡°Which just goes to show how far from home I actually am.¡±


    She smiles at me and I can¡¯t help but smile back. ¡°Most people in my life won¡¯t approve,¡± she says. ¡°Parker won¡¯t understand. Mom will be cautiously optimistic, but she won¡¯t get it. Dad will hate it. He¡¯ll probably say I¡¯m wasting my trust, my time and my talent.¡±

 Rogue C59

    ¡°So fuck him.¡±


    She barks out a surprisedughter. ¡°Hayden!¡±


    ¡°What? I respect the man, but it¡¯s your life, Lils. You have to live it.¡±


    Her fingers trail up my arm. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ll see if I can start the paperwork tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Mmm. And let me know if you need any help.¡±


    She looks up at me. ¡°Help?¡±


    ¡°Getting the ce in shape. Hanging paintings. Reviewing art sses¡­ Posing as a model.¡±


    Lily giggles. ¡°You¡¯d pose for me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Nude would be best.¡±


    She leans in closer to my side and presses a kiss to my neck. Her lips are soft against my skin, moving gently down to the cor of my shirt. ¡°I¡¯ve drawn nude men before. It¡¯s a lot of fun.¡±


    My arm tightens around her shoulders. The response is involuntary. I picture another man, eager and college-educated, lying on a couch for her. I imagine what happened after.


    Lily¡¯s voice is low against my skin. ¡°In ss. We had to learn how to sketch muscles, to draw movement.¡±


    My shoulders rx. ¡°I want to see what you¡¯ve painted in thest few years.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not much.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s a lie.¡±


    She turns and sits with one leg on either side of me, in myp. Her hands find their way around my neck and for a long moment I can only stare at her, at the wonder of her long fiery hair and beautiful eyes. At the smile she¡¯s giving me. Now that I¡¯m back in her life, I¡¯m astonished I ever survived without her.


    I lean forward and take her mouth in a kiss. It¡¯s too easy, with her, to lose myself entirely. To forget who I am and what I¡¯ve done.


    She presses herself closer, her breasts ttening against my chest. I let my hands slide down and cup her bottom, to fit her more tightly against me. I¡¯m so damn aroused it¡¯s difficult to concentrate on anything but her weight against my groin.


    ¡°How long will you torture us both?¡± Lily murmurs, letting her hand trail across my shoulders. She rolls her hips and I have to grit my teeth against the sensations that ripple through me. ¡°It¡¯s been over a week since the greenhouse now. We¡¯ve been on three dates.¡±


    It¡¯s hard to concentrate through my desire. She¡¯s too important to me, and I need to make sure there are no regrets.


    But that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t give her some relief.


    I kiss her again, stronger this time, and smile at the sound of her low moan. Her skin feels hot to the touch. It burns my hands and my lips, and still I want more of the fire.


    Grabbing her hips, I flip us around. Lily grins as I spread her out on the couch beneath me. The fabric of her flimsy sundress bunches around her waist, taunting me with the expanse of pale, freckled thighs.


    I kiss down her neck, touching my lips to her corbone.


    ¡°All right,¡± I murmur, letting my hand skim down her body. I flick her taut nipple and I¡¯m rewarded by the sound of her gasp. ¡°Let¡¯s check this¡­¡±


    She pulls at my shoulders when she realizes where my hand is going. ¡°Hayden-¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I ignore her faint protest as my hand lifts the hem of her dress. The skin along the waistband of her panties is soft as silk to the touch. It¡¯s easy work to slip my fingers underneath it, to reach down and tease her soft warmth.


    Lily lets out a moan, and I can¡¯t help but smile at her. The blush on her cheeks is magnificent. ¡°You weren¡¯t lying,¡± I murmur, my fingers parting and circling. I slip a finger inside her, and I¡¯m rewarded with another breathless moan. ¡°You really are that eager.¡±


    She nods against my neck, wriggling and writhing. It makes it harder for me to focus on touching her, until I realize what she¡¯s trying to get a hold of. I angle my hips away and she sighs in frustration.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    It takes me a moment to respond, with her body pressed so close to me. But she¡¯s too important to me. I have to make sure there are no regrets.


    And in my desire-addled mind, I say that.


    ¡°No regrets,¡± she whispers. ¡°None at all. Hayden, I want you.¡±


    And God knows I¡¯d wanted her forever, from the first time I saw her, and would until myst dying day. She¡¯s everything I¡¯ve ever dreamed of.


    ¡°All right, baby,¡± I murmur, curling my finger inside of her. ¡°Let¡¯s get you into bed and taken care of.¡±


    Lily doesn¡¯t protest when I lift her up, carrying her into her bedroom and onto the oversized bed. She just presses closer to me. ¡°Finally.¡±


    Lily


    Haydenys me down on my bed and wastes no time in getting back to what he started on the couch. He folds me back and tugs my panties down my legs. Strong hands push my legs apart, fingers curling over the soft skin of my thighs.


    I close my eyes at the first touch of his tongue. It¡¯s too much, what he¡¯s doing to me. But I bury my hands in his hair nheless. It¡¯s silky between my fingers, the thick, ck hair he¡¯s had since the first day I met him, over twenty years ago.


    Hayden keeps his hands on my hips to keep me in ce, but I wouldn¡¯t move for the world. Every skillful motion of his tongue and fingers brings me closer, closer to an edge that threatens to undo me.


    Hayden¡¯s touching me like he owns me-like all of me is his and he¡¯s reiming it. A very small part of me wants to object.


    The rest is inplete agreement. I am his. I always have been, deep inside, my soul calling out to his. It¡¯s physical, but it¡¯s so much more than that, too.


    Hayden breaks off momentarily tough softly against my skin. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh and looks up at me. ¡°So far, you haven¡¯t changed a bit, Lily.¡±


    He¡¯s driving me insane, the desire coursing through my body too strong to override. ¡°Let¡¯s talkter.¡±


    ¡°So impatient.¡± He does something with his fingers that makes me gasp, a wicked smile on his face.


    He devotes himself entirely to my pleasure again and I break apart under his tongue. I can¡¯t control my movements, gasping as my back arches and toes curl. It¡¯s heavenly, this release, all with him.


    Hayden rests his head on my hip and runs a handzily around my nipple. He¡¯s watching me through hooded eyes. ¡°I¡¯d forgotten how beautiful you are when youe.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    My cheeks heat up. I run a hand through his hair, stopping right at the nape of his neck.


    ¡°God Lily, you¡¯re too sweet,¡± he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my hipbone. ¡°That was a good start.¡±


    I frown and tug at his shoulders. He crawls up my body, lying down next to me, a strong hand around my waist. I think it¡¯s meant to reassure me, but I don¡¯t feel the least bit calm.

 Rogue C60

    I tug at his shirt, my hands fumbling with the buttons. It doesn¡¯t take long until Hayden catches on. He murmurs a protest against my lips, something about slow and regrets, but I¡¯ll have none of that.


    He groans when my hand strokes along the bulge in his jeans. ¡°Too tight,¡± he murmurs, a sigh of relief escaping him when he finally tugs his jeans off.


    My heart is beating so fast I¡¯m sure he can hear it. There¡¯s an urgency to this, but it¡¯s not like the greenhouse, when all I needed was fusion.


    This time I want him undone and broken in my arms. I want to watch where we join, and when I whisper it to him, Hayden lowers his forehead to my shoulder and mutters a string of curses.


    ¡°What?¡± I whisper, wrapping my arms around him. He¡¯s on top of me, the heavy weight of his arousal resting against my stomach.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be the death of me, Lily.¡±


    I hug him tighter, until his face is buried against my breasts. ¡°I don¡¯t want that.¡±


    There¡¯s a faintugh. ¡°I¡¯d die happy, babygirl.¡±


    He lifts himself up on strong arms and kisses me. It¡¯s deep and invasive, warning me about what¡¯s toe. If we had our guards up before, they¡¯repletely down now. There¡¯s absolute surrender with Hayden.


    I should have realized that before, when I pushed and pushed for him to take me to bed properly-not the wild, emotional coupling in the greenhouse. I should have realized that once we did it slowly, I¡¯d lose all semnce of control, both of my emotions and the situation.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    This will change things. If he leaves again, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll emerge unscathed.


    But he¡¯s worth the risk.


    I kiss him back, letting his tongue sweep in and leave a trail of hot fire in its wake. His muscled back is hard under my hands, and I run my fingers along the deep grooves. I want to touch him everywhere-to relearn his body and have him catalogue mine in turn.


    Hayden spreads my thighs without stopping the kisses, settling between my legs with a low groan. He rests his forehead against mine. I can feel him shaking with the effort to go slow, running the head of his hardness along me, teasing.


    I put a hand on his chest to feel the beat of his heart, fast and racing. My own is doing the same.


    ¡°Feel that?¡± he murmurs. ¡°All for you, Lils.¡±


    I kiss him, pouring all my longing and need and despair into it. All the years we¡¯ve been apart and the nights without him.


    He groans when he finally pushes into me, inch by inch, until he¡¯s buried to the hilt. It feels so unbearably right to have our bodies intertwined like this again-my legs around his waist, his arms around me, our bodies moving in tandem.


    I don¡¯t know how long we move like that, with him inside me, both of us gasping, before release finally overtakes us. It starts deep within me first. Hayden has a hand between my legs and he¡¯s circling, voice imploring in my ear.


    ¡°Again, Lily,¡± he murmurs, and I can¡¯t hold back, breaking around him like a wave against the shore for the second time.


    Hayden groans and follows me into release. I hold him, our bodies shaking with the force of it. For a long time we stay like that, wrapped around one another.


    I run a hand over his back, stroking the muscled skin. He¡¯s warm and faintly sweaty. ¡°Will you stay the night?¡±


    There¡¯s a faint, nomittal grunt against my neck. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can move.¡±


    Hayden


    I¡¯m on a video call with Finn when I get Lily¡¯s excited text. She¡¯s written it in all-caps. I GOT THE ART GALLERY!


    Finn is suspicious immediately.


    ¡°What are you smiling about, man?¡±


    ¡°Sorry. Got to reply to something urgent.¡±


    I type a quick congrats to her before I flip my phone over, screen down. It only took her about a week to draw up all the paperwork-courtesy of Harris Development.


    Finn isn¡¯t convinced. ¡°I know urgent, and that¡¯s not it. Does she have a name?¡±


    I re at him through the monitor, but my only reward is his wryughter.


    ¡°Fine, man. y it close to the vest.¡±


    ¡°You should try socializing some time,¡± I suggest, knowing it¡¯ll needle him. ¡°I know it¡¯s shocking, butputers can¡¯t keep you warm at night.¡±


    He rolls his eyes at me. ¡°I don¡¯t need socializing. Besides,puters generate heat, so they actually can.¡±


    ¡°Just saying. I¡¯m sure Boston has at least a few good women.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± he says, his tone surly, and I drop the topic.


    We return to the nning of our West Coast expansion-and our n to hire a consultant or two of our own. The business is expanding faster than either of us had anticipated.


    I¡¯ve been pushing for us to reach higher and higher numbers, but it still feels unreal that it¡¯s actually going as well as it is. Gary¡¯s words ring in my head. You¡¯re rich.


    It would be hard to believe if I didn¡¯t know the ins and outs of my own finances. If this continues, I¡¯ll be able to hold my own with old Michael Marchand. Not best him, sure, but certainly be regarded as an equal.


    But I¡¯m not sure money is all it takes.


    I drive over to Lily¡¯s new gallery that evening, stopping on the way to pick up a few things. She¡¯s already there-has been since she finished work.


    Anticipation runs through my body as I park outside. Knowing she¡¯s close, and that I¡¯ll see her soon, never fails to put me on edge.


    The front door is ajar and the wood has deep gashes from disrepair. It¡¯ll need to be sanded down and repainted entirely.


    Old-school jazz hits me as I walk in. Ady croons about respect, filling the space with her voice. Lily is standing in the middle of the gallery-to-be, her back to me.


    Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she has a pencil stuck behind her ear. I can see her frantically scribbling notes on a legal pad. I¡¯m sure she sees something very different from what I do-yellowed walls in desperate need of new sheetrock, old linoleum floors. She¡¯s always been the one with the vision.


    I wrap my arms around her waist and she leans into me, a small sigh escaping her. Her scent is as intoxicating as usual.


    ¡°Hey, you.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say. ¡°How did you know it was me? The front door was unlocked.¡±


    ¡°Who else could it be?¡± She runs a hand over my forearm absently, holding up her notes. She¡¯s sketched out an entirely different interior design. The odd half-wall is gone, as are the popcorn ceilings. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    It looks like a professional art studio.

 Rogue C61

    ¡°It looks great,¡± I murmur, pressing another kiss to her neck. ¡°Very artsy.¡±


    Lily smiles. ¡°Excellent feedback.¡±


    It¡¯s been a week since I properly took her to bed, and since then, we¡¯ve spent nearly every evening together. Cooking dinner, walking on the beach¡­ and me, getting reacquainted with every nook and cranny of her body.


    I rest my head atop hers and focus on her designs. She¡¯s drawn faint mosaic floors and spotlights from the ceilings. It¡¯s an art studio, sure, but it¡¯s not without character.


    ¡°Is that a pottery wheel?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Too crazy? Maybe. It might not be for right away. But I like the idea of being able to have sses with that, too. Maybe hire an expert, or just let people express themselves with y.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°It¡¯s not crazy. And if you ever want to reenact that scene from the movie, you know, with the guy whoes back as a ghost? I¡¯ll volunteer.¡±


    Lilyughs, leaning back more snugly against me. ¡°This ce is going to take a lot of work. And there¡¯s absolutely no guarantee that it will pay off.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the case with everything in life. As for the work, you know I¡¯ll pitch in as much as I can. I can¡¯ty tiles, but I sure as hell know how to paint and ster.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she murmurs, and there¡¯s a faint trace of shyness in her voice. It¡¯s unexpected. ¡°I was thinking about something.¡±


    ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°What are we, really? I mean, I feel like I know, but I was wondering in regard to our friends and family. I haven¡¯t told anyone that you and I are¡­ well. But we¡¯re going to have to tell them eventually.¡±


    My reaction is immediate.


    Lily feels the tension in my body and tries to twist, to see my face, but I can¡¯t let her. I¡¯m too scared she¡¯ll see the panic that¡¯s written there.


    I know I have to face her brothers and father eventually. Face the disapproval and the requests to leave. Her father already demanded it of me once, and when he does again, I¡¯ll refuse. But it will hurt her.


    I could lose everything again if I don¡¯t do this right.


    ¡°What are we?¡± I force myself to rx, to stroke up her bare arms. ¡°We¡¯re us. We always have been.¡±


    She finally turns. Reaching up, she puts a hand on my cheek, her thumb smoothing over my cheekbone.


    ¡°And you¡¯re here indefinitely,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I¡¯m not fooling her. It¡¯s clear in her gaze, in the way she frowns slightly. It¡¯s always been impossible for me to hide anything from her.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t want our friends and family to know?¡±


    I close my eyes, knowing it¡¯s easier for me to hide my emotions that way. ¡°Let¡¯s just be you and me, for a little while longer.¡±


    When I open my eyes again, Lily gives me a small nod. I can tell that she doesn¡¯t understand. But she¡¯ll give me the time I need.


    Guilt unfurls in my stomach, familiar and acidic. I know I don¡¯t deserve her, and this is just more proof. It¡¯ll be confirmed when her family learns of it.


    Lily rises up on her tiptoes and kisses me softly before rocking back on her heels. ¡°So, what¡¯s the first thing I need to do with this ce?¡±


    ¡°To turn it into your sketch?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Well, for one, you should get an electrician in here right away, at the same time as your builders. If you want spotlights, nning that before you start scrubbing the ceiling and tearing down walls would be good.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± She scribbles something down in her notebook. ¡°We have a contractor at work. I¡¯m going to ask her if she has space in her calendar for this, too. I¡¯ll obviously pay.¡±


    I nod. ¡°But don¡¯t get them to do the small stuff. I¡¯ll paint these walls for you, Lils. Hell, Gary would probably love to be involved.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to exploit you for freebor just because I¡¯m sleeping with you,¡± she says with a small grin. It¡¯s clear that she wants to move on from the awkwardness just minutes earlier. ¡°If you help out here I want you to bill me.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± I force a wry smile, trying to match her tone. ¡°Consider it down payment for the painting I¡¯m going tomission from you.¡±


    ¡°Really? Of what?¡±


    ¡°I want you to paint me like a gentleman of old. Something stately to hang above my mantlepiece.¡±


    Lilyughs. ¡°A hunting rifle slung over your shoulder?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And there has to be at least two hounds at my feet.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s make it three, for good measure.¡±


    ¡°Good thinking. I knew you were the artist I needed.¡±


    She shakes her head at me, still smiling, and returns to her sketch. Tendrils of hair havee loose from her bun, and she has ink stains on her fingers, and she has never been more beautiful to me.


    ¡°Have you told your parents about this ce yet?¡±


    ¡°No. I want to get my things in order before I do.¡± She looks at me, a small smile on her face. I know she¡¯s not only thinking about the gallery when she responds. ¡°It¡¯ll be our secret for now.¡±


    I smile back.


    Our conversation stays with me the rest of the evening, even as we get take-out and eat it back at hers. It rings in my mind as I drive home to let her get some well-needed sleep.


    I know I can¡¯t put off the reveal to her family forever. Eventually, what we are is going toe out, because I¡¯m not nning on letting her go again. Not ever.


    I just need to figure out what I¡¯m going to do when that happens.


    And despite myself, I don¡¯t want her brothers to kick my ass for it. I know I can handle my own, and I think Lily will stand by me. But they¡¯re the closest thing I¡¯ve ever had to brothers.


    Paradise Shores is dark and quiet when I park on my drivewayte that evening. The house still doesn¡¯t quite feel like home, even if the town does.


    My phone rings and my uncle¡¯s name shes across the screen. He rarely calls at all, and never thiste.


    ¡°Hayden¡­ I don¡¯t know how to say this,¡± he begins, sending ice-cold dread through me. ¡°But it¡¯s your dad. He passed away a few days ago.¡±

 Rogue C62

    Lily


    ¡°So you just bought this ce?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s all mine now. I¡¯m going to turn it into an art gallery, and host art sses.¡±


    Parker shakes his head, looking around at the space. ¡°Have you told the mothership?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m postponing that a little bit.¡±


    ¡°Good. I can¡¯t imagine Dad¡¯s going to be happy, but it¡¯s your life, Lils.¡± He throws his arm around my shoulders. He smells like ocean and tar. ¡°You know I¡¯m in your corner.¡±


    I grin up at him. ¡°Howe you were so annoying growing up? I like you much better as an adult.¡±


    Heughs, the deep, belly-kind. ¡°Because that was my role. You already had a big brother in Henry and a protector in Rhys. I had to be the one who pulled on your pigtails.¡±


    ¡°Had to?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he says, face serene. ¡°Imagine how sheltered you would have been otherwise. Come on, let¡¯s go get ice cream. I¡¯ve been craving mint chocte chip all day.¡±


    I turn off the lights and lock up the studio. It¡¯s going to need work, but all I feel is anticipation. For the first time in a long while, I¡¯m genuinely excited about a creative project.


    I¡¯m also very, very tired. As Parker and I walk toward Paradise Shores Gto, I can¡¯t hide the giant yawn that escapes me.


    ¡°It¡¯s not even six p. m. yet,¡± Parker points out. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Has Turner been running you ragged at work?¡±


    ¡°No, no. I just stayed up tootest night, that¡¯s all.¡± I¡¯m quiet for a beat. ¡°I was painting.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve started again. I need things to fill the gallery with, you know.¡± Thest part is more of a joke, but it had felt amazing to hold a paintbrush again. My body remembered what to do without instruction. I just had to finish the outlines of the scene before I could go to sleep-the sand dunes and the ocean, the horizon, the two people walking along the shoreline.


    Parker grins. ¡°You¡¯re right. Hey, have you seen Hayden aroundtely?¡±


    I shake my head and focus on the ice cream menu. I know it by heart, but I¡¯m afraid to meet Parker¡¯s gaze. Hayden has stayed away for days, ever since the night in my gallery. His reluctance to tell the others about us hurt. The uncertainty could only mean one thing.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if we¡¯dst.


    ¡°He¡¯s been AWOL all week, but these past few days he hasn¡¯t even responded to my texts.¡± Parker clicks his tongue. ¡°I wanted him toe out on the boat this weekend. It can¡¯t be good for the man to spend all his time working.¡±


    I frown. He hadn¡¯t responded to my texts, either, and if he was ignoring Parker too¡­


    ¡°Something must havee up,¡± I say, trying to sound dismissive. ¡°You know Hayden.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but he should talk to me,¡± Parker sighs. ¡°He always yed things too close to the vest. At least the two of you seem to be getting along better now.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Absolutely. It¡¯s all in the past.¡±


    Parker nabs the menu from my hands. ¡°You¡¯re going to get cookie dough. You always do, so quit looking for other options.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Two scoops.¡±


    He winks at me. ¡°My treat today. To celebrate my little sister opening her very own art gallery.¡±


    We order, eat andugh, and I try to push away the frustrating thoughts, but it¡¯s difficult. Worry and unease chase each other in my stomach. I call Hayden as soon as I¡¯ve said goodbye to Parker. There¡¯s no response, just like the day before. It¡¯s not like him, to stay away like this, without an exnation.


    But then, it¡¯s exactly like him, a voice in my head whispers. This is what he did ten years ago. Left without a word or a note. Maybe he¡¯s done it again, and I¡¯ve been a fool for trusting him.


    I wrap my arms around myself. I can¡¯t go down that path, not yet. There might still be a logical exnation-I just need to find him.


    So I start at his house, ringing the doorbell. But it¡¯s dark inside and there¡¯s no response. I even call his name once or twice, like an idiot, but nobody answers.


    Then I head to the marina. I know Parker goes there sometimes when he needs to think, and maybe Hayden does, too. He did spend a lot of time there growing up as well.


    But hope soon dies in my chest. The docks are abandoned, and there¡¯s no lone figure sitting out by the pier.


    There aren¡¯t many options left. I could call Gary and ask, but¡­ that feels like giving up. And it¡¯s too likely to give me the answer I can¡¯t stand. I can almost hear Gary¡¯s kind, gravelly voice. Sorry, girl, but he¡¯s gone.


    No. I can¡¯t bear it-him telling me that again.


    So I text Hayden onest time. It¡¯s long, but at least it¡¯s heartfelt.


    Hey. Is something wrong? I¡¯m here for you if you need me, regardless of what¡¯s happened, or what¡¯s going through your mind. Please let me know where your head is at. It¡¯s like you said: we¡¯re us, Hayden. Always will be.


    I send it and sit staring at the phone¡¯s screen with my heart in my throat. The minutes tick by, ever so slowly. There¡¯s no response.


    In the distance, the sailing boats bob softly in the water, and I have to swallow to keep my tears at bay. Maybe I¡¯d pushed too far. Or it had gotten too serious too fast. I thought we¡¯d been good¡­ but I¡¯d been wrong.


    My phone beeps.


    Sorry. I¡¯m at 47 Oakdale. Join me?


    Relief pounds through me. I don¡¯t even respond, just put the car in drive and head to the address. It¡¯s not until I turn onto the street that I realize where he must be. There¡¯s really only a couple of bars in Paradise Shores, and The Seahorse is one of them. It¡¯s supposed to be a y on an old English pub.


    He¡¯s at a bar?


    The ce is nearly empty, low music pounding through it. There¡¯s only one person sitting at the bar. There¡¯s tension in his shoulders and his hair is messy, the kind of disheveled it gets when he¡¯s run his hands through it too many times to count.


    There¡¯s a ss in front of him. He¡¯s staring at it with an intensity that sends shivers down my arms. The airing off him¡­


    Something¡¯s happened, and I¡¯m suddenly very sure that it has nothing to do with me. Not directly, anyway.


    I approach Hayden slowly and slide into the seat next to him. I can tell that he knows I¡¯m here, but he says nothing, just slowly spins the amber liquid in the ss around and around. It looks untouched.


    The air around him feels imprable.


    ¡°Whiskey?¡±


    ¡°Scotch.¡± His voice sounds low and unused. ¡°Twenty-five years old. Matured in an oak cask.¡±

 Rogue C63

    ¡°The house best.¡±


    ¡°ording to the bartender, yes.¡± Hayden waves a dismissive hand. ¡°He¡¯ll be back soon, if you want something.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    He turns to me and I can see that his amber eyes are bloodshot. He hasn¡¯t looked this way in¡­ in a long time. It reminds me of how he¡¯d looked in the weeks after my ident, the weeks before he left.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Have you had some?¡± I ask gently. He doesn¡¯t seem drunk, not really, but he doesn¡¯t seem like himself, either.


    Hayden frowns, turning back to look at the ss. ¡°No. I¡¯ve thought about it, though.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a while. I don¡¯t say anything, knowing that he¡¯lle to it when he¡¯s ready, even though my mind is going a million miles a minute, thinking about what might have happened.


    He finally clears his throat. ¡°Gary called me yesterday.¡±


    ¡°He did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Apparently, my father passed away.¡± He spins the scotch ss around again. From the smooth motion, it looks like he¡¯s been doing it for a while. ¡°He lived only a few towns over, actually. Had been living there for a few years.¡±


    My mind goes momentarily nk. His rtionship with his father has always been something we¡¯ve tiptoed around. There are too many thorns there. Approach the subject and you¡¯ll inevitably get pricked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Hay,¡± I say. ¡°I know you had aplicated rtionship.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Yes. Complicated.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to talk about him?¡±


    ¡°No. I never want to think about him again.¡± Hayden shakes his head in frustration, focusing intently on the ss of alcohol. The tension in him hasn¡¯t abated-far from it. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I can stop, either.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all right, too. There¡¯s no manual for how to grieve.¡± I reach out and put a hand on his forearm. He pauses in his twirling to look down at where it¡¯s resting.


    ¡°We never really talked about my life before Paradise Shores,¡± he says finally.


    ¡°No, we rarely did,¡± I say. I know there had been darkness. Fights. Alcohol.


    He takes a deep breath. ¡°I never wanted any of that shit to touch you. Any of you, but you in particr. It doesn¡¯t belong anywhere near you.¡±


    My heart constricts in my chest. ¡°I can listen. I¡¯m not fragile.¡±


    ¡°I know. You¡¯re the strongest person I know,¡± he says, and I know what he¡¯s thinking about. The ident. ¡°But I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m strong enough.¡±


    My mouth feels dry. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t handle the pity in your eyes. I can handle it from all the others, Lils, but not from you.¡±


    There¡¯s such despair in his voice-something I¡¯ve never heard from him before. I¡¯d known he¡¯d harbored thoughts like this, but never that they ran this deep.


    I grip his forearm tight and lean in closer. ¡°Hayden, it¡¯s me. It¡¯s just me, and it¡¯s just you. I can promise you that I¡¯m not going to pity you. I respect you too much for that. I have sympathy, but that¡¯s something different.¡±


    He shakes his head again and stares at a nk spot on the wall. One after another, the words spill out of him. ¡°Fights. Dealers. It got ugly, Lily. If Gary hadn¡¯t fought for custody for me, I don¡¯t know what I would¡¯ve be.¡±


    I run my hand gently along his arm in encouragement. I don¡¯t even think he notices.


    ¡°He was terrible to my mother, when she was alive. The things he did sometimes¡­ She¡¯d send me from the room when he was in a rage, but I still heard.¡± Hayden swallows. ¡°After she died, there were times when I didn¡¯t eat for days. He¡¯d leave and be gone for a week. Two, once. I started being afraid whenever the doorbell rang, because I knew it would either be his mean friends or the loan sharks.¡±


    It¡¯s not hard for me to imagine it. I can see the child he was, wide-eyed and with a dark mop of hair, hiding behind doors and pulling up the covers in his bed to muffle the sounds.


    It¡¯s almost too much to bear.


    ¡°Did he ever beat you?¡±


    Hayden¡¯s shrug is far more nonchnt than I feel. ¡°Sometimes. Never too bad, really.¡±


    ¡°Hayden,¡± I murmur, struggling around the lump in my throat. It¡¯s ridiculous, but I feel like crying. Not in pity-but in empathy for the boy he once was. For the man he is now. That anyone ever treated him wrongly feels like the gravest of injustices.


    He doesn¡¯t notice. He just stares at the ss in his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face. ¡°This had such a hold on him,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t know if he ever kicked the habit or not. I didn¡¯t speak to him for years before he died.¡±


    ¡°Do you regret not having contact?¡±


    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t want him in my life.¡± There¡¯s a faint furrow in his brow. ¡°Although there were things I wanted to know. Things I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°With him gone, so is yourst connection to that time?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But it lives in me,¡± he says, rapping his fingers against his temple. ¡°I wonder if the same weakness is here. If I¡¯ll go down the same path. Make the same mistakes.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen what a good man can be. I¡¯ve seen it in Gary. But I¡¯ve never seen what a good partner looks like, not to mention a-¡± He breaks off and nces at me, brows knitted. ¡°Well. A father.¡±


    I grip his arm tighter. ¡°Gary has showed you what a good father can look like. Has he not been that to you since he became your guardian?¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t make the same mistakes. You¡¯ve already proven that, several times over. Besides, do you think we would let you?¡±


    Hayden¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°We?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the people in your life who love you.¡±


    ¡°God, Lily¡­¡± He braces his hands against the bar for a moment, some unspeakable emotion coursing through him. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have stayed away. Forgive me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to forgive.¡± I grip his forearm tighter, strong under my fingers. His gaze runs to my hand, and then higher, to the bracelet around my wrist.


    Hayden reaches out and touches a finger to one of the charms. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. ¡°You¡¯re wearing this?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, swallowing. ¡°It¡¯s the one you gave me.¡±

 Rogue C64

    ¡°I remember. I didn¡¯t¡­ wow.¡± Heughs, suddenly, and it¡¯s entirely unexpected. ¡°Seeing it now, I realize how off the mark I was.¡±


    I lean back, offended for his former self. ¡°Why? It¡¯s lovely.¡±


    ¡°You should be in diamonds, Lils.¡±


    ¡°I should be in things that have sentimental value. Plus, I happen to really like it.¡±


    He returns to his study of the charms. The brief amusement has faded, and his eyes look lost in thought. ¡°Did you wear it sometimes? When we were apart?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± I admit. ¡°Though the first couple of years I buried it in my jewelry box. I couldn¡¯t look at it.¡±


    ¡°I deserved that.¡±


    ¡°And then, when I got older, it felt like something from my childhood. Something that connected me with you.¡±


    He nods, his finger still ying with one of the charms. ¡°The cone shell you gave me? I brought that with me on each of my postings.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was from the ocean, from this ce¡­ from you.¡±


    I stand up and gently push the ss away from him. ¡°You weren¡¯t nning on drinking that, were you?¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a beat. I can tell there¡¯s a decision being made, and I don¡¯t want to rush him.


    ¡°No,¡± he says finally. ¡°I wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ste. Come home with me?¡±


    Hayden nods and stands, too. He leaves enough bills on the bar to settle his tab and then we walk out, side by side. He holds the door open for me and stops on the sidewalk, looking sheepish.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have my car,¡± he says. ¡°I walked here.¡±


    ¡°Really? Your house isn¡¯t that close.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to have to driveter in case I decided to have that drink.¡±


    I can¡¯t stop myself from smiling. ¡°You¡¯re so far from your father, Hay. Light years.¡±


    He gives me an uncertain smile back. ¡°I suppose I am.¡±


    We drive back to mine infortable silence. He¡¯s deep in thought, but the tension that radiated off him is gone. I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s an easy solution to his emotions-losing a parent, even if it¡¯s an estranged one, isn¡¯t something you can work through with a manual. Everyone¡¯s experience is different.


    Hayden pulls me close as soon as we shut my front door behind us. He puts his lips against my temple, his arm strong around my waist. For the first time in days I let myself fully rx.


    He¡¯s here. He didn¡¯t leave.


    ¡°Thanks, Lils.¡±


    ¡°Anytime.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t answer when you texted. I was¡­¡± He shakes his head, the silkiness of his hair soft against my forehead. ¡°I can¡¯t exin it.¡±


    ¡°Because it would be real the minute you told me?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to burden you with all that stuff. But it doesn¡¯t make it right.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± I say, breathing in the salty, masculine scent of him. He¡¯s here, he¡¯s here, he¡¯s here.


    ¡°If you thought I¡¯d left again, I¡¯m sorry. I never would. Not again.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I take his hand and pull him toward my bedroom. ¡°It¡¯ste, Hay.¡±


    We get undressed in soft, smooth caresses, both watching each other as we get into bed. He holds me tucked close to his body, silent and still. When he whispers in my ear that he needs me, I almost don¡¯t know what he means until I feel his hot arousal against my thigh.


    I slide my hands around his neck and pull his face down to mine. We kiss in the dark for what feels like an eternity, heat slowly unfurling in my stomach.


    ¡°Lily¡­¡± he murmurs against my lips, my jaw, my neck. He leans down on his elbows, his body covering me entirely. His chest hair tickles against my breasts and I press myself closer still, wanting to fuse us into one.


    The fiery, ecstatic passion we¡¯ve shared for the past week is reced by something much softer. But there¡¯s salvation in this too-in loving and being loved. I stretch out beneath him and keep my hands on his shoulders as he enters me. He starts to move, slowly, a shudder passing through his body.


    Release finds me sooner than I expect. Hayden follows soon after, groaning my name as his body shakes in my arms.


    He moves to my side and holds me close, cradling me against the strong lines of his body. I close my eyes and rest against his chest. There¡¯s a faint tickle of hair against my cheek.


    Hayden runs a calloused hand over my hair and down the soft skin of my back.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t decided if I¡¯ll go the funeral yet,¡± he whispers. ¡°But if I do, will youe with me?¡±


    I put my hand over his heart. ¡°Always.¡±


    Hayden


    I look down at Lily, lying in my arms. Sunlight streams in through her bedroom window. It sets her auburn hair on fire, draped across my chest. She¡¯s always gorgeous, so beautiful it hurts, but when she¡¯s sleeping¡­ she looks like an angel.


    My head hurts, despite the hours of sleep. It doesn¡¯t take a brain surgeon to figure out why. The conversation we hadst night was a long timeing.


    She knows everything now. Just how bad it had gotten, before I came to Paradise Shores. And she hadn¡¯t turned away in disgust or looked at me like a charity case. There had been none of her parents¡¯ kind patronization in her gaze.


    My arms tighten automatically around her at the thought. I¡¯m a lucky bastard, gaining a second chance with her.


    Lily blinks her eyes open. Clear, green eyes meet mine. They warm when she sees my expression. ¡°Good morning,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°Morning.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ste, I think.¡±


    I nod, ncing over at her rm clock. ¡°It¡¯s past ten.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.

 Rogue C65

    ¡°Wow. That¡¯ste.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s a Sunday.¡± I tip her head back, wanting to touch her lips with my own. ¡°We have the whole day. Let me take you to the beach¡­¡±


    She smiles. ¡°It¡¯s just across the street.¡±


    ¡°So much the better. We can swim¡­,¡± another kiss, ¡°and you can lie in the sun¡­,¡± another kiss, longer this time, ¡°and I can lie beside you and admire you.¡±


    Sheughs, properly this time. ¡°You¡¯re silly.¡±


    ¡°Only sometimes,¡± I murmur, ¡°and only with you.¡±


    There¡¯s a loud knock at the front door. Her cottage is small enough that the sound is sharp and clear.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Lily struggles to sit up. ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°Do you know who it is?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m not expecting anyone.¡± She gets out of bed, her lithe body naked and illuminated by the faint light from her window. It disrupts my train of thoughtpletely.


    I shake my head. ¡°Don¡¯t open it. It¡¯s probably just a door-to-door salesman.¡±


    ¡°In Paradise Shores? They¡¯re never here.¡± She finds her underwear and reaches for her robe. Another sharp knock rings out.


    I sigh and swing my legs out of bed. ¡°Let me open it. Who knows who it might be.¡±


    She tosses me my underwear. ¡°I doubt it¡¯s someone dangerous, Hay.¡±


    ¡°You can never be too careful.¡± I pull on my boxers.


    We both freeze as we hear the unmistakable sound of a key being inserted in a lock. Whoever it is ising in, invited or not.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± I push her behind me and head to the bedroom door. Adrenaline courses through me. If they¡¯re here to do harm, they¡¯re about to get another thinging.


    ¡°Hayden, the only people who have a key-¡±


    ¡°Good morning!¡± Rhys announces, standing in the middle of Lily¡¯s living room. His grin falters and disappears entirely as his gazends on me in the doorway of his little sister¡¯s bedroom.


    ¡°Rhys.¡± He looks exactly like I remember. The auburn hair is disheveled, true to form. The artful leather jacket, the jeans, the old boat shoes that make it clear he belongs in Paradise¡­ For all his attempts, he¡¯s never been able to shake the look.


    ¡°Hayden,¡± he murmurs. His face looks set in stone, all color slowly draining away. ¡°I heard you were back. But I wasn¡¯t expecting to find you¡­ here.¡±


    Lily pushes past me, tugging her robe tighter around herself. Her voice is ringing with happiness. ¡°You¡¯re here? I can¡¯t believe it!¡±


    Rhys breaks his re at me to shoot her a wry smile. ¡°Hey, little one. It¡¯s been a while.¡±


    ¡°Too long.¡± She wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. ¡°Don¡¯t be angry, Rhy.¡±


    He pushes her aside with a gentleness that doesn¡¯t match the cold expression on his face. Oh, Rhys isn¡¯t angry. He¡¯s fucking furious with me.


    ¡°How long have you been back?¡± he asks, each word spoken through clenched teeth.


    ¡°Three weeks.¡± I¡¯m fairly certain what this conversation is going to devolve into, and I don¡¯t want Lily to see it when it does. Rhys was always slow to anger, but when he snapped, it was like a thunderstorm. I had seen him whoop Parker too many times about some small prank yed on Lily.


    ¡°Wasted no time, huh?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡±


    ¡°Sure it¡¯s not.¡± He walks forward, and I force myself to hold my ground. Rhys might have an inch of height on me, but I have nearly twenty pounds of muscle and ten years of training. I¡¯m not going to hurt him, but if he thinks I¡¯ll go down easy, he¡¯s dead wrong.


    ¡°Rhys, it¡¯s not like he-¡±


    ¡°No, Lily. I want to hear him say it,¡± Rhys spits out. ¡°Tell me how you broke my little sister¡¯s heart ten years ago, and then show up out of the blue to do the same thing again.¡±


    He must see the faint widening of my eyes, because heughs, but it¡¯s not happy. ¡°You think I didn¡¯t know? Oh, of course I did. I¡¯m not clueless like Parker or distant like Henry. But I thought you were good for her. You proved me wrong.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to leave her.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. Just like you couldn¡¯t call or text her.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s first swinges out of nowhere, and I realize btedly that that was always his talent. He¡¯s unpredictable as hell. Made him impossible to beat in Mario Kart once upon a time.


    I duck, just narrowly avoiding the punch. ¡°Hey man, I know it doesn¡¯t look good.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s not.¡±


    I avoid another poorly thrown punch, only to be hit squarely in the center of my stomach by his other hand. Shit. I¡¯ve forgotten that Rhys is left-handed.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± I gasp. ¡°Don¡¯t make me fight you.¡±


    ¡°What, because you¡¯d win if you did? Be a man and try.¡±


    I block another punch and grab hold of his arm. It¡¯s easy enough to twist it around, holding him still in an armlock. ¡°You¡¯re right to be angry. So was Lils.¡±


    ¡°I was,¡± she adds helpfully, standing to the side with a shocked expression on her face. ¡°Rhys, stop. Please.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Rhys aims a kick to my knee as I turn away, my hold on his arm loosening. He twists free and attacks me, arms around my torso.


    I stagger back and narrowly avoid hitting Lily¡¯s dining-room table. If he keeps going like this, we¡¯ll destroy her house.


    So I grab him and tackle him smoothly to the ground. We fall to a heap on Lily¡¯s shaggy rug, far away from any breakables.


    ¡°Asshole,¡± he growls at me, hitting me hard on my shoulder. I grunt in pain and block another one of his punches. It¡¯s hard as hell to fight when you don¡¯t want to hurt your opponent-especially when he doesn¡¯t share the same restraint.


    ¡°Rhys! Stop it right now.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t listen to his sister. He struggles to sit up, pushing me down beneath him. I hold my own, but I let him rain down punches over my arms, covering my face. Rhys won¡¯t stop until his anger is burned out-and unfortunately, I think this might be the only way. I¡¯ve seen it many times in the military.


    ¡°We took you in,¡± he growls. ¡°You were like a damn brother to me.¡±

 Rogue C66

    And that¡¯s when it hits me that he¡¯s not just angry for Lily¡¯s sake, although that¡¯s undoubtedly there too.


    ¡°I know, man.¡±


    ¡°Asshole. You¡¯re not even trying to defend yourself. Fight, damn it.¡±


    Fuck this.


    I twist around, throwing my leg over his. I¡¯ve never fought in only boxers before, but it does give me a lot of room to maneuver.


    I flip him over, hard, and grasp his arms in a lock. He tries to throw me off, but I¡¯m stronger than him.


    ¡°I had just crashed a damn car with her in it,¡± I hiss. ¡°You think I wanted to leave like that? Even your own dad told me to go. I was trying to do the right thing.¡±


    Rhys stills, but his face is still etched in anger. ¡°Fuck you,¡± he says.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°If you hurt her again¡­¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I repeat. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    He shakes his head in resignation, before he bucks up and hits my head with his. It hurts like hell, my skull ringing with pain.


    ¡°Shit.¡±


    Rhys pushes me away and crawls back. He grabs his forehead, doubtlessly hurting too. ¡°What made you brave enough toe back?¡±


    I wipe blood away from the corner of my mouth. ¡°It hurt too much to stay away.¡±


    He nods, like he understands perfectly. For a long moment, we just stare at each other. The hot anger in his gaze lessens to something more like simmering resentment.


    When he finally speaks, his voice is full of resignation. ¡°Wee back, asshole.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Lily approaches us slowly. She has her hands on her hips, her expression dazed. ¡°You¡¯re both idiots,¡± she says. ¡°Rhys, you should know better.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I should have kicked his ass years ago.¡±


    Lily turns to me. Her hand smooths over my shoulder, eyes scanning me from head to toe. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    She ignores her brother-who is staunchly ignoring us too-and leans down to press a kiss to my lips. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about my family.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be.¡±


    Lily shakes her head at me again and goes to the bathroom. I hear the sound of water running and rummaging in drawers. No doubt she¡¯s looking for things to patch us up with.


    Rhys stares at me, and I stare at him.


    Finally, he shakes his head. ¡°You should be happy it wasn¡¯t Henry or Parker who came in and saw you half-naked in here. They would have killed you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not easy to kill,¡± I say. ¡°Plus, I¡¯m a better fighter than all three of you. Always was.¡±


    He shoots me a wry smile. ¡°So we¡¯d have to be three-on-one. Good to know.¡±


    ¡°Think the others will object?¡±


    ¡°Maybe at first,¡± he says, but then he shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know, man. There¡¯s no telling.¡±


    ¡°Did you just get back?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Came here first.¡±


    I nod, running a hand through my hair. There¡¯s a lot of stuff to work out with her brothers. I left them too, ten years ago-not just Lily. And even if she ims the opposite, I know Lily could never bear to have her family disapprove of us.


    So I take a chance.


    ¡°Let me just put on some clothes and let¡¯s head to the marina. I know Parker was going to sail today. Want to hit the waves?¡±


    There¡¯s a flicker of hunger in Rhys¡¯s eyes. It¡¯s something I recognize easily: the call of the sea. It lives in Rhys as surely as it lives in me, drawing all of us back here, like driftwood caught in a current.N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± he says.


    Rhys epts a Band-Aid from his sister, kisses her forehead, promises to be back for dinner, and heads to his car. He throws out a dark ¡°I¡¯ll only wait five minutes!¡± to me before shutting the front door behind him.


    I ept some fussing from Lily-she pads my busted front lip-before gently pushing her away.


    ¡°I have to get dressed, baby.¡±


    She puts a slim hand on my shoulder to stop me. ¡°What did you mean earlier, about my dad telling you to leave?¡±


    Damn.


    I rub my neck. ¡°Well, there was a conversation after the ident. We both agreed that it would be best if I left.¡±


    ¡°You both agreed, huh.¡± She¡¯s quiet for a beat, and when she speaks again, there¡¯s anger in her voice. ¡°I love my father, but he¡¯s a bastard. I can¡¯t imagine he¡¯d change that, especially not with his kid in the intensive care unit.¡±


    ¡°It was a long time ago.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. He shouldn¡¯t have ordered you away. Because that¡¯s what he did, right?¡±


    I sigh. The conversation I¡¯d had with Mr. Marchand feels light years away. ¡°He told me to leave, yes,¡± I say gently. ¡°But I agreed. It was my decision, and it was a terrible one. One I¡¯m sorry for.¡±


    Lily runs a hand through my hair, her touch soft despite the steel in her tone. ¡°I know. But you were eighteen, and you were injured in that car crash too. He had no right.¡±


    ¡°It was a long time ago,¡± I repeat, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to the palm before releasing it. ¡°I have to get dressed.¡±

 Rogue C67

    She watches me in silence as I pull on my shorts and a T-shirt, sticking my feet in the pair of boat shoes I¡¯d picked up just the week prior.


    An impatient honk sounds outside.


    I look back at Lily. She¡¯s pulled on the same dress from yesterday. Her hair is in a high ponytail and her cheeks are flushed with intent. She looks amazing.


    ¡°Sorry about my brothers,¡± she says. ¡°And my father.¡±


    I shake my head at her nonsense and press a goodbye kiss to her lips. Her softness draws me in, and it¡¯s by willpower alone that I break the connection. She¡¯s a hell of a lot more enticing than the prospect of spending hours with two of her big brothers. I¡¯m not sure if Rhys¡¯s beating will be the only one I¡¯ll have to endure today.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I can take care of myself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you tonight,¡± she says.


    ¡°Can¡¯t wait.¡±


    Lily


    I watch as Rhys and Hayden drive away. There¡¯s sweat beading on my forehead, and I feel a bit shaky from the interaction. The cat is really out of the bag now-and far sooner than Hayden would have preferred.


    Just a week ago, he¡¯d asked me to wait to tell the family about our rtionship. And here he is, forced to endure it all in one day. All I can is hope that the pressure won¡¯t be too much.


    Damn Rhys. He¡¯d been gone without any settled return date, and of course he just had to make a surprise out of his return. I¡¯ll have words with himter, too. I shoot my brother a text. Be nice.


    There¡¯s no response, but I know he¡¯ll read it, at least before they set off. And Parker¡­ I have no idea how my youngest brother will react. He¡¯s always seen Hayden as a given member of the family.


    I shake my head and reach for the car keys. I can¡¯t deal with that right now-not when I have to go fight the dragon myself. It had been hard to hide my anger in front of Hayden. I didn¡¯t want him to know just how much my dad¡¯s actions had hurt me-not until I got a chance to speak my mind.


    Luckily, I know exactly where my father will be on a Sunday morning. He¡¯ll be in his study on the second floor of the family house, going over thetest housing developments and looking at investment opportunities.


    My mom greets me with a smile when I arrive home. The smell of nail polish hangs heavy in the air, and she gives me an air hug to avoid ruining her freshly applied coat. I¡¯m still angry at her too-it¡¯s going to take a while-but she seems to have epted that.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you wereing today, ch¨¦rie.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to talk to Dad.¡±


    ¡°All right. You seem stressed.¡± She leans in closer, peering at my face. ¡°And you look flushed.¡±


    ¡°I just have something to take care of.¡±


    ¡°Here on business?¡± She nods to the stairs. ¡°He¡¯s upstairs.¡±


    I knock twice on the door to the study before I head inside. This used to be a no-go zone when I was young. No ying hide-and-seek in here, and absolutely no disrupting Dad when he was working.


    Now, I hope I disrupt himpletely. I¡¯m angry for neen-year-old Hayden, who had just been in a car ident, and I¡¯m angry for eighteen-year-old me, who thought her boyfriend left on his own.


    Dad looks up when I enter, his brow furrowing. ¡°Sweetheart? I didn¡¯t know you wereing by today.¡±


    ¡°I needed to see you.¡±


    ¡°All right. Can it wait?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Whatever he sees on my face stops him from arguing. He puts his reading sses down and leans back in his chair. The gray in his hair only makes him look more distinguished, despite my mom fighting a losing battle against her own streaks.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡±


    ¡°What did you tell Hayden after the ident, all those years ago?¡±


    Dad sighs and reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose. ¡°I only gave him some advice. He hasn¡¯t had a father figure in his life, you know. I tried to guide the boy.¡±


    ¡°He has his uncle,¡± I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking with anger. ¡°You told him to leave. You sent him away.¡±


    ¡°For his own good, and for yours, sweetheart.¡±


    ¡°The ident wasn¡¯t his fault. The truck driver was driving drunk.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Dad says calmly. ¡°I know those reports by heart. But you¡¯re always responsible to a certain extent when you¡¯re in the driver¡¯s seat. He took you out for a spin in the middle of the night, and as a consequence, you have a permanent limp. You could have died.¡±


    ¡°Not his fault. He nearly died too, and instead of showingpassion, you told him to get out of town.¡±


    Dad¡¯s eyes sh with irritation. ¡°He was bad news. I let him stay here because the boy had potential, but he was wasting it, spending his days on the fishing vessels and his nights panting around you. I wanted him gone and I would do the same thing again.¡±


    ¡°It broke me.¡±


    ¡°No, it made you stronger, and it made him stronger, too. He¡¯s a decorated vet now, isn¡¯t he? And you went to Yale and got to try your hand in the art world.¡± My dad shakes his head, reaching for the papers on his desk. ¡°You won¡¯t understand. You never could.¡±


    ¡°No, I understand perfectly,¡± I say coldly, standing up. ¡°And I refuse to let you y God in my life anymore-and not in Hayden¡¯s either.¡±


    ¡°Have you taken up with him again?¡±


    The way he phrases it¡­ but I won¡¯t let him make me feel less. ¡°We¡¯re together, and I don¡¯t think that¡¯s likely to change.¡±


    Dad stares at me, a thoughtful look on his face. It¡¯s not exactly eptance, but he doesn¡¯t look angry, either.


    ¡°He¡¯s grown,¡± he says finally. ¡°I suppose you could do worse.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for that ringing endorsement.¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    ¡°Always thought you¡¯d end up with the Harris¡¯s boy,¡± he says, returning his gaze to his papers. ¡°He has a good sailing boat, that kid.¡±


    I shake my head in disgust and head toward the door. Only then does it strike me that I haven¡¯t told him everything. I turn back slowly, a smile on my face, and deliver the coup de grace.


    ¡°I bought a space in town. I¡¯m going to turn it into an art gallery.¡±


    My dad pauses with his hand halfway to his face, about to put his reading sses back on. I can see the exact moment the realization settles over him. He can say what he wants, but it won¡¯t bother me. Not anymore.


    ¡°All right,¡± he says slowly. ¡°I look forward to the opening.¡±

 Rogue C68

    I give him a nod and leave his office, closing the door firmly behind me. For a few long moments, all I can do is take deep breaths before a giant smile breaks across my face.


    There¡¯s a text waiting for me when Ie out of the family house. Actually, there¡¯s several.


    I open Hayden¡¯s first. Sorry about this morning. Come join us at the marina this afternoon, when we get back?


    I smile and type a quick response. I¡¯ll be there when you get back! And please ignore my family. It¡¯s still just us, Hayden. You and me.


    Because that¡¯s all that matters in the end-love, and friendship, and family. And Hayden feels like the perfectbination of all three to me.


    I love him. I always have, and I never stopped, not even in the long years spent apart. Years where we both missed each other, all because of misunderstandings and meddling. And perhaps¡­ perhaps it¡¯s time I told him that.


    I nearly make it all the way to the marina before history repeats itself.


    Hayden


    Rhys takesmand of the boat the second we hit the open water.


    Parker looks at me with a rueful grin, but neither of us object as Rhys barks out orders. He knows Frida just as well as we do, and despite the years he¡¯s spent away, sailing is in his blood.


    I understand the need to connect with it-to return to the sea. So Parker, a six-time state champion, doesn¡¯t object to his big brother¡¯s domineering. Neither do I, despite the fact that I¡¯ve been a lieutenant in the Navy for years.


    Parker grins at me, nodding to where Rhys is turning the winch to release the spinnaker. ¡°He sure as hell wasted no time.¡±


    ¡°He rarely does.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s also in one hell of a temper. Nearly bit my head off when I asked him if he¡¯d arrived yesterday or this morning.¡±


    Damn. ¡°Yeah, we had a bit of an argument earlier.¡±


    Parker nods, and there¡¯s sympathy in his eyes-sympathy I don¡¯t deserve. ¡°About you pulling a disappearing act on us? Yeah. Rhys isn¡¯t quick to forgive, you know, but he¡¯lle around.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t angry at me when I returned,¡± I say, knowing I¡¯m going to have to tell Parker about Lily. It¡¯s only a matter of time until Rhys says something, and judging by his clenched jaw, it¡¯s not going to be inplimentary terms.


    Parker shrugs. ¡°Look, man, I¡¯m sure you had your reasons. Was I angry at you? Yeah. You didn¡¯t even say goodbye, Hay.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°But look¡­¡± he says, and there¡¯s more depth than I¡¯m used to seeing on his face. His eyes are dark with earnestness. ¡°I get it. Your situation was different from ours. It fucking sucks, but it¡¯s the truth. I¡¯m not going to me you for that.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°You could¡¯ve called every now and then, though.¡±


    ¡°I should¡¯ve, man. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Apology epted,¡± he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. For a second, it feels like we¡¯re sixteen again, side by side at the back of Frida. It¡¯s easy to imagine Henry and his father at the front of the boat, Lily lounging on deck somewhere, Rhys reading a book next to her.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I take a deep breath. Getting this right might be the most important thing in my life. Michael Marchand¡¯s approval means absolutely nothing to me-but his sons¡¯ approval does. More than that, it means a lot to Lily, despite her insistence to the contrary.


    Besides, I¡¯m not overly keen on being tossed overboard.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Parker leans against the railing and holds on to one of the beams.


    ¡°Yeah. Lily and I are dating. We never meant to keep it from you, but we wanted privacy.¡± I meet his blue eyes, wide now in surprise. ¡°I hope you can understand, man.¡±


    Parker blinks at me a few times. ¡°Dating? Like, you¡¯re together, together?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we are.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± He shakes his head, and I let my hand drop from his shoulder. ¡°I never knew.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to go behind your back.¡±


    Parker shakes his head again. It¡¯s in disbelief, but so far, there¡¯s no anger on his face. ¡°And I thought she didn¡¯t like you.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t, for a while,¡± I say truthfully. ¡°She was angry at me for leaving.¡±


    ¡°I literally had no idea.¡±


    I nod, ncing to where Rhys is standing at the front of the boat. He has his back turned to us, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. It¡¯s clear his younger brother isn¡¯t having the same reaction.


    Parker follows my gaze. ¡°Rhys didn¡¯t take the news well.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s always been thorny. Ignore him. He¡¯lle around.¡±


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡± A wide grin splits Parker¡¯s tanned face. ¡°You¡¯re family in more ways than one now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re okay with this?¡±


    ¡°Okay? Fuck, man, there¡¯s no one I¡¯d rather see my baby sister with.¡±


    For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. It¡¯s the absolutest response I was expecting. Parker, despite his usual smiles andughs, has always been protective of Lily. He¡¯d nearly been as bad as Rhys, despite teasing her when they were children.


    He sees my confusion and breaks intoughter.


    ¡°What, you think you were good enough to be one of my best friends, but not good enough to date my sister? Get your head out of your ass, Hay.¡±


    I can¡¯t help the surprisedugh that slips out of me. ¡°Mind telling your brother that?¡±


    ¡°Rhys wille around,¡± Parker says. ¡°Damn. I¡¯ll have to tell Turner to stop mooning around after her.¡±


    My hand instinctively tightens around the railing. I know she doesn¡¯t have any interest in him, but the familiar feeling of envy at his name and status is hard to ignore.

 Rogue C69

    ¡°What about you?¡± I ask. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard anything about women in your lifetely, Parker. Your mom mentioned something about a girl¡­¡±


    Parker¡¯s eyes narrow but he doesn¡¯t say anything. Instead, he looks over at Rhys, who¡¯s tantly not paying us any attention. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him,¡± he promises. ¡°Text Lily and tell her to meet us at the marina when we get back. We¡¯ll get a beer at the Yacht Club, all of us.¡±


    I watch as he ducks under the beam and heads to the front of the boat to stand next to Rhys. They¡¯re pr opposites-one dark and one light-but next to each other it¡¯s clear that they¡¯re cut from the same cloth.


    I shoot Lily a text with the invitation. Reception is dodgy at best out here, but I watch as the little tick appears. Delivered.


    It¡¯s several hourster when we finally set course back to the marina. Rhys has, somewhat reluctantly, begun to talk to me again.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe Parker let you off easy,¡± he murmurs beside me, our hands moving fast over the rope, the knots as familiar to us as our own names.


    ¡°I guess he¡¯s the smarter brother.¡±


    Rhys sends me a sour look, but it¡¯s tinged with amusement. ¡°We won¡¯t get rid of you this time around, will we?¡±


    ¡°No, you won¡¯t.¡±


    He nods, ncing out toward the glittering waves. ¡°Good.¡±


    The sun is low in the sky when we finally spot the marina in the distance. It¡¯s been good, this, being out today. Reconnecting with her brothers. Gaining-somewhat surprisingly-Parker¡¯s unequivocal support.


    I check my phone again. I haven¡¯t had service for hours, but the closer to shore, the higher the likelihood. I watch as my phone gets one¡­ two bars of service. A textes through from Lily, sent hours ago.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    I¡¯ll be there when you get back! And please ignore my family. It¡¯s still just us, Hayden. You and me.


    I smile at my screen at the same time as guilt rolls up inside me. She¡¯s still afraid I¡¯ll run or spook, like a skittish horse. I¡¯ve given her reason to feel that way-my brave, proud girl, who was never afraid of charging headlong into new situations. Who climbed the tallest trees and woke up in the intensive care unit with a smile, who bought an art gallery on a whim.


    Rhys, Parker and I barely need tomunicate when we sail into Paradise Shores Marina. We know the boat and we know the docks here. It¡¯s automatic, the movements and the teamwork.


    Parker jumps onto the dock first, and I throw him the rope, holding a hand up to signal to Rhys to cut the engine.


    We cruise to a smooth halt alongside the dock. The ce is nearly empty, most people already done for the day or at the Yacht Club. I can see the lit terrace from here. There¡¯s a faint sound ofughter and music.


    I jump down from the boat, closely followed by Rhys.


    Lily isn¡¯t waiting by the Marchands¡¯ dock.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say she¡¯d be here?¡± Parker asks, and I nod, finding my phone in my pocket.


    ¡°She said she would. I¡¯ll call and see, maybe she went ahead.¡±


    ¡°Is this what we have to get used to now?¡± Rhys murmurs to Parker. ¡°Hayden handlingmunications with our sister?¡±


    Parker just shakes his head. ¡°Shut it, man.¡±


    ¡°Whose side are you on?¡±


    ¡°Lily¡¯s. Just like you should be.¡±


    I shake my head at them and call her. Two dials go through before I¡¯m clicked off the line. A chirpy, electronic voice tells me that the subscriber is unavable.


    ¡°Her phone is off.¡±


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Parker says. ¡°She always forgets to charge it.¡±


    She often does, but I still feel uneasy. Lily wouldn¡¯t say she¡¯d be here and then not show up-or at least text one of us.


    We head up to the Yacht Club. It takes me only a few seconds to scan the terrace. There¡¯s no auburn hair in sight.


    ¡°She¡¯s not here either.¡±


    Rhys shakes his head. ¡°Damn it, Lily.¡±


    My mind runs through a list of things that might have happened, and for a second, I have to fight to keep the unease from turning into panic. We don¡¯t know. She¡¯s probably justte, even if it¡¯s not terribly in character.


    One of the girls at the Yacht Club stops us on the way out and throws us a winning smile.


    ¡°Heading out so soon?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°No worries. Avoid Ocean Drive on the way back,¡± she says cheerfully.


    My heart goes cold in my chest. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard?¡± An uncertain note creeps into her voice as she looks at me. ¡°There was an ident. The police have closed off the street entirely, no traffic in or out.¡±


    There¡¯s blood ringing in my ears.


    If the waitress says anything else, I can¡¯t hear it. I¡¯m already out the door.


    My hands are clenched at my side as I break into a half-run, heading to the parking lot. I¡¯m aware of Rhys and Parker by my side, but if they¡¯re speaking, I¡¯m deaf to that too.


    An ident.


    Ocean Drive.


    This can¡¯t be happening again.


    We get into Rhys¡¯s car in silence. I want to strangle him for the extra few seconds it takes for him to turn the key in the ignition in his old Mustang. Fucking rich kids and fucking statement cars and goddamn fucking car idents.


    We¡¯re halfway out of the marina when Parker swears loudly in the backseat. He answers the phone a secondter.


    The world spins when I hear his response. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re already on our way there, Mom.¡±


    Rhys speeds up.


    It feels like a bad dream when I see the blinking lights in the distance. A police car is parked sideways in the middle of the road. Rhys hasn¡¯t even pulled the car to a full stop before I¡¯m out the door and running.

 Rogue C70

    It¡¯s her car. It¡¯s her car, damn it, and it¡¯s totaled. Crashed into one of the iron-wroughtmpposts that line Ocean Drive.


    A policewoman is roping off the area. She looks grim, hair pulled back. ¡°What happened here?¡±


    ¡°An ident,¡± she says, clicking her tongue at my brusque tone. ¡°A motorcyclist and a car.¡±


    ¡°Was anyone hurt?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Her eyes are stern, but they soften slightly as she looks at me. I don¡¯t know what I must look like to be pitied, but I¡¯m beyond caring. ¡°One of the civilians involved had to be airlifted to the hospital.¡±


    The edges of my vision flicker.


    ¡°Who?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°I couldn¡¯t possibly-¡±


    Rhys interrupts her. ¡°Lily Marchand. What happened to her?¡±


    ¡°Over there,¡± the policewoman says with a nod. An ambnce is parked nearby. A woman is sitting on the back, a nket around her shoulders.


    I would recognize that hair anywhere.


    ¡°This is the scene of an ident. You can¡¯t go inside-Hey!¡±


    Nothing matters-not the angry shout from the police officer or the sound of her brothers behind me-as I run.


    Images sh before my eyes of a different night, a different street. There had been so much blood then. We¡¯d been alone, just her and me, my hands pulling her out of the wreckage. This is not that time. She¡¯s whole-she¡¯s safe.


    Lily stands up to greet me, a faint wobble in her steps that sends my heart racing. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. It¡¯s need, pure and simple, to know that she¡¯s safe.


    Panic and adrenaline still pound through my body.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Lily nods against my neck. Her hair smells like it always does, the same shampoo she¡¯s used for well over a decade. ¡°It was so stupid,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure you¡¯re okay?¡± I loosen my grip, realizing I might be holding her too tight.


    ¡°Yes, yes. Just a few bruises.¡±


    ¡°God, Lily¡­¡± I pull back and tip her head up. Her eyes are wide and green as they stare into mine, but there isn¡¯t a trace of pain or fear in them. I brush my thumb over her cheekbone, putting a hand on either side of her face. Her expression softens as she looks up at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± she murmurs again. ¡°I¡¯m okay, Hayden.¡±


    I lean my forehead against hers and close my eyes. My heart is beating fast, like I¡¯ve run a marathon. ¡°I thought¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. I know. But I¡¯m okay.¡±


    The decision to kiss her isn¡¯t conscious. I need to know she¡¯s okay, I need to feel it, and she¡¯s just as eager as me. Our lips meet with soft, heated urgency, my hands pulling her closer against me. She¡¯s real and she¡¯s safe. I let my hands travel up her back to make sure, just in case.


    Lily puts a hand on my neck and pulls me in closer, like she needs the reassurance just as much as I do. Her scent, her body, her taste is everything I feel-all of it telling me what I rationally know. She¡¯s all right.


    But more than that, I¡¯m reminded of just how much I love her. How my life woulde to a grinding halt if something were to happen to her, if I failed to keep her safe again.


    Lily¡¯s hands slide down my chest. I brush a final kiss to her lips, soft and sweet, my body aching for more of her. I¡¯ll never get enough of her closeness.


    She blinks up at me with a dazed smile on her lips. ¡°Hayden, I-¡±


    ¡°Lily!¡±


    We both turn to see her parents. Her mother¡¯s eyes are frantic, sweeping over her daughter¡¯s form, assessing her just like I did. I can see Rhys and Parker standing next to them. Both of their eyes are wide.


    Shit. Well, at least they all know now. Really, properly know.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Lily says, loud enough for her entire family to overhear. ¡°I¡¯mpletely okay.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Rhyses closer, the family in tow. ¡°Lils, your car looks¡­¡±


    ¡°A motorcyclist was going crazy on the road,¡± she says. ¡°Switchingnes, losing control of the motorcycle¡­ I had to swerve, or I would have hit him.¡± She puts her head in her hands. ¡°He had to be airlifted. I don¡¯t know¡­ it didn¡¯t look good.¡±


    I put my arm around her shoulders. I know I should let her parents get to her, her brothers-but I can¡¯t let go of her yet.


    ¡°We¡¯ll check on him, Lily,¡± her father says. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. God. You¡¯re never getting in a car for the rest of your life.¡± He says it with as much sincerity as I feel. Twice is two times too many.


    Rhys chuckles, but I can hear the strain in the sound. ¡°Damn it, Lily. Why didn¡¯t you call us right away?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°My phone broke in the crash.¡±


    Eloise Marchand sends me a curious look but says nothing as she leans in and hugs her daughter fiercely. ¡°Let¡¯s get you out of here,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of seeing my daughter in ambnces.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t agree more.


    Lily


    My car is towed-Parker and Rhys handle that, while my parents follow the ambnce to the hospital. Hayden rides with me. I feel fine, but the doctor takes a bunch of tests to make sure, X-rays and a CAT scan and a careful exam of my reflexes.


    All the while, I see the same haunted, gaunt look on Hayden¡¯s face. He¡¯s a quiet shadow next to me, holding my hand. This is too much of a d¨¦j¨¤ vu. I can see it in all of their faces, bearing the same worried expressions I¡¯d witnessed a decade earlier.


    But it¡¯s not like before. I¡¯m barely hurt, yet it doesn¡¯t matter how many times I say it, they don¡¯t truly believe it until Dr. Rashid confirms it.


    ¡°You¡¯re all clear,¡± he tells me.


    Hayden clears his throat. ¡°Is there a risk of dyed onset whish?¡±


    My dad shoots him a surprised look. He hasn¡¯tmented once on Hayden¡¯s steady presence beside me.


    ¡°Not likely, no,¡± Dr. Rashid says. ¡°But Lily, I want you to call me if you feel any pain in your neck in theing days or even weeks. You cane in right away and we¡¯ll take a look.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Thank you, I¡¯ll do that. Do you know what happened to the motorcyclist?¡±

 Rogue C71

    Dr. Rashid¡¯s smile fades. ¡°He¡¯s in surgery. I don¡¯t know more than that, Miss Marchand. But if it sets your mind at ease, I believe he had a history of epilepsy, which might unfortunately exin the erratic driving behavior.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± How terrible. ¡°May I send him flowers somehow? Or is it all confidential?¡±


    ¡°I can ask his family for you, if you¡¯d like.¡±


    ¡°Please do.¡±


    It¡¯s very, veryte at night when Hayden finally opens the passenger door to his car. He¡¯s still quiet-has been since we said goodbye to my parents.


    He pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road back to Paradise Shores. His hands are clenched tight on the steering wheel.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking you home,¡± he says. ¡°And I¡¯m staying the night.¡±


    It had seemed like a foregone conclusion that he would. I try to smile at him, but his gaze is focused on the road ahead.


    ¡°That sounds great.¡±


    Hayden nods once, but his profile is stark against the passing streetlights. His jaw is clenched, and tension radiates from him.


    Tonight¡­ It was too close to what happened a decade ago. It was too close for the both of us, but I know that while I wear the physical scars from that ident, Hayden mostly bears the psychological ones. He had been the one to pull me out and call 911. I have very little recollection of that night at all.


    ¡°Hayden¡­ Are you all right?¡±


    There¡¯s faint surprise in his eyes, and then he reaches out and puts arge hand on my thigh. The connection between us is as it always has been-a safe anchor in a stormy sea. It calms me immediately, and I can see how his own tension lessens slightly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t, Lils. I¡¯m not the one who was in a car crash.¡±


    I lean back against the seat. The adrenaline has left me, and together with the painkillers, all I feel is tired. I can¡¯t wait to have his arms around me and drift into sleep.


    I put my hand on his. ¡°I know. But I also know it was¡­ It was simr,¡± I whisper. ¡°To what happened before.¡±


    The tension is back. I can see how he locks down and retreats into his shell. ¡°Not until we¡¯re home,¡± he says, and I understand. He can¡¯t break apart until we¡¯re out of the car.


    But I can¡¯t help but notice that he called my ce home, or the corresponding warmth that blooms in my chest.


    We¡¯ve always been home to each other.


    He parks the car in silence and wraps an arm around my waist as we walk to my front door. I¡¯m not hurt, and I don¡¯t need the assistance, but I need the connection as much as he does.


    Hayden gently takes the key from me and unlocks my front door. I shoot him a tired smile. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Hay.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he murmurs. ¡°I know.¡±


    He closes and locks the door behind us. I kick off my shoes and throw my bag to the side, and then we stand there, in my little hallway, just looking at each other.


    Hayden¡¯s eyes are a storm. There¡¯s fear there, such furious fear that it nearly takes my breath away. I take a step toward him, and he toward me, and then I¡¯m in his arms and he¡¯s carrying me toward the bedroom. His arms are wrapped around me tight, like he¡¯s afraid I might disappear. I¡¯m holding him just as tightly.


    ¡°Christ. When I saw those shing lights today¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. I know.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t handle it, Lils. Not again.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I pull his face down to mine and press my lips against his feverish ones. ¡°Neither can I. But I¡¯m okay. We¡¯re okay.¡±


    ¡°Thank God for that.¡± Haydenys me down gently on the bed despite the urgency coursing through us both. He pulls me close, hugs me against his chest. I understand his need to touch me-to know I¡¯m all right. I feel the same with him¡­ touching him to know he¡¯s here.


    ¡°God,¡± he murmurs again. ¡°Lily, I love you so much.¡± His eyes are dark with emotion and something else, something uncertain and vulnerable. I can¡¯t help the flutters in my stomach or the way my lips curve into a smile.


    ¡°I love you too. Always have.¡±


    ¡°I never stopped,¡± he says, voice low. ¡°Not once, not ever, not since I first saw you.¡±


    ¡°When we were kids?¡±


    He nods. ¡°I just didn¡¯t know it right away. All I saw was a girl with hair like fire and knobby knees, challenging me to rise to her level.¡±


    I put a hand on his chest. His heart beats fast and strong beneath my palm. ¡°I loved you too, from the start. Even if you were terribly grumpy.¡±


    ¡°Not with you.¡±


    ¡°Especially with me,¡± I say, smiling. ¡°But I learned how to make youugh eventually.¡±


    ¡°You did. God, Lily, no more car idents.¡± He rests his forehead against mine. ¡°My heart can¡¯t take it.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°No more,¡± I agree. For a long time, all we do is breathe together, our bodies intertwined. His arm is strong beneath my head. My own fear and adrenaline subside, here in his arms, where nothing can harm me.


    ¡°How was sailing with my brothers?¡±


    He shakes his head, but there¡¯s amusement in his voice. ¡°You want to talk about that?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I slip my fingers inside the hem of his T-shirt and stroke the hot skin beneath. ¡°They didn¡¯t scare you off?¡±


    He brushes my hair back and leans in to kiss me. I respond in kind, both of us drawing reassurance from one another. ¡°No. They never will. Lily, I¡¯ll never leave you again.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I murmur, warmth spreading through my chest. I finally believe him. ¡°I spoke to my father today. About what he told you after our car crash, years ago.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Lily, I never meant for that to drive a wedge between you two.¡±


    I shake my head and rise up on my elbow, fighting tiredness so heavy it makes me dizzy. This is important-and some of my old anger resurfaces.


    ¡°He had no right to,¡± I say. ¡°Absolutely no right. You had just been hurt yourself, and I¡­¡± I shake my head. There will be more time to talk about this. ¡°I told him to butt out of our lives.¡±


    Hayden runs a callused thumb over my cheek, and the look in his eyes nearly tears me apart. God, I love him so much.

 Rogue C72

    ¡°My brave girl,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°And none of it matters, anyway. My family¡­ Your family¡­ we¡¯ll figure it out,¡± I say fiercely.


    ¡°Of course it matters,¡± he says. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t change anything between us. And baby, your dad did talk to me, but it was no excuse for me leaving like that.¡±


    ¡°You were a boy. And you were scared¡­ it¡¯s perfectly understandable. I had forgiven you even before I found out about Dad¡¯s interference.¡±


    Hayden lies back on the bed, his hand ying thoughtfully in my hair. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I was good enough,¡± he says softly. ¡°But it¡¯s no excuse for leaving.¡±


    ¡°But you are! You always have been.¡±


    Hayden grins, and it¡¯s the first true smile I¡¯ve seen from him in what feels like forever. ¡°I¡¯m not, but it¡¯s okay. I¡¯ve stopped trying to be noble. I¡¯ll be here, loving you, for as long as you let me.¡±


    I kiss him, and he groans into my mouth, tucking me into the curve of his body. His lips are soft and gentle against mine. I want to keep going, but he breaks it off, smiling against my ear.


    ¡°No more,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°No more what?¡±


    ¡°Excitement. There has been entirely too much of that these past few days.¡±


    I chuckle against his ear, so d to have him here, to be close to him, to be able to run my hand through his thick hair. There¡¯s nothing like the warmth of his skin against mine and the faint scent of his soap.


    ¡°I agree.¡± Tiredness threatens to undo me, pulling at my eyelids. I stifle a giant yawn. Hayden pulls me closer and I rest my head against the crook of his neck. His chest rises and falls strongly under my arm, an anchor in all the chaos.


    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± I murmur, ¡°we should talk to your uncle.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°Us. It¡¯s not fair that he¡¯s the only one who doesn¡¯t know.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s chuckle is a soft whisper against my hair. ¡°Oh, he knows, baby. He¡¯s known forever.¡±


    Hayden


    Ralph Cole is buried in August, under the hot midday sun, in a quiet service attended only by close friends and family.


    I¡¯d debated for a long time if I should go or not. It didn¡¯t feel right to attend an event to honor his life-not when I knew there¡¯d been so little honor in it. There had been nothing but hatred in my heart for him for so long.


    But as it turns out, going to his funeral didn¡¯t have to mean I forgave him. It was Lily who told me that.


    ¡°Just because you go doesn¡¯t mean you condone what he did,¡± she¡¯d said, her tone matter of fact, one day when we were painting her new gallery. ¡°It can be for you to say goodbye. To close that chapter of your life. Maybe to ensure you have no regretster on. It only means what you want it to mean, Hayden. He¡¯s gone. You do what you need to do-for you.¡±


    She was right.


    And now I¡¯m standing at the back of a small church, a tie chafing around my neck, with Lily next to me. Gary didn¡¯t want toe.


    The framed picture on his coffin looks like a stranger. The image is nearly twenty years old, my father healthy and smiling with the wind in his ink-ck hair. Lily had smiled immediately when she saw it, and I know why. I can see the resemnce myself.


    But for the first time in many years, it doesn¡¯t scare me. I might be my father¡¯s son, but I¡¯m also my mother¡¯s, and Gary¡¯s. My father doesn¡¯t define me-not entirely, at least.


    There are only a few other people in the church, and none I recognize. It¡¯s not surprising. Dad¡¯s lifestyle wasn¡¯t exactly conducive to longsting friendships.


    I feel hollow when the priest concludes the service. It was short and to the point, much like Dad had been. In part, I feel relief, like a vice has loosened around my heart. Like I¡¯ve put down a burden I¡¯ve been carrying for a very, very long time.


    Lily slips her hand into mine. ¡°Do you want to stay?¡± she murmurs. ¡°For the reception?¡±


    I look around at the handful of people in ck gathering their things. ¡°No. I don¡¯t want to make small talk about him.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± There¡¯s no judgement in her gentle tone. ¡°I think the people here know who you are, regardless.¡±


    ¡°They do?¡±


    She shoots me a soft smile. ¡°I¡¯ve seen a few of them nce at you, yes. Your hair, Hay¡­ it¡¯s pretty clear who you are.¡±


    I reach up and run a hand through it self-consciously. I¡¯ve let it grow. I guess I resemble the old man more than I thought.


    ¡°Well, they can guess all they want,¡± I murmur.


    We¡¯re out of the church and halfway to the parking lot when a voice stops us in our tracks.


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    A girl runs toward us. Her dark hair goes down past her shoulders and unusual, wide eyes stare at us. She can¡¯t be more than eighteen.


    She just looks at me.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say finally. ¡°Can I help you?¡±N?velDrama.Org ? 2024.


    She nods once, a jerky movement, but when she opens her mouth to speak, no wordse out.


    Lily offers her a kind smile. ¡°My name is Lily,¡± she says. ¡°This is Hayden. Were you also at the service for Ralph Cole?¡±


    The girl nods again. ¡°Yes. Yes, I was¡­ You¡¯re Hayden Cole?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± An unspeakable emotiones over me, looking at her. At the familiar set of her cheekbones and the faint curve of her mouth. It takes effort, but I manage to soften my face into an expression I hope looks weing. ¡°And who are you?¡±


    She swallows. ¡°Stephanie Cole. You¡¯re my half-brother, I think?¡±


    The ground goes a bit unsteady under my feet.


    ¡°Stephanie¡­¡± I repeat. I¡¯ve never heard of her. Not once. Not through Gary, not through Dad¡¯s sporadic texts. ¡°How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Sixteen.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of you.¡±


    She flinches, as if I¡¯ve said something harsh. ¡°Well, I mostly grew up with my mother. I didn¡¯t have much contact with¡­ with our father.¡±

 Rogue C73

    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°He mentioned you,¡± she says, and there¡¯s hope in her eyes. ¡°He talked about you a lot.¡±


    ¡°He did?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he was very proud. You¡¯re in the Navy?¡±


    I give a slow nod. ¡°I was.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ well. Yes.¡± She shrugs, and she¡¯s looking at me expectantly.


    Damn. I¡¯m fucking this up royally-I can feel it. This needs to be handled with more tact than I¡¯ve ever used before. Lily¡¯s gaze feels heavy. She believes in me.


    ¡°Stephanie, is your mother here?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She¡¯s back at the church.¡±


    ¡°Would you two like toe with us to dinner? We could talk.¡±


    The smile on Stephanie¡¯s face makes some distant, painful part of my heart ache. It¡¯s tentative, a bit shy, and filled with a lot of fragile hope.


    A sister. I have a sister.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯d love that. Let me just go get her.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be here,¡± I say.


    Lily and I watch as Stephanie runs back to get her mom. Lily¡¯s hand tightens around mine, and I grip it back, grateful for the support.


    ¡°My father had other children,¡± I say.


    It¡¯s not a surprise, really, when I think about it. But it never struck me to look for them. I never even thought to ask.


    Lily¡¯s eyes are wet. The incredulity in them mirrors my own exactly. ¡°Hayden¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. This is¡­¡±


    ¡°A blessing,¡± she finishes. ¡°Family always is.¡±


    The weeks pass quickly after that.


    Stephaniees to Paradise Shores a few times, getting ice cream with Lily and me. She¡¯s shy, but I learn more about her history, and tentatively share some of my own. It¡¯s not going to be an easy process, but we¡¯re both willing to take it slow. Talking with her mother had been the hardest-someone who had seen the monster my dad could be and had escaped. Someone my mother should have been. But it¡¯s the good kind of difficult. The one that means wounds from the past are healing, that I¡¯m getting stronger.


    Lily decides to work part-time at Harris Properties and devotes a lot of time to her gallery. I¡¯m there most evenings too, hammering and painting and distracting her.


    It¡¯s great.


    We spend the nights together. Either at her oceanside cottage or at my house on Elm Street, but so far, I haven¡¯t slept a night without her by my side in weeks. I hope I never have to again.


    She tells me toe to the gallery one afternoon, after having barred me entry for days. It¡¯s almost done, she¡¯d said-and I want you to be surprised.


    I¡¯m excited when I knock on the gallery door. It¡¯s freshly painted and put back on with new hinges. Gary helped me with that, sanding the old door down in the garage at my house.


    Lily opens the door with a wide grin. It¡¯s the same smile I¡¯m used to from childhood-the wide, beaming one, without restraints or pretension. Her auburn hair is up in a bun and she¡¯s wearing paint-stained overalls.


    She¡¯s hung all the art. The walls are filled with photographs, with paintings-there are even a few sculptures. The sound of soft music wafts from the hidden surround system.


    ¡°Lily, this is gorgeous.¡±


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I¡¯ve seen the art she¡¯s been working on, the pieces she¡¯s sourced from others-but seeing it alle together? It¡¯s a love letter to both art and the ocean. Each piece is different, but the story they tell¡­ it¡¯s beautiful.


    ¡°This one¡­ I haven¡¯t seen this one before,¡± I say, stopping in front of a painting of a beach. The sky is tumultuous, a mixture of reds and purples. Two children are walking along the shore.


    ¡°I just finished it,¡± Lily says,ing to stand next to me. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    I lean in closer. There¡¯s something about the children¡­ they¡¯re only silhouettes, but they¡¯re familiar. The girl is walking in front. Even though she¡¯s stuck in a painting, her body is portrayed with motion in mind, energy evident in her stride. She¡¯s reaching back, her hand sped tightly around the boy¡¯s.


    He has shaggy hair. His shoulders are slumped slightly, but he¡¯s turned toward her, letting her drag him across the beach.


    ¡°It¡¯s us.¡±


    ¡°Yes. From ages ago.¡±


    The sky is darker on his side of the painting. She¡¯s pulling him toward the light, toward the sky with a gorgeous sunset.


    With a start, I realize it¡¯s not actually a sunset. It¡¯s a sunrise.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± I say, wrapping my arm around her. ¡°You in the lead, and me following?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t take too much creative license,¡± she says, and there¡¯sughter in her voice.


    ¡°Mhm.¡± I bend down and press a kiss to her lips. She¡¯s too much, this woman. ¡°Well, it¡¯s true. My heart and my soul are yours. They were, even back then.¡±


    Lily gives a little moan and turns to mepletely, wrapping her arms around my neck. She feels like an extension of me-the two of us one person. My strength and my courage, my conscience and my sanity. In the months since I returned, I¡¯ve learned the true meaning of a rtionship. Of being partners-lifting each other up. Of being good enough together.


    ¡°I love you.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± I say. ¡°And I love this painting. Is it for sale?¡±


    Lily shakes her head. ¡°I was nning on putting it up for sale, but now, I don¡¯t know. It doesn¡¯t feel right.¡±


    ¡°You should sell it,¡± I tell her. ¡°Definitely.¡±


    Her eyes dim. ¡°All right. If you think so, maybe I should.¡±


    ¡°I do. I already know of a buyer, actually.¡±

 Rogue C74

    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s a big fan of your work.¡± I wrap my arms around her waist, walking her backwards. It¡¯s no effort at all to press kisses against her cheek, her neck, her skin warm under my mouth. ¡°He¡¯s very interested.¡±


    Herughter rings out in my ear. ¡°Is he?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Very, very.¡±


    ¡°Good, because as it happens, he might be my favorite fan.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be happy to hear that.¡±


    Lily kisses me, long and deep, before she breaks intoughter again. ¡°If it makes you this happy, I¡¯ll paint you over and over again.¡±


    ¡°You make me happy,¡± I say. ¡°Just you.¡±


    Her hand stills on my cheek. Her green eyes glitter with love and trust, and my chest feels so full of emotion that it might burst.


    ¡°My handsome rogue,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°Very handsome,¡± I agree, bending to whisper in her ear. ¡°I¡¯m still waiting for you to hire me as your nude model, you know.¡±


    Lily grins. ¡°I¡¯m not done with your gentleman portrait yet, the one with the hounds at your feet.¡±


    I chuckle at the mention of that old joke. ¡°Something for my mantlepiece?¡±


    ¡°Yes, or you can hang it in your office.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± I run my hands down her back, finding the soft curve of her spine. She feels amazing in my arms-always has-like she belongs here. It¡¯s still hard to believe we spent so many years apart, when I¡¯m close to her like this. And I know I¡¯ll spend the rest of my life making sure we¡¯re apart as little as possible. ¡°Move in with me.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Into my house, or me into yours, or we sell it all and buy something else. I don¡¯t care, I just never want to say goodbye to you.¡±


    ¡°I like the sound of that. A ce just for us.¡± She presses a soft kiss to my lips, the feeling like home. ¡°People will say it¡¯s too fast.¡±


    ¡°People?¡± I know exactly who she¡¯s talking about. But her parents haven¡¯t said a negative word about us, not since Lily told them. I think they know they risk losing their daughter forever if they do.


    ¡°Yes, people. But they¡¯d be wrong. I¡¯ve loved you since I was ten years old, Hayden Cole.¡±


    I bow my forehead to hers, closing my eyes. Her words never fail to stop me in my trackspletely. ¡°There¡¯s something else I¡¯m going to ask you one of these days,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m trying not to move too fast in that regard, though.¡±


    Lily¡¯s breath catches in her throat, and I hear her swallow. ¡°That¡¯s interesting.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Hypothetically,¡± she murmurs, ¡°I think you¡¯d get a positive response, if the question is what I¡¯m thinking it might be.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s interesting,¡± I echo, smiling at her. ¡°Expect it when you least expect it, that¡¯s all I¡¯m saying, Lils.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re good at keeping me on the edge of my seat, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Always,¡± I say, kissing her softly, holding the first andst girl I¡¯ve ever loved in my arms.


    A few monthster¡­


    Michael Marchand is quiet next to me on therge porch. The ocean is calm in the distance, the sun beginning its slow descent. It¡¯ste fall, and the air is cold. We¡¯re heading for winter.


    I asked him out here for a reason, and judging by his silence, I wonder if he suspects. But he always was difficult to read.


    ¡°Well, Cole? What did you want to discuss?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been back for months now,¡± I say. ¡°Lily and I live together, and I¡¯m going to ask her to marry me.¡±


    Michael looks at me. There¡¯s more gray in his hair, and I¡¯m two inches taller, but he¡¯s still able to look down his nose at me. It used to bother me once-intimidate me at the same time as it raised my hackles.


    It doesn¡¯t anymore.


    ¡°Are you asking for my permission?¡±


    ¡°No. I respect Lily and her opinion far too much for that. I don¡¯t need your permission.¡± I face him fully. ¡°I would, however, appreciate your blessing. We both know it would mean a lot to her.¡±


    ¡°And to you?¡± His eyes are narrowed, but only slightly.


    Ten years ago, his approval would have meant anything to me. The symbol of finally fitting into Paradise Shores-into the family-and proof that I was finally good enough.


    Now, I know I am.


    ¡°It will make family get-togethers a hell of a lot easier,¡± I say dryly.


    To my surprise, Michaelughs. It¡¯s a dry, throaty sound. ¡°Damn, Cole. You always did swim against the stream.¡±


    ¡°You asked me to leave once,¡± I say. ¡°But I won¡¯t leave again. For as long as Lily wants me, I¡¯ll be here for her.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± he says calmly. ¡°I saw that the second you returned. And that¡¯s good. My daughter deserves no less.¡±


    ¡°She deserves everything.¡±


    ¡°Spoken like a man truly in love.¡± He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I try to hide my surprise. ¡°I was wrong about you once, son. You¡¯ve made something of yourself.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    I meet his gaze head-on. ¡°I have. But I¡¯m not too proud to recognize I had help along the way. My uncle. Lily. You.¡± I incline my head, struggling past my pride. ¡°I¡¯ve never properly thanked you for my tuition all those years.¡±


    Michael¡¯s eyes glitter, like he¡¯s seeing exactly how difficult this is for me. ¡°You don¡¯t like being in someone¡¯s debt.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, gritting my teeth.


    ¡°Neither do I.¡± His gaze turns thoughtful. ¡°A self-made man. Just like I was, once. That¡¯s something none of my sons can say.¡±


    I don¡¯t nod, but I don¡¯t contradict him, either.

 Rogue C75

    ¡°You¡¯re not in my debt. You make my daughter happy, and you¡¯re strong enough to keep her safe. That¡¯s more than repayment enough.¡± He gives my shoulder ast pat before taking a step back. He opens the lid to the grill, inspecting the lobster tails lined up in a neat row. ¡°I know I haven¡¯t been easy on you. Never tried to be.¡±


    I scoff and take a sip of my beer. ¡°No, you definitely haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give the boys hell, too, when they bring a woman home, don¡¯t you worry.¡±


    I think of Henry in his ivory tower in Manhattan, working so hard for this man¡¯s approval. Of Rhys¡¯s use of sarcasm as a shield and his nomadic existence. Of Parker¡¯s string of romantic attachments and cheap smiles.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait,¡± I say, knowing that this time, there¡¯d be someone to have their backs against this man-me.


    Epilogue


    One yearter


    Lily


    Two ticks.


    It¡¯s positive.


    I sit down on the edge of the bathtub and put my head in my hands. I¡¯m going to be a mother. I¡¯m going to be a mother.


    It¡¯s taking all my effort to stay calm and let my breathing slow. A child. We¡¯re going to have a child. A little mini-Hayden, with dark, shaggy hair and gray eyes. A big smile.


    Happiness unfurls inside me. A child. A child.


    It isn¡¯t nned, but isn¡¯t exactly a surprise, either. We¡¯d discussed it briefly¡­ and we hadn¡¯t been as careful as you¡¯re supposed to be. We¡¯d slipped on the honeymoon, and not just once. Hayden had whispered to me that it would make him happy, and I¡¯d reacted in kind. But that had been in passion-in moments of bliss.


    Now it¡¯s real.


    For two weeks, after the wedding, Hayden and I had been on a paradise ind in the Caribbean. Just the two of us and crystal-clear water, white sand and a rented sailing boat. It had been like a dream.


    His business is doing better than anyone had expected, including himself. Thepany now has a team of nearly ten consultants whom Hayden regrly receive reports from.


    I look down at the engagement and wedding ring on my finger. It still feels odd to look at, even if theyplement each other perfectly. I¡¯d worn the engagement ring for almost a year, ever since he proposedst fall, and all through the nning and preparations for a summer wedding.


    We moved into a house of our own, with all the nning that came with it. The house next to my cottage had unexpectedlye onto the market just a few months earlier. It had fantastic ocean views and arge backyard.


    I¡¯d stood outside it one night, looking at the shutters and imagining painting them dark blue, expanding the upstairs terrace, a children¡¯s yhouse in the garden, a spare bedroom for when Hayden¡¯s half-sister visited. He¡¯d wrapped his arms around me, still warm after his evening run, and kissed my temple.


    ¡°Should we get it?¡± he¡¯d asked, and there had been nothing to say but yes.


    It still isn¡¯t fully renovated, but we live here now, together. Married. I stand on shaky legs and look into the mirror in the master bathroom. Carefully, I put the pregnancy test on the counter with trembling hands and look at myself.


    I look flushed. Happy. A bit scared.


    Hayden still struggles with feelings of inadequacy and dark thoughts. The memories of his childhood run deep, even if he¡¯s a master at hiding it-and pushing it away. And a child¡­ it¡¯s hard to forget the doubts he¡¯s expressed asionally about being a father himself.


    I wash my hands and walk through our master bedroom, down the stairs to the living room. Myptop is open, the spreadsheet with the gallery¡¯s uing events still there. It¡¯s gone better than I could ever have expected-so good that I¡¯ve even had to hire someone to help me run it.


    The house is empty and quiet. Hayden is at the marina. Rhys and Parker had needed him for something, they¡¯d said, and he¡¯s gone on the Frida for the day. I¡¯d chosen to stay home, because I wanted to work on the gallery¡¯s schedule. And because I had been suspicious, my period over a weekte.


    I drum my fingers along the kitchen counter. I¡¯d wanted to check it alone, but now I want Hayden here-right away. I don¡¯t want to be alone with this knowledge for a second longer.


    So I grab a book and a sweater, and then I head down to the marina. They¡¯ve already been out hours. Shouldn¡¯t be long, now.


    The words on the page swim before my eyes as I try to read, sitting by the Marchand dock. I¡¯d brought the book on our honeymoon, but Hayden had been very adept at distracting me from reading it. He¡¯d roll over, slip a hand across my waist and whisper something amusing or loving in my ear, and I would put the book down without a second thought.


    It¡¯s a calm day inte August, and the waves are soft against the dock. Our kid will grow up here, just like I did, and just like Hayden. Will she love sailing as much as her father? Or will he want to spend his days painting?


    I put the book down and close my eyes. The possibilities are endless. And Hayden¡­ I can see Hayden as a father, a child riding on his shoulders, small hands nestled deep in his thick hair. Always teasing and ying, but he would be the first to pick his son or daughter up if they fell, strong arms lifting up and brushing off.


    The image makes me smile.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    The Frida sails into the harbor just past five in the evening. They¡¯ve rolled up the sails, and she¡¯s cruising on motor alone. I can see all of them-Henry at the steering wheel, tallest of the lot. Parker¡¯s head of blond hair as he sits at the front, preparing to jump onto the dock to tie the rope. Rhys is standing next to Hayden, the two of them shoulder to shoulder as they spot the distance and shout instructions to Henry.


    My family. It¡¯s so rare that all my brothers are together in Paradise Shores at the same time, especially since they¡¯d already been here in July for the wedding. I was the first who had moved back permanently, and if I had my way, I¡¯d make sure they all did the same.


    I help Parker tie the knots and anchor the boat along the dock. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here, Lils,¡± he calls. ¡°Hayden said you had to work.¡±


    ¡°Changed my mind,¡± I say, using a half hitch knot. ¡°Was it nice out there?¡±


    He wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives me a half-hug, and we stand watching as the others get off the boat. ¡°It was amazing.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s hair is wet, and when he gets closer, he shakes it like a dog. Iugh as the droplets fly. ¡°You took a swim?¡±


    ¡°Of course I did. The others are cowards.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called being sensible,¡± Henry says, his voice low. ¡°We can¡¯t all be rebels.¡±


    Rhys snorts. ¡°Ignore him. He¡¯s been in a terrible mood all day.¡±


    Both Hayden and Parkerugh, but Henry just shoots them a dark look. I¡¯m not surprised, though. My oldest brother has been acting oddly for weeks. It¡¯s not difficult to guess the reason.


    ¡°Is this because of the girl you brought as a date to my wedding?¡± I frown at Henry. ¡°She was lovely.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not because of her.¡±


    ¡°Liar,¡± Rhys says, voice teasing. ¡°Faye unsettles you. Admit it.¡±


    ¡°I am not going to talk about this.¡± Henry stalks off down the dock, his wide shoulders looking tense. He¡¯s so regimented, so focused, that he sometimes forgets the important things in life.


    Parker drops his arm from my shoulders and nods to Hayden. ¡°You going back with Lils?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Hayden says smoothly, bending to pick up the book I¡¯d dropped on the dock. ¡°It¡¯s gettingte.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± I agree. ¡°But would you guys want toe over tomorrow night? Board games and wine? We can dig out some of the old ones.¡±


    Rhys grins. ¡°You want revenge?¡±

 Rogue C76

    I smile back at him. ¡°I think I¡¯ll be considerably better at Monopoly now, yes. You guys always had the advantage of age.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that.¡±


    We reach the parking lot and say our goodbyes, Hayden¡¯s hand on the small of my back.


    ¡°See you tomorrow!¡±


    Hayden gets into the driver¡¯s seat and reaches over to put a hand on my knee. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you were going to wait for us.¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t nned on it,¡± I say, looking down at his broad, tan hand. ¡°But I wanted to.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m d.¡±


    ¡°Was it fun?¡±


    He snorts, but his voice is warm when he answers. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s been a long time since all of us were out on the boat together.¡±


    ¡°It has.¡± I put my hand on his and watch his quiet contentment with a smile. My brothers are Hayden¡¯s, too; they¡¯ve epted him as my husband as readily as they did when we were children, and Hayden was a new ymate. My family feels whole again.


    He shoots me a smile. ¡°Although I prefer just the two of us on a boat¡­ I like your brothers, baby, but I like you better.¡±


    His eyes sh with heat and amusement, his hand tightening on my knee. I bite my lip at the memory-the boat rocking softly amongst the waves, his body on top of mine, warm lips against my neck and his deep, powerful rhythm.


    ¡°I prefer that too,¡± I say.


    Hayden¡¯s smile turns a little bit wild, and I can see in his eyes that he has ns for when we get home.


    But so do I-and I don¡¯t feel like I can wait much longer. He parks the car and I grab his hand, pulling him inside the house.


    ¡°I¡¯m sweaty,¡± he says, running a hand over my back. ¡°I should take a shower first. Join me.¡±


    ¡°dly. But first¡­ I need to show you something.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach, alive with excitement as we head up to the bedroom. I gesture for Hayden to have a seat on the bed, and he scoots back, running a hand through his hair. He would look rxed if it wasn¡¯t for his amber eyes, fixated on me.


    ¡°Is something wrong, Lily?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    He frowns. ¡°I can tell something is.¡±


    ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong.¡± I head into the bathroom and grab the pregnancy test, still by the sink. The two lines are still as clear as they¡¯d been hours ago.


    I walk back into the bedroom, my bare feet sinking deep into the carpet.


    Hayden looks at me in silence. ¡°Lily¡­¡±


    ¡°So, you know how we haven¡¯t been¡­ very careful?¡±


    He frowns, but then his gaze sharpens, alert like a predator. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s paid off, so to speak. I think I¡¯m pregnant.¡± I hold out the test to him, showing the sign. ¡°I took it a few hours ago.¡±


    Hayden stares at it for a long, quiet moment. Then he leans back, arms braced against his legs, and says nothing at all. My heart is beating so fast in my chest that I fear it might leap out and tackle him to the ground. Say something!


    ¡°Well? What do you think?¡±


    There¡¯s something warm and excited in his eyes, something that¡¯s growing by the second. ¡°Come here,¡± he says quietly, waving me closer. ¡°Let me hold you.¡±


    He catches me around the waist, strong arms pulling me along his body, and buries his head against my shoulder. I hold on to his T-shirt and can¡¯t stop myself from tearing up.


    ¡°A baby,¡± I murmur. ¡°Can you believe it?¡±


    Hayden pushes my hair back. Warm lips touch my forehead, my cheek, my nose, finding my lips. I kiss him back through my tears, feeling so happy I might burst.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Are you happy, Hayden? Is this good news?¡±


    A rough hand cups my cheek, his thumb smoothing away one of my tears. His face is so dear to me, the cheekbones, the thick hair over his forehead, the unusual eyes.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s amazing news.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He closes his arms around my waist, lifting me up and spinning me around. I grip his shoulders and smile down at him, seeing my own joy reflected back at me.


    He doesn¡¯t let go when we stop spinning, instead lifting me up and onto our bed. I pull him with me so that we¡¯re side by side.


    ¡°Were you afraid I wouldn¡¯t be happy?¡±


    I run a finger along the sharp edge of his jaw. ¡°A little bit. I was scared you¡¯d¡­ I don¡¯t know. That it would freak you out.¡±


    ¡°How little faith you have in me,¡± he murmurs.


    I slide my hand into his thick hair, running my fingers against his scalp the way I know he enjoys. ¡°I know. I¡¯m sorry. It was only a small fear.¡±


    Hayden¡¯s smile fades, even if the happiness in his eyes doesn¡¯t. ¡°But you¡¯re right. I might fuck up, Lily.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°What if I do, though? There¡¯s a risk I could be-¡±


    ¡°No, there¡¯s no risk at all. Do you know why? Because I won¡¯t let you.¡±


    He closes his eyes, our foreheads touching. ¡°I know.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°But more importantly, you won¡¯t let yourself fail. I know you, Hay. You¡¯re one of the most driven people I¡¯ve ever met. I know you better than anyone, and I haveplete faith in you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says dryly, a smile in his voice. ¡°Besides, I know that if I screw up, I¡¯ll have to answer to not one, not two, not three, but four angry uncles, not just the kid¡¯s but my own as well.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Not scared at all, huh.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He kisses me softly, his hand finding the curve of my waist and the still-tness of my stomach. ¡°With you as my wife? Never.¡±


    ****


    Thank you so much for reading Rogue!


    I hope you fell in love with Hayden and Lily just as much as I did!

 Ice Cold Boss C1

    Faye


    What do you do if you¡¯re a broke architect who¡¯s been wrongfully terminated from your job? Throw in arge amount of student debt for good measure, an even bigger dose of ambition, and the humiliation of being turned down by most of the major architect firms in New York.


    The answer? You drown your sorrows in wine.


    My best friendes over and we open a bottle of white. Technically, we open two, but it¡¯s the light and bubbly kind of wine, so it only counts half as much.


    ¡°To mytest rejection letter,¡± I say, and hold up my ss for a toast.


    Jessie holds up her own. ¡°At least you¡¯re out of Elliot Ferris¡¯s office. You could still have to work for that jackass, Faye.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I¡¯d be getting paid,¡± I say sadly. ¡°But you¡¯re right. Here¡¯s to being broke-but at least there¡¯s no one ogling my ass!¡±


    ¡°To no ass ogling!¡±


    We toast, and giggle, and descend into the kind of madness we¡¯ve always gotten into. Silly and funny and entirely harmless.


    Well.


    At least it starts harmless.


    But then Jessie leaves, and I open myptop for a little bit of midnight fun. Maybe watch my favorite YouTuber break down yet another shopping haul, or a tutorial for braids so intricate I know I¡¯d never manage to seed on my own. Perhaps do a spot of drunk online shopping.


    The job searching website pops up-I¡¯d left it open. There¡¯s a new ad, posted in the day since Ist checked.


    Marchand & Rykers is the firm name. They¡¯re a small, boutique architect firm uptown, one I¡¯ve only heard about but never encountered. It¡¯s not one of the big yers, but they¡¯re well-known for taking on expensive, prestige projects. It¡¯s also a firm that hasn¡¯t rejected me yet.


    My heart sinks as I read the job description. It¡¯s not even a position as an architect. Assistant. They¡¯re hiring an assistant to the executive partner.


    It involves all the usual sort of stuff-event managing, calendar work, email and phone. Damn. This city is killing me, not to mention this profession. Five years I¡¯d spent with Elliot Ferris, and in the end, what did I gain?


    Nothing. No rmendation letter, no promotion-nada. Zilch.


    Is assistant the best I can do now? Have I really sunk that low?Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Drunk anger rises up in me as I press the giant blue button that says ¡°apply.¡± I have my CV ready, so it doesn¡¯t take long to attach it and finalize my application.


    Please submit a cover letter. Hah. As if they¡¯ll hire me anyway!


    An idea forms in my mind. It¡¯s so silly that for a moment all I can do is grin at the empty document on my screen. Yes. Why not give them a piece of my mind too? It¡¯s not like I¡¯m realistically going to get this job. I have no background as an assistant and not a single rmendation to my name. I¡¯m twenty-seven years old and live in a studio apartment in Brooklyn.


    I start to write. Dear¡­ Damn it. Who¡¯s the head of the firm? A quick inte search pulls up the name. Henry Marchand. Probably a mean old bastard, with a pudgy stomach and graying hair. Another Elliot Ferris, with his wing hands and sickly-sweet smile. Ugh. They¡¯re the elitist dragons guarding the building industry in New York, making it impossible to gain a foothold as a young female architect. Assholes.


    Dear Mr. Marchand (what kind of fancy-pants name is that?), I start typing.


    You¡¯re not going to hire me, you old stooge, and let me list the reasons why. Intrigued? You should be. I¡¯m about to tell you everything that¡¯s wrong with this industry. You¡¯re wee.


    I wake up with a pounding headache and a mouth as dry as the Sahara. My sheets are stuck to my cheek, and I can tell without touching it that my hair is aplete mess.


    Sunlight streams in through my window. By the looks of it, it¡¯ste already.


    ¡°Damn,¡± I murmur to no one and sit up, putting a hand to my forehead. I knew drinking with Jessie had been a bad idea, but then I¡¯d received the letter of rejection from Ford & Sons¡­


    God. That made it a total of six rejections. All major architect firms in New York had rejected me. Me. And I¡¯d been valedictorian of my ss at university. Sure, it wasn¡¯t Ivy League, but it had been the best I¡¯d been able to afford on my schrship and loans.


    I stand on wobbly legs and make it out to the kitchen to grab a ss of cold water. I nce over at the potted palm tree in the corner. ¡°Looks like we might have to go back to Ohio if this continues, buddy,¡± I tell it.


    The tree looks morosely back at me. The leaves are turning brown at the edges, despite my tender loving care. I¡¯ve killed every nt I¡¯ve ever bought, but I¡¯m determined that this one won¡¯t suffer the same tragic fate.


    ¡°Hang in there,¡± I tell him. ¡°I¡¯ll find us something. I know you¡¯ll feel better when I have a job.¡±


    Not to mention, so will I.


    I take a seat at my kitchen table and open myptop. There¡¯s a new email in my inbox.


    Automatic: Thank you for your application!


    I frown and lean in closer. I didn¡¯t apply for anything.


    Marchand & Rykers has received your application. We will be in touch as soon as possible regarding-


    No. No, no, no, no, no. There was no way.


    That was a joke. A drunken, stupid little joke, just to amuse myself.


    I open the documents that I sent in, one by one.


    My heart is pounding when I open the cover letter-the one I vaguely remember typing in drunken, self-righteous anger.


    Dear God. I actually sent it.


    Henry


    ¡°Mr. Marchand, your one o¡¯clock is going to be fifteen minuteste. Should I push yourter meetings?¡±


    I press the inte button to speak with my assistant harder than strictly necessary. When did being on time be a thing of the past?


    ¡°No, I¡¯ll cut his meeting short.¡± If you¡¯rete, you¡¯rete, and you pay the consequences.


    My assistant chirps back. ¡°Would you like me to order lunch?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The regr.¡±


    ¡°Will do.¡±


    She¡¯s effective. Always on time. Knowledgeable.


    And working herst week. The decision to leave had been hers, but it still left me in the same awful position I always seemed to find myself in. Looking for another assistant. Somehow, they never seemed tost, even when they were terrific. I¡¯m not a terrible boss, either. Demanding, perhaps. Exacting. But not terrible.

 Ice Cold Boss C2

    I dial Melissa in Human Resources. The ad for a new personal assistant went live just yesterday, but patience is a virtue I don¡¯t possess.


    ¡°Mr. Marchand?¡±


    ¡°Have you received any applicants for the new position?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, ¡°a handful. But the ad hasn¡¯t even been live for twenty-four hours yet. I¡¯m expecting more.¡±


    ¡°Send them over.¡±


    Brief hesitation. ¡°I haven¡¯t vetted them yet. Would you like me to send you a selection? I could go through them in a few hours¡¯ time.¡±


    ¡°No, send the ones we¡¯ve already received.¡±


    She¡¯s perplexed, that¡¯s clear, but she doesn¡¯t argue. ¡°They¡¯ll be in your inbox shortly.¡±


    Perfect. Something productive to do during the fifteen minutes I¡¯m now forced to wait for one of my head architects.


    Melissa¡¯s email appears. Seven applicants are included, each in individual files with all their supporting documentation. Excellent. I scroll through the list and open the first one. Faye Alvarez. It¡¯s an unusual name.


    Her CV is excellent. Valedictorian. A bachelor¡¯s degree in architecture. Worked five years at Elliot Ferris. I grit my teeth at the name-he is no friend of mine-but his firm is undoubtedly sessful.


    I click open her cover letter and can¡¯t believe my eyes.


    Dear Mr. Marchand (what kind of fancy-pants name is that?):


    You¡¯re not going to hire me, you old stooge, and let me list the reasons why. Intrigued? You should be. I¡¯m about to tell you everything that¡¯s wrong with this industry. You¡¯re wee.


    Firstly, I don¡¯t have any professional rmendations. That¡¯s not because I didn¡¯t work somewhere nice-because I did-but because my former boss is a lecherous creep. Terribly, terribly lecherous. That¡¯s a good word. Well, it¡¯s a bad word, but it¡¯s forceful. He refuses to give me a rmendation because we had a so-called difference of opinion. I¡¯ll give you a clue: I was in the right. So here I am, without a rmendation. It¡¯s not because I¡¯m not good at my job. It¡¯s because I was too good. I¡¯m the best damn architect you¡¯ll ever see.


    But you won¡¯t believe me when I say it, because you need proof, and I can¡¯t supply it. It¡¯s a catch-22. That¡¯s another good term, a reference to a literary ssic. As you can tell from this beautifully written letter, I am very highly educated. But you won¡¯t hire me anyway, because I didn¡¯t go to an Ivy League college. I¡¯m sure you did, and all the other architects at your firm. You probably only hire other Ivy alumni. An unspoken rule, right? I know how New York architect firms work. Well, I couldn¡¯t afford to. WASN¡¯T MY FAULT!T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Second, I don¡¯t look like an architect. I¡¯m putting it bluntly here because why not? That¡¯s the truth of it. I¡¯ve been told I¡¯m ¡°a distraction in the workce.¡± Too curvy, too sensual, too exotic, whatever that means, I¡¯ve heard it all. Just because my dad was from Mexico doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m some sort of dish to be sampled. But that¡¯s what all the higher-ups see. They don¡¯t see my perfectly executed calctions; they just see my cleavage. Which I usually try to cover up. Again, NOT MY FAULT!


    Do you want to know the final reason why you won¡¯t possibly consider hiring me, or even calling me for an interview? I don¡¯t have any previous experience as an assistant, despite being grossly overqualified for the position you¡¯re hiring for. I¡¯m stooping to the level of assistant, and I won¡¯t even get that. But I¡¯m also underqualified to be an architect at your prestigious firm, dear sir, because of the previous reasons I listed. So I¡¯m fucked either way.


    This industry is sexist, elitist, and protectionist. I thought I could make it anyway, but it seems like I can¡¯t. Reject me and you¡¯ll help confirm my thesis. Thanks in advance.


    Sincerely,


    Faye Alvarez.


    I read it once.


    Then I read it again.


    And by the end, I¡¯m grinning. This woman is angry. More than that-she¡¯s furious. Not once have I ever been called an old stooge, and certainly not by someone I¡¯ve never met. The part that makes me smile the most is the ending. She signed her cover letter with sincerely, after just having used the word fucked. Impossible.


    Insane.


    I look at her CV again.


    Honestly, she has ster credentials. Graduated summa cumude from a mid-tier school. Interned at one of the big firms beforending a job as a junior architect. She was a part of the Century Dome project.


    Hmm. Impressive structure, that one. I¡¯d been there at the opening.


    She¡¯s right, though. She¡¯s definitely overqualified to be an assistant. At the same time¡­ she¡¯d need very little training on the architecture part of it. She¡¯d understand all my notes right away. The systems, the projects¡­ sure, she might need to learn how to handle a calendar, but that¡¯s the easy part. The building and development are the hard part, and she already has that down pat.


    I re-read her letter.


    It makes me smile again. That¡¯s a good word. Well, no, it¡¯s a bad word. This woman sounds half off her rails, and half brilliant, and damn if it isn¡¯t the first applicant who¡¯s actually stood out to me. I can¡¯t hire her-of course I can¡¯t. But there¡¯s no harm in calling her in for an interview and proving herst prediction wrong. Marchand & Rykers isn¡¯t elitist or sexist. And if the letter is any indication, the call might just be the most fun I¡¯ve had in months.


    Besides, her first paragraph is unsettling. Old Elliot Ferris not giving her a rmendation because of what she¡¯s hinting¡­


    I dial the number she listed at the top of her CV.


    A breathless voice picks up after the second ring. It¡¯s soft and sure. ¡°Faye Alvarez speaking?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Mr. Marchand from Marchand & Rykers.¡±


    There¡¯s absolute silence on the other line.


    ¡°The old stooge,¡± I add, always helpful.


    ¡°Hello,¡± she breathes. ¡°God, I¡¯m very embarrassed about that letter.¡±


    ¡°You are? I didn¡¯t get that from the text itself.¡±


    ¡°No, well, I wasn¡¯t exactly in my right mind when I sent that.¡±


    ¡°Are you telling me you applied to work at my firm while under the influence?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she says. ¡°The answer depends on whether it will exonerate me or not.¡±


    ¡°Exonerate,¡± I repeat. ¡°That¡¯s another objectively good word, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    There¡¯s a distinctively feminine groan on the other end. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry about that letter.¡±


    ¡°I understand that you are,¡± I say, ¡°but I¡¯m not. It was very amusing.¡±


    Another groan. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure. Has it been passed around the office yet? Taped to the water cooler?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, but I have big ns for it,¡± I say gravely. ¡°I¡¯m thinking of turning it into an email forward.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t,¡± she breathes, and I can¡¯t help but smile at the outrage in her voice. God, this woman is fun to needle.


    ¡°I won¡¯t, not if youe in for an interview.¡±


    The silence on the other side isplete.

 Ice Cold Boss C3

    ¡°Miss Alvarez? I¡¯m a busy man.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You genuinely want me to interview for the position?¡± This time, her voice is dry. ¡°I can¡¯t for the life of me understand why.¡±


    ¡°I told you. Your application was very amusing. Besides, you have excellent qualifications. Can you make it to Marchand & Rykers tomorrow at¡­¡± I nce at my calendar. ¡°Nine a. m.?¡±


    ¡°I can, yes.¡±


    ¡°Until tomorrow, then, Miss Alvarez. And don¡¯t bete.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, now.¡±


    ¡°Bye.¡±


    I hang up and spend another five minutes perusing her cover letter again.


    It¡¯s ridiculous.


    ying along with it is decidedly stupid, too. But it¡¯s also a meeting I¡¯m looking forward to, and it¡¯s been a long time since that¡¯s been the case.


    Faye


    The interview has to be a joke.


    No one in their right mind would hire someone based on the terrible mess of a letter I sent in. I know that-he surely knows it too. So what am I going in for? Amusement, probably. He wants to see what a ridiculous person he¡¯s dealing with. Have himself augh, like he did over the phone.


    I look at myself in the mirror again. Well, he¡¯ll have no such luck.


    It might only be a joke to him, but I¡¯m not going to waste an opportunity to gain a tiny bit of credibility back. I look professional, from the ck pumps to the slick ponytail. I¡¯m wearing my most modest of suits-the pencil skirt goes to my knees, and my silk blouse is nearly covered by the matching zer. I kept my makeup simple, too. Anything to downy the features that I know men like this often prey on-or see as a mark against me.


    I walk into Marchand & Rykers with my architecture portfolio tucked under my arm. I couldn¡¯t resist bringing it, even if the position he advertised was only for an assistant.


    The receptionist shoots me an uncertain smile. ¡°Miss Alvarez?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m here for an interview with Mr. Marchand?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard. Excellent. Let me show you the way.¡± She leads the way up a wide ss staircase. It¡¯s very obviously an architect firm-the nk white walls, the spotlights at artfully ced angles. Clean and in.


    ¡°Have you worked here long?¡± I ask her.


    ¡°Nearly three years. It¡¯s a great firm.¡± She¡¯s quiet for a beat, fiddling with her key card to ess the elevators. She presses the button to the eighth floor, and we start moving.


    ¡°How¡¯s Mr. Marchand?¡± I have no idea what to expect out of this. My heart is beating a rhythm of nerves in my chest, but I¡¯m careful to keep my expression neutral. Odds are he just wants tough at me.


    ¡°Well,¡± she says carefully. ¡°He¡¯s a very talented architect.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t add anything else, and it¡¯s not difficult to read the subtext. But he¡¯s an asshole. Most builders and architects of this caliber are. Lord knows I¡¯d encountered my fair share of them.


    You need a certain kind of ego to push through designs that might very well outlive you.


    She opens a ss door and leads me down a massive hallway. There¡¯s an empty desk at the end, right next to a floor-to-ceiling window.


    ¡°His assistant sits out here,¡± she says, ¡°and Mr. Marchand¡¯s office is through this door.¡±


    She gestures at arge oak door. Beautifully carved and weathered, it feels incongruous with the rest of the minimalist office. Interesting.


    ¡°All right,¡± she says. ¡°Good luck, then.¡±


    I pause in front of the giant door. ¡°Does he know I¡¯m here?¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sure. You were supposed to be here at nine, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, but she¡¯s already halfway down the hall, like she¡¯s running from the situation. It doesn¡¯t inspire confidence. ¡°Alrighty then,¡± I murmur to myself and push my shoulders back. I¡¯m Faye Alvarez. I was top of my ss. I spent five years working on some of the most challenging designs in Manhattan. I¡¯m a great architect.


    I knock on the door.


    There¡¯s no response, only a soft, electronic click and the door swings open automatically.


    The office is massive. There¡¯s a giant desk in the center, all modern and sleek, but behind it are rows and rows of bookshelves. I can see a ssic architect¡¯s desk in the corner, with sketching sheets and a clip-onmp.


    A man is seated behind the desk.


    Well, I think. He isn¡¯t old at all.


    The man can¡¯t be more than forty. Thick, brown hair is pushed back. One stray lock has refused to obey him, though, and falls over a square forehead. He¡¯s not in a suit. Instead, he¡¯s wearing a navy-blue shirt tucked into a pair of gray chinos. It¡¯s a casual look, but on him it looks like a million bucks. An expensive watch glitters at his wrist.


    He stares back at me. There¡¯s nothing in his eyes-not surprise, not amusement, nothing at all to signal a wee. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s trying to unnerve me, but I refuse to let him know that it¡¯s working.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say. ¡°My name is Faye Alvarez. I¡¯m here for an interview?¡±


    He leans back in his chair and looks me over. It¡¯s not leering at all-it¡¯s clinical. I¡¯m being assessed.


    ¡°Miss Alvarez of the famous cover letter,¡± he says. ¡°Have a seat.¡±


    I sit down opposite him, trying and failing to hide my surprise. He¡¯s nothing like what I expected. This man is handsome, even if it¡¯s in a detached sort of way.


    ¡°First and foremost, thank you for inviting me for an interview,¡± I say. ¡°Despite my colorfulnguage.¡±


    ¡°Yes, your application was unusual. Do you make a habit of applying for jobs while¡­ what euphemism did we use? Under the influence.¡±


    ¡°Not usually, no.¡±


    ¡°You made a special exception for my firm.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow at him. Is he teasing me? It¡¯s hard to tell when his face is impassive.


    ¡°Anything for Marchand and Rykers,¡± I say airily. ¡°And while I ask that you disregard my cover letter, my CV proves that I¡¯m more than qualified for this position.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C4

    ¡°Yes.¡± He thumbs through papers on his desk and smoothly pulls out my application. I see him nce through my CV. ¡°It¡¯s clear that you¡¯re very well-educated. But then,¡± he adds, looking up at me, ¡°you already told me that in the cover letter.¡±


    Don¡¯t blush. I force myself to meet his gaze. ¡°I did. I might be young, but I have a lot of experience in the field. I started as an intern at the City nning office for five months. You¡¯re wee to call Anita Roberts, who was my supervisor there.¡±


    Henry Marchand leans back in his chair and taps his fingers along the desk, once, twice. ¡°And then you worked for Elliot Ferris.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But no reference from him. You were fired?¡±


    It¡¯s increasingly hard to meet his eyes, green and piercing, but I force myself to do it. ¡°I was, unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°As you made abundantly clear in your letter, you believe this is one of the key reasons why I wouldn¡¯t consider hiring you. Why I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already been rejected by several firms, since you¡¯re willing to¡­ how did you so tteringly put it? Stoop to this level.¡±


    This time, I can¡¯t stop the flush of embarrassment on my face. ¡°Yes. But I can assure you that it had nothing to do with my work performance. And while I understand that you have no reason to trust me on that, I ask that you do. I have co-workers there who I believe would vouch for my job performance.¡±


    Mr. Marchand nces down at my cover letter again. I can almost see the words sticking out on the page. Lecherous.


    Don¡¯t ask, I beg silently.


    He doesn¡¯t. Instead, he looks down at myp, where my leather-bound architect portfolio rests. It had been a wild shot to bring it here.


    ¡°You brought your portfolio, Miss Alvarez.¡±


    ¡°I did. Ask me anything.¡± I square my shoulders. ¡°Let me show you that I know this industry.¡±


    ¡°We regrly build for clients with very strong opinions,¡± Mr. Marchand says. ¡°How do you bnce function with aesthetic appeal?¡±


    Ah. It¡¯s a ssic question. He¡¯s going to have to do better than that.


    ¡°A client¡¯s wishes first, of course. We¡¯re designing and building for them. But at the end of the day, we¡¯re the ones with formal training in this, and if we don¡¯t point out obvious ws in their desires, we would be failing them.¡±


    ¡°And in your own designs?¡± he asks. ¡°How do you personally make the distinction?¡±


    There¡¯s something unnerving about the intensity in his eyes. ¡°Unless a client demands otherwise, I strive for simplicity,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s no need to throw in borate details that could be outdated a decade from now.¡±


    He taps his knuckles along the desk again. That¡¯s really going to start to annoy me.


    ¡°I start on a new project. Day one, what do I do?¡±


    ¡°You focus on the logistics,¡± I answer, voice calm. ¡°What are the legal property boundaries? How does the sun, the wind, watere into y? What features in the surroundingndscape could be a problem, or an asset?¡± I let my hands curl around the armrests of the chair I¡¯m in, meeting his gaze head-on. ¡°You start working on permits and timelines. I imagine you¡¯re also mentally assigning tasks to different members of your team.¡±


    ¡°You worked on the Century Dome,¡± he says, ¡°if your cover letter is to be believed.¡±


    ¡°I did.¡± And I was damn proud of that structure. Despite the client¡¯s wishy-washy instructions, despite the work environment, it had turned out a fine building. It had received near universal praise when it was unveiled, and while my name was nowhere near it, I know that Elliot Ferris would never have been able to finish it without me.


    I wonder if Mr. Marchand sees that pride on my face, because his eyes glitter with amusement when he asks his next question. ¡°What would you change?¡±


    ¡°With the Dome?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I want to protest instinctively. It¡¯s perfect. But I can tell that would be to fail this particr test.


    Instead, I look around his office thoughtfully, gathering my ideas. He¡¯s clearly a man with ambition leaking out of his very pores, to have achieved so much at his age. What would impress a man like this¡­


    ¡°The name on the que,¡± I say.


    He raises an eyebrow, and for a long moment, we just stare at each other.


    ¡°The position is that of an assistant, not an architect.¡± There¡¯s challenge in his voice. ¡°You realize that you¡¯d be doing no practical architectural work? I have a full roster of architects on board and no space for another. I can make you no promises.¡±


    Something in me squeezes painfully tight at his words. ¡°I¡¯m aware, and I¡¯m not asking you to. But I think my experience as an architect will make me a better assistant.¡±


    ¡°As it so happens, so do I.¡± He taps his knuckles on the table a third time. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to teach you things.¡±


    My previous admiration of him lessens slightly. Insufferable man. ¡°That¡¯s all right.¡±


    ¡°I know my previous assistant is leaving instructions, and Rykers¡¯ assistant can help you get set up. But for the most part, you¡¯ll have to learn on the job.¡±


    ¡°I can do that.¡±


    ¡°Can you start next Monday?¡± He braces his arms against the desk. They look unusually strong for a New York builder-the ones who rarely leave their offices.


    ¡°Yes. Absolutely, yes.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll start with a six-week probation period before you¡¯re offered a full-time contract. I¡¯ll have HR draw up the paperwork and email it to you before the day is out. If you have any sry or time concerns, respond directly to her.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± Good God, is this actually happening? ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    He nods and reaches over to shake my hand. His is strong and dry, with calluses in his palm. Again¡­ unusual, for these big cats. ¡°Wee onboard, Miss Alvarez. I¡¯m taking a chance on you. Don¡¯t make me regret it.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± I say, meeting his gaze head-on and hoping I wouldn¡¯t either.


    FayeProperty ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You¡¯re Mr. Marchand¡¯s new assistant?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. This is getting frustrating. ¡°I was hiredst week.¡±


    Kyle, one of the head architects at Marchand & Rykers, lets his gaze travel from my head to my toes in a very clear dismissal before he turns back to the coffee machine. ¡°I suppose he had to hire someone.¡±


    The nerve.


    I shoot him a blinding smile and turn on the kettle to make myself some tea. ¡°I suppose he did. And seeing how I have a degree in architecture as well, I¡¯m sure I can be of assistance.¡±


    Kyle raises a cool eyebrow. His hair is artfully styled, square featuresplimented by a pair of sses with bright orange frames. ¡°How delightful. I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t mind helping the architects with some of our blueprints then, when you have some downtime.¡±


    I grit my teeth. ¡°After I run it by Mr. Marchand, of course.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C5

    ¡°Of course,¡± he says smoothly. ¡°How lovely.¡±


    He leaves the break room and I take a deep breath of relief. Another attack averted. If there¡¯s one thing this firm has too much of, it¡¯s self-importance and self-grandiosity. First, it had been Kelly, the receptionist, who looked surprised when I returned and said I was hired. Then it had been Christine, Rykers¡¯ assistant, who had looked me over in clear disapproval. And now Kyle.


    I put a bag of Earl Grey into my cup and close my eyes for a second, taking in the silence. It won¡¯t be long until I have to go back to my desk and the jumbled mess that is Henry¡¯s calendar.


    Me, the least organized of people, had somehow been hired for a job where organization was key. Good going, Faye.


    A deep voice cuts through my musings. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    I blink my eyes open to see Henry himself standing in the entryway to the break room. ¡°Imagining how nice an office could be without office politics.¡±


    Henry frowns and heads to the coffee machine. ¡°I¡¯m not paying you to daydream.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s a bonus feature,¡± I say. ¡°I run two-for-one specials at the end of the month, too.¡±


    Nothing. Not a smile, not a twinkle in his eyes. He just turns the coffee machine off and motions for me to join him out of the break room. We walk toward the hallway in the back, the gateway to his giant office.


    Several of the architects and consultants cast nces at us when we walk past. Henry doesn¡¯t acknowledge anyone, back straight and head forward. Cold bastard.


    He¡¯s wearing a suit today, but without the jacket and tie. His sleeves are methodically folded up to his elbows, showing off his forearms, tanned and strong. I wonder how old he is. Mid-thirties, I think, though he carries himself like a man with a lifetime of experience. Some of the architects on the team must be older than him. It¡¯s unusual.


    ¡°Gather your things, and then we¡¯ll talk about your tasks here. Join me in my office as soon as you can.¡± He pauses, a hand on the oak door. ¡°And I¡¯d appreciate it if you upgrade into a model that gets me coffee.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll work on that right away.¡±


    He nods and disappears into his office, still without a smile on his face.


    Damn.


    The man was ice cold.


    I¡¯d arrived at work-I had a job!-that morning to find a fully prepared wee kit for me. A keycard, a login to theputer system, and a new email address. The woman in HR gave me a sour look and muttered something about this going too fast. Maybe she¡¯d had to work overtime to get the expedited details ready for me.


    Henry had already been in the office when I arrived, despite me being early. And from the looks of the several coffee cups on his desk, he¡¯d been there a while.


    I grab myptop and my notebook. Henry is sitting at his desk when I enter. It¡¯s not the first time we¡¯ve discussed business today, but it¡¯s the first time we¡¯re going to actively go through my tasks.


    He nods at me when Ie in but doesn¡¯t look up from his screen. Well then. I take a seat opposite him and open myptop. My list of questions is right there on the screen.


    ¡°Obvious things first,¡± he says, still looking at his screen. ¡°There are trips booked. Go through everything and make sure transport and amodation is arranged.¡±


    ¡°On it.¡± That one I¡¯d already started with.


    ¡°Handle my invitations to events and the like. We¡¯ll go through them once weekly.¡±


    I type that down. ¡°Noted.¡±


    ¡°Lunch and dinner reservations, catering for events, screening my calls. Apanying me to meetings-sometimes I¡¯ll want you there.¡± He looks up at me suddenly, eyes shockingly green. ¡°You¡¯re good at taking notes?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I try not to be insulted by the basic question.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll let you know regarding that. Coordinate work with the architect team, pass on designs to me. Keep a roster of all of our clients-I think Sara did that, who worked here before you¡­ Maybe see if you can find it. She¡¯d remind me of a client¡¯s history and personal details before I met with them. That was useful.¡±


    I take all of this down in my notes. ¡°Sara did leave me some information, yes.¡±


    I¡¯d found a little cheat sheet from her. It contained a lot of good information, including some that felt¡­ bizarre. She had written down exactly how Henry liked his lunch, and from which restaurants nearby. Don¡¯t order a Reuben sandwich more than twice a week. Ask for the whole-wheat bread and absolutely no more than two pickles. Never order anything with sesame seeds. She¡¯d underlined the word sesame. She¡¯d included his shoe size and size in suits. Where he usually dropped off his dry cleaning. Frankly, her notes bordered on fearful or downright obsessive.


    Is he that terrifying of a boss?


    So far, he doesn¡¯t scare me, even if I haven¡¯t seen him smile once.


    Even if the others in the office clearly keep their distance.


    ¡°You¡¯re trained yourself, so I won¡¯t go into the details of what I need building-wise. I trust you can catalogue blueprints and ensure my AutoCAD software is up to date with thepany¡¯stest developments.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Excitement itches in me at the suggestion. ¡°I can, yes.¡±


    ¡°Email me if you have any questions.¡±


    Even though I¡¯m just sitting outside the door? That seems¡­ excessive, but what do I know. I¡¯ve never worked as an assistant, not to mention ever had one.


    ¡°All right.¡±


    Henry turns back to hisputer screen, and it¡¯s clear I¡¯ve been dismissed. I look down at the questions I¡¯d scribbled in my notebook¡­ and find that I can¡¯t ask any of them. He¡¯s basically told me to solve most of it on my own.


    In the week since the interview, I¡¯d googled everything there was to know about being an assistant. Tips and tricks, things to do and to not do. It seems like it¡¯s all about anticipating his needs and reading his mind.


    Well. It¡¯s time I be a mind-reader, then.


    It¡¯ste when I leave the office that evening.


    I¡¯ve spent the entire day organizing his calendar-hello color-coding!-and going through every piece of information Sara left me. I also sent an email to the entire office to introduce myself and ask that all non-essential information be sent to me and not directly to Henry.


    Two people out of twenty-seven had responded with a Hello! Wee to thepany!


    It seemed like a great start.


    I wait for the elevator and rub my neck, stiff from staring at a screen the whole day. My feet ache, too, from the heels. Turns out you lose the ability to walk in heels a whole day when you haven¡¯t done it for weeks.


    Christina stops beside me, Rykers¡¯ assistant. Her features soften into a smile. ¡°Good first day?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Although¡­ it¡¯s a lot.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± she says with augh. ¡°This firm is busy. It¡¯s no ce for cking, trust me.¡±


    ¡°I believe you.¡± I resist the urge to release my hair from the tight ponytail. My head is killing me. ¡°Have you worked for Rykers long?¡±


    ¡°Eight years. Nearly as long as they¡¯ve had the firm.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C6

    ¡°Wow.¡± She must know all the ins and outs of this ce. ¡°And how many assistants has Mr. Marchand had in that time?¡±


    We step into the elevator and Christina presses the button for the ground floor. Her face turns thoughtful, and uncertain, and I can¡¯t read her expression. ¡°Six,¡± she says finally. ¡°And I¡¯m not saying this to discourage you, but they don¡¯t tend tost long.¡±


    Wow.


    What have I agreed to?


    I give her my winning smile. ¡°Why not? I wouldn¡¯t want to make the same mistakes.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ exacting,¡± she says. ¡°Not all assistants can keep up or have the strength to handle it when he corrects them.¡±


    It¡¯s not exactly a stretch of the imagination to picture that. All day, I¡¯d only seen the nk, expressionless mask he seemed to wear. Nothing of the man who had enjoyed provoking me during my interview.


    ¡°Is that why people didn¡¯t bother to introduce themselves today?¡± I ask, realization setting in. ¡°They don¡¯t think I¡¯llst?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know their motivations.¡± Her voice is careful. ¡°But it could be, yes.¡±


    I shiver, despite myself. I had thought getting an assistant job was beneath me-that I¡¯d be twiddling my thumbs all day. But ording to Christina, I might count myself lucky to survive past my six-week trial period.


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°But don¡¯t let that discourage you. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do great. He hired you himself, didn¡¯t he? He usually outsources the interviews to HR.¡±


    I have to fight to keep theughter off my face. There was no way I would¡¯ve been hired if HR had properly read my cover letter. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    Christina bids me goodnight as we emerge on the busy New York street. It¡¯s past seven p. m. and I¡¯m too tired to function. Imute on autopilot-down into the subway, in with my earphones, up the stairs, unlock the door to my building-and finally kick off my shoes in my little apartment.


    I ignore the pile ofundry in the corner and head straight for the kitchen instead.


    ¡°Hi honey,¡± I say to my palm tree. ¡°I¡¯m home. How was your day?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t respond, but the leaves look a little bit less droopy than the day before. ¡°That good, huh?¡±


    He silently agrees, and I sigh at my own silliness.


    Six assistants in eight years. They rarelyst more than a year, then. I wonder why his previous assistant left. Judging by her fastidious notes, she seemed like an excellent assistant. I¡¯ve got big shoes to fill.


    I lie down on my couch with a bowl of noodles. My ce might be small, but it¡¯s mine, every inch of it. The first piece of mine I¡¯ve ever really had. The walls are lined with artfully framed blueprints. It had taken me years to find each one, some of them replicas of old versions, otherplete fabrications. A side view of the Colosseum in Rome, showing off the impressive columns and the ingenious design that allow it to stand today, two thousand years after its creation. The Empire State Building. The Sagrada Familia. All of them designs that I love, and have loved for as long as I can remember.


    It used to be my dream to design my own monument one day. These days, it feels foolish. Very few architects ever achieve something like that.


    My phone dings with a text from Jessie. She¡¯s a bartender uptown and always works evenings.


    Jessie Moore: I know you said not to ask, but I did it anyway. Travis would definitely be down for a blind date with you. And before you say no, you haven¡¯t been out with a guy in ages!


    I toss the phone away. She¡¯d been nagging me about her cute co-worker for months, telling me I should focus less on my career and more on happiness, that I needed work-life bnce and love in my life.


    As if I have time for that. I¡¯m smack-dab in the middle of the most important years in a person¡¯s career, and I¡¯m struggling. There¡¯s absolutely no time for flings or affairs, and certainly not full-blown rtionships. Hell, if I¡¯m going to keep up with Henry Marchand¡¯s apparently exacting demands, I¡¯ll find it difficult to even make time for my friends.


    I¡¯m nearly asleep on the couch, a bad Netflix show on the TV, when my phone rings. The name on the screen jolts me awake.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    Henry¡¯s voice is deep with irritation. ¡°My calendar is gone.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s wiped entirely from the system. Did you identally press something? Delete instead of sync?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I think back to earlier in the evening, when I had made the changes I wanted to. What did I press¡­? I can¡¯t remember. I¡¯ve never worked in that system before, but it had seemed easy, intuitive even. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s gone. All of it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fix it,¡± I vow, though I have no idea how. ¡°I can do it now. I cane in-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still at the office.¡±


    He¡¯s still in the office? It¡¯s nearly midnight. I¡¯m already reaching for my pants, my phone locked between my shoulder and ear. ¡°I¡¯ll be there in twenty minutes. Don¡¯t worry-¡±


    But he¡¯s already hung up.


    HenryProperty ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    I sigh and resist the urge to run a hand through my hair. This was aplication I definitely didn¡¯t need. Theing days were going to be busy enough without suddenly second-guessing where I was going and who I am meeting.


    Maybe hiring Faye had been a mistake. I had assumed that learning to be an assistant was easier than learning architecture; that she could learn on the job. But maybe I¡¯d been wrong. I had been, often, when it came to assistants. Damn Rykers had been lucky on her first try.


    I return to the architectural model on the screen. There¡¯s something missing, something in the curve of the outer fixtures that doesn¡¯t work. At first, I¡¯d thought it was a problem with proportions, but bncing that hadn¡¯t helped either.


    The elevator dings. I click away the project, switching instead to the office building we¡¯re developing in the Bronx.


    Faye is standing in the doorway to my office. She¡¯d worn a ck dress to work today,plete with matching pumps, but that¡¯s gone now. She¡¯s in dark-wash jeans and an oversized sweater. Her face looks bare somehow¡­ no makeup on. And her dark hair frames her face, falling long down her back.


    I frown at her. She looks beautiful, which is yet another distraction I don¡¯t need. Sure, I¡¯d seen it before, when I interviewed her. But then she¡¯d worn her beauty like armor, with sharp eyeliner and hair swept back. This time it¡¯s disarming-seeing her like she¡¯d look on a Sunday morning.


    She steps into my office uninvited,ptop under her arm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry again. Let me double-check this and I¡¯ll have it fixed in no time.¡±


    ¡°See to it that you do.¡±


    She takes a seat at therge conference table in my office, still uninvited. Few people spend time in here apart from me. I can see how her eyes drift as she fires up herptop, running across the bookshelves I have to therge model in the corner. It¡¯s covered by a sheet, but I still feel unsettled as she looks at it.


    That project is for my eyes only.


    She works away on her screen, fingers tapping asionally against the keyboard. I try and fail to focus on my own screen.


    ¡°Do you always work thiste?¡± Faye asks, voice cheery. I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s fake or not. ¡°It¡¯s midnight.¡±


    ¡°Often, yes. A lot of people rely on us meeting our deadlines.¡± I frown again. Why am I volunteering more information?

 Ice Cold Boss C7

    She nods, clicking away. ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    ¡°Which is why things like calendars can¡¯t go missing.¡±


    Faye¡¯s shoulders stiffen, but she doesn¡¯t say anything. We both work in tense silence for another few minutes before she sighs. ¡°It¡¯s back. I identally unsubscribed us both to that particr calendar. It was a simple fix. Everything¡¯s still intact.¡±


    I open the email and scheduling program. She¡¯s right. All the information about my eight o¡¯clock meeting is readily avable to me again. My fingers fly across the keyboard, quickly taking a screenshot in case she does the same thing again.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it happen again.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Faye says. Displeasure is clear in her voice-like she¡¯s disappointed in me. I frown at her and find that she¡¯s wearing the same expression as well. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It was a simple mistake.¡±


    ¡°No mistakes are ever simple.¡±


    She crosses her arms over her chest, the sleeves of the sweater long enough to cover her hands. It¡¯s a vulnerable look,pletely at contrast with the fierce determination on her face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I think a mistake on one¡¯s first day is allowed.¡±


    ¡°They are. Which is why I¡¯m not making a big deal of this.¡±


    Faye rolls her eyes-actually rolls her eyes at me!-and heads toward the door. ¡°Is this why you go through assistants so fast?¡±


    I stare at her. She did not just say that to me. Talented or not, beautiful or not, that¡¯s just¡­ well, it¡¯s too close forfort.


    She stares right back at me. One of us is going to have to give in, and I can tell from her gaze that she¡¯s not nning to.


    But if she thinks I am, she doesn¡¯t know a thing about me.


    This goes on for a long time.


    Faye doesn¡¯t look away, but her lips curve into a smile. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d have a staring contest with my boss on my first day.¡±


    ¡°Neither did your boss.¡±


    Her smile turns full-blown. It¡¯s a thing to behold, transforming her face from fiercely beautiful into something that¡¯s nearly luminous. Fucking hell. Why did I think it was a good idea to hire her?


    ¡°I don¡¯t think either of us likes to lose,¡± she says.


    ¡°That¡¯s fairly evident.¡± I lean back in my chair, trying to find some level of authority in this situation, not breaking eye contact. It¡¯s silly-so damn childish-but I still can¡¯t look away.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make a deal,¡± she offers.


    ¡°While you have me hostage in this game?¡± I ask. ¡°I don¡¯t negotiate with terrorists.¡±


    Her smile turns, impossibly, even brighter. ¡°I know I might make mistakes again. Not get your sandwich whole-wheat, for example. Prepare too hot coffee. But I want you to give me the full six weeks of this trial period. A proper chance.¡±


    ¡°And not cut it short?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    I pretend to deliberate, tapping my fingers on my desk. The deal she suggests is pointless. I hadn¡¯t nned on cutting the six weeks short anyway, especially not after this little performance. It was insolent¡­ and very entertaining. Faye Alvarez is unlike any assistant I¡¯ve ever had. There is no fear in her eyes and no dislike of my frank manner.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say slowly. ¡°If you agree to my tasks. You have more experience in the field than any assistant I¡¯ve ever had before.¡±


    ¡°Use me,¡± she says in agreement, and as if onmand, a lovely blush blooms on her cheeks. Yeah, she heard how that sounded-just like I did. I ignore it.


    ¡°Very well. You have your six weeks, Miss Alvarez, despite any mistakes you might make along the way. Now get out of my office before I¡¯m forced to stare at you until sunrise.¡±


    Faye nods and grabs herptop. She walks backwards out of the office to avoid breaking eye contact. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she gives a delicate shrug. The movement shifts more of her thick hair over her shoulder. It gleams in the light.


    ¡°I¡¯mpetitive,¡± she says, voice apologetic. ¡°Goodnight, Mr. Marchand.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight.¡±


    The door closes behind her, and I stare at it for a few more seconds in disbelief at the interaction we just had. Well, Faye Alvarez. I¡¯mpetitive too.


    And I always win.


    She¡¯s exemry the next day.


    ¡°Here¡¯s your cortado, Mr. Marchand, from the ce down the street that you like. I¡¯ve ordered lunch for you-a poppy-seed bagel with light Swiss cheese and pastrami.¡±


    I look down at the coffee in my hand. How did she know that?


    ¡°And Tanner called from the Exon project. They have to push back your two p. m. meeting by fifteen minutes. I¡¯ve re-scheduled your meeting with the architects afterwards to fit.¡±


    ¡°Did you book a Town Car for tonight?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯ll pick you up at 6:45.¡± There¡¯s a faint pause. ¡°And you¡¯re sure you don¡¯t want a dinner reservation?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯ll handle that on my own.¡± I nce over at my schedule and at the new meeting she¡¯d set, every Monday morning. ¡°You added a recurring meeting for us?¡±


    Faye nods, standing straight and proud in front of me. She¡¯s wearing a navy dress today, her hair swept back in aplicated updo. She looks entirely professional-no trace of the dressed-down,bative woman she¡¯d beenst night. It¡¯s for the best. Any more of that and I wouldn¡¯t¡­ well. For this to work, there needs to be absolute professionalism between us.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°To go over your schedule for the week and for me to ask you what¡¯s on your mind. It will make me better at anticipating your needs.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Anticipating my needs? ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± There¡¯s faint relief in her gaze-did she think I would object?-and then she sweeps out of my office in a pair of nude heels. Not only had there been no trace of the casual Faye, but there had been no trace of the silliness she¡¯d disyed. That I¡¯d yed into-even enjoyed.


    I shake my head and return to my emails. Get your head out of your ass, Marchand.


    Two hourster, her voice chirps out of the inte. ¡°Your mother is on the line. Would you like me to patch her through?¡±


    Damn it. I¡¯d been avoiding this call for two days, but there¡¯s no hiding forever.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    My mother¡¯s satiny voice rings out. ¡°Hello, ch¨¦ri.¡±


    ¡°Maman.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C8

    ¡°I¡¯m d you had the time to talk to me. Always so busy, Henri. It can¡¯t be good for you.¡±


    ¡°I always have time for you.¡±


    Sheughs at the empty ttery. ¡°Now I know you¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°Is everything all right at home? Dad is good?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yes, yes. He just closed on some big deal in the Midwest, I forget where.¡± I can almost see her waving her hand in dismissal. In Detroit, I want to say. He finally closed the Rhett project. But it¡¯s no use. ¡°He¡¯ll be there for a week, hammering out the details. Always working, always working¡­ So like you.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t been home for a while now. You know we all miss you.¡±


    Paradise Shores is only a few hours¡¯ drive to New York, I feel like saying. Everyone is wee to visit.


    ¡°I¡¯lle home soon. I¡¯ll be home for the wedding, you know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that won¡¯t be just us, just family.¡± Mom sighs. ¡°That¡¯s what I was calling about, you know. Your sister is a mess of nerves, trying to organize all this. I told her-how many times did I tell her?-to hire my party coordinator, but no, this had to be her show¡­ Small, she kept saying, intimate¡­ We have too many guests for that!¡±


    ¡°Lily wants it her way,¡± I say. ¡°Let her and Hayden n their day however they want it. If they want it small, that¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but there are expectations on the family. Oh, I thought you¡¯d understand, Henri¡­¡±


    ¡°I do, but we both know that you can¡¯t change Lily¡¯s mind about anything.¡±


    She sighs again, ever the dramatic. I¡¯m reaching the end of my patience.


    ¡°Who are you bringing? I¡¯ve been asking and asking, but you don¡¯t seem to have an answer. We have you down for a plus-one, of course. Your brothers are both bringing dates.¡±


    Yes, my little brothers had both found dates-as pressured by Mom as I was.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring someone. Stop worrying.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine. You know your grandmother will worry otherwise. You¡¯re nearly thirty-six, Henri.¡±


    Thanks for enlightening me.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. Mom, I have to go. I have a meeting in five.¡±


    ¡°Oh, do you really?¡± No. ¡°Take care then, Henri. Tell me as soon as you have a name. Lily needs them for ce cards, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Bye, ch¨¦ri.¡±


    ¡°Bye. I¡¯ll call soon.¡±


    I lean back in my chair. A headache ising on-not surprising. There is no way my little sister is concerned about who I¡¯m bringing. This was all Eloise Marchand, our mother, and her perfectionist, scheming ways.


    She might mean well, but that didn¡¯t make it any more pleasant to bear.


    The worst part is that she wasn¡¯t wrong, either. I don¡¯t have a date for the wedding and haven¡¯t taken a woman out in months. Myst rtionship, if you can call it that, had ended poorly. Avery wanted more than I was willing to give, even if I had been clear with her from the beginning.


    You love your work more than me!


    Yes, I¡¯d had to tell her, because I didn¡¯t love her at all. And I needed to finish my build and the architectural model before the deadline, which was now only a few weeks away. I hadn¡¯t spent nearly two years on a design only to give up at the finish line. Which was exactly why I didn¡¯t have time for women. It was never just simple-and my attempts to simplify things just left them hurt, instead of enlightened, which was my aim.


    My mind drifts to the dark-haired woman sitting outside my office. At the fire in in her eyes when she challenged mest night to give her a fair chance. To her obvious ambition andpetitiveness. Her quick tongue and the way her body curved beneath the office-appropriate dresses.


    I halt that train of thought. It has clearly been far too long if I¡¯m finding myself drawn to my own assistant. Not once have I lusted after my own assistant, and I refuse to start now.


    Faye


    ¡°One week done,¡± Jessie says and raises her ss to mine. ¡°Only five more to go.¡±


    ¡°Before I¡¯m fully employed, yes. Can you picture it? A full-time contract¡­ I think I¡¯ll frame it. Hang it on my wall at home.¡±


    Rey grins at me. ¡°Get it tattooed.¡±


    ¡°Forever the property of Henry Marchand.¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°No thank you. I¡¯ll dly take the sry and the workload-but I don¡¯t need more of the man.¡±


    ¡°Is he really that bad?¡±


    I look over at my friend, who handles creeps regrly in her job as a bartender. ¡°No,¡± I say honestly. ¡°It¡¯s not that he¡¯s bad, exactly. He¡¯s more¡­ unnerving. He has high standards, and they¡¯re difficult to live up to. Plus, the man never smiles.¡±


    Rey nods. ¡°So he¡¯s like the male version of you.¡±


    ¡°What!¡±


    ¡°Come on, Faye,¡± sheughs. ¡°You¡¯re the most ambitious person I know.¡±


    ¡°Well, sure, we have that inmon. But that¡¯s the only thing. I smile.¡±


    ¡°You both love architecture, and you both have high standards.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t have unreasonably high standards for people around me. Don¡¯t look at me like that, Jess. I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Remember thest guy you went on a date with? Youined about his table manners. Not to mention yourst boyfriend.¡±


    I don¡¯t want to be reminded of Aiden. ¡°Yes, well, I guess we¡¯re simr in some ways. But Henry¡¯s scary, and I¡¯m not. I can tell that others at work are afraid of him.¡±


    ¡°Afraid?¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe I¡¯m exaggerating. They¡¯re not cowering in the corners or anything. But I¡¯ve noticed that they push themselves very hard to meet his deadlines. And no one shows up to a meeting with him without being very prepared.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re scared of him?¡±


    I think of the staring contest we had in his office, or when he called and introduced himself as the old stooge. ¡°No. He¡¯s intimidating sometimes, but never scary.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C9

    ¡°Well, I think he¡¯s scary,¡± Jessie says. ¡°Hiring you based on that cover letter means he¡¯s clearly a psychopath.¡±


    Iugh at her, and she joins in. ¡°You¡¯re probably right about that, actually. I still can¡¯t believe he did.¡±


    ¡°Me neither, but whatever works, honey.¡± She pushes her red hair up higher into a ponytail. ¡°Have you thought more about my text?¡±


    I bury my head in my hands. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d forgotten about that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no I haven¡¯t. What do you think? Do you want to have drinks next week with Travis? It would be good for you. Just a little drink, with a cute and interesting guy.¡±


    I resist the impulse to roll my eyes. ¡°If he¡¯s that amazing, why haven¡¯t you snatched him up for yourself?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Jessie puts a hand to her chest, the picture of innocence. ¡°You know I would never date a co-worker. It¡¯s hical.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Plus, I¡¯ve already called dibs on Steve, our delivery guy. He has bulging arms, just my type. But we¡¯re not talking about me. We¡¯re talking about you-and Travis.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine. You¡¯re probably right, anyway.¡± I take another sip of my wine. ¡°I¡¯ve been out of the game for too long.¡±


    ¡°Yes! I¡¯ll set it up. Next week, all right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there. As long as it doesn¡¯t interfere with my work for Mr. Hardass, that is.¡±


    ¡°No, God forbid. You have to make it five more weeks.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± His face rises in my mind, unbidden. Not the indifferent mask he wore at work, but the way he¡¯d smirked when we had the staring contest, bragging that he didn¡¯t know what losing was. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure Ist.¡±


    Henry has rolled up his sleeves again, and it¡¯s only ten a. m. on a Monday morning. He¡¯s not wearing a tie, hair perfectly pushed back, but those arms¡­ I shake my head at myself. I¡¯ve never been a forearm person. The sight of his tan skin, strong muscles and wide hands shouldn¡¯t affect me, and for more reasons than one. I need the date with Jessie¡¯s friend, if this is how I¡¯m reacting to my own boss.


    Henry sits down at therge conference table in his office. ¡°All right. You have your Monday meeting. Let¡¯s go through the week ahead.¡±


    I open myptop and work through the questions I¡¯ve listed one by one. He has a busy schedule this week, filled to the brim with client meetings, investors and contractors.


    Henry listens to everything, giving me short, factual responses. Yes. No. Push that back. Email Rykers and ask if she can go instead.


    His eyes are unwavering; the same clinical, assessing manner he always adopts with work. I can see how it would unnerve some, but it rifies everything for me. Me, assistant. Him, boss.


    It takes balls to treat people like that, I think. Without small talk or pleasantries. He might be insufferable, but the man¡¯s effective.


    ¡°I have some final questions. I¡¯m finalizing thest things for your trip to Chicago in a few weeks. Do you want me to book airport transport from your apartment or from the office?¡±


    ¡°What time¡¯s the flight?¡±


    ¡°Ten a. m.¡±


    ¡°Book it from the office. I¡¯lle in early.¡±


    ¡°The Founders¡¯ Association has asked for a follow-up on your invitation to the Founders¡¯ G in two weeks. We need to make a decision, preferably sooner thanter.¡±


    He taps his fingers against the table. ¡°Tell them yes. Tell them I¡¯ll have a plus-one, too.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± I stave off my curiosity, noting down the response. ¡°You have a four-day weekend blocked off for personal time next month. You haven¡¯t mentioned anything regarding that, but do you need anything booked? Prepared?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Alrighty, then. Last point: Kyle Renner from the architect team wants to have a private chat with you about one of his designs. It seemed¡­ important to him.¡±


    Henry gives a low groan. ¡°Yes, I know. He¡¯s been trying for weeks. See if you can pencil him in this week. No more than fifteen minutes.¡±


    ¡°Will do.¡± I jot it down. ¡°Do you have anything you want to add? Perhaps feedback on my performance fromst week?¡±


    ¡°No feedback. Please book a table somewhere nice on Friday. Seven p. m. for two.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing. Who are you wining and dining?¡± I ask, already creating a post in his calendar. He regrly takes clients out, like most builders and developers. It makes sense, but still, I would love to see his version of schmoozing. The man never smiles.


    ¡°It¡¯s a personal dinner.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I say delicately, avoiding his gaze. Maybe a date, then. As much as I would like to see Henry schmoozing, I want to see his version of dating more. What kind of women does he go out with? Blonde models looking for someone willing to spend money? College architecture professors?Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Henry clears his throat, almost like he¡¯s ufortable, but his gaze is as steely as always. ¡°Choose one of my regr ces-they should be in the notes from your predecessor. Needs to be walking distance from my apartment.¡±


    I look down to hide my surprise. ¡°Will do. I¡¯ll email you the details when it¡¯s all booked.¡±


    Wow. He¡¯s hoping to score, then. Maybe he always does. He doesn¡¯t seem like the kind of a guy you¡¯d say no to, after a full meal and drinks, with his demanding eyes and demanding questions. I could almost picture it-teasing him for a full evening, drawing out those elusive smiles, and knowing that he would be just as exacting in the bedroom. That he would-


    What? No. Head in the game, Faye.


    I close myptop. ¡°Is that all, Mr. Marchand?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He taps his fingers against the table in that infuriating manner. ¡°Actually, no. I¡¯d like you to apany me to the Rexfield build-site tomorrow for the inspection.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    My surprise must be evident, because amusement flickers in his green eyes. ¡°Yes, really. And bring another pair of shoes. Those heels are a safety hazard.¡±


    I have to swallow down my excitement. ¡°I will. And¡­ thank you, sir.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. You¡¯re there to work-I¡¯ll be asking you to take notes.¡± He rises from the table himself. ¡°Now we¡¯re done with the meeting.¡±


    Despite the dismissal, I¡¯m excited the rest of the day. I haven¡¯t been to a building site in months, not since Elliot Ferris and the Century Dome. They¡¯re rough ces, but there¡¯s something about the potential-knowing you¡¯re walking into a space that will one day house people, with their lives and work and hopes and dreams.


    The next day, Ie to work in a pair of suit trousers, a pair of loafers tucked into my bag. Let it never be said that I don¡¯t listen to instructions. Henry steps out of his office thirty minutes before the meeting. He¡¯s wearing Timbend boots, but other than that, he looks impable, dressed in a navy-blue suit.


    He looks me over, his gaze snagging on my footwear.


    ¡°No heels,¡± I say, ¡°per your specifications.¡±


    ¡°Those are boat shoes.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C10

    I look down at the navy loafers I¡¯d gotten at a bargain price at the outlet outside of town. ¡°They are?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯ve never been on a boat in my life.¡±


    He gives me a look I can¡¯t decipher. Without my heels, I feel small next to him, more than a head taller than me and powerfully built. I still don¡¯t understand how he maintains a physique like that when all he does is spend time in the office.


    Henry breaks the eye contact. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    We walk through the office in silence, and ride the elevator in silence. It¡¯s not exactlyfortable, but it¡¯s not tense, either. Thepany¡¯s car is waiting for us by the curb.


    Henry opens the door for me. His expression looks wry, like he¡¯s warning me not to get used to it. Don¡¯t worry, buddy, I think and shoot him a zing smile.


    He doesn¡¯t return it, getting into the seat next to me. ¡°I trust you¡¯ve read up on the Rexfield project.¡±


    ¡°I have, yes.¡±


    He runs a hand over the smooth leather finish of the door, watching as the city passes us by outside. The project is uptown, so it shouldn¡¯t take us long. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±


    So I do. I run through all the stats I can remember.


    ¡°It¡¯s a fifteen-story building. Set to bepleted by the end of the year. Developed by us butmissioned by the Rexfield corporation. Work is contracted out to Sanders & Sons. It¡¯s a standard, run-of-the-mill New York office building,¡± I add, thoughtlessly.


    Henry¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°Run-of-the-mill?¡±


    Damn. But I won¡¯t lie. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s designed to fit into the neighborhood it¡¯s located in. Simr colors and structure to the other buildings on the street. It needed to fit zoning regtions. For the interior, Rexfield wanted something functional. They¡¯re a medicinepany,¡± I say, making my voice slightly apologetic. ¡°They¡¯re not interested in a building fit for Architectural Digest.¡±


    He nods slowly. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. But I would caution you to call any of our developments standard or run-of-the-mill around clients. Or around anyone else at the office, for that matter.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± I consider apologizing, but then decide against it. Nothing I¡¯d said had been incorrect.


    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± He gets out first, opening the door for me again. The chivalrous gesture must be ingrained. Outside, the sun is high in the sky. It¡¯s unusually warm for May.


    Martin from Sanders & Sons is waiting at the build. He gives Henry a thorough handshake.


    ¡°So d you could make it, Mr. Marchand. We have a lot to show you today.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it. This is my new assistant, Miss Alvarez.¡±


    Martin shakes my hand. ¡°A pleasure. And as you¡¯ll both see, we¡¯re bang on time on schedule, as well.¡±


    Henry nods-as if he expected nothing less-and we begin our tour through the skeleton-like building. Martin¡¯s knowledge is near encyclopedic. He can answer every question Henry throws his way, even the curveballs.


    I wonder if that¡¯s a requirement for working with Marchand & Rykers.


    I take notes on everything. Henry doesn¡¯t use any props at all. No paper or blueprints. Does he remember it all? It seems imusible, but then again, knowing him, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me.


    Martin takes us through the different levels of rough concrete, saving the view from the top floor forst. I think back to the original sketches for the building-this was to be made into the executive management¡¯s offices.


    The meeting runs muchter than I anticipated in Henry¡¯s schedule. He¡¯s deep in conversation with Martin, and I don¡¯t want to interrupt, but there¡¯s no chance he¡¯ll be in time for his lunch meeting with a few of the architects at the firm.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says finally to Martin. ¡°You¡¯ve been running point with Rhett from my office on this project. Has he been to your satisfaction?¡±


    Martin¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Yes. Yes, absolutely, sir. He¡¯s very involved.¡±


    I resist the urge to grimace. Involved, yikes. Not usually a contractor¡¯s wet dream.


    Henry nods. ¡°Please ensure the project continues to run on schedule.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    It¡¯s past one p. m. when we finally leave the building site. Henry sighs, brushing off dust from the sleeve of his suit jacket. The sun hits him directly, and in the light his brown hair gleams with auburn notes. His square jaw has faint hints of a stubble, as if it¡¯s already started to grow from his morning shave. I try to look away, but it¡¯s hard. He really is a very impressive specimen of a man.


    A date, I tell myself. You need to get back out there. Travis.


    ¡°What did you think?¡±


    I blink once, drawn out of my musings. ¡°Of the building project?¡±


    ¡°No, of Martin¡¯s beautiful blue eyes,¡± he deadpans.


    I blink at him. He jokes. ¡°Oh. Well, it¡¯s unusual that the project is on track to meet the original, unrevised schedule. You have great contractors.¡±


    ¡°Or great incentives,¡± he says.


    ¡°Yes. But¡­ the design of the top floor bothered me slightly.¡±


    He turns to face me entirely. I thought I was used to the clinical way he looks at me, but now it feels like far too much to be the recipient of all that attention.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± he orders.


    ¡°The view is terrific. It¡¯s the most valuable per-square-feet of the entire property. Using it only for executive offices feels like a waste.¡±


    ¡°What would you suggest instead?¡±


    ¡°A boardroom that can double as a conference room. Not something boring, but a ce where they can pitch to investors. A ce to present new medication. To use that natural light somehow-a beautiful space, like a showroom.¡±


    ¡°Atrium-like?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°They could hold functions there, too,¡± Henry adds. ¡°It¡¯s a good idea. It¡¯s something Rhett should have thought about. It¡¯s not surprising that thepany pushed for offices for the executives-themselves, basically-but it¡¯s an architect¡¯s job to give suggestions. To be better than the client.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He looks at me for a long beat. ¡°Good catch.¡±


    To my horror, I find myself blushing from the praise like a schoolgirl. To hide it, I open my bag and dig out my phone, finding his calendar. ¡°This meeting ranter than expected.¡±


    ¡°It did.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C11

    ¡°You only have twenty minutes until your next meeting, and no time to get your regr lunch.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t prepare a n B? Come on, Miss Alvarez.¡± Henry shakes his head, eyes clearly disapproving. ¡°My leniency has boundaries.¡±


    My mouth hangs open. ¡°Sorry? But that¡¯s not¡­ how could I have known this meeting would runte?¡±


    Only then do I catch the amusement in his expression. He¡¯s so good at hiding it on his face-but his eyes give him away. ¡°It was just a joke,¡± he says. ¡°Let¡¯s get something on the way. I¡¯m in the mood for kebab.¡±


    He must have seen my surprise, because he raises an eyebrow. ¡°What? You don¡¯t think I eat street food?¡±


    There¡¯s absolutely nothing I can say in response to that, apart from the obvious. ¡°No, but now I¡¯m curious to see it. Lead the way, sir.¡±


    Henry


    I choose the seediest ce I can find, just to see the expression on her face.


    ¡°Let¡¯s eat here,¡± I say, stopping in front of a hole-in-the-wall kebab shop. There are a few chairs outside, directly on the sidewalk, but no tables. The ce smells like fries and grilled meat.


    There¡¯s a faint furrow on her brow. ¡°Here?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, wondering if she¡¯ll call the bluff.


    She doesn¡¯t, of course-not Faye Alvarez. She¡¯s aspetitive as me.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I love kebab,¡± she says smoothly, stepping up to order. I watch in amused silence as she gets the biggest kebab on the menu, including fries.


    ¡°The same,¡± I say, paying for us both in cash. ¡°We¡¯ll eat here.¡±


    Faye frowns at me. ¡°But your meeting? We need to get going.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s with the architects at the firm, and it¡¯s in-house. We can take ten minutes to eat our lunch.¡±


    She nods, but her eyes are wide. I¡¯ve surprised her several times in the past few minutes, and despite myself, I find that I enjoy it. She¡¯s always so sure of herself-of her opinion of me-that it¡¯s impossible to avoid needling her. We¡¯re sitting right on a bustling New York street, and it¡¯s not even tree lined. It¡¯s not my usual ce, sure, but it¡¯s worth it to unsettle the unsetble Faye.


    She crosses shapely legs, visible even through her smart trousers, and frowns at me. ¡°You made your point,¡± she says. ¡°You eat takeout. I underestimated you.¡±


    I run my fingers along the steel table. ¡°You loved that building project.¡±


    ¡°I did? I thought I upset you by saying it was run-of-the-mill.¡±


    ¡°No, not the oue. You love being at a building site.¡± It had been clear in her dark eyes when we followed Martin. I¡¯d seen the excitement, even if she tried to hide it behind a cool mask and diligent notetaking. But she wasn¡¯t as good at hiding her emotions as me.


    Faye nods, slowly. Her long hair is up in a tight bun, no trace of the shimmering sheet of ck she¡¯d worn down at the office that night. But it only enhances her heart-shaped face and the fullness of her lips.


    ¡°I do. I can¡¯t describe it¡­ but I always have. There¡¯s something about the potential, you know? The progression each day, theying of brick and concrete¡­¡± She shakes her head. There¡¯s conviction in her voice, and feeling. She burns for this business. ¡°It¡¯s hard to exin, but I¡¯m sure you know. You love it too.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°I do?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, eyes challenging again. ¡°At least I think you do.¡±


    ¡°And why do you think that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve met many developers and builders. Most are only interested in dors and cents, and they wouldn¡¯t visit a building site like this. They¡¯d send their middleman. But you knew everything about that project,¡± she says. ¡°Either your memory is infallible, or you genuinely find it interesting.¡±


    I nce away from her. There¡¯s truth in her words, more truth than most people guess. It was the reason I was drawn to the same business as my father in the first ce. Creating-building-is the closest to making thingsst. To bringing something to life, something that might or might not oust you.


    But for my father, money and legacy was the important part. Not the architecture-not the art.


    ¡°I enjoy it,¡± I say carefully. ¡°And I find that it¡¯s often more effective if I get involved myself.¡±


    ¡°Remind everyone who¡¯s boss?¡± Faye asks, her voice clearly teasing. It never stops surprising me how easily she switches between the professional and the friendly.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I say. ¡°Food¡¯s here.¡±


    She watches me silently for a second, as if she doesn¡¯t really believe I¡¯ll eat a kebab, so I take a big bite to show her just how wrong she is.


    She rolls her eyes and digs in to her own. It makes me want tough, her incredulity. As if I¡¯m some silver-spooned Upper-East-Sider who would never deign to get my hands dirty. Hah. If she only knew.


    She takes a sip of her soda. ¡°I haven¡¯t emailed you yet, but I got a reservation at Salt for Friday at seven p. m.¡±


    Damn, I¡¯d nearly forgotten about that dinner.


    Chelsea Moreno lives in the apartment building next to me and drops regr hints whenever we bump into each other at the taxi stand in the morning. I know next to nothing about her, apart from thements she¡¯d made about a career in fashion, her love of yoga, and that she goes to the hairdresser twice a month to maintain her tinum blonde. She doesn¡¯t particrly interest me. But after my mother¡¯s phone callst week, I needed to take action.


    Not to mention I needed to get my assistant out of my mind.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been to Salt before,¡± I tell her. ¡°I know where it is.¡±


    Her tone bes a shade too innocent. ¡°So, is it a good ce for a date?¡±


    This woman. ¡°Miss Alvarez¡­¡±


    ¡°Just asking for future reference, so I know where to book your personal meetings.¡± She grabs a fry and it dangles between her slim fingers. ¡°To ensure I¡¯m the best assistant I can be.¡±


    She¡¯s fishing. I resist the urge to smile. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a good ce for a date,¡± I say, thinking about the soft lighting and the intimate booths, with enough privacy for deep conversations. Faye would look stunning in that environment.


    ¡°So you have one nned for Friday?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. Too personal?¡±


    I take thest bite of my kebab. She doesn¡¯t look the least bit contrite. Usually, this kind of insolence would bother me, but instead I find myself intrigued. A woman like this¡­ no way she¡¯s unattached. There¡¯s no ring on her finger, but there has to be someone-a boyfriend, or two. Women who have her brains and look like her don¡¯t stay single long.


    ¡°Rtionships are hard in this business,¡± I say instead, leaning back. ¡°Working the sort of hours we work.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s why I haven¡¯t¡­¡± She shakes her head, thinking better of it. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°Why you haven¡¯t what?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C12

    ¡°I technically have a date, too, on Friday. So we¡¯ll both be out romancing.¡± She looks away and her cheeks flush slightly. The sight is unusual-she¡¯s never anything but confidence personified. It must be serious, then.


    It bothers me. It shouldn¡¯t, but it does. ¡°Who with?¡±


    ¡°Someone my friend is setting me up with.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going on a blind date?¡± What in all the world? This woman is a perfect ten in every category. Why would she need to be set up with some lowlife?


    ¡°Yes.¡± She sighs, still looking flushed. ¡°But you have to get out there, you know.¡±


    I ball my napkin up and gather ourbined trash. ¡°Are you finished?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s head out. I don¡¯t want to be toote.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    Faye nods. The lovely blush on her olive features is receding fast, quickly reced by a mask I now recognize as her own professional armor. We head back to the office mostly in silence. The few things we talk about are all work-rted.


    And damn it all, but now I want to know who she¡¯s going out with. I try to picture Faye on a date. What would she wear? Her hair down, for one. I bet she¡¯d use that blinding smile of hers mercilessly. She¡¯d probably run circles around him with her wit. Poor fellow. I doubt he¡¯d be able to satisfy her, with her ambitions and determination.


    Or perhaps he would-he might satisfy her all too well. And to my surprise, that thought displeases me even more.


    It¡¯s not working.


    There¡¯s something missing-the facade isn¡¯t quite right. Damn it.


    I run my hands over my face. The deadline for the submission is less than two months away, and I¡¯m no closer to finishing the design than I¡¯d been weeks ago.


    The city of New York hasmissioned a new opera house. It¡¯s one of the biggest building projects in the city¡¯s modern history, and in the spirit of artisticpetition, they¡¯re epting submissions from architects all over the world. All final ns are to be submitted by early July.


    It¡¯s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.


    I have no doubt the biggest names in the world will submit their designs, but it¡¯s a blind contest. The judges will have no way of knowing if they¡¯re looking at Frank Gehry¡¯s design or mine. And that might work squarely in my favor.


    But only if I have a perfect design to showcase.


    And so far, the facade isn¡¯t working.


    I can¡¯t put my finger on it, staring at the model in front of me. It¡¯s simplistic; curving like the rippling of a g, in a single sheet of bent steel. It¡¯s innovative, energy-efficient¡­ beautiful. But not quite there.


    I need another pair of eyes.


    Damn it. There¡¯s no one else I can ask. My old friends from college are working in firms across the city, and they¡¯re all mercenary bastards. Great for a beer-but not for this. Not for a project that could make or break an architect and a building firm. I don¡¯t trust them.


    And the architects at my own firm are vultures. Excellent, all of them-I wouldn¡¯t have hired them otherwise-but I can¡¯t use them for this. Most of them don¡¯t know I still design myself, let alone that I¡¯m nning on submitting my own design as the firm¡¯s contribution to the city¡¯s opera project.


    Faye¡¯s voice rings out over the inte. ¡°Rykers is here to see you.¡±


    I toss the sheet over the model and cross my office, taking a seat at my desk. It¡¯s unusual for my architecture partner to visit like this-unannounced. Both of us live by our schedules and routines.


    ¡°Send her in.¡±


    The door opens and Marlena Rykers steps in. In her mid-forties, Rykers is a force to be reckoned with. We started as junior architects at the same firm once open a time, but quickly wed our way up through the ranks until the firm¡¯s constraints chafed. She had wanted independence; I¡¯d craved it. We both had significant capital to use to start our own business-her from a divorce, me from my trust fund.


    There¡¯s no pretension between us. Both of us want to make money, and both of us want to grow the business. She focuses on her designs and I focus on mine, sharing the team between us.


    It works well.


    ¡°Marchand,¡± she says by way of greeting, taking a seat in front of me.


    ¡°Rykers.¡±


    ¡°The pitch for Priority Media ising up.¡±


    She¡¯s telling me something I already know. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve put Kyle and Terri on it, but I don¡¯t think they can handle it.¡±


    I lean back, tapping my fingers thoughtfully against the desk. The two are head of one of our architect divisions and usually a greatbination. ¡°That¡¯s a problem.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re bickering like children,¡± Rykers says, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°We both know this pitch is too big to screw up.¡±


    It certainly is. If Marchand & Rykers gets Priority Media, we¡¯ll be building for years toe. The multi-media tform wants new headquarters in New York and has a multi-million budget to back it up.


    ¡°Can we put someone else on it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve checked. We don¡¯t have anyone else to spare at the moment. But we could rotate Reba in asionally, and I¡¯ll have a chat with Kyle and Terri. Tell them to straighten up or they¡¯re off it entirely.¡±


    That¡¯s why I¡¯ve always liked Rykers. She¡¯s straightforward and cold-blooded. ¡°And if they don¡¯t, let me know. I think I might have a solution,¡± I say. Because she¡¯s wrong about one thing: we do have another architect in-house, even if she wasn¡¯t hired as one.


    Rykers nods. She looks just as businesslike as usual, but her gaze turns thoughtful. ¡°Are you going to the Founders¡¯ ball next Friday?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Good. One of us should attend.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Am I taking the hit for both of us, then?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯re better atworking, anyway. I just scare them off.¡±


    Hah. There might be some truth to that-and that¡¯s saying something, given how pointless I find many of the asions. And if my date on Friday goes well, I might even have someone to bring along, as is expected at events like that.


    But somehow, that makes the prospect seem even more boring. Having to battle small talk on all fronts, both with other guests and the one you¡¯ve brought along with you.


    I¡¯ll have to find a way around that.


    Faye


    It¡¯ste on Thursday evening. That¡¯s no surprise. Henry Marchand workste every day, and as his assistant, so do I. It¡¯s exhausting-the man never seems to rest.

 Ice Cold Boss C13

    I stifle a yawn and scan through my mailbox. Everything is replied to¡­ everything¡¯s organized. His calendar is all set for the next day. I¡¯ve made the calls I need to-I¡¯ve answered the people I need to answer. There¡¯s nothing more for me to do. My phone pings, and I swipe at Jessie¡¯s message.


    Jessie Moore: Travis is really excited for tomorrow. I can tell!


    Oh, no. The man himself had only exchanged two texts with me-one to confirm the time and the second to confirm the ce. I didn¡¯t like that Jessie had to be the messenger.


    Faye Alvarez: You¡¯re too invested in this. It¡¯s unhealthy.


    She responds with a variety of emojis that lets me know just what she thinks about that.


    Jessie Moore: What are you wearing


    I hadn¡¯t thought about that yet. In all honesty, I was less and less enthusiastic about this date with each passing day. How high were the odds of finding love on a blind date, anyway? But Jessie was objectively right. It had been far too long since I went on a date and put myself out there.


    Aiden had been over two years ago. And in the time since, I¡¯d only focused on work, until Elliot Ferris saw fit to let me go over his own wounded pride. He couldn¡¯t have someone on his team who had effectively built Century Dome without any recognition. I was a risk, and I was let go in a way designed to ruin me.


    I shake my head. I don¡¯t want to think about that.


    The time on myputer reads nearly seven p. m. If Henry doesn¡¯t need anything else, I¡¯m heading home.


    I press the inte button. ¡°Do you need anything else before I head home, Mr. Marchand?¡±


    He usually answers right away, but there¡¯s a nearly minute-long pause before his voice rings out. ¡°Yes. Come inside.¡±


    Frowning, I head through the door to his office. He¡¯s not at his desk. Instead, he¡¯s standing by the model in the corner. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen it uncovered. It¡¯s definitely not one of Marchand & Rykers¡¯ current projects, because I know those by heart by now.


    It doesn¡¯t look like anything I¡¯ve seen before.


    The building is shaped a bit like a violin, with graceful curves in steel. Even from the small model, it¡¯s clear the building is nned to be veryrge. Steps lead up to a concealed entrance in one of the curves.


    It¡¯s gorgeous. There¡¯s something elegant about it.


    Understated.


    My eyes slowly shift to Henry¡¯s. For the first time, his gaze isn¡¯t clinical at all.


    He runs a hand along the sharp edge of his jaw. ¡°I want your opinion.¡±


    ¡°My opinion?¡± I step closer, looking at the meticulous details. Is this another test?


    ¡°Yes.¡± His voice makes it clear he¡¯s not entirelyfortable. ¡°You had good notes for the Rexfield project, about the use of the top floor.¡±


    Ah. Maybe I¡¯ll see something he¡¯s missed, he means. It¡¯s not umon for architects to ask each other for input. But by the way he¡¯s holding himself, stiffly and ufortably, it¡¯s clear that it¡¯s unusual for him.


    ¡°I¡¯d need to see the blueprints for the digital model for that,¡± I say softly. ¡°But the outside is stunning.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think so?¡±


    ¡°I think something is missing,¡± he says carefully, ¡°and I don¡¯t know what.¡±


    I lean closer, looking at all the details. The model is inplete 3D and beautiful from all angles. My first instinct is that there¡¯s nothing missing at all. But after he points it out, I can see what he¡¯s saying. It¡¯s cold in its beauty. It¡¯s clearly a building meant for the arts-a building to admire from afar.


    ¡°I¡¯d add wood,¡± I say impulsively.


    ¡°Wood?¡±


    I ignore his offended tone, the snob. ¡°Yes. Some natural element to anchor the¡­ the floatiness of the curves. These steps here, see? They could be made out of stacked timber. And this portion here could be in dark wood.¡± I point, seeing it in my head. ¡°I¡¯d y around with a digital model and see how that changes the effect.¡±


    He crosses his arms over his chest. There¡¯s still denial there-I can tell that he doesn¡¯t appreciate my suggestion about a naturalponent. But he doesn¡¯t protest, just stares at the model like it holds all the answers.


    ¡°What is the building for?¡±


    Henry meets my gaze, his jaw clenching and unclenching. ¡°It¡¯s an opera house.¡±


    Oh. I stare at him with newfound respect. ¡°You¡¯re nning on participating in the city¡¯s designpetition.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He throws the sheet over the model, all the beautiful curves hidden again. ¡°I am.¡±


    Damn.


    I take a step closer. ¡°Does anyone else know?¡±


    ¡°No one at the firm does. And I¡¯d like to remind you that you signed a non-disclosure agreement as part of your contract.¡±


    God, this man. ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell anyone.¡±


    Henry nods and steps back toward his desk. ¡°Good.¡±


    It¡¯s his ssic form of dismissal, and I retreat back to the office door. My gaze can¡¯t help but flick back to the model in the corner. I didn¡¯t know that Henry actively designed. Most builders at his level outsource all of that to the architecture teams.


    I¡¯d been right, then, when I asked him earlier this week if he loved it too.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    It¡¯s clear, with every painstaking detail in his model, that architecture is in his lifeblood too.


    Before my date with Travis, Jessie is all rainbows and sparkles on the phone. ¡°It¡¯ll go so great.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± I smooth my hand over my dress-red, A-line, perfectly date-appropriate-and roll my eyes at her optimism.


    ¡°You¡¯re using the tone that says you¡¯re indulging me.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°I¡¯m just not quite as sure as you. But I am looking forward to it. Now leave me alone, he could be here any minute.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow at the gym-I can¡¯t wait to hear everything!¡±


    We say our goodbyes and I slide my phone into my purse. I¡¯ve been waiting outside the bar for a few minutes, but so far, no Travis. I head inside and take a seat at the bar. The ce is half-full, waiters carrying out fancy cocktails served in intricate sses. The spot had been his suggestion, and since he¡¯s a bartender, I¡¯d dly epted.


    ¡°A martini, please.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C14

    The bartender shoots me a smile and starts mixing the drink with practiced movements. Tonight will be good, to get back into the dating game, to meet someone new. Good. Very good, in fact.


    Henry would be on his date too. I had looked up Salt beforehand, and it was a beautiful ce. No doubt his date was someone beautiful, too. I¡¯d googled Henry Marchand before-hadn¡¯t been able to stop myself-and I¡¯d only found one picture of him with a date. He¡¯d been in a tuxedo, and the woman on his arm had been stunning. Slim and with big doe-eyes. The title had been mocking. The son of famous New Ennd developer attempts to make a mark on the New York scene.


    In the picture, Henry stared into the camera in a way I was getting used to, like he was daring it to take a picture of him. His green eyes indifferent, as if whatever you choose to do-or don¡¯t do-doesn¡¯t matter to him in the slightest. It¡¯s a look I recognize. It¡¯s what makes him a challenging boss.


    Not to mention a great architect-the opera house had been impressive. My hands had itched to get closer, to see the blueprints and bring it to life on my screen. It was exactly what I¡¯d worked on at Elliot Ferris, therge, grand-scale projects. Hepeted in every possible designpetition worldwide, which was exactly how we¡¯d gotten the Century Dome project.


    Just thinking about the Dome brings tightness to my chest. For five years I¡¯d poured everything I¡¯d had into that project, and Elliot Ferris had taken all the credit. All of it-and let me go without so much as a rmendation.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    Damn it. I shouldn¡¯t be thinking about this. Not about past mistakes, nor about Henry and his stern gaze and eye for design.


    The bartender nods at me. ¡°Waiting for someone?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Must bete.¡±


    ¡°No worries. If he¡¯s not here when you¡¯re done with your drink, the next one¡¯s on the house,¡± he says with a wink.


    I can¡¯t help but grin back. At least someone is here to appreciate the effort I put in with my dress and makeup tonight. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    The minutes inch forward and no Travis in sight. He hasn¡¯t even texted to let me know he¡¯ll bete.


    Henry would never bete. No doubt, he¡¯d been bang on time tonight for his date. My mind drifts to what he would wear-how his suit would hug his wide shoulders and strong arms-before I shut it down.


    I¡¯m not on a date with Henry Marchand, and I never will be.


    Travis shows up nearly half an hourte. He smiles crookedly when he sees me, looking exactly like the picture Jessie had sent me. About my height, with brown hair andnky limbs. Cute, in a boyish kind of way.


    ¡°Faye?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    He leans in to kiss my cheek, smelling like smoke. ¡°d you could make it tonight.¡±


    ¡°Likewise,¡± I say dryly.


    Travis doesn¡¯t apologize for histeness and the rest of the evening follows suit. I¡¯m bored out of my skull an hourter, trying and failing to follow a story about his roommate¡¯s poor taste in video games.


    I clear my throat. ¡°Do you enjoy bartending?¡±


    ¡°Nah. It¡¯s all right, you know. Pays the bills.¡± He grins, cheekily. ¡°But I definitely feel like I have a future elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Really? Doing what?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure you¡¯d understand.¡±


    ¡°No, try me,¡± I say, intrigued for the first time in over an hour. ¡°What do you want to do instead?¡±


    He leans in, smiling at me like he¡¯s about to tell me a secret. ¡°I saw this great documentaryst week about Neil Armstrong. It was so cool. I mean, he was so cool. What he did, you know? Man, that guy really did something with his life, you know. And the documentary really showed that, like, in-depth.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I say slowly. ¡°So you want to be a documentary filmmaker?¡±


    Heughs. ¡°No. An astronaut.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I figured it¡¯s a lot of work, but you have to start somewhere. I know I just made the decision, but I¡¯m reallymitted.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already ordered a few books about it. Well, one. Introduction to physics. Seemed a good ce to start.¡±


    Oh, god.


    What the hell had Jessie been thinking, setting me up with this guy? We couldn¡¯t be more different if we tried. He was a nk canvas and still trying to figure out what to be. Nothing wrong with that, but it wasn¡¯t someone I was interested in dating.


    And when he asked me what I did for a living-the first question he¡¯d asked me all night-and promptly confused an architect with an archeologist¡­


    Travis raises an eyebrow when I call it a night. ¡°Already? It¡¯s not even ten.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an early riser,¡± I say, putting down two twenties for my own drinks. ¡°Thank you for tonight.¡±


    ¡°Sure you have to go? Jessie said a lot of nice things about you, but she didn¡¯t do you justice.¡± His smile turns flirtatious, eyes glittering. ¡°I live close by, you know.¡±


    Yeah¡­ it¡¯s definitely time to go.


    ¡°I have to. Thanks for tonight.¡±


    ¡°I enjoyed myself,¡± he says. ¡°See you around.¡±


    Despite the stifling New York air, I breathe in deep gulps as I leave the bar. Jessie, my kind, crazy, impulsive friend. She¡¯d been wild when she suggested this. An astronaut. He wanted to be an astronaut based on one week of knowledge.


    I walk down the street and watch people mill about around me. New York is always a bustle of people, never asleep, never quiet. When I first said I wanted to move here, my parents had been confused. Why? It¡¯s all money and work and people who don¡¯t smile at one another on the street. It had been difficult to describe it to them. I loved my parents. I loved the small town in Ohio where I grew up. But it hadn¡¯t felt big enough for my dreams, or for the person I grew into as soon as I left for college.


    My phone rings, an insistent vibration in my pocket. Probably Jessie, calling to check in on the date, unable to stop herself. I consider letting it go to voice mail-she¡¯ll be disappointed that I didn¡¯t like Travis.


    But eventually I fish it out of my pocket, and when I see the caller ID, it isn¡¯t Jessie at all.


    It¡¯s Henry.


    Henry


    ¡°It¡¯s hard, you know, to travel so much,¡± Chelsea says. ¡°It gets lonely to be on the road all the time. And I never really feel like I¡¯m home when I¡¯m home either, you know? But of course you know. You work a lot yourself.¡±


    ¡°I do, yes.¡±


    She flicks a strand of curled hair over her shoulder. ¡°I like men who work a lot. Who have ambition. And I¡¯m sure you do.¡±


    ¡°I enjoy my work, yes.¡± Watching paint dry would have been more fun than this discussion. For over an hour, Chelsea had been running the conversation, avoiding all my attempts to talk about something even remotely interesting.

 Ice Cold Boss C15

    ¡°I read up on you before this. I know you¡¯re not supposed to,¡± she says, and bats expertly elongated eyshes, ¡°but I¡¯m too honest. I have to confess.¡±


    God help me. ¡°And what did you find?¡±


    She leans in across the table. ¡°Well, I knew you were impressive before, but the search confirmed it. Started your own firm at just twenty-seven, quickly became one of the biggest names in Manhattan. You won the Hugh D. Lehn award. Your father is a developer, too, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I scan the restaurant for the waiter. I need to pay this bill and end this.


    ¡°Is that why you got into the business?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°Because that¡¯s why I love fashion. My mother was a famous model, you know. Very beautiful. People say I look like her, but I don¡¯t see it.¡± Chelsea smiles. It looks sickly sweet. ¡°Do you think I do? My mom is Cindy White.¡±


    The name barely rings a bell. ¡°I¡¯m sure the resemnce is striking.¡±


    Her smile falters, but only slightly. ¡°Let me just tell you how excited I was when you asked me out for dinner.¡±


    She had looked vaguely bored when I¡¯d offered. What had brought about this change? The google search of my worth and history?


    ¡°I¡¯m d you epted.¡±


    Chelsea shoots me another practiced smile and starts toin about something so inane that I do my best to tune it out, my features impassive. She¡¯s taken pictures of the ce, of the food, and of our drinks. At least she didn¡¯t try to take a picture with me.


    I nce down at my watch. It¡¯s half-past nine. Faye is out on her date as well. Her blind date. It¡¯s far too easy to imagine her sitting on a barstool, her eyes teasing as she challenges the poor guy she¡¯s been paired with.


    What kind of men does she like? In my mind, the guy she¡¯s smiling at shifts from muscly jock to a tall investment banker. Neither feels right. Faye¡¯s too¡­ she¡¯s too much for that. For single-minded men who can¡¯t keep up with her intelligence.


    Or they¡¯re hitting if off and she¡¯s blushing for him, like she did for me when I asked her about the date. The low lights of the bar setting off her olive-toned skin perfectly.


    Chelsea is still droning on. Just a few months ago she would have been exactly the kind of date I¡¯d enjoy wining, dining, and bedding. Apanion for events. She¡¯d know what was expected and anticipated; it was afortable sort of arrangement, always unspoken. Enjoyable conversation, if not particrly deep. Both parties aware it¡¯s casual.


    Now, the thought of spending another hour pretending to be interested in the newest Birkin bag feels like torture, not to mention spending an entire evening with her at the Founders¡¯ ball. No, she¡¯s not a prospective candidate at all.


    It¡¯s not hard to picture Faye opposite me instead, tonight at Salt. She¡¯d say something outrageous, and I¡¯d get to surprise her right back by not reacting like she¡¯d expect at all.


    I finally get eye contact with a waiter. Chelsea smirks at me when I settle the bill, going out of her way to point out to the waiter that the vegan option she ordered wasn¡¯t quite to her satisfaction.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    She threads her arm through mine as we walk back to our street. Clearly, dating someone I lived next to had been a mistake. I should have known, but I¡¯d done it anyway, driven by the pressure to find someone for the ball-not to mention my little sister¡¯s wedding in a few short weeks.


    ¡°You¡¯re very fit,¡± she says, running her hand up my arm. I resist the urge to draw away from her and look down at where her eyes are flirtatiously narrowing at me. ¡°I didn¡¯t know architects were this buff. You don¡¯t do any of that construction work yourself, do you?¡±


    ¡°Not generally, no. But I stay active.¡± I have the gym, every morning, not to mention the long hours spent sailing. Hauling ropes isn¡¯t for the weak. ¡°Here¡¯s where I have to leave you, Chelsea.¡±


    Her face drops, but she quicklyposes it into something that looks like a smirk. It¡¯s clear she¡¯s used to using her charms and having them work. ¡°You¡¯re not going home?¡±


    ¡°I have to go to the office.¡±


    ¡°On a Friday night?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I do love that you work so much,¡± she says, but the attempt is half-hearted. ¡°Thanks for tonight, Henry.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Her eyes ultimately hold nothing but calction. I¡¯m one of many, and we both know it¡¯s not a genuine connection. ¡°While I¡¯m sure we both had a good evening, I¡¯m not going to call you, and I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll call me either.¡±


    Her face drops entirely. ¡°Wow. I¡­ all right. That¡¯s rude.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s honest.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Fine. Do you know how many men want to go out with me?¡±


    ¡°Many, I¡¯m sure.¡± But I am definitely not one of them. ¡°Good night, Chelsea. Take care.¡±


    She shoots me a look that¡¯s more offended than hurt and heads inside.


    I take a deep breath for the first time in a couple of hours and start walking toward the office. I know I¡¯m not going to be able to sleep for hours, and my fingers are itching to try out some changes to the opera house. This entire evening reminded me why I hate New York¡¯s dating scene. No doubt she¡¯d be dating ten guys at the same time and had expected me to do the same.


    Everything isplicated-absolutely everything-when the only thing I want is simplicity.


    My mind drifts to Faye and her date again, like a dog with a bone. Is she like Chelsea too, ying the field? I can¡¯t imagine that. But I can imagine her infatuated, her cheeks flushing beautifully again. She might still be on her date. If it¡¯s going well, he could be kissing her right now.


    I dial her number.


    I know I shouldn¡¯t call. I have no legitimate reason to do so. She¡¯s organized my calendar to perfection, and everything I need for the weekend is done.


    Faye answers on the second signal. ¡°Mr. Marchand? Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Did your reservation work out?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it did.¡±


    A faint pause. ¡°So, what¡¯s the matter?¡±


    ¡°Did you book the airport transportation for my Chicago trip?¡±


    ¡°I did, yes.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t receive the details.¡±


    ¡°No, I was nning on going over it on Monday, during our meeting.¡± Another pause. ¡°Do you need them earlier?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I need the details right away,¡± I say, hand clenched at my side. I know I¡¯m acting like an asshole.


    ¡°I¡¯ll forward them to your email right away.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I force my hand to rx. I want to keep her talking. ¡°Hopefully it won¡¯t interrupt your evening too much.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C16

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re not interrupting,¡± Faye says with a sigh, the disappointment in her voice loosening something in me. ¡°I think that was the first andst time I¡¯ll ever attempt a blind date.¡±


    Something in me rxes. ¡°That bad?¡±


    ¡°Yes, dear God. What about you? Are you already finished with yours, sir?¡±


    I can¡¯t help but smile at the sir added at the end of a question she shouldn¡¯t be asking. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    Her curiosity is palpable, even through the phone. ¡°It wasn¡¯t good either,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m at the office.¡±


    ¡°Working on your project?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Faye is quiet for a beat. ¡°I¡¯m nearby. Do you need anything? Take-out, perhaps? I¡¯m sure I could find a kebab shop for you.¡±


    I just ate a dinner at Salt, something she knows full well, too. The answer is clearly no.


    But still.


    ¡°Get enough for two.¡±


    By the time the elevator dings, I¡¯ve sketched out the adjustments to the digital model that Faye suggested. The wood feels basic-too simple a material-but the more I look at it, the less of an eyesore it bes. I¡¯m still not sure if it¡¯s right. But she was correct about one aspect, at least. The building needs more natural aspects to ground the design.


    I left my office door open and Faye walks in, arge paper bag in hand.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she says, half-smiling. Her hair is down, falling in tumbling ck waves around her face and shoulders. Her features look softer, somehow, than at work. Rosy lips and long eyshes.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    And she¡¯s in a dress.


    Not one of the work dresses-no, this dress hugs her chest, showing off her waist and then ring out over curved hips. Little strappy heels on her feet, too. I force my gaze toward the brown takeout bag before she sees me staring.


    ¡°What did you end up getting?¡±


    ¡°Burgers.¡± She puts the food down on the conference table. The smell of fries and grilled meat hits me, and damn if it doesn¡¯t make my mouth water. Salt has great food, but the dishes are tiny. ¡°This one is yours.¡±


    I ept the burger she hands me. There are little scribblings on the top of the wrapper. Faye sees me looking. ¡°Oh, I got one with bacon, which I know you like, but without sesame seeds, which you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like sesame seeds?¡±


    She shrugs, looking apologetic. ¡°It was in the notes I got from yourst assistant.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s news to me.¡± I frown down at my burger, thinking about Sara. She¡¯d been too attentive toward the end. I must haveined about sesame seeds getting everywhere.


    ¡°I¡¯ll unlearn that piece of information then. Here, have some fries.¡± Faye pushes the bag toward me. I watch in amusement as she sinks into one of the conference chairs with a pleased sigh. Her off-duty self feels rxed¡­ open. No assistant has ever been that way with me before.


    Mercenary bastard that I am, I exploit it immediately.


    ¡°So the blind date was that bad?¡±


    ¡°Terrible. He was nearly half an hourte. And then he only spoke about himself, just pausing to drink or to give me sleazypliments.¡±


    ¡°Unsmooth.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She pushes her thick hair behind an ear, bending to take a bite of her burger. ¡°And when I mentioned I was an architect, he made a reference to Indiana Jones.¡±


    I grit my teeth at that one. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±


    ¡°No. He legitimately thought I was an archeologist for half of the evening.¡±


    ¡°Who set you up with him?¡±


    ¡°My best friend. She¡¯s great, but doesn¡¯t have the greatest judgement in guys sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Clearly.¡± Anyone with half a brain could see that Faye wouldn¡¯t be satisfied with a man like that. She must have been running circles around him all night.


    Faye narrows her eyes at me, and the fire is back in them. ¡°You look pleased.¡±


    There¡¯s no point in denying it. ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t have my assistant¡¯s focus divided, can I?¡±


    Faye rolls her eyes and heads to the trash can to throw out the wrapping paper. Rolling her eyes at me seems to be her thing. No one has done that to me for years, not since my youngest sibling turned fifteen. ¡°How about your date?¡± she asks. ¡°Not good?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Faye nods encouragingly, clearly wanting me to continue. I run my fingers along the edge of the table and consider. This rxed air between us¡­ I like it entirely too much for my own good, not to mention hers.


    ¡°I would rather have spent the evening watching paint dry.¡±


    She winces. ¡°Ouch. Poor girl, to be described that way.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sure she has dozens of men waiting to take my ce. She said so herself.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t.¡±


    I nod grimly. ¡°Indeed she did.¡±


    Faye heads to the model in the corner, her gaze thoughtful. ¡°So you came back here.¡±


    ¡°Evidently.¡±


    She leans in for a closer look of the opera house, her long hair shielding her face entirely from view. It¡¯s unsettling to see her study it so closely. Something I¡¯ve worked on for nearly a year, and her eyes are the first to see it. I¡¯m still not sure if it was a mistake to involve her.


    But she had good ideas, and the deadline is looming.

 Ice Cold Boss C17

    ¡°What else would you change?¡±


    Faye sweeps her hair back and looks up at me. ¡°With the design?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She bites her lip slightly, watching the model with zed eyes. It¡¯s a look I recognize. She loves the design process just as much as I do.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to think about it,¡± she says slowly. ¡°Adding the wood¡­ I stand by that.¡±


    ¡°I tried it.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡± Her eyes widen with excitement. ¡°In AutoCAD?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I open the digital building program on myputer and show her the design. ¡°But I¡¯m not convinced.¡±


    ¡°No, no, not like that¡­ add wood here instead.¡± She leans over my shoulder, pointing at one part of the design I¡¯d struggled with since the start. The back of the curving steel, where the two pieces join together. ¡°It would anchor the whole thing.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I¡¯ll try it,¡± I say. This close, her hair brushes against my cheek. She smells like woman, like warm skin and flowers and heat.


    ¡°And here¡­ you could make this into greenery. It¡¯s a small change, but it¡¯ll give the impression that this steel wave is rising from the ground.¡± She¡¯s right. Her changes are small-but they could give the whole thing more bnce. This is exactly the second pair of eyes I¡¯ve been needing for this project.


    ¡°Miss Alvarez, when I hired you, I made it clear that I couldn¡¯t offer you any architectural work.¡±


    Faye takes a step back, taking her hair and scent away. There¡¯s a small furrow between her dark eyebrows. ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡±


    ¡°Despite that, you¡¯ve proven to have valuable input. I¡¯ll send you the AutoCAD blueprints tomorrow, and when you have time, I¡¯d like your feedback on the structure.¡±


    Her eyes light up with excitement and creativitybined. ¡°It¡¯ll be my pleasure.¡±


    ¡°The deadline is in less than two months.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°We can do it,¡± she says, nodding to herself. I¡¯m silently amused at how fast it became a we, but I don¡¯tment. ¡°And no one else at the firm is involved, or even aware, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She nods again, a smile ying on her full lips. It¡¯s one I recognize-the love of a challenge.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡±


    Faye


    Jessie stretches from side to side, both of us sweaty from our spin ss. ¡°All right,¡± she says. ¡°So Travis won¡¯t work out.¡±


    I almostugh at her summary. ¡°No. Which I think you knew in advance.¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Jessie.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so I figured he wasn¡¯t your usual type. I knew it wouldn¡¯t be a love connection. But that doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t have a little bit of fun, you know.¡±


    I bend over, stretching out the back of my legs. ¡°I can¡¯t have fun with someone I don¡¯t connect with.¡±


    ¡°Of course you can. The only thing Steve and I have inmon is incredible sex.¡±


    This time, I dough. ¡°And that¡¯s awesome, but I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± She puts her hands on her hips, her workout shirt bunched at the waist. ¡°When was thest time you had sex with a man?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t miss it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me, Faye Alvarez.¡± She takes a seat, bending at the waist and reaching toward her toes. The ss had managed to clear my head, as it always did.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say. ¡°I do miss it. I haven¡¯t had sex in over a year.¡±


    ¡°A year.¡± She throws her hands up dramatically. ¡°A year.¡±


    ¡°You already know that,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not news.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you need to be reminded of how rare that is-and that it¡¯s time to do something about it. Work is great, but it¡¯s not everything.¡±


    I lie back on the yoga mat and stare up at the ceiling. ¡°Trust me, I know. It¡¯s so bad, I¡¯m starting to get attracted to my boss.¡±


    ¡°The asshole who somehow decided to give you a shot?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Jessie¡¯s sitting upright now. ¡°Who calls you on a Friday evening when he knew you were out on a date?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, but he should respect your working hours.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a personal assistant to someone who probably makes millions of dors a year. My working hours are all the time. Lord knows he¡¯s paying me enough to be on standby.¡±


    ¡°Still, he shouldn¡¯t have called.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± And especially not about something so minor. For an absurd moment, I suspected he hadn¡¯t called about that at all, but rather to interrupt my date.


    ¡°See, if you had been getting regr sweet loving in between the sheets, you wouldn¡¯t be developing a highly inappropriate crush on your boss.¡±


    I groan at Jessie¡¯s phrasing. ¡°I don¡¯t know if your logic is brilliant or deranged.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant. You¡¯ve always been a ss-half-full kind of person.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say finally. ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have called.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C18

    ¡°And so what if he¡¯s handsome, and intelligent, and passionate about the same things I am? He¡¯s my boss. I was damn lucky when he epted me for this job. I know that.¡±


    Jessie nods. ¡°No screwing that up. He¡¯s off-limits. Too risky.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be professionalism personified.¡±


    ¡°The dictionary definition herself,¡± Jessie agrees. ¡°And you¡¯re going to keep your eyes open for other handsome, intelligent men.¡±


    I grin at her. ¡°How hard is it to be indifferent, anyway? I¡¯ll show up on Monday and barely look his way.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my girl.¡±


    As it turns out, indifference is hard to practice when your boss looks like Henry Marchand.


    He¡¯s cool and reserved at our Monday meeting, thick hair pushed back and a let¡¯s-get-shit-done look on his face. I wish I was immune to it. To all of it-the way he upies space like he owns it, like he built it-and the ambition that rolls off him like thunder. But I¡¯m not. I sit down opposite him, dutifully forgetting that other men even exist.


    Henry nods at the list I¡¯ve prepared for the meeting. He hasn¡¯t mentioned ourte night on Friday, and any intimacy between us is gone. It might as well never have existed at all.


    ¡°Well then,¡± he says. ¡°Get on with it.¡±


    I run through theing week. Henry nods or disagrees at the appropriate times, fingers tapping against the table.


    ¡°Push the two o¡¯clock on Wednesday,¡± he says. ¡°Investors from Corporeal want to meet instead. I¡¯m taking them out for lunch.¡±


    ¡°Reservations?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I can call Rema. It¡¯s right across the street-you could be in and out in an hour.¡±


    ¡°Good. Reserve a table for one p. m.¡±


    ¡°Will do. And regarding the Founders¡¯ G on Friday? They¡¯re going to call again today, asking who you¡¯re bringing.¡± I run a finger along the edge of myptop and think about his terrible datest Friday. Did he have a roster of women he ran through? Eenie, meenie, miney, mo, who to choose tonight¡­


    Henry¡¯s eyes narrow slightly. ¡°There will be people there from the Opera Project board.¡±


    ¡°An excellent time towork, then.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, his voice softening a tad. ¡°Which is why I¡¯d like you to apany me.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    Amusement shes in his eyes, like he doesn¡¯t think I¡¯ll say yes. Like he¡¯s baiting me-another test to see if I¡¯ll rise or fall to the challenge. I push my shoulders back.


    ¡°All right, then.¡±


    Henry¡¯s lips lift in a small half-smile. ¡°Excellent. You have all the details, I suppose. Register yourself as my plus-one.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± I close myptop, caught between wanting rification and fear of exposing too much of myself in asking for it. ¡°Do we meet outside the event?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pick you up. Text me your address.¡±


    The thought of Henry Marchand, in his Town Car, waiting by my building in Brooklyn¡­ Unbelievable. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Henry rises from the table. He adjusts the cuffs of his jacket, every inch the CEO and property developer. ¡°It¡¯s a work event, Miss Alvarez. You¡¯ll be paid.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Good.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll send you the blueprints for the opera house shortly. If you find the time, I¡¯d like your feedback.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡± I grab my things and head to the door of his office. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    He pauses by his desk, looking at me with intensity. I don¡¯t know what to make of it-I don¡¯t know what to make of him at all. ¡°No, that¡¯s all. Thank you.¡±


    I close the door behind me and take a deep breath.


    This job was nothing like I¡¯d expected. Henry Marchand was nothing like I¡¯d expected. The consummate professional, who spent his nights designingrge-scale projects. Who expected professionalism and perfection-most of all from himself-but who clearly had a sense of humor buried somewhere beneath the cool facade. Who thought inviting your assistant as a date to a g was a perfectly professional thing to do.


    If it is, it wasn¡¯t included in his previous assistant¡¯s notes. I almostugh at the thought, sinking into my office chair.


    I open the blueprints he sent over. Scaling back the opera houseyer byyer, I familiarize myself with its internal structure. It¡¯s beautiful. Giant curving staircases that wrap around the outside of the main room, leading to the different levels. Corridors and passageways, some hidden, meant to be used by staff and actors alike.


    The seating in the opera itself is designed inyers, and the ceiling echoes the curves from the building outside-patrons will be seated beneath shimmering metal waves.


    I delve deeper still; the foundation work, the blueprints for the piping and electrical work. It feels personal, looking at his work, knowing he¡¯s the only one who¡¯s worked on it. Personal in a way that it never has before.


    Maybe it¡¯s because I know I¡¯m the first one that he¡¯s shown it to. Or because it¡¯s clear that he cares about architecture more than the basic numbers and figures, beyond even the prestige. And he asked for my input.


    I make notes on the structure and don¡¯t hold back. The backstageyout feels off. Is there enough space for 50+ people here during showtime?


    I critique the seating arrangement on level four and the sculpture he designed for the vestibule. The wall lights feel dated. No detail is too small; I try to think like a jury might.


    Steps approach down our corridor and I quickly minimize Henry¡¯s blueprints.


    It¡¯s Kyle Renner, head architect extraordinaire, and resident asshole. He doesn¡¯t have an appointment. I square my shoulders and brace myself for conflict. If there¡¯s one person who¡¯s made it clear he doesn¡¯t think I¡¯llst, it¡¯s Kyle.


    He stops by my desk and looks down his nose at me. ¡°Hello, Faye.¡±


    ¡°Hi. What can I help you with?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to see Mr. Marchand.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I see. Is he expecting you?¡±


    Kyle smiles at me, but it¡¯s not a kind expression. My skin crawls at the clear patronization in his gaze. ¡°Yes, he is. He was the one who emailed me toe over.¡±


    I give him an equally nd smile back and press the inte. ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C19

    ¡°Kyle Renner is here to see you.¡±


    ¡°Send him in.¡±


    The door opens automatically and Kyle saunters forward, an eyebrow raised at me as if to say see? Told you!


    The door shuts behind him and I roll my eyes at it. He¡¯s obnoxious, but nothing I¡¯m not used to. Elliot Ferris¡¯s firm was bigger than this, and with even bigger personalities. Builders, developers, architects¡­ all of them, insufferable egos. When I¡¯d been an architect myself, it had been easy to give as good as I got.


    But as an assistant¡­ people like Kyle enjoy asserting the little dominance they have.


    Ten minutester the door swings open again. Kyle¡¯s face is red with anger-actually red-and I can see Henry by his desk. He looks the picture of calm.


    What the hell happened?


    Kyle stops beside my desk, out of view from the open door. His voice is furious. ¡°I can see that you¡¯re taking a different approach than your predecessors. I clearly underestimated you, Faye.¡±


    I blink after him, storming off down the corridor. Anger of my own makes my cheeks flush. How dare he speak to me like that?


    ¡°Miss Alvarez? Please join me in here for a moment,¡± Henry calls.


    I rise and lean against the door frame, still shaken from the exchange. ¡°Well, you certainly look calmer than he did.¡±


    His lips curve slightly again, like he can¡¯t stop himself. ¡°He didn¡¯t take the news particrly well.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s off the Priority Media project with Terri.¡±


    It¡¯s my time to be surprised. ¡°But the pitch is next week.¡±


    ¡°So it is.¡± Henry taps his knuckles against the desk. ¡°How well do you know the project?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the renovation of a mid-century building in downtown Manhattan. Could provide a lot of visibility for the firm. It¡¯s a big pitch.¡± And one that Terri probably can¡¯t handle alone, I think. Pitching to a board is a scary experience, and it¡¯s nearly impossible to cover all the potential bases alone.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°I want you to take Kyle¡¯s ce.¡±


    My eyebrows shoot high. ¡°Work alongside Terri?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t hire me for architectural work,¡± I saymely, echoing his prior words, even as excitement floods through me. His project, and now this¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. But Kyle has proven himself unable to work effectively with Terri, and we have no one else.¡±


    ¡°Will Rykers be all right with this?¡±


    Henry¡¯s eyes sh momentarily. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±


    I think of all the others at the firm. This won¡¯t go down well, not with a team of twenty architects who up until now have only thought of me as one of Henry¡¯s many assistants, nameless and interchangeable. I don¡¯t think any of them actually know about my background. No one has bothered to ask.


    But I have survived far worse, and would go through worse again, to get to work with things I love. A chance to pitch¡­ If I do this well, maybe I could get promoted when a spot opens up on the architectural team and graduate entirely from making restaurant reservations.


    ¡°Well?¡± Henry asks. ¡°I had thought you would jump at this chance.¡±


    I smile at him, slow and true. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m jumping on the inside, sir.¡±


    His lips curve again, amusement shing in those dark green eyes. ¡°Set up a meeting with Terri.¡±


    ¡°I will. And¡­ this won¡¯t interfere with my regr duties.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t,¡± he says, the smile still lurking around the corners of his mouth.


    Henry


    I run my hand along the smooth leather interior of the Town Car. We¡¯ve been in traffic for over half an hour, trying to get to the address Faye sent me. It¡¯s given me ample time to think, specifically about whether it was clever or terribly stupid of me to ask her to join me.


    A date isn¡¯t necessary, strictly speaking. I¡¯ve gone stag to plenty of these events. At the same time, it¡¯s expected, not to mention it makesworking easier and more enjoyable when you can work as a team. Several of the women I¡¯ve dated in the past go to many of these events and understand the codes, the cues.


    I have no idea if Faye does. It¡¯s aplete shot in the dark.


    I tug at the sleeve of my dinner jacket and frown at the building site I see outside the car window. I know who¡¯s developing them, and it¡¯s not someone I have a lot of respect for. Elliot Ferris.


    He¡¯s well-known for shady business practices, particrly in the suburbs and further afield. He regrly develops low-ie housing and then profits enormously through increasing rents, often with stringent policies on his tenants regarding missing a day or two on rent. Builders like him didn¡¯t deserve the name. Not to mention that he had, in one way or another, hurt Faye by letting her go without a rmendation.


    In her initial letter, she had clearly thought it was a mark against her, when herck of a rmendation from Elliot was practically an endorsement in itself. She¡¯d called out the elitism of this industry perfectly.


    My phone rings and any mirth disappears as I read the name on the caller ID.


    ¡°Hello, Dad.¡±


    ¡°Henry,¡± he begins, voice businesslike. ¡°Have you read the files I sent you about the Chicago project?¡±


    ¡°I have, yes.¡± I considered it to be a spectacrly stupid deal.


    ¡°And? You haven¡¯t gotten back to me about it, son. It¡¯s almost like you don¡¯t want to partner with my firm.¡± Heughs, like the thought is outrageous.


    ¡°I have some reservations,¡± I say carefully. ¡°I¡¯m flying there next week, to meet with your partners and get answers to my questions.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. Nothing like eyes on the ground.¡± He pauses, and I imagine him gearing up, sitting in his study in the family house in Paradise Shores. Large bookshelves behind him filled to the brim with political biographies and Sun Tzu. ¡°It¡¯s a guaranteed return on investment. I¡¯m doing you a favor by offering you an in on this, you know.¡±


    Of course that¡¯s the way he sees it. My father, with his capital, doesn¡¯t need Marchand & Rykers¡¯ financial backing.


    But the project is dated, it¡¯s not in the right neighborhood, and more than that¡­ it feels hical. That argument won¡¯t work on him, though.


    ¡°I appreciate the offer,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll get back to you after I¡¯ve visited it next week and spoken to the team.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. I might even fly out and join you.¡± A brief pause. ¡°It¡¯s time for you to level up now, son. You¡¯ve done well so far but I want to see you in the big leagues. Ande home some time, all right? It¡¯d make your mother happy.¡±


    I grit my teeth. ¡°I¡¯ll be home for Lily¡¯s wedding in a few weeks.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C20

    He sighs, as if he¡¯d forgotten all about his youngest child. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he had. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me. I know I¡¯m expected to make some kind of toast, and she¡¯ll skewer me if I screw it up.¡±


    That does make me grin. My little sister is fierce, and she had gone eye to eye with my father about her decision to be with Hayden-who hadn¡¯t exactly been what Michael Marchand would call respectable growing up.


    ¡°You have a few weeks to work on it.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Take care, son.¡±


    ¡°You too,¡± I say, uselessly, because he¡¯s already hung up.


    His way or the highway-nothing else mattered. If it wasn¡¯t done ording to his business practices, it was obviously wrong. Him offering me a cut of this project was symbolic; I know it as clearly as he did. He was finally offering me recognition.


    But the Chicago project is wrong. I feel it in my bones, and I suspect going up there to see won¡¯t change my mind at all.


    I¡¯m in a terrible mood when the car finally stops outside arge brick building in Brooklyn, tapping my fingers against the leather seat in irritation. Thest thing I want to do is spend the evening with acquaintances and strangers, pretending to enjoy their inane small talk.


    I write a quick text. Car outside.


    I¡¯ve just pressed send when the door opens, and Faye gets in beside me. ¡°I was waiting downstairs,¡± she exins, smoothing down the wrinkles in her dress. ¡°So we wouldn¡¯t bete.¡±


    No woman I¡¯ve picked up for a date in New York has ever done that. And not a single one of them looked like her. I tear my eyes away and nod to the driver. ¡°We¡¯re ready.¡±


    She looks like a mixture of her work-self and her date-self, and more stunning than ever. Her hair is pinned back from her face, most of it falling down her shoulders and back, waves of shimmering, silky-soft ckness.


    Her dress is dark gold. Even sitting down, I can see that it follows her shape, clinging to every curve in a way that¡¯s going to test my already nonexistent patience.


    Part of me misses her office look, with the work mask on, the nondescript knee-length pencil skirts and suit jackets. It was easier to deny my pointless attraction to her then.


    Faye clears her throat softly. ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    Damn. I¡¯m so out of sorts-from the phone call, from her-that I haven¡¯t even greeted her yet. I make an effort to soften my voice. ¡°Yes. Thank you for agreeing to this tonight.¡±


    ¡°Anything for the firm,¡± she says smoothly. ¡°I¡¯ve run through the guest list and memorized about ten different ice-breakers.¡±


    Some of the tension drains from my shoulders. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    She clears her throat dramatically. ¡°Here it goes. ¡®Have you ever thought about why there¡¯s a D in fridge, but not in refrigerator?''¡±


    ¡°That is awful.¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± she says cheerfully. ¡°I found a website listing thirty of these.¡±


    ¡°Were they all this Shakespearean?¡±


    ¡°Some were actually good,¡± she says, voice thoughtful. ¡°I liked this one: ¡®Let me just begin by saying that we have something inmon. You don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to say next, and quite frankly, neither do I.''¡±


    I shake my head and lean forward. ¡°Pete? Pull over here. Miss Alvarez is getting out.¡±


    ¡°What! No!¡±


    Peteughs-confirming my suspicion that he always listens to the conversations I have in the car-and keeps driving. Fayeughs too, and I realize how rarely I¡¯ve heard that sound. ¡°All right, all right. I won¡¯t use those two, then.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say dryly, but I¡¯m amused. Tonight might not be so bad after all.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    The g is held in one of New York¡¯s less-famous museums, overlooking Central Park. It¡¯s a beautiful building, usually filled with schoolchildren and tourists. Tonight, there¡¯s a red carpet rolled out and tons of people-organizers, photographers, security. The Founders¡¯ G is usually quite small, and always for charity, but things like this attract people like flies, drawn to the appearance of mour. Pete stops the car in front of the building.


    ¡°Miss Alvarez¡­¡± I say, turning to face her fully. Hershes are long, sweeping up as she meets my gaze. ¡°There is a risk that Elliot Ferris is here tonight.¡±


    Her eyes ze with determination. ¡°I know. I saw him on the guest list.¡±


    The subtext is clear. I can handle it. I nod and reach for the door. ¡°Here we go, then.¡±


    Faye climbs out after me, straightening in a flow of ck hair and golden fabric. I offer her my arm, and she threads hers through mine effortlessly-like we¡¯ve walked this way thousands of times. Like we belong together. Two halves of a couple. I nce down at her, but she¡¯s staring straight ahead, a faint smile on her lips.


    I¡¯ve escorted dozens of women to events in this manner-why would the feeling of her body moving next to mine feel different? And yet, it does.


    We stop for an obligatory photograph before I move us along and into the museum. Posing for the camera is something I have never enjoyed. Leave that to the people who enjoy celebrity.


    The museum is one of New York¡¯s most cherished buildings, and it never fails to impress. The enormous marble foyer and the many gallery rooms make for an excellent g venue. At the moment, though, it¡¯s silk, taffeta and cravats, as far as the eye can see. The sound of conversation andughter mingles with the music from a string quartet.


    I nce down at Faye again. She¡¯s uncharacteristically quiet, taking in our surroundings.


    ¡°Something to drink?¡± I gesture for a waiter. He presents a tray of flutes, the small bubbles dancing inside the golden liquid.


    Faye epts one, and I take another. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    On the first sip, I can tell it¡¯s not particrly good champagne. It¡¯s acidic on the tongue and far too carbonated.


    Faye looks amused. ¡°You¡¯re frowning. Not up to your standards?¡±


    It¡¯s slightly unsettling that she can read me so easily. The honest truth is no. I spent many summers in France with my mother¡¯s family, and that had included a trip or two to the region of Champagne.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid to answer,¡± I say, ¡°and have you use me of elitism again.¡±


    She shakes her head, but her eyes are alight with amusement. ¡°It would be unwise of me to do that here, where your connections are needed.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°And where I¡¯d prefer it if you didn¡¯t throw me to the wolves.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Very wise.¡±


    We make our way into the southern gallery. There are familiar faces here; the regrs at these events rarely change. They live like butterflies, flitting from one function to another, as if putting on evening gloves was a profession in and of itself.


    A man with a bushy mustache stops us with the effortless smile of a seasoned mingler. ¡°Henry? It¡¯s been what, a year? Two?¡±


    ¡°Jack! How have you been?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know. Too much wine and too many divorces,¡± he jokes,ughing at his own outrageousness. ¡°I¡¯m on my third one now.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C21

    ¡°So I heard,¡± I say.


    ¡°I know Henry¡¯s father very well,¡± Jack says to Faye, eyes glittering conspiratorially. ¡°One of the finest men on the Eastern seaboard.¡±


    One of the richest, I want to correct, not finest. But in these circles the words are usually synonymous.


    Faye unleashes her winning smile. ¡°How lovely to meet a family friend,¡± she says kindly. ¡°Did you know Henry growing up?¡±


    I shoot her a warning nce-what kind of topic is that?-but she ignores me. Jack nods, drawn in by her megawatt smile. I can¡¯t me the man for his weakness. I share the same one.


    ¡°Oh, yes. I¡¯ve heard lots of stories from Michael. Met you a few times too, growing up, didn¡¯t I?¡± He nods at me. ¡°Tall,nky, always fiddling about on the ocean. A fine boy who grew up to be a fine man.¡±


    I refuse to look at Faye and the amusement undoubtedly on her features. ¡°Sounds like me,¡± I say instead. ¡°Jack, this is Faye Alvarez.¡±


    Faye shakes Jack¡¯s hand. His eyes are glittering as he takes her in-the man never met a pretty face he didn¡¯t like.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done well for yourself, Henry. Women like this don¡¯t grow on trees.¡±


    It¡¯s meant as apliment, and still, I feel Faye¡¯s arm stiffen where it touches mine. I remember her cover letter-how she hated being judged only for her appearance, be it her beauty or her Hispanic features, the dark hair and olive skin.


    Her face is still the picture of pleasantness.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯s an exceptionally talented architect.¡±


    Jack¡¯s eyebrows rise. ¡°Is that so? How fascinating-how amazing!¡±


    I can hear what he¡¯s not saying. How surprising.


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°Mark my words, son, hold on to her. If I¡¯d found women with brains, I wouldn¡¯t have had to go through so many divorces.¡±


    Heughs at his own joke. I excuse us, moving along through the gallery and into the next. An borate ice sculpture rests on the middle of a table filled with hors d¡¯oeuvres. There¡¯s silence between us, and I¡¯m afraid she¡¯s offended. That this was too much.


    ¡°Come to think of it,¡± I say, ¡°I was never too fond of old Uncle Jack.¡±


    Faye chuckles, the tension released. ¡°I can¡¯t for the life of me imagine why.¡±


    The next hour passes by with unbearable dullness. We discuss the weather-unusually warm for the season-and exchange summer ns with people I have no interest in meeting again. I find out that Mr. Damien Glover, who is on the board for the Opera Project, loves tennis and that his favorite opera is L¡¯Elisir d¡¯Amore.


    ¡°Donizetti was a master of theedic,¡± I say. ¡°Lucrezia Borgia is a given favorite.¡±


    His eyes lit up.


    But I learn nothing more of interest, and he¡¯s soon whisked away by equally hungry minglers. And while I wanted to make a good impression, there is no getting around the fact that the jury will be judging projects based on merit-not name. I could be their favorite person in the world and it still wouldn¡¯t matter.


    Somewhere over the past hour, Faye branched out on her own, both of us working opposite areas of the room. I look for her in the crowd.


    It¡¯s not hard to spot her. The gold dress hugs every part of her, the silk clinging to her shape in a way that manages to be both tasteful and alluring. The contrast with her dark hair, waves spilling down her back, makes her easy to pick out.


    She¡¯s talking to a group of people-three or four of them-and all are listening to her. Her back is turned to me, but it¡¯s not hard to imagine what her face looks like. Animated, enthusiastic, her effortless smile in ce and dark eyes alight with intelligence, her hands moving. Interacting with people seems toe easily to her in a way it never has for me.


    She¡¯s smart as a whip and too good-looking by half.


    If she wasn¡¯t my assistant, I would ask her out. It¡¯s an unwee realization, but I don¡¯t lie, and especially not to myself.


    Doesn¡¯t matter now regardless. Her talent and work ethic are too important to me, and to the firm, not to mention to Faye herself. Whatever attraction I feel is not only unnecessary, but risky as hell. It¡¯s mine to deal with on my own.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    I take a sip of the champagne-still too acidic-and watch as she brushes her hair back. Secluded in this corner of the gallery, it¡¯s all too easy to escape notice for a few minutes, to avoid the well-wishers and sycophants and expectations.


    A familiar voice breaks my peaceful solitude. ¡°Hello, Henry. It¡¯s been a long time.¡±


    Damn. I should¡¯ve known she¡¯d be here. Avery, who I¡¯d ended things with months ago. Who had been upset with me when I told her I didn¡¯t see a future for us-despite having been upfront about that from the start.


    Her hair is piled up high and she has a martini ss in hand. I don¡¯t know how she managed to get a martini in this ce ridden with poor champagne, but she¡¯d always had a knack for getting her way.


    ¡°Hello, Avery. How are you?¡±


    She sweeps kohl-rimmed eyes over me. ¡°Excellent. I wintered in Aspen and spent most of the spring in Costa Rica.¡±


    ¡°How thrilling.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says coolly. ¡°My family¡¯s charity. You remember, I¡¯m sure. Your memory was always wless.¡±


    ¡°I do, yes.¡± Just like I remembered how angry she¡¯d been after I¡¯d corrected her-after she told me that I had strung her along-and I could remind her of all the times I¡¯d made the casual nature of our rtionship clear.


    ¡°I¡¯m here with Oscar Lang,¡± she says airily. ¡°I¡¯ve been dating him for nearly five months now.¡±


    The name rings a faint bell. A Wall Street-type, I think. ¡°Congrattions.¡±


    ¡°He has a ce in the Hamptons. We¡¯ll probably summer there.¡±


    ¡°You always did enjoy it there.¡±


    Her eyes sh, like she thinks I¡¯m insulting her when I¡¯m just stating a fact. I try to think back to fun conversations between us, to jokes and teasing, but I can¡¯t remember any. Our entire rtionship had been based on politeness.


    ¡°So, Henry,¡± she drawls, ¡°tell me. Who¡¯s the lucky woman in your life? Or are there several? I know you¡¯re not the type tomit.¡±


    Not to you. The thoughtes unbidden.


    ¡°I am not-¡± An arm threads through mine and I look down to see Faye smiling up at me.


    ¡°There you are! I lost you, and now I¡¯ve interrupted you. I¡¯m sorry, Henry.¡± She nods a hello to Avery. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met. I¡¯m Faye.¡±


    Avery shakes her hand, animosity clear in her cold, impassive features. ¡°Avery.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure.¡±


    ¡°Likewise. So this is your date? Or girlfriend, even?¡± She turns a patronizing smile on Faye. ¡°Be careful with this one, honey. He¡¯s not themitting type. You might be in for a bit of heartbreak.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C22

    Faye smiles back sweetly. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid. Henry has been nothing but a gentleman since we first met.¡± She turns those dark eyes up at me, pressing closer against my side. ying the part effortlessly. ¡°Should I be?¡±


    ¡°Afraid? No.¡±


    She giggles, a sound I¡¯ve never heard from her before, and turns sharp eyes on Avery. ¡°He really is something special, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°You could say that,¡± Avery says smoothly, ¡°if you enjoy a life of schedule and routine. Oh, don¡¯t look sullen, Henry. Surely she already knows you¡¯re not one for spontaneity.¡±


    Faye¡¯s fingers dig into my arm, but her voice is cool. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to agree to disagree on that one. A man can be as organized as he likes, as long as he¡¯s as good in bed as Henry. But I don¡¯t need to mention that to you, of course.¡±


    What? I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. It¡¯s beyond inappropriate, and judging from Avery¡¯s bulging eyes, she has no idea what to respond. Beaten at her own game.


    ¡°Yes. Well. I think I¡¯ll leave you to it, then.¡± She stops a few feet away, turning back like she wants to add something, but thinks better of it and strides away. Her high heels click against the marble as she disappears into the crowd.


    Faye immediately drops my arm. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are filled with apprehension. ¡°God. Was that too much? Thatst part¡­¡±


    I can¡¯t help it-I burst outughing. This woman is insane, and spirited, and a fighter if I¡¯ve ever seen one.


    Her face softens. ¡°She called me honey, and I saw red. I couldn¡¯t let her win.¡±


    ¡°You certainly didn¡¯t. Faye, can you apany me to all these events? They¡¯d never be dull again.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m entertainment now, huh? I thought I was here to work.¡± Her smile still in ce, she nods at where Avery ran off. ¡°An old ex?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I take it it didn¡¯t end well.¡±


    ¡°Not particrly, no. She was more invested than I was.¡±


    Faye nods. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to upset her. But then she basically called you boring¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not upset, her pride is just wounded. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I certainly wouldn¡¯t. Never had a woman defended me like that before.


    Faye sighs and turns so that we¡¯re side to side, watching the crowd mingle. ¡°So, are you enjoying yourself?¡±


    ¡°Tremendously,¡± I say dryly. ¡°Can¡¯t think of anywhere I¡¯d rather be.¡±


    She snorts. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can talk to another stranger.¡±


    ¡°Well, you make it look easy.¡± No one watching her work that floor would think anything else. Faye looks down, her longshes sweeping over her cheeks. She¡¯s wearing more makeup tonight than usual, I think. Her lips look luscious-deep red and full. It would be so easy to tip her head back and taste them.


    I tear my gaze away and out over the crowd. I want to make her smile again-tough in earnest. ¡°What do you think? These are the type of people you dragged in your cover letter, you know.¡±


    Faye¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Thanks for the reminder.¡±


    ¡°Some of them rightly so, as well.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, enjoying her surprise. ¡°I wonder what other stereotypes we can find in here¡­ Hmm. See at that couple, over there?¡± I nod discreetly at a bickering couple in the opposite corner. The wife is dressed up to the nines, her face partially taut in the way that indicates too much Botox. Her husband is looking at her as she scolds away.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s sleeping with the au-pair, and she with the pool boy.¡±


    Faye¡¯s lips curve into a wicked smile. ¡°That¡¯s a terrible assumption.¡±


    ¡°I know. Maybe they¡¯re only arguing whether it¡¯s eptable to name their new dog Tripp the III, or if it would upset Tripp Junior.¡±


    Sheughs, amusement dancing in her eyes. ¡°That guy over there has a house in the Hamptons, mortgaged to the brim, but considers it an investment in his brand.¡±


    ¡°The woman in the corner? Brown hair? She devotes her life to phnthropy, but if you¡¯d actually investigate, over half of the donations go to her beauty treatments.¡±


    ¡°Mmm,¡± Faye murmurs. ¡°And the people at the main table have all bribed Ivy League colleges to get their children with average grades and crashed cars admission.¡±


    ¡°Not bribed, Miss. Alvarez. Generously donated.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Of course. Forgive me and my rash, uncivilized tongue.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it under consideration.¡±


    Her smile softens again-something different from the megawatt one she can turn on and off at will. There¡¯s genuine amusement in her eyes.


    She enjoys the battle of wits as much as I do.


    ¡°You¡¯re not what I expected,¡± she says.


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No. Not at all.¡±


    It¡¯s hard, then, to avoid stepping closer, to run her hair through my fingers and see if it¡¯s just as silky to the touch. To trace her teasing lips and tell her she¡¯s nothing like I expected either.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say instead. ¡°I live to amaze.¡±


    Faye rolls her eyes again. The gesture has an odd effect on me; endearing, rather than infuriating. ¡°Exaggerator.¡±


    I offer her my arm again. ¡°Once more unto the breach?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re quoting Henry the V now?¡±


    ¡°I knew you¡¯d catch that,¡± I say, leading us through the main gallery. She¡¯d majored in Architecture, but she¡¯d minored in English Literature-I¡¯d read her CV. We weave past another giant ice sculpture and stop next to the string quartet. Hands fly over instruments, and I¡¯m struck, as always, by awe in the face of sheer talent.


    ¡°Imagine having to y for all of these guests,¡± I say quietly, ¡°knowing none of them will really be paying attention.¡±


    Faye doesn¡¯t respond. Her arm is stiff in mine, her back straight as cardboard. I follow her gaze to the man standing opposite us in the gallery. His gray hair, the rotund build, the hooded eyes. Elliot Ferris.


    For a second, I think Faye is afraid of him. But then I catch sight of the blush on her cheeks and the fire in her eyes. She¡¯s not afraid. She¡¯s furious.

 Ice Cold Boss C23

    And he¡¯sing directly our way.


    Faye


    Elliot Ferris looks just like I remember him.


    The sly eyes and the cravat, a ss of champagne in hand. No doubt it¡¯s his third or fourth already. And he¡¯sing this way.


    Asshole. He¡¯d worked me ragged for years, making mepete with the other architects, all of us jockeying for position. I¡¯d ved over blueprints for him. Put his name on projects I¡¯d designed. And worse than that¡­ The Century Dome. A project he imsplete credit for when he couldn¡¯t have designed that structure on his best damn day.


    Because who did? Me. Without any recognition.


    It takes every ounce of effort I have to lock down my body, to make my expression impassive, to hide the pure loathing I feel for this man.


    He stops in front of us, lips pursed in consideration. ¡°Henry Marchand,¡± he says slowly, ¡°and Faye Alvarez. Now this I did not expect.¡±


    ¡°Elliot Ferris,¡± Henry says smoothly. His voice is courteous, but I can hear theyer of ice below. ¡°Miss Alvarez works at my firm.¡±


    Elliot¡¯s eyebrows rise, and his eyes turn spective. ¡°Do you now, Miss Alvarez? How interesting.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an excellent firm.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard good things about your little firm, Marchand. Located somewhere uptown, right?¡± Elliot says with a smile. You¡¯re not one of the big ones.


    ¡°Upper West Side, yes.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s your father? I haven¡¯t seen him around muchtely, but then, he never liked the New York scene.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s doing well.¡±


    ¡°Did you know that Miss Alvarez here used to work for me?¡± Elliot grins at Henry before winking at me, as if we share a secret. In some ways, I suppose we do. I¡¯ve never told anyone about the Dome Project, and how his firm ended up getting it. I may hate this man, but I¡¯m smart enough to be afraid of him, too.


    ¡°He knows,¡± I say shortly.


    Henry¡¯s gaze shes down to mine. ¡°Yes.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°You showed some real promise, Faye. It¡¯s a shame it didn¡¯t work out for you at mypany. I¡¯m sure you could have gone far.¡± Elliot¡¯s smile is patronizing, and I feel my cheeks flush with anger. That makes it not once-but twice-I¡¯ve been spoken down to tonight, and that¡¯s entirely two times too many.


    ¡°I was the-¡±


    Henry cuts me off, and I swallow the insult I was stupidly about to throw at him. ¡°Faye is an excellent architect, as I¡¯m sure you know. Thank you for giving her a ce to cut her teeth, Ferris, and for letting her go. I owe you one.¡±


    Elliot¡¯s hooded eyes narrow. If there is one thing I know he doesn¡¯t like, it¡¯s being outwitted-or worse, outssed. And it¡¯s clear that Henry has both in spades.


    His smile turns snide. ¡°d you see it that way. And you¡¯ve clearly found her useful. Taking your staff to these events?¡± He winks at me again. ¡°You would¡¯ve protested if I¡¯d have asked.¡±


    I force myself to remain calm. ¡°Well, it was never really clear at Ferris Properties what was work and what was y.¡±


    They¡¯re his own words-he once said the same to me-and he knows it. I see how amusement drains from his gaze to reveal nothing but pure hatred. I¡¯m dangerous to him, and I¡¯ve just reminded him of that.


    Henry sees it too, because he cuts the interaction short.


    ¡°Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ferris. I trust I¡¯ll see you around.¡± He speaks with cool indifference, the kind of dismissal it takes a lifetime to learn how to deliver, barely making eye contact.


    Ferris hears it too. He¡¯s a sessful brute, but he¡¯s no blue blood, and I don¡¯t think he likes being reminded of that.


    ¡°Marchand,¡± he says tightly and walks away without another word to me.


    I slowly release the breath I was holding. That was too close. And Henry was witness to all of it, to his words and insinuations, to the disparagingments.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Henry asks, voice quiet. He¡¯s steering me toward a stairwell.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, but I feel like I¡¯m burning up inside. ¡°How dare he? In front of you, as well? And what he insinuated about you and me, and about me and him¡­ I would never. You must know that.¡±


    ¡°I do know it.¡±


    ¡°And you having to defend me and your choice to hire me.¡± I put my head in my hands, anger and shame making my skin hot to the touch. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ve made an enemy tonight, through no fault of your own.¡±


    And I know that Elliot Ferris doesn¡¯t make for a particrly nice enemy.


    Long fingers circle my wrists and gently, but forcefully, pull my hands away from my face. Henry¡¯s skin is warm and dry to the touch.


    ¡°Faye, I have never once liked Elliot Ferris, and he has never liked me. That goes back to the rivalry between him and my father. You did not start that, all right?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say. ¡°I didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Of course you didn¡¯t. And I defended my choice to hire you because it was the right choice. You don¡¯t have to convince me of Elliot Ferris¡¯s malpractice.¡±


    ¡°He really is an ass, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    Henry¡¯s lips curve upwards again. I realize he¡¯s standing close, far closer than usual, and his hands are still sped around my wrists. ¡°Yes, he really is.¡±


    I swallow thickly. ¡°Why are we by the stairs?¡±


    Henry drops my hands and takes a step back. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we call it a night. But before we do, I want to show you something, so this night hasn¡¯t been aplete bust for you. Have you ever been to this building before?¡±


    ¡°Many times.¡±


    He looks amused at my tone. ¡°But have you ever been to the roof?¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s not open to the public, I think?¡±


    ¡°It most certainly isn¡¯t. But we¡¯re not members of the public, not tonight.¡± He starts heading up the stairs and looks down his nose at me. ¡°We¡¯re patrons of the arts.¡±


    I can¡¯t help but smile as I follow him up the stairs. It¡¯s not hard to figure out what he¡¯s doing. He wants to take my mind off of Elliot, of the past, of the whole interaction.


    We reach the third floor. He¡¯s not even winded, and despite my frequent fitness sses, I am. What does this man do to be in the shape he is?


    ¡°It¡¯s up here.¡± He pauses at the corner of a hallway, peering around it. This high up, everything¡¯s deserted. We walk through a gallery with Bronze Age tes.

 Ice Cold Boss C24

    ¡°You¡¯ve done this before?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I think it¡¯s this door¡­ no, this one.¡± He stops at a wooden door. There¡¯s arge, red sign on it. Staff only.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    He walks straight up to it and tries the handle. It swings open, revealing a narrow iron staircase. ¡°Bingo.¡±


    ¡°Umm¡­ have you suddenly be illiterate?¡±


    Henry snorts. ¡°No. But sometimes you have to break the rules. Come on.¡±


    Surprised, shocked, and more than a little intrigued, I follow him up the narrow staircase. This is not at all what I expected from him-straiced, businesslike, take-no-prisoners Henry Marchand. Although, a small voice says inside me, for men like him there are no consequences to breaking the rules. He¡¯s the same as Elliot Ferris in that way.


    I push the thought away. They¡¯re both privileged, but that¡¯s where theparison ends.


    There¡¯s an iron door at the top of the staircase. Henry pauses in front of it. ¡°Please be unlocked,¡± he murmurs.


    And lo and behold¡­ the door swings open when he turns the handle. We¡¯re greeted to a gust of warm, New York air. It¡¯s hot forte May, summer approaching faster by each day.


    ¡°Et vo,¡± he says quietly. We¡¯re on the roof of the museum. Around us, the city¡¯s spires rise in dizzying heights, reaching for the dark, starless sky. Central Park stretches out to the side, a vast expanse of darkness.


    ¡°This is gorgeous.¡±


    ¡°Wait till you see this.¡± I follow Henry across the roof, to the cup of ss in the middle. Through the ss, we can see the mingling guests below and the exhibitions.


    ¡°If you stand right here, and you look through the ss¡­¡± He shows me where to ce my feet. ¡°Look through this specific pane of ss. Right here.¡±


    As I do, my vision changes. The world below is much closer-I can see the people below with startling rity. ¡°What is this? A magnifying ss?¡± I lean back and look at the pane. It looks warped, the ss thicker than the rest.


    Henry nods. ¡°It was the architect¡¯s own little joke, inserting a windowpane up here that doubles as binocrs. Made for spying.¡±


    I can¡¯t help but grin. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ wicked.¡±


    ¡°And something that could only be done a century ago. Can you imagine thewsuit if this was done today?¡±


    ¡°Astronomical.¡± I look through the ss again. I don¡¯t recognize the people directly beneath it, but that doesn¡¯t matter. These are the kind of oddities that make old buildingse alive. We¡¯re using a function that was designed in secret, by someone very different from us, in a bygone era. The architect is gone but this lives on, brought back to life tonight.


    ¡°How did you learn about this?¡±


    Henry rocks back on his heels. ¡°One of my old architecture professors from Yale is a good friend of mine now. When I first started out in New York, in one of those firms-simr to Ferris¡¯s-he took me out for coffee, and then he brought me here.¡±


    ¡°He knew about this.¡±


    ¡°His great-grandfather was the architect.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible.¡±


    ¡°That architects have children?¡± Henry¡¯s eyes glitter with amusement. ¡°No, that¡¯s entirely too possible.¡±


    I roll my eyes at him, but inside, I¡¯m awash with awe and envy. My college had been amazing, and I¡¯d been lucky to get the partial ride that I did. But none of my teachers had connections or ancestry like that.


    I¡¯m also intrigued. Henry has never spoken about himself, and yet, tonight I¡¯ve learned more things about him than I ever thought I would.


    ¡°Why do you think he showed you this?¡±


    Henry leans back against a low plinth. His face turns thoughtful, gaze drifting from me to the skyline. The lights of the city glitter around us like stars. ¡°I think he wanted to remind me of why we do this. Why we design and why we build.¡±


    I wrap my arms around myself, despite not being cold at all. I shouldn¡¯t push him-we¡¯re not friends-but I can¡¯t stop myself. ¡°Did he think you were in any danger of forgetting that?¡±


    Henry doesn¡¯t answer for a long time. He¡¯s still looking out over the city, a million miles away. ¡°You worked for a firm like Ferris Properties. You know how it is.¡±


    I nod, thinking of the constant pressure to profit. To squeeze the most out of every possible project-to asionally deliver substandard results to clients and builders alike. It was something I¡¯d hated, and most of the other architects with me. A race against the clock and the budget and Elliot Ferris¡¯s ambitions.


    ¡°Dors and cents.¡±


    He cocks his head. ¡°What really happened at yourst job?¡±


    I close my eyes and try to ignore the memories. Working until midnight every night without overtime. Being forced topete for projects, sometimes with deadlines just a few hours away. The shame of Elliot tearing your project apart in front of the entire staff. He liked doing that. It wasn¡¯t unusual for some of the junior architects to flee in tears after one of his teardowns.


    They were usually let go the next day.


    I¡¯d survived three teardowns without shedding a tear. You want this, I had repeated in my head as he criticized everything from the floor ns to the material choice. You¡¯re good at this.


    And the Century Dome¡­


    The sound of an ambnce on the street below us rushes past, the sirens wailing. ¡°He rules by fear,¡± I say. ¡°And not the good, inspiring kind. It¡¯s the one that makes everybody unsure if they¡¯ll have a job tomorrow if they make an arbitrary mistake.¡±


    Henry nods, as if he didn¡¯t expect anything else. ¡°He doesn¡¯t seem like a particrly adept boss.¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s not.¡± More memoriese rushing in. I know I should stop talking, that Henry doesn¡¯t need to know this. This is my new job and my opportunity at a renewed career. But he¡¯d asked.


    And I haven¡¯t spoken to anyone about this beside Jessie.


    ¡°He¡¯d won the Century Dome project before I started. It was just about to go into construction, but he wasn¡¯t happy with it. So I redesigned it. I was so happy to be there-to be working with this-that I did it without his knowledge.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine that went down well.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t, at first. Except he loved my designs. Overnight, they were incorporated into the dome. It was mediocre before my changes. And when I say changes, they were considerable. It lookedpletely different before.¡±


    His lip curves slightly, but his eyes are serious. ¡°I have no doubt about that.¡±


    ¡°And I was running point. Promoted. It was a dream job, despite the frequent scoldings, thest-minutes changes, his temper. All Ferris cares about is prestige and money. Being the best, even if it¡¯s a sham.¡±


    Henry nods. ¡°He¡¯s not particrly well-respected amongst architects.¡±


    ¡°In the end I was probably too much of a liability. The Century Dome was unveiled, and I knew too much. I¡¯d been involved but gotten no credit. He couldn¡¯t have me talking, and offense is the best defense,¡± I say. ¡°I was fired without a letter of rmendation and discredited amongst my co-workers.¡±


    Henry¡¯s jaw is clenched tight, but he doesn¡¯t ask for more details. He just shakes his head. ¡°The man is a disgrace to the profession.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C25

    ¡°That project was yours, and your name is nowhere near it.¡±


    He understands-of course he understands. My vanity and pride, the part of me that had wanted this since I was a kid, had been the most upset by that part. That something I¡¯d given years of my life to could not be traced in any way back to me.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you could handle being that civil to him.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I shoot him a crooked smile. ¡°Well, you helped. There was a time when all I wanted was to hit him.¡±


    Henry raises an eyebrow. ¡°Violent, Miss Alvarez?¡±


    ¡°When provoked.¡±


    ¡°Then rightly so,¡± he says. His jaw clenches again, eyes turning hard. ¡°Was he ever inappropriate toward you?¡±


    It¡¯s not hard to imagine what he¡¯s thinking of. I¡¯d used that word in my letter-lecherous. ¡°All the time. That was his way, you know.¡± I shake my head, thinking about the slyments and the roaming eyes. ¡°He madements. Suggestions. Invited my attention-sure. But he never tried anything with me after my consistent nos. I think he knew that I¡¯d quit if he did, and he¡¯d lose the Dome.¡±


    Henry nods. Silhouetted by the city lights, the evening breeze ruffling his thick hair, he looks otherworldly. Tall and tux-d, with eyes that are almost bruising in their intensity. ¡°Good answer,¡± he says tightly.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Because if you had phrased that any differently, I¡¯d have had to go downstairs again and find the man.¡±


    ¡°Violent, Mr. Marchand?¡±


    ¡°When provoked,¡± he echoes. The velvet in his voice is back, and I find myself trapped in his gaze. I don¡¯t want to look away.


    We couldn¡¯te from more different worlds; the power imbnce between us is astronomical. And still, I have the unsettling feeling that no one has ever understood me better.


    Henry¡¯s lips curve into a fully fledged smile. It softens his strong features and reveals the faintest hint of a dimple. Is that why he never smiles? Because he doesn¡¯t want to look too human?


    No, I think. It¡¯s because it makes him devastatingly handsome.


    The smile lights his eyes. ¡°Another staring contest, Faye? You really are twelve.¡±


    ¡°Am I? Look away, then.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says softly. ¡°I don¡¯t think I will.¡±


    And all around us, the city looks on, shining in approval.


    Henry


    On Monday, by unspoken agreement, Faye and I don¡¯t talk about the Founders¡¯ G or the intimate conversation we had on the roof. Doing that would be acknowledgement of the friendship between us, tentative as it might be, something that has no ce in the office.


    Faye is as prepared for the Monday meeting as always. ¡°You have the ten o¡¯clock meeting with Montgomery on Wednesday. I¡¯ll send them the briefs tomorrow when the architects are done with it.¡±


    ¡°Good. And if they¡¯re not, you have my permission to push them on it,¡± I say. A few employees in my architect team love to ask for extensions-as if everyone didn¡¯t have to work to meet deadlines.


    Faye nods and taps away at herptop. Her hair is in a high ponytail today, and while it might look severe on other women, it only enhances her features. Her skin looks wless, like smooth silk. My mind immediately wonders if it¡¯s like that everywhere-but I can¡¯t. She¡¯s off-limits.


    And if there is one thing I won¡¯t do, it¡¯s be Elliot Ferris.


    ¡°Your trip to Chicago on Thursday is all set and booked, as are your meetings there. I¡¯ll prepare the travel documents and leave them in a binder on your desk Wednesday.¡±


    I doubt I¡¯ve ever looked forward to a trip less, but I¡¯d promised my dad I¡¯d at least take a look at the project. I could ask Faye toe along. She¡¯d be by my side, taking notes, listening intently. If she saw what I feared I would, her feedback might be invaluable.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be out of the office most of Thursday, but you know that,¡± Faye continues. ¡°I¡¯ll set an out-of-office message on my phone, same as on yours. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll miss too much, but it¡¯s unavoidable.¡±


    Ah, the pitch with Terri.


    There¡¯s a faint flush of excitement on Faye¡¯s cheeks. ¡°How¡¯s iting along? Working with Terri?¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± she says. ¡°I can¡¯t see how Kyle had a problem with her. The design they worked on is sleek and fulfills the client¡¯s brief. I think the pitch will go very well.¡±


    ¡°I have no doubt of that. You¡¯ll do great.¡± Faye ispetent, brave, and professional-when she wants to be. Taking Kyle off the project had been the right thing to do. The man was talented but a damn pain in the ass sometimes.


    Faye¡¯s eyes light up at my words. Dangerous, the voice whispers inside my head again, at how beautiful it makes her look. At how good it feels to see my words having that effect on her.


    ¡°Thank you. Is that all for this week?¡±


    I run my fingers along the edge of the oak table. ¡°Is my Wednesday afternoon and evening still free?¡±


    It¡¯s an unnecessary question. I know it is.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate your input on the opera house then. Pencil in an hour for us sometime that afternoon.¡±


    She nods and gathers her things. ¡°Absolutely. Did the night at the museum inspire you?¡±


    I think of her eyes, wide with amazement as I showed her the magnifying ss on the roof. The bravery and strength with which she spoke of her time at Elliot Ferris¡¯s. The way her body looked in the golden sheath, the way she felt against my arm, and her cheekiness when she told Avery off.


    ¡°Greatly,¡± I say.


    Faye shoots me a smile. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to have my notes ready for Wednesday, then.¡±


    I watch her leave my office and the door closing behind her. Risky, I tell myself. It¡¯s too risky. And still, I find myself unable to stop wanting her.


    That afternoon, Faye¡¯s voice crackles through the inte, interrupting my reading of an investment proposal.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Your sister is on the phone?¡± It¡¯s spoken like a question-and it¡¯s not hard to imagine why. I¡¯ve never mentioned my family or instructed her about who¡¯s allowed to be patched through, because no one besides Mom is insane enough to call me at work. My sister never has. I frown, my mind running through all kinds of terrible scenarios.


    ¡°Put her through.¡±


    I hear the telltale beep. ¡°Hey, Lils.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C26

    ¡°I don¡¯t usually call you at work, I know-I¡¯m truly very sorry. But I need to get this finished now, and I don¡¯t want to rush you, but it¡¯s also a bit tight on time.¡±


    Her cheery voice is exactly like I remember, all sunshine and scrubby knees and summers by the ocean. She might be a grown woman with her own business, but she¡¯s still my little sister.


    ¡°What do you need?¡±


    ¡°Just some tentative information about who you¡¯re thinking about bringing to my wedding. And before you sigh-don¡¯t you dare, Henry Marchand-I¡¯m not pushing like Mom is. I don¡¯t care who you date or don¡¯t date. You¡¯re very wee to go stag, or with a man if you¡¯ve changed your preferences, or with several-no. Not several women. But you know what I mean.¡±


    I can¡¯t help but smile. ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the weekend after next, and the absolute final order for the caterers goes in today. So I¡¯m just calling to let you know that after today you can¡¯t bring anyone who has specific dietary restrictions.¡±


    I snort. ¡°What if I meet the love of my life tomorrow, and she just happens to be vegan? Orctose intolerant?¡±


    ¡°Nope, no dice. You¡¯ll have to move on to the next one.¡±


    ¡°Harsh, Lily.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± she says, a smile in her voice. ¡°You¡¯re staying for the full weekend, right?¡±


    A pang of guilt shes through me at the question. My family is so used to meing and going, cutting family events short for business trips and meetings, that they have to double-check.


    ¡°Yes, I am. Absolutely.¡±


    ¡°Good. I was thinking we could even take the Frida out one of the days, just us kids.¡±


    ¡°Plus Hayden?¡± Her soon-to-be-husband had basically grown up with us, and even if he¡¯d been gone nearly ten years before he returned, I know my brothers consider him family.


    ¡°No. Maybe. I don¡¯t know?¡± Lily sighs. ¡°This whole wedding thing is so stressful. I¡¯m starting to appreciate Hayden¡¯s initial idea of eloping more and more.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare. I¡¯ve taken two days off work for this.¡±


    Her pealingughter rings out through the phone. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t call it off. And I can fix ast-minute name card for whoever you¡¯re bringing, so don¡¯t let Mom stress you out about it if she calls you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Do you have to get back to plotting world domination now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Somehow, I have to work for it. You¡¯d think the world would want to be dominated, with the mess it¡¯s in.¡±


    Lilyughs again. ¡°All right, I¡¯ll let you go, then.¡±


    ¡°Take care, Lily. Try not to stress too much.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± There¡¯s a faint pause. ¡°You sound happy, Henry. Keep it up.¡±


    I blink in surprise at the phone in my hand. She¡¯s hung up, so there¡¯s no need to respond, but still¡­ Lily is outspoken, but I can¡¯t remember her evermenting on my mood like that.


    At least she didn¡¯t press me on who I was bringing. Before she called, I¡¯d decided to go without a date-I had introduced very few women to my family, and my mom¡¯s badgering wouldn¡¯t change that-but the call had sparked an idea.


    The opera house is due the week after the wedding. I¡¯d be short on time as it was, without taking four days off. I¡¯d have to work on it while I was there. And Faye had already proven herself to be a great date. How efficient would it be tobine the two?


    Dangerous, my mind warns. It wouldn¡¯t be wise considering my attraction to her. It would be risky. Potentially stupid. At the same time¡­ the more I think about it, the more fun the idea sounds.


    Faye knocks on my doorte on Wednesday to work on the opera project. She¡¯s tucked herptop under her arm, holding both drafting and tracing paper. Everything about her screams professionalism; the tailored pants, the zer, the set look on her features.


    She startsying her things out on the conference table. ¡°Now, I was thinking we could go straight in with-¡± She pauses when she sees my expression. ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Is it toote to cancel Chicago?¡±


    ¡°No. We might not get refunds, but that shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡± She shrugs. ¡°You definitely won¡¯t be popr with thepany you¡¯re meeting with, though.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to go? I thought the project could be big for the firm.¡±


    I tap my fingers along the arm of my chair. ¡°Massive.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know much about it. There aren¡¯t any files in the system. I checked,¡± she adds sheepishly. ¡°Who are you really meeting with?¡±


    It¡¯s nice, talking with her like this. Sharing these things. I haven¡¯t done this with assistants before, but then again, none of them were quite like Faye.


    ¡°I¡¯m meeting with investors attempting to buy up arge swath of property on the East Side of Chicago.¡±


    Dark eyes meet mine. ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re going to force out tenants and demolish the properties after the acquisition, I¡¯m guessing.¡± Her voice has turned hard-harder than I¡¯ve heard it before. She knows this process better than I expected, and she¡¯s reached the same conclusion I have.


    ¡°I expect so, yes. Forced gentrification.¡±


    ¡°What are they nning to build there instead?¡±


    ¡°Apartment buildings, a mall, and a small park.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Faye is looking at the tracing paper, but there¡¯s tension in her shoulders. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like a project that Marchand & Rykers usually takes on.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not. I¡¯m taking the meeting with the investor as a favor to a friend.¡±


    She nods, and her eyes find mine again. ¡°And what do you think? Do you think it¡¯s a good opportunity?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s clear that you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Well, financially I¡¯m sure it would be a great opportunity. But I think this firm should focus on¡­ other projects. Like the ones we¡¯re already doing.¡±


    Prestige projects, she means. The ones where we design skyscrapers and office buildings, parks and sculptures. Choosing our projects wisely had been the only rule Rykers and I had set when we joined our names and capital for the firm.


    I sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t disagree with you. The project feels¡­ unsavory at best, and amoral at worst.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C27

    Her eyes lighten. I¡¯ve said something that she approves of again. I hate how alluring that is, how it makes me want to test it, to see what she wants to hear.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll go through with it?¡±


    ¡°No. I can¡¯t see myself signing on to this project, for exactly the reasons you¡¯ve outlined. But walking away will make a few people upset with the firm.¡±


    And with me.


    ¡°So you¡¯re going there to make it look like you¡¯ve at least properly considered it. Very smart.¡± She shoots me a smile. ¡°You¡¯re turning them down gently. I wouldn¡¯t have expected it from you.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    Faye looks a bit sheepish again, like she¡¯s said too much. ¡°It¡¯s just, in business, you have a certain¡­ reputation.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow at her. ¡°I have a reputation?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and you know you do.¡±


    It takes effort to stop myself from smiling at the consternation in her voice. She crosses her legs, the light in the office reflecting off her dark hair. It¡¯s pulled into a low bun today, but I know what it looks like falling down her shoulders. How would it look spread out on my pillow?


    I decide to y along. ¡°Let¡¯s say I don¡¯t. Enlighten me.¡±


    Faye huffs a sigh. ¡°All right. I¡¯m requesting permission to speak off the record here, though.¡±


    ¡°Permission granted.¡±


    She takes a deep breath, as if gathering courage. ¡°You can be bullish. You don¡¯t say thank you or please. Whenever someone is off deadline, you scold them, like you would a child. When you walk through the office everyone sits up a bit straighter. You don¡¯te to any social events with thepany.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. They wouldn¡¯t want me there.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°That might be true, but it¡¯s beside the point. It¡¯s just¡­ you¡¯re known for being hard on people. On my first day here, I was basically told that the odds weren¡¯t in my favor-I wasn¡¯t going tost.¡±


    I frown. ¡°Who told you that?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she says with a small, triumphant smile. ¡°And have I now destroyed my shot at a career by answering honestly?¡±


    ¡°No. Part of what I¡¯m paying you for is your honesty.¡±


    She taps the design in front of her. ¡°Even if it¡¯s hard to hear? I know you hated my suggestion of adding wood.¡±


    ¡°Especially if it¡¯s hard to hear.¡± I rise from my desk and head to the model in the corner. Sweeping the cover off, I¡¯m struck again by the feeling that something¡¯s missing. It¡¯s something we¡¯re fixing now in the blueprints, with Faye¡¯s additions, but we have to be finished quickly enough that I canmission another model before it¡¯s due for submission.


    ¡°Why did your previous assistants end up quitting? Or were they let go?¡± Faye¡¯s tone is teasing, and curious, sounding just like she did at the g. It had been intoxicating to have her by my side the whole evening. When I¡¯d dropped her off at her apartment muchter, I hadn¡¯t wanted to let her go, to relinquish the intimacy between us.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Are you asking so you can avoid making their mistakes?¡±


    Faye¡¯s gaze turns amused. ¡°Maybe. Do I need pointers?¡±


    ¡°No. You¡¯re doing better than all of them,¡± I say. It¡¯s true-and it¡¯s not. Rina had been professional and highly efficient. Never spoke a word to me outside of talking shop, and I hadn¡¯t been surprised when she was head-hunted to arger firm. Felicity had been good at her job, too. But none of them had been Faye-and none of them had understood architecture.


    She smiles again. It¡¯s not her practiced, megawatt smile, the one that shows off her perfect teeth. This is a small curve of her lips. It sets her features alight.


    God, but she¡¯s beautiful.


    ¡°How did you get into this?¡± I ask. ¡°Architecture?¡±


    She shrugs, the smile faltering slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know, exactly. I always enjoyed building and creating as a kid. I had a great teacher at school. She saw my interest in history, particrly in old buildings, and suggested architecture. It stuck.¡±


    My mind paints the images for me. A younger version of Faye with her dark hair unbound, bent over architecture books in arge library, studying angles and structuralism and urban nning.


    ¡°And you were good at it.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Another elegant shrug. There¡¯s no false modesty in her gaze, but no bragging, either. ¡°Like I¡¯m sure you were. Now, should we get started? The deadline is only a few weeks away.¡±


    I tear my gaze away from hers toward the model. The opera house. Deadlines. It feels harder than ever to lock myself away, to be professional with her again. I don¡¯t know how she does it so easily-switches between friendly banter and work. With her around I feel like I¡¯m constantly slipping.


    ¡°Yes. You said you had some notes?¡±


    She nods. We dive straight into the restructuring of the opera house. Most of her suggestions are good-some I¡¯ll have to think about. It¡¯s cute, too, how she tries to be encouraging.


    ¡°This backstage area is too small, I think. If you make the outer staircases two feet narrower, you¡¯d be able to expand the area without sacrificing any structural features.¡± She looks up at me, as if worried she¡¯s offended me. ¡°But it¡¯s really smart. Very well-executed.¡±


    I smile wryly. ¡°I can handle criticism, Miss Alvarez.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± Faye really works down the list, then. Shements on nearly every part of the structure. I make a few notes of the things that stand out to me. She has a good eye, and she hasn¡¯tmented on things that are clearly stylistic-a good editor, too.


    It¡¯s nearly nine in the evening when I notice that she¡¯s discreetly covering a yawn. I close myptop. ¡°I think we¡¯ve gotten far enough today. The project will keep.¡±


    Faye stands and stretches fluidly from side to side, her body sinuous. ¡°Will you order a new model when we¡¯re done?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Shees to my side and we gaze down at the model in silence. It¡¯s a requirement for the submission-juries of these kinds of things like big, shy showmanship. Of the eight members of the jury, four have no architectural knowledge at all. To win them you have to impress them on first sight.


    ¡°Who did you use?¡± she asks, bending closer to see the details. This close, the scent of her strikes me again, just as strong as it had at the g. Clean soap and shampoo, and something faint and floral. My eyes find the back of her neck. Left bare beneath the low bun, it looks vulnerable, the skin soft. How easy it would be to pull her close and trace the area with my lips.


    She looks back at me. There¡¯s a question in her eyes-what did she ask me again?-but it dies as she sees the expression in mine. There¡¯s not a professional thought in my head.


    Faye¡¯s mouth opens slightly. I should speak and put an end to this unexpected intimacy between us, but I find myself unable to.


    A smile ghosts across her lips. ¡°Another staring contest, sir?¡±


    The sir is teasing, and I can¡¯t help the twitch of my own lips. ¡°No. I was just wondering how you get home when you workte at the office.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t been wondering that at all, but now that I¡¯ve said it, it rings true.


    ¡°The subway,¡± she breathes. ¡°We can¡¯t all be old, rich stooges.¡±


    ¡°Taxis are on the firm after eight p. m.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C28

    She raises an eyebrow. ¡°Is that a new rule?¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯ve had it forever.¡±


    ¡°Liar.¡±


    I step away from the model, putting my hands in my pockets. The space feels good-my head already clearer. ¡°Whenever you workte for me, taxis are on the firm. Doesn¡¯t matter when the rule was made.¡±


    ¡°I can handle myself.¡±


    I frown. Does everything have to be an argument? ¡°It¡¯s a perk. Take it.¡±


    She rolls her eyes at me-again!-and starts packing up her things. ¡°We¡¯ll have to work on this a lot next week, after you get back from Chicago. The deadline is in July?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She frowns. ¡°Your time off is next week, right? Thursday and Friday?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say again. She¡¯s speaking to me like we¡¯re a team. Like we¡¯re friends, like she enjoys the battle of wits. It¡¯s been a long time since I had that kind of connection with someone.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to work a few nights next week too, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°Yes. Regarding that, though¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Do you feel up to the challenge of ying my date again?¡±


    Faye¡¯s eyebrows rise. Her eyes gleam with light again, the samepetitive re we share. She¡¯ll never say no to a challenge I give her.


    ¡°I take it you were pleased with my performance at the g, then.¡±


    I nod, remembering her drymentary. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m going to a wedding next weekend and I¡¯m expected to bring a date. We¡¯d be gone three nights, and we¡¯d be able to use most of the time during the days to work on the project.¡±


    ¡°A wedding,¡± she repeats slowly.


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯d be paid for the overtime, of course. Handsomely.¡±


    She clears her throat, a flush rising on her cheeks. ¡°Would we have our own quarters?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Separate bedrooms.¡±


    ¡°This is¡­¡±


    ¡°Unorthodox? Yes. Take some time to think about it. We can discuss it when I get back from Chicago.¡±


    Faye swings her bag over her shoulder. ¡°All right, I will.¡±


    ¡°And take a taxi home.¡±


    She nods and heads out, but pauses by the door to my office. Her eyes flit back to mine. ¡°One final question. Whose wedding is it?¡±


    ¡°My sister¡¯s,¡± I reply. Her eyebrows shoot high, and I have to work to keep my face impassive. She¡¯ll have more questions for me before the week is out, that¡¯s for sure. ¡°Good night, Miss Alvarez, and good luck on your pitch tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she murmurs, the door closing behind her with a soft snick.


    I release a breath, unsure if what I¡¯ve just set in motion is unbelievably stupid, outrageously reckless, or the best thing I¡¯ve done in years.


    Faye


    I reach for my phone and deactivate my useless rm. The time is barely six a. m., but I¡¯m wide awake, and I know I won¡¯t be getting any more sleep. Might as well get up. I swing my legs out of bed and walk the few steps to my kitchen. Make coffee. Say hello to my palm tree.


    God, the night had been such an exercise in patience. Tossing and turning, my mind racing from one thought to the other. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve gotten more than a few hours of sleep.


    I¡¯m pitching today. It¡¯s my first chance in months to be a genuine architect, to represent the firm next to Terri. For Elliot Ferris, I pitched regrly, but that doesn¡¯t stop the nerves in my stomach.


    Terri had been professional about the whole thing after Kyle was taken off the project, and I¡¯d been nothing but efficient back. It didn¡¯t exactly surprise me that the bad apple in that coboration had been Kyle. There were plenty of people like him in this industry, who were quietlypetitive in every interaction, every discussion. It was draining.


    But that wasn¡¯t the only reason I had trouble sleeping. Be my date.


    Oh, to what, Henry?


    My sister¡¯s wedding.


    The man had lost his damn mind.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I try to blink the tiredness out of my eyes in the shower, letting the warm water wash away my qualms and fears. He was asking it as a favor, as my boss, as a someone with a crucial deadline only a few weeks after the wedding. We¡¯d handled the Founders¡¯ G admirably. Why wouldn¡¯t we be able to handle a weekend away?


    The woman I see in my bathroom mirror is determined-and very obviously tired-but definitely determined. Somehow, I managed to get this job. I¡¯m not going to risk un-getting it just because my boss happens to be handsome as sin and canmand a room like some ancient, conquering hero.


    If there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve always been good at it, it¡¯s nning. Strategy. It¡¯s how I got through years of college with extra jobs, how I¡¯m managing to pay off my student debt aggressively each month. It¡¯s the hours I spent in the library studying elevation and structure.


    If Henry Marchand wants a date for his family wedding, I¡¯d be the epitome of a perfect date. And whenever I could, I¡¯d work on his opera house, helping him improve the beautiful structure. I¡¯d just have to make sure I got something in return for it-something that would help me career-wise.


    And keep my pointless attraction to him hidden.


    Easy, peasy.


    My mom calls as I¡¯m on my way to work. As always, my chest warms when I hear her familiar voice. Neither she nor my dad understands the business I¡¯m in all that well, but they¡¯ve never been anything but supportive.


    ¡°Good luck today, sweetie,¡± she tells me. ¡°We haveplete confidence in you.¡±


    My dad pops on the phone. ¡°Knock them dead, mija.¡±


    My heart is full when we hang up. It¡¯s been too long since I went back home to visit, and talking to them again has reminded me of that.


    New York is a beat under my feet. In the summer sun, the city is on fire, music drifting from open windows and the smell of sun lotion on hot skin. On days like this, it¡¯s easy to remember why I came here. Why I was drawn to the pace, the people, the power of this city. It¡¯s a ce that has seen things, and when I was twenty-two, I¡¯d seen nothing at all.


    Around me, skyscrapers rise like giants, reaching for the sky. Immovable, innumerable, they¡¯re testaments to the vision of architects and builders. If they¡¯re well-constructed, they¡¯ll be here after I¡¯m gone. The brick-stone buildings that are intermingled with them definitely will be.

 Ice Cold Boss C29

    Terri is waiting for me when I arrive at work. Her blonde bob is perfectly straight, a severe cut that makes her look even more professional. She¡¯s printed out our material, and our slideshow is ready on not one but two separate USBs.


    ¡°You can never be too careful.¡±


    ¡°Definitely not.¡± I skim through the printed material, counting the copies once, then twice.T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she says. ¡°There¡¯s enough for every board member we¡¯re pitching to, with five extra copies just in case.¡±


    A woman of my own heart. Terri doesn¡¯t seem like someone who takes any crap, and it¡¯s not hard to imagine why Kyle had a problem with her. She¡¯s not someone you intimidate.


    She gestures for me to take a seat next to her desk. ¡°Now, we¡¯ve gone through this pitch backwards and forwards. Do you feel like you know what you¡¯re going to say?¡±


    I nod. She¡¯s being heavy-handed, but I don¡¯t mind. The woman was handed a personal assistant, told she had an architecture degree, and one week toplete a months-long project. ¡°I do. When you¡¯re done with the main pitch, I¡¯ll break down the financials. We have all the numbers and slides for that.¡± I put a hand on the booklets she¡¯s prepared. ¡°And don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll highlight the final cost for them. And re-highlight it.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She sinks into the chair opposite me, her fingers fiddling with one of the USBs. ¡°That¡¯s the one thing we have going for us. It¡¯s going toe in significantly under budgetpared to ourpetitors. At least, I think it will.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good project. You and Kyle came up with something truly beautiful.¡±


    Terri half-smiles. ¡°In the end we did, yes. We¡¯d better get this project, Faye.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say, because I do. We¡¯ll have to answer to both Rykers and Henry if we don¡¯t-that¡¯s the way firms of this caliber operate. Take no prisoners and make no mistakes.


    Perfection isn¡¯t apuded, it¡¯s expected.


    She rolls her neck. ¡°Let¡¯s get going. I want to get a coffee on the way, and I¡¯d rather be early thante. Rykers will meet us there.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s joining?¡±


    ¡°Yes, she just texted me to let me know she¡¯s sitting in.¡± Her voice is tight. If one of the partners wants to supervise our pitch¡­ this must be an even bigger deal than I¡¯d realized.


    We head out of the office in silence, our heels clicking in unison on the marble floor. A few of the other architects watch us go. Dean pops up from his cubicle to wish us good luck, but he¡¯s one of the few. In the back of the office, I see Kyle by his desk, staunchly ignoring us.


    I check my phone in the elevator, double-checking arrivals at Chicago O¡¯Hare airport. Henry¡¯s flightnded on time, forty minutes ago. Excellent.


    I prepped everything in his calendar-the names of the people he¡¯s meeting, the location, the damn lunch order-but I still have my phone on vibrate in my pocket. The assistant¡¯s creed has be my own, trying to anticipate his every need.


    Terri clears her throat. ¡°You know, you surprised me, Faye.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°A degree in architecture, and you¡¯re working as an assistant. I didn¡¯t know that when you started here.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t say it with any malice, but there¡¯s an edge to her voice. It¡¯s the same quietpetitiveness that permeates the entire office.


    I shrug. ¡°I wanted a change of scenery, and I¡¯d been looking for a way into Marchand & Rykers for a while. You learn a lot from working with the best.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Yes, it¡¯s a great firm.¡±


    I resist the urge to smile. Of course she liked an exnation that made her job seem even harder to get. ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°Has Marchand mentioned anything about shifting you permanently to the architecture team?¡± Her eyes are intelligent, narrowed, giving nothing away. I¡¯ve heard the ruthless office politics yed out over coffee in the break room, and I have no intention of bing one of the topics.


    ¡°No, he hasn¡¯t,¡± I say carefully. ¡°I¡¯ve only been working for the firm for a month, after all. I¡¯m still in the trial period.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll pass it with flying colors.¡± Terri nods to the receptionist. ¡°Call us a taxi?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    The car ride is silent. I imagine Terri¡¯s working through her words the same way I am. I know I¡¯m the weak link in this whole situation; the only person who vouched for me is Henry. He might have cracked the door for me, but I¡¯m the one who needs to shoulder it open.


    My phone buzzes in my pocket. Henry Marchand. He usually emails or calls; texts are reserved for quickmunication.


    Henry Marchand: Good luck with your pitch. Kill it.


    It¡¯s a small text, but I read it twice. I can¡¯t imagine that he texted any of his other assistants-or employees-with encouragement. Can you be friends with your boss?


    You can, I decide, but only a friend. I¡¯ve been ignoring the butterflies that go wild in my stomach around him sometimes. And I¡¯ve definitely not thought about the night on the roof at the museum-when it felt like we were the same person. My response is quick.


    Faye Alvarez: Thanks. Enjoy Chicago, the city that invented spray paint.


    Three dots appear; he¡¯s typing. What did I just send?


    Henry Marchand: I can¡¯t possibly imagine why you¡¯d remember something like that. Do you spend your evenings memorizing facts?


    My smile is half amusement, half relief at his response. I¡¯d sent something stupid, but he¡¯d yed right along with it.


    Faye Alvarez: I¡¯m deadly at trivia games and pub quizzes.


    Henry Marchand: Tell me another one.


    I try to think of something that might amuse him. It¡¯s not hard, given our mutual interest, although it¡¯s not Chicago-rted.


    Faye Alvarez: Architecture was once an Olympic sport.


    It¡¯s something I read in school, and it always stuck with me, for some reason. There¡¯s a faint pause before his response, though I see him typing. Is he walking to a meeting? Sitting in a car, like I am?


    Henry Marchand: I knew that. The Empire State Building makes more money from the observation deck than from all the floors of office space. Combined.


    Damn. I didn¡¯t know that. A slow smile spreads on my face, staring down at his words. Are wepeting with facts now? This is silly, and childish, and amazing.


    How can I top that? I rack my brain for information. Things he might not know, facts regarding building, structures¡­ architectural history.


    Faye Alvarez: The Inca civilization considered bridges to be so sacred that anyone who tried to sabotage them was immediately put to death.


    There. Not a lot of people knew that-fingers crossed he wasn¡¯t one of them. A voice breaks me out of my texting.


    ¡°You¡¯re never off the clock, are you, even when he¡¯s out of town?¡± Terri nces at me and my thumbs moving across the screen. ¡°Does Marchand run you ragged?¡±


    I put my phone down. ¡°He¡¯s a good boss.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C30

    ¡°He¡¯s direct, yes.¡± Her gaze turns curious. ¡°A lot of us were surprised when he decided to put you on this project.¡±


    I could only imagine, having seen the nces the other architects shot me well enough. ¡°He knows about my background.¡±


    Terri nods again and turns to face the window. I can tell there¡¯s more on her tongue, but she mercifully doesn¡¯t press.


    Henry¡¯s responded, this time with a fact of his own.


    Henry Marchand: Cincinnati has an entire subway system underground,plete with tunnels and stations, that¡¯s never been used.


    That¡¯s news to me. I¡¯ll have to Google thatter and find out more. Our cabes to a stop, and Terri leads the way, shaking hands, introducing me as her associate. Together, we make pleasant small talk with the other architects in the lobby.


    ¡°Rykers just arrived,¡± she whispers under her breath to me. ¡°Our turn to pitch is next.¡±


    I straighten my shoulders and run through the numbers I¡¯m to present in my head again. I got this. ¡°We¡¯re ready,¡± I whisper back. ¡°Let¡¯s kick some ass.¡±


    Her eyes widen in amusement, but she nods. ¡°Let¡¯s.¡±


    We walk side by side into the boardroom, following Marlena Rykers, ready to put it all on the line.


    Henry


    Chicago is miserable.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    It¡¯s miserable the first day, when I see the project my father wants me to invest in. It¡¯s miserable the day after, when I tell his partners that I¡¯m not going to invest or ept the project.


    And it¡¯s miserable now, having to exin the reason to a man who can¡¯t fathom why I¡¯d turn my back on what he considers generosity.


    ¡°Henry, you can¡¯t be serious.¡± The look my father shoots me is scathing. It¡¯s one I recognize well; he reserves it for people he doesn¡¯t respect. I¡¯ve seen it turned on waitstaff, on my aunt, on my little sister when she was a teenager watching reality TV.


    ¡°I am. I came here, as you asked, and I¡¯ve seen the project with my own eyes. It¡¯s not something I¡¯m interested in.¡±


    He braces his hands on the table. The te in front of him remains untouched, has been since we started this conversation. ¡°I did you a favor here, son. Piers and Rolfe took my word when I vouched for you.¡±


    ¡°I understand that. But I never once said that this was a done deal for me. I told you that I wanted to see it myself before making a decision.¡±


    His scowl deepens. ¡°You could at least have been civil about it. I raised you better than that.¡±


    I put my own fork and knife down, the vors in my mouth turning to ash. ¡°I was civil. I listened to their presentations. I looked at the development. I went over the financials. I did my due diligence before I told them-politely, out of respect for you-that the project wasn¡¯t for me or my firm.¡±


    ¡°The New York scene has twisted your head. You¡¯re a small firm. These prestige projects of yours-they¡¯re excellent when you have a base to stand on.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°But it¡¯s projects like these that make you money. Enough money to fund a thousand of your parks. You think you¡¯re above things like this?¡±


    This conversation is going nowhere.


    ¡°My firm, my decisions,¡± I say, knowing it will annoy him. He was the one who had told me once that I would have to work my way up before he would even consider partnering with me on a project.


    He brings his hand down hard on the table. Our winesses shake, drawing curious looks from the other tables. ¡°Damn it, Henry. You¡¯re not a child anymore, ying with architectural models. It¡¯s time to step into the big leagues. We build for profit.¡±


    I think of Elliot Ross and his conqueror¡¯s grin.


    I think of Faye and her beautiful eyes, lit up with excitement over a new design element.


    ¡°I¡¯ll reach the big leagues in my own way. If you think I act like projects like this are beneath me, let me make something perfectly clear to you. It¡¯s because they are.¡± I take a breath, watching as his eyes grow steely and distant, ignoring my own response to his disapproval. ¡°We both know Piers and Rolfe¡¯s business practices are distasteful, even if you won¡¯t admit it. Pushing out people who have lived there for decades-it¡¯s disgusting. The city zoningws are set to be reformed in a few months, and if it¡¯s not in their favor, the project is dead in the water anyway. I think you should walk away too, Dad.¡±


    ¡°Then howe my own people found no fault in this, huh? Why are you the only one?¡±


    I highly doubt that-the people he surrounds himself with have a talent for making money, not making good decisions-but I can¡¯t say that.


    ¡°Why did Piers and Rolfe only ask you?¡± I counter. ¡°They¡¯re not looking for other investors, are they?¡±


    He crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing, just stares at me, gray eyes narrowed. The anger rolls off him in waves, thunderous and ck. We might not be finished with our meals but it¡¯s very clear that dinner is over.


    ¡°You¡¯reing to Lily¡¯s wedding next weekend.¡±


    It¡¯s a statement, not a question, but I give a nod regardless. ¡°Of course I am.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯d be heartbroken if you weren¡¯t there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going.¡± The absolutest thing I need is to be lectured about how to handle my younger siblings, especially Lily, whose wedding I wouldn¡¯t miss for the world.


    His frown is still in ce. ¡°Rhys hasn¡¯t been in touch for a while.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s good. He¡¯sing as well, of course.¡±


    Dad gives a curt nod. His rtionship with his middle son has never been good, and I often serve as a mediator. One of the many perks of being the eldest.


    ¡°Fine.¡± He motions for the waitress and gives her the universal signal for the check. ¡°You should head to the airport.¡±


    Ah, and the send-off. He¡¯s still pissed all right.


    ¡°I will.¡±


    The silence is tense as we wait for the check. My father signs it with a flurry-I know better than to offer my own credit card and be called ungrateful again-and we stand. I¡¯m a head taller than him, having grown past him when I was sixteen. It¡¯s ever stopped bothering him.


    ¡°You¡¯re bringing a girl to the wedding?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Good. Your mom is worried. It¡¯s not natural when your youngest child is the one to get married first.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always told her not to get her hopes up regarding me,¡± I caution.


    Dad waves a hand. ¡°That¡¯s what she does. Now, I have more business to attend to tonight.¡±


    It¡¯s hard to keep my face impassive at that, but I manage. ¡°Fine. Until next weekend.¡±


    We shake hands. The emotions flowing out of him are clear, from the hard set of his shoulders to the disapproving look in his eyes. Ungrateful, it says. Not good enough.


    I ignore it on the ride to the airport. I ignore it in the lounge, focusing on the ss of whiskey in my hand instead. The decision is sound. I have no qualms about that. The stubborn, impossible, insufferable man just needs to get that through his head. But despite my conviction, the flight back to New York is as miserable as the trip had been.

 Ice Cold Boss C31

    In the car back to the office, I read through emails on my phone. A new one is resting right at the top from Marlena Rykers. She¡¯s forwarded a much longer email from Priority Media, adding only two lines of her own to the top.


    The pitch was sessful. The Priority Media build is ours!


    I grin at the two short lines, and before I think it through, I call Faye¡¯s work phone.


    Faye


    Myputer dings with a notification. There¡¯s an email from Terri, and there¡¯s only one thing in the subject line. WE GOT THE PROJECT! KEEP IT UNDER WRAPS. SEE YOU MONDAY.


    My smile feels massive. We got it. Not my design, and I was ast-minute stand-in, but still. We got the project.


    As I¡¯m reading her email, my phone starts to ring. It¡¯s Henry. I answer it with a smile still etched on my face. ¡°Hello, sir.¡±


    ¡°I just heard the good news,¡± he says. ¡°Well done, Miss Alvarez. The project was awarded Marchand & Rykers.¡±


    ¡°The project was practically finished when I joined.¡±


    His voice darkens. ¡°You were given one week to prepare, and then you performed. ept thepliment.¡±


    I feel flushed, both with joy at the project and his words. ¡°Thanks for putting me on the assignment.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a favor. I knew you were capable.¡± His words are kind, but there is something else hiding in his tone. It¡¯s too sharp.


    ¡°Did you justnd at JFK?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How was Chicago?¡±


    The pause is infinitesimal, but it¡¯s there. ¡°Over with.¡±


    Ah. So he turned the development offer down, then.


    I shouldn¡¯t push, but I think about what he told me the other day, about the weight that obviously rested on his shoulders. Not knowing everything wasn¡¯t an excuse for not caring.


    ¡°How did your friend take it?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    There¡¯s another pause. ¡°Not particrly well.¡±


    The silence between us stretches on. I know what I would say to a friend-easy. But not to my boss, who is sometimes so professional it borders on rude, and sometimes so familiar I think we¡¯re friends.


    ¡°You had to follow your intuition,¡± I finally say. ¡°That¡¯s all anyone can do. And for the record, I think the decision was sound.¡±


    He harrumphs, a masculine sound, low in his throat. It¡¯s easy to imagine that his lips are right by my ear, the deep voice like coarse silk. ¡°I¡¯ll be at the office soon.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡±


    And then he hangs up, and I slump back at my chair, ncing at the time. I¡¯ll have to workte today as well, it seems. Only this time it¡¯s by choice. I focus on expense reports. On the agenda for a meeting with the in-house architects next week. On Henry¡¯s calendar. But when the elevator finally dings, and he walks down the corridor to me, my heart is a beating drum in my chest.


    To anyone else I¡¯m sure he¡¯d look his perfect self. Not a hair out of ce, his suit immacte even after the flight. Broad shoulders speak of strength-capable of carrying the world.


    But when his eyes meet mine, themunication is instantaneous between us. Something is wrong.


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    He closes his eyes briefly and pinches the bridge of his nose. I know what¡¯s going to happen. He¡¯s going to tell me to leave, to enjoy my Friday night, and then he¡¯s going to shut himself into his office like he so often does. Away from life, from food andughter and conversation. Does he have friends? If so, I haven¡¯t seen any of them.


    He nods to his office door. ¡°Join me.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    I stand on shaky legs and follow him in. He goes straight to his bookcases, opens one of the smaller cabs and pulls out a bottle half-filled with amber-colored liquor.


    ¡°The trip was that bad?¡±


    Henry looks over his shoulder at me. The crease on his brow looks etched into his skin. ¡°You were right.¡±


    ¡°I was?¡±


    ¡°About the project. It was immoral.¡±


    I sink into one of the chairs around his conference table. I¡¯ve never seen it full before-he mostly has one-on-one visitors. ¡°I don¡¯t remember expressing that strong of an opinion.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he hums, ¡°but you did. It was clear in your eyes when we spoke about it.¡±


    ¡°You already knew it was.¡±


    Henry pours himself a knuckle¡¯s worth of whiskey. I can¡¯t quite ce the emotioning off him. ¡°Do you want one too?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on the clock.¡±


    The nce he shoots me is disbelieving. ¡°It¡¯s a Friday evening. You should have gone home already.¡±


    I wet my lips. This is a side of him I¡¯ve never seen. It¡¯s slightly unhinged, the cracks in the armor hinting at depths of emotion and passion.


    ¡°Maybe. But I had work to do.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he says again, the sound low in his throat. I watch as he pours another ss of whiskey. ¡°You¡¯re one of the most efficient assistants I¡¯ve had. Somehow I doubt that.¡±


    I lean back in the chair and watch as he casually, carefully, starts rolling up his sleeves. Inch by inch of tan, muscled forearm is revealed.


    I ignore the implication in his words, slightly embarrassed that he guessed I stayedte for him. ¡°But efficiency isn¡¯t good enough, if you keep firing them.¡±


    He looks at me, but says nothing, just puts the ss in front of me. There¡¯s challenge in his eyes again. I meet them head-on as I take a sip. It burns, but I don¡¯t let any of that show on my face. His eyes darken. Poker face, meet Henry Marchand.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think I was a pink drink kind of girl, did you?¡±


    He leans against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. It¡¯s impossible to forget his physique-he¡¯s so much taller, bigger than I am. ¡°I think you are, but you¡¯re much toopetitive to admit it.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C32

    ¡°Takes one to know one.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re good at facts,¡± he says. ¡°Give me another one.¡±


    I wet my lips and let my eyes wander from his intimidating form to the books on his shelves, across the room, to the model in the corner that he so lovinglybors over.


    ¡°You could bring any girl at all to your sister¡¯s wedding next weekend,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s a fact.¡±


    ¡°Debatable.¡±


    ¡°My question is: why me?¡±


    ¡°I told you. The deadline for the opera house is in less than three weeks. We need uninterrupted time to work on it.¡±


    I tut and look at the drink in my hand instead of his face. On the inside, my heart is beating fast. ¡°And you want me to y your date.¡±


    His voice is a slow drawl. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And what do I get out of it?¡±


    A pause. ¡°Miss Alvarez?¡±


    ¡°I agreed to work as your personal assistant. Apanying you to the Founders¡¯ G was already a favor on my part. Why should I work so hard to help finish your project that I give up my weekend for it? I¡¯m going to have to deceive your friends and family, you know.¡± I raise my ss at him, my voice picking up steam even as his eyes narrow. Good. I want him on the defensive. It makes it easier to ignore my attraction to him. ¡°As far as I see it, this is beyond the usual rules of my position.¡±


    There¡¯splete silence from him. His arms are still crossed, and as I watch, his eyes narrow even further. I should look away from the intensity in his gaze, but I can¡¯t. I¡¯m like a deer in the headlights.


    ¡°Good,¡± he says finally.


    ¡°Good?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re standing up for yourself, as well you should. Very well. Tell me what you want.¡±


    A negotiation.


    I get up from my chair and head toward his copier. I¡¯m buying for time, but I need it, my thoughts racing. He watches in silence as I grab a single sheet of paper.


    And then I do the unthinkable. I take a seat at his desk, in his chair. I don¡¯t even look to see if he objects, reaching for one of his pens and beginning to write.


    I hear him walk around the desk. He leans over my shoulder, watching as I scribble. The smell of him-aftershave, man, and leather-nearly throws me off. Head in the game, Faye.


    ¡°Very official,¡± hements.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I draw a line under the title. A full-drawn contract, that¡¯s what I¡¯m setting up, one where I¡¯m not going to be taken advantage of again.


    ¡°Excellent penmanship.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I hide my smile and keep going. Under parties involved, I list my full name. Faye Lucinda Alvarez.


    I hesitate after writing Henry. I should know if he has a middle name, shouldn¡¯t I?


    Henry knows what I¡¯m pausing for. ¡°Skip it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have one, or you don¡¯t want me to know it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s beside the point.¡±


    I nod to myself and keep writing. ¡°So you don¡¯t want me to know it. I¡¯m picturing the worst now, you know.¡±


    His voice is dry. ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    I lean back in the chair and look up to meet his gaze. It¡¯s steely, staring down into mine, his hand knuckled around the back of the chair. ¡°My terms, then. I want my name on the opera house.¡±


    There¡¯s immediate refusal in his eyes.


    I raise my hand. ¡°Before you say no, I¡¯m not trying to usurp anything. It¡¯s your project. But I have made a few changes, and I want that reflected. You can list me as a junior architect. Assistant architect. But my name is going into the submission.¡±


    The fire in his eyes softens and shutters. ¡°I¡¯m not Elliot Ferris.¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯re not.¡± There was nothing remotely simr about the two men. ¡°But I want to make it clear. No ambiguity.¡±


    ¡°Your name will be in the proposal, including your middle name,¡± he says. ¡°Junior architect, assisting function. Is that eptable?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± I tap my pen against the desk. He had been willing to give that up far too easily.


    ¡°If you need incentive to finish the project, is that enough?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I frown, thinking of the future, of my unstable position here. I can¡¯t be a personal assistant forever. ¡°No. If you do win the project, I want you to consider hiring me as one of the junior architects managing the build.¡±


    He nods slowly, the light catching on the sharp edge of his jaw. There¡¯s just a faint hint of a five o¡¯clock shadow. ¡°I¡¯ll consider you.¡±


    ¡°A fair consideration.¡±


    Whatever shes in his eyes, it isn¡¯t pleasant. Have I impugned his honor somehow? But I need to cover all my bases, and knowing how this industry works¡­


    ¡°Yes, a fair consideration. I¡¯m not Elliot Ferris,¡± he repeats.


    ¡°And as for being your date to the wedding¡­¡±


    ¡°So that we don¡¯t lose several days of work on the project.¡±


    ¡°¡­yes, that.¡± I let my hand hover above the contract, looking up at him. He¡¯s so close. The hand on the back of my chair is just inches from my face. Broad and tan, big and strong.


    Focus.


    ¡°What do you want, exactly? For me to act like we¡¯re a couple?¡±


    ¡°You want ground rules?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C33

    He huffs. ¡°We¡¯re seeing each other, my sister¡¯s wedding came around, and I invited you.¡±


    He says it like it¡¯s simple. Like he would bring anyone he was seeing to meet his entire family on a whim. Am I crazy for feeling like that¡¯s such a big thing? I know it doesn¡¯t mean anything, but the idea of it still makes me nervous.


    ¡°So I¡¯m ying a part.¡±


    ¡°If you want to see it like that, yes.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t mention that we work together.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re really okay with that? Deceiving your family just so we get more hours to work on the model?¡± There¡¯s no censure in my tone, just surprise. I think of my own mom and dad, working so hard to send me to college, to their happy smiles. They¡¯ve never met a single one of my boyfriends. What kind of rtionship does Henry have with his parents?


    His eyes stare into mine. I can tell that my words have hit home-his face is almost aggressive in its professionalism.


    ¡°Do you think me immoral again?¡±


    I want to shrink under that gaze, to twist or turn, to hide. I don¡¯t.


    ¡°No, but I think I¡¯m missing the full story.¡±


    He nods once, a dip of his chin that sends thick hair cascading over his forehead. My hand aches to push it back, to see if it¡¯s as soft as I imagine.


    ¡°You¡¯re perceptive.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thirdpliment you¡¯ve given me tonight. Are you sure you¡¯re all right?¡±


    His eyes lighten, and some of the tension eases between us. He looks from me to the contract on the desk. ¡°Finish the contract, Miss Alvarez.¡±


    I write down the terms and conditions we¡¯ve discussed. It¡¯s hard to focus on the paper with his presence,rger than life, looming behind me.


    ¡°Andpensation,¡± he points out. ¡°You¡¯ll be paid for the weekend, in overtime.¡±


    I note it down. ¡°We¡¯ll bring our workptops?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Do you need something to wear?¡±


    The question makes me pause. ¡°For the wedding?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the dress code, or the location. Or anything at all, for that matter. Will we be staying within the continental US?¡±


    His lips twitch with a smile. ¡°Yes. The ceremony is inside, reception outside. ck tie. You¡¯re doing me a favor here, so if you need a dress for the asion, you charge it to my ount.¡±


    I swallow. This is spinning out of control faster than I¡¯d imagined, and this whole contract thing had been my idea to begin with.


    Beneath my name, my hand hovers, not quite ready to sign. ¡°Onest thing.¡±


    ¡°Name it.¡±


    ¡°Whatever happens that weekend, I don¡¯t want it included in your evaluation of my job performance, when you consider hiring me after my first six trial weeks.¡±


    There¡¯splete silence. My words have gone off like a nuclear bomb, and it isn¡¯t until I see the heated surprise in his eyes that I realize exactly what could be implied.


    ¡°What I mean is-¡±


    ¡°I understand. Granted.¡± He nods to the paper. ¡°Time to sign, Miss Alvarez.¡±


    I lick my lips. There are a million things I could throw in, just to see if he would give them to me. It¡¯s a good opportunity for me. It¡¯s also reckless and unprofessional and wild. And somehow, I have a niggling suspicion that even if he said no to my demands, I would still want to go to his sister¡¯s wedding, just to catch a glimpse of Henry without his facade.


    ¡°Having second thoughts?¡±


    I sign in a flourish and push the paper his way. ¡°Never.¡±


    His lips are curled as he bends over to sign, putting his face so close to mine that I can feel the heat from his skin. His hand moves in quick strokes as he initials the contract.


    ¡°There,¡± he murmurs. ¡°We have a deal.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t so hard to negotiate, now was it?¡±


    This close, his eyes are startlingly green, lightly flecked with hazel. He nces down at my lips, and my face moves of its own ord, turning up to his like a sunflower to sunlight.


    He bends closer still, the heat of his breath ghosting against my lips. Adrenaline, present in my veins from our negotiation, makes my blood boil in anticipation. We¡¯re too close. We¡¯re not close enough.


    And then our lips meet.


    It¡¯s like water breaking through a dam, a force stronger than both of us, my self-control melting and dissolving like mist. There is no hesitation at all from Henry¡¯s side. His lips press against mine insistently, demanding, and my mouth obliges. I raise the stakes and run my tongue lightly over his lower lip.


    He groans against my mouth, and as the kiss deepens, I unravel, slipping into a ce where nothing matters but him and me and this connection. He tastes faintly like whiskey and heat, kissing me as fiercely as I¡¯m kissing him. Callused fingers tip my head back further before sliding softly over my cheek. It¡¯s unexpectedly gentle, a cool touch against my burning skin.


    Henry ends the kiss, straightening with a sudden movement.


    I stare up at him and he stares down at me.


    ¡°Damn,¡± he says softly. The hand on the desk curls into a fist. His jaw is working, the professional armor cracking at the seams. ¡°This is¡­ inconvenient.¡±


    My throat feels dry. The skin of my cheek is hot where he touched it. Inconvenient is a mild word for the attraction I feel, pounding through my body. ¡°It certainly is.¡±T¨ºxt ? N?velDrama.Org.


    His eyes snap back to mine. There¡¯s no way I can look away, not when they ze like that. ¡°This wasn¡¯t nned. I didn¡¯t hire you for this.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say, although I didn¡¯t, not until he said it. Something in me rxes.


    ¡°Faye,¡± he says, and I shiver at the pleasure of hearing him say my name, ¡°I crossed the line. I¡¯m sorry for that. Whatever course of action you want, I¡¯ll support. But I want you to know that it will never happen again.¡±


    Disappointment wells up inside, unbidden but unstoppable. To not be touched by him again isn¡¯t what I want, not at all, despite how inappropriate it would be given our professional rtionship.

 Ice Cold Boss C34

    Henry¡¯s eyes widen as he reads the emotion on my face. ¡°That¡¯s not what you wanted to hear,¡± he murmurs.


    It¡¯s foolish. So, so reckless.


    But I shrug. ¡°Maybe not. Are you sure you can stay away?¡±


    His gaze turns molten and I can¡¯t look away. I never could, with him. The tension between us heightens until it¡¯s a current, electricity dancing over my skin and setting my nerves ame. Alive, my body is whispering, as it so often does when Henry¡¯s near. This is what it feels like to be alive.


    ¡°You¡¯re taunting me. Are you sure that¡¯s wise, Faye?¡±


    I wet my lips and swallow at the sudden dryness in my throat. Somehow, our story has already begun-beating hearts and the scent of his cologne and forbidden kisses in offices-and I didn¡¯t realize it until I¡¯m here, right in the middle of it.


    ¡°Wisdomes with age, so I¡¯m relying on you here.¡±


    Henry arches a dark eyebrow, a smile hovering around the corners of full lips. The man is indecently handsome on the best of days, and now, with the feel of his mouth still lingering on mine¡­Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°Dangerous, that. I think I¡¯ve proven that I¡¯m not exactly in control of this particr situation.¡± He nces down to where his hand rests next to mine on the desk. Our bodies aren¡¯t touching, but the air between us is charged with possibility. ¡°And neither are you, it seems.¡±


    It¡¯s a question-even if he¡¯s phrased it as a statement. And I know I could walk away right here, make the right decision, close the door to his office ande back on Monday morning like nothing changed between us. That¡¯s what he¡¯s offering me.


    We can pretend we never crossed this line.


    ¡°It is inconvenient,¡± I echo. ¡°I guess it¡¯s a bit like a staring contest, after all. We¡¯ll just have to see which one of us breaks first.¡±


    ¡°But of course,¡± he murmurs. ¡°You¡¯re aspetitive as me.¡±


    ¡°You keep forgetting.¡±


    ¡°At my own risk, clearly.¡± Something sparks in his eyes, something I can¡¯t ce. Dark satisfaction makes my stomach curl with pleasure. He leans in, close enough that I think he might kiss me again. My eyes drift closed on reflex. Whatever he wants, I¡¯m game-there¡¯s nomon sense or resistance left.


    There¡¯s a huff of deepughter. ¡°I¡¯ve already told you I don¡¯t lose. Go home, Miss Alvarez. On Monday we start anew.¡±


    Damn man. I open my eyes, only to see his half-smile. He thinks he has me on the ropes.


    I stand slowly, my hip brushing his, and let my hand slide down the skin of his forearm. His eyes narrow at me-the smile is gone entirely now, reced by heat. ¡°Good night, Mr. Marchand,¡± I say. ¡°Enjoy your weekend.¡±


    His eyes are on me the entire way out.


    Henry


    The gym used to be my calm ce.


    There was no thinking when I was lifting weights, or running on the treadmill, or bench pressing. Just me and achievement; lifting more, running longer.


    But that peacefulness is lost. Ever since Friday-since earlier, if I¡¯m being honest with myself-my mind drifts back to Faye every chance it gets. It doesn¡¯t matter that it¡¯s seven a. m. or that my breath ising in painful huffs.


    I shouldn¡¯t have kissed her, I think for the hundredth time. What hade over me? I wasn¡¯t a horny teenager, and I wasn¡¯t Elliot Ferris, and still¡­ I¡¯d kissed her right there, right in my office, sitting at my own damn desk.


    I turn up the incline on the treadmill another few levels. It¡¯s the part of my gym routine I hate the most, but I never skip it. Doing things I don¡¯t want to do is my specialty. Getting things done. ying by the rules, pushing the limits, sacrificing things like pleasure for the n. In my family, my self-discipline was practically legendary.


    But it had crumbled with one look from Faye.


    Damn woman. She was just as infuriatingly stubborn as me, not afraid to speak her mind, and she knew just how to push limits. No woman I¡¯d dated would have acted like she did on Friday-drawn up a contract. Taken a seat at my desk. Negotiated for her future.


    I run until my legs nearly give out, lungs about to burst in my chest. It¡¯s a small testament to the self-discipline Faye has tried to ruin. Brick by brick, I¡¯ll have to rebuild theyers of control. She¡¯d challenged me to stay away from her. I¡¯ll win, and there¡¯s no denying I¡¯ll have a hell of a lot of fun doing it, walking the thin line with her.


    When I arrive at work, it¡¯s mostly empty, as usual. I spend the first two hours working on the opera house and answering emails. The clock hand moves slowly on my desk toward ten a. m.-the time I know Faye will be at my door,ptop under her arm, ready for our Monday meeting. My self-control does nothing to dampen anticipation, it seems.


    She knocks on my door at exactly ten a. m. A vision in red today-a dress that follows her body, coupled with a zer. Hair up in a ponytail.


    The look she gives me in indecipherable. I look right back at her, our gaze locked until there¡¯s a smile on her lips. It eases something in my chest-the part of me that had been unsure of how she¡¯d behave around me, given Friday.


    ¡°Well,¡± she says, ¡°shall we begin?¡±


    We run through her list of things to check for theing week. It¡¯s not much, given we¡¯ll both be out of office on both Thursday and Friday. The urge to tease her about it is nearly overwhelming.


    Faye gently closes herptop, reaching up to tuck an errant lock of silky hair behind her ear. ¡°So,¡± she says, ¡°on to my final item.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I want more information about this weekend. If I¡¯m to be your date, I want to know what I¡¯m walking into. Is this wedding really going tost four days?¡±


    I lean back in my chair. ¡°Yes, and no. People areing in from out of town and there are things scheduled from Friday to Sunday. Dinner, games, brunch, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°And on Thursday?¡±


    ¡°Dinner with my family.¡±


    Something like surprise shes in her eyes. Interesting. ¡°Okay,¡± she says, but there¡¯s a faint frown on her lips.


    ¡°You still want more information.¡±


    She runs a hand over her hair, but stops halfway, as if remembering that she has it pinned tight. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m a nner. An organizer. What if we get asked questions about how we met? What do I work with, if we don¡¯t work together? I need details.¡±


    I stifle a smile at her rambling. ¡°You want all your bases covered.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    A nce from her to the office door proves it¡¯s shut, but it still feels too exposing to talk about this, here, in the ce where we both need to be professional. ¡°Come over tonight,¡± I say instead. ¡°We¡¯ll make a game n. You can ask all the questions you want.¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°To yours?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    It¡¯s risky, but I need to prove to the both of us that we can do the right thing-that we can stay away from each other. That I still have self-control.


    Her eyes narrow with determination. ¡°I can tell what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°Really? And what am I doing?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C35

    She shakes her head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll be there. Seven?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I trust you already have the address?¡±


    Faye stands, her eyes meeting mine for one long, breathless moment. ¡°Yes,¡± she says, ¡°I do. Think we can handle it?¡±


    ¡°Being alone together?¡±


    She nods, tucking herptop under her arm. I run a hand along the edge of my desk and meet her bold gaze straight-on. ¡°You challenged us to stay away from one another. If I remember correctly, you also predicted you¡¯d win.¡±


    There¡¯s a grin on her lips, hovering right around the corners of her mouth. It makes me want to smile in response. ¡°So I did,¡± she says. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll just have to see who does.¡±


    It¡¯s seven p. m., and Faye¡¯s right on time, standing outside my apartment door.


    She¡¯s let her hair down, and it tumbles loose and long down her back. ck strands frame her face. For such a small woman, she has a huge presence. There¡¯s nowhere else I want to look when she¡¯s around.


    She gives me a businesslike nod and steps past me. ¡°So this is your apartment.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very close to work.¡±


    ¡°Convenient.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    She hangs her thin jacket up on one of the pegs in the hallway and walks into the living room unescorted. I hang back, watching in silence as she looks around. Her fierce beauty makes my neutral apartment look dull inparison.


    ¡°Huh,¡± she finally says. ¡°It¡¯s nothing like I expected.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    She stops at the coffee table, eyes roaming over arge book on ancient Roman architecture. ¡°It has¡­ personality.¡±


    Hah. Bemused, I put my hands in my pockets and just look at her. She nces up and seems to realize her words. ¡°Sorry. That didn¡¯te out the way I meant it.¡±


    ¡°Not the first time I¡¯ve heard it,¡± I say. My apparent ck of personality¡± has be amon refrain from friends and family at this point. Lighten up. Smile. Why so serious?


    ¡°Have you been?¡± I ask, nodding at the book.


    ¡°To Italy? No.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d love it.¡±


    A faint, dreamy smile softens her lips. It changes her features, the alertness momentarily gone. ¡°Of that I have no doubt,¡± she murmurs.


    She¡¯s so beautiful with her guard down, and the fierce desire I feel is not something I¡¯m used to; I want to bring out that softness again, over and over, in quiet moments when there¡¯s no one around but us.


    I clear my throat. ¡°A ss of wine, and then we¡¯ll start with your questions. White?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Please.¡±


    She leans against the kitchen ind as I open the wine cooler and find a bottle of Sancerre. It¡¯s light, easy, theplete opposite of the conversation I¡¯m sure we¡¯re about to have.


    ¡°So¡­¡± she begins.


    ¡°So,¡± I echo, uncorking the bottle. ¡°Let¡¯s get our story straight. That¡¯s what you wanted, right?¡±


    She slides into one of the tall chairs by the kitchen ind and runs a hand over the marble. ¡°Do you cook?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± I answer calmly.


    ¡°This kitchen is meticulously clean. Did you scrub it down with bleach before I came?¡±


    ¡°Cleanerse twice a week.¡±


    She nods, like she expected nothing else, and lets her eyes wander. They slide around the open kitchen space, therge windows, the sofas that beckon. I wonder what she thinks of my ce-what it says about me. We¡¯re architects, after all. Forms and shapes are never just functional.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the wedding?¡±


    ¡°In Paradise Shores,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s a seaside town in New Ennd.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± she says, a whole world conveyed through that one word. It¡¯s not hard to imagine what she¡¯s thinking. She epts the winess I hand her, twirling it thoughtfully by the stem. ¡°Think I¡¯ll fit in?¡±


    The thought that she wouldn¡¯t hadn¡¯t even crossed my mind. ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    ¡°Is that where you grew up?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She slides out of the chair and walks, winess in hand, to therge sofas in the adjoining living room. They¡¯re all gray; there¡¯s barely any color in sight. I watch in silence as she runs a hand over the high back. ¡°If we¡¯re going to do this, we need to know more about each other.¡±


    I gesture for her to sit down, and she does, as far away from me as the couch allows. Smart. Despite the distance, my body is painfully aware that she¡¯s here, with me, in my home. Alone. Control, I remind myself. Boundaries.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say. ¡°Tell me about where you¡¯re from.¡±


    She sighs, her gaze slipping from mine again tond on the sleek firece. Not for the first time, it strikes me just how beautiful she really is. It was something she¡¯d mentioned in her cover letter-that she wasn¡¯t taken seriously because of it. The notion that people only see her face, and not the fierce intellect beneath it, makes me just as angry on her behalf.


    ¡°I¡¯m from a small town out in the Midwest,¡± she says. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know it.¡±


    ¡°Ohio, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. My parents are amazing. They had me when they were really young, and money was always tight, but they gave me the best they could.¡± Her eyes are proud-like she¡¯s waiting for judgement. Has she received it in the past?


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they did.¡±


    ¡°My father came here as an immigrant when he was a teenager. He worked every job he could.¡± A small, indulgent smile spreads on her face. ¡°He¡¯s the one I call whenever I have a problem, of any kind. He knows how to repair a dishwasher, how to fix chipped paint on a car¡­ absolutely anything.¡±


    ¡°He sounds great.¡±


    She nods. ¡°He is. My mom is Midwestern, born and bred. She got her teaching degree when I was still a kid, and she¡¯s worked as a third-grade teacher ever since. Her students call her Mrs. C, because Alvarez is too hard for some of them to pronounce.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C36

    ¡°What did they think of you moving out here?¡±


    ¡°They were supportive. I mean¡­ they don¡¯t really understand what I do, but they¡¯d never be anything but positive about the whole thing.¡±


    The picture she is painting is lovely. ¡°Any siblings?¡±


    ¡°Nope, only child.¡± She pulls her knees up under her silk skirt, heels left abandoned on the carpet. ¡°But this is going the wrong way around. I have questions for you.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    I steel myself. ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about your parents.¡±


    ¡°Well, my father is a developer and builder, just like me. My mom doesn¡¯t work. She¡­ she came here from France to marry my dad. She was a stay-at-home mom for many years.¡±


    Faye sits up straighter. ¡°You¡¯re half-French?¡±


    ¡°Technically, yes.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± She takes a sip of her wine, eyes averted. It¡¯s not hard to imagine what she¡¯s thinking about. Both of us have one foot in another culture, anothernguage, but the lived experiences of our parents couldn¡¯t be more different. It¡¯s a simrity that still serves to highlight the difference between us-the same difference she¡¯d outlined in her cover letter.


    ¡°Do you speak French?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Had to, to be able to speak to my cousins.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m very much hoping that¡¯s not a requirement for this wedding, though.¡±


    I snort. ¡°No. Everything will be in English, don¡¯t worry.¡± Most of the French side of the family had not been invited. Lily had wanted it small, after all.


    Faye nods, letting her fingers trail over the couch. Her hand is slender, free from rings, slightly tan. I wonder what it would feel like on my skin. I wonder how she feels about my firm, my apartment, after what she just told me about her upbringing. In her eyes, I suppose it might seem¡­ gaudy. Does it make her think less of me?


    But then she cocks her head, smooths her hair back, and sends me a look filled with such challenge that all thought evaporates.


    ¡°So, Henry Marchand¡­ how exactly did we meet?¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°Through mutual acquaintances.¡±


    ¡°Mmm, that¡¯s good. At a dinner party.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°We were seated next to each other and found mutual ground over how small the portions were. You offered me a ride home. We stopped at a kebab shop in Brooklyn.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Detailed, are you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what makes me a great assistant.¡±


    ¡°Then by all means, continue.¡±


    A beautiful, fierce flush rises on her cheeks, but she doesn¡¯t break away from my gaze. ¡°You got a massive kebab, I got a smaller one, and we shared a te of fries. We spoke about our mutual love of architecture.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like something we¡¯d do.¡±


    A smile ghosts across her lips, the memory of our lunch clear in her eyes. ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°What did we do after the kebab shop?¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t call another car. We walked instead,te at night, nearly all the way to my apartment. We spoke about how hard you work, that you¡¯ve always been driven. I chimed in with my own stories of all-nighters spent in the library, of feeling like a failure if I didn¡¯t get an A on my report cards. Our hands brushed as we walked, by ident at first, butter on with purpose.¡± She pauses, taking another sip of her wine. ¡°¡­and then we reached my apartment building.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. It would bete by then,¡± I say.


    ¡°Oh, it was.¡± Her eyes glitter, challenging and heated. ¡°Well? What did you do next?¡±


    I drape my arm along the edge of the sofa, my hand nearly at her shoulder. ¡°I brushed your hair back-you were wearing it down, like you are now-and asked for your number. You gave it to me, of course.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she says with a smile.


    ¡°Then I told you that I wanted to take you out the following weekend. Properly, on a date, just the two of us.¡±


    She wets her lips. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t kiss me? Ore inside?¡±


    Heat and need clenches inside of me at her words. Such a simple question, but such a powerful response. I try to force my mind away from the memory of her soft lips on mine and the way her body had melted against me.


    I fail.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have pushed it. We¡¯d just met, after all. But I can tell you, just between us, that I wanted to, very much.¡±


    She picks at the hem of her skirt. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    There¡¯s something about her normallypetent self being thrown off that is beyond intoxicating. I have to stop myself from smiling at the look on her face, her lips slightly open, eyes zed¡­


    I shift closer. ¡°Is that a good enough story for our first meeting, Faye?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, I think that¡¯ll work¡­¡± Her voice trails off, her fingers dancing along the back of the sofa.


    ¡°We met each other recently, so this is still new. We don¡¯t need to know everything about each other to convincingly y this off.¡±


    ¡°Smart.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, with half a smile. ¡°You¡¯re clearly nervous about this. There¡¯s no need to be.¡±


    Faye wants to protest-I can see it in her eyes-but doesn¡¯t. Instead, she drains thest of her wine. ¡°Maybe I am, but it¡¯s nothing I can¡¯t handle.¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± I reach for her ss, now empty, and stand. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back, and then you can ask me anything you want to put your nerves at ease. All right?¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± she echoes, curling up further on the corner of the couch, and I ignore the feeling that she belongs here. In my life, in my apartment, and on my couch.


    It¡¯s getting harder to do by the minute.

 Ice Cold Boss C37

    Faye


    I watch in silence as Henry opens the fridge, pouring us more wine. There¡¯s something so rxed about him here-in his own apartment, his own territory-that I never see at work. It¡¯s disarming, and it¡¯s not doing wonders for my self-restraint. The kiss in his office has been on repeat in my mind since Friday.


    He returns to the couch with sure strides, dressed in a sweater and cks. The usually stern features of his face have softened, something resembling a smile ying at his lips. To think I once thought him practically incapable of it.


    ¡°Henry Marchand,¡± I say softly, ¡°the waiter. No one would believe me if I told them you could be this domestic.¡±


    ¡°Would you?¡±


    ¡°Tell anyone? Of course not. It does make me wonder, though¡­¡±


    ¡°About?¡±


    ¡°If who you are at work, in your meetings, is a bit of a charade.¡± I wave a hand. ¡°You know you intimidate the associates and architects. I think you thrive on it. But I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s who you really are.¡±


    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s bold of you to say. If it¡¯s not a charade, I might fire you on the spot.¡±


    I¡¯m nervous all right, but not from fear. Nothing I¡¯ve seen from him suggests anything other than a genuinely decent man, one who hides behindyers of protection.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t,¡± I taunt.


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°You need me, inconvenient or not.¡±


    There¡¯s a sudden spark in his eyes, and the heat dances from me to him and back again. ¡°You¡¯re right about that. How are you both inconvenient andpletely irreceable?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a skill.¡± I wet my lips again and shiver as his gaze slips from my eyes to my cheek, my ear, my hair. Our conversation is about nothing at all, but it still strikes me as momentous.


    He lifts his hand up and smooths my hair back behind my ear. The movement is painstakingly soft, like he¡¯s giving me enough time to back out of the whole thing.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    I don¡¯t. I slide closer on the couch instead, the warmth of his body echoing the warmth spreading through my own limbs. I¡¯m doing what I shouldn¡¯t, and for the first time in forever, the potential consequences aren¡¯t on my mind.


    His mouth twists into a wry smile. ¡°We¡¯re not very good at being good, are we?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, leaning into the hand on my cheek. My skin feels hot under his touch, like I¡¯ve gotten too much sun, but I¡¯m stilling back for more. ¡°But we¡¯re very good at being bad.¡±


    His dryugh is a sweet sound, washing over my senses, and he closes the distance between us. ¡°As long as we¡¯re the best at something.¡±


    My second kiss with Henry is nothing like the first. It¡¯s slow and deep from the get-go, his lips nting over mine, a hand sliding into my hair and another ttening against my back.


    I give as good as I get, fingers finally threading through his hair. It¡¯s just as soft as I¡¯d imagined, sliding through my hands like brown silk. His lips leave mine for a moment, and I take the chance to sidle closer to him, my body nearly on top of his.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be doing this,¡± I say, despite my body tantly disobeying.


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± he agrees, sliding his lips along my cheek, my jaw, finding the spot below my ear. The couch gives beneath me as my leg circles the other side of him, straddling him. He¡¯srge beneath me, wide chest and strong neck and muscle.


    ¡°You¡¯re in such good shape,¡± I say, voice breaking. ¡°How are you in such good shape?¡±


    Hisughter is warm against my neck. ¡°You want my workout routine?¡±


    I roll my hips against him and shiver as hisrge hands slide up my hips, my sides, my ribs. The curve of my waist and the heavy undersides of my breasts. ¡°Yes,¡± I breathe. ¡°Preferably in video format. And without a shirt.¡±


    Henry¡¯s hands don¡¯t stop, not even when he leans back and looks at me with eyes that are nearly ck with desire. ¡°There were at least two HR vitions in that sentence.¡±


    I nce down at his hands, now gripping my waist so tight I think I might bruise, and the hardness of his arousal beneath me.


    ¡°Not sure if you¡¯re the one to speak.¡±


    His eyes shutter, and he starts to withdraw his hands, but I don¡¯t let him. I press our bodies closer together and capture his lips with mine. I grip handfuls of his clothes and tug him closer, his mouth turning as hot and eager as mine again. I¡¯m in control now; he¡¯s letting me set the pace.


    I don¡¯t know how long I kiss him for, but when I stop, it¡¯s to gasp for air. Henry grins at me-and it¡¯s a full and unrestrained smile. He¡¯s so handsome it makes it even harder to breathe.


    He runs strong hands down my sides, over my thighs, down to my calves and back up to circle my arms. I might be on top, but it¡¯s only because he¡¯s letting me, and I shiver at the reminder of just how strong he is. How it might feel if we flipped around-if he was inplete control.


    ¡°Faye, you¡¯re so¡­¡± He shakes his head, trying to find his words. ¡°You feel just as good as I¡¯ve imagined.¡±


    He tips my head back and trails his lips down to the neckline of my dress, and I don¡¯t care if this is the worst decision of my life-not when his touch feels like this. I grip his shoulders and try to hang on.


    It¡¯s easy to picture what this would feel like without clothes on. The two of us, doing this, over and over again. Making out like teenagers on the couch at first, before shifting to the bedroom, where it be heavy and slow and quick, all at the same time.


    I dig my fingers into his shoulders. He¡¯s in a soft, gray sweater, nothing at all like the harsh suits he wears to work. ¡°You look good in your suits,¡± I murmur. ¡°The gray one is my favorite.¡±


    His mouth starts its upward journey again, finally finding my lips. He kisses me in a way that makes it perfectly clear where this will end. ¡°You look unreal in the office,¡± he says. ¡°Every morning, I think there¡¯s no way she can look as good today. Everybody has bad days. But damn it, every day you find a way to top yourself.¡±


    I smile against his lips, his praise sweeping through me like a tidal wave. ¡°You¡¯re biased.¡±


    ¡°Yes, clearly.¡±


    ¡°So I like you in your suits and your big office¡­¡± I slide my finger across his jaw, meeting his dark green eyes. The heat in them makes my stomach tighten. ¡°And you like me in my pencil skirts and blouses. I think we¡¯re somewhat of a clich¨¦, sir.¡±


    Henry¡¯s eyes warm with amusement. ¡°It¡¯s amon kink.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re calling usmon?¡±


    His hands grip my thighs, and I¡¯m lifted up and around, spread on the couch with him above me. His body is everywhere-tall and strong and resting lightly against me. He¡¯s still hard; I can feel him against my thigh, through the thinyers of fabric. Everything in me distills to that narrow point of contact. Excitement and fear chase one another.


    ¡°Absolutely nothing about you ismon, Faye Alvarez. You¡¯ve been unexpected, ever since that damn letter arrived in my inbox.¡± Henry kisses me with the single-minded determination I¡¯vee to expect from him. Strong arms cradle my head, biceps taut under the pressure, and I run a hand over his back.


    Pulling him closer, my legs opening instinctively for him, I want him everywhere-the two of us one.


    He breaks off the kiss. ¡°Slow. We¡¯re not in a rush.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we?¡± I tease, reaching up to nip at his lips. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be doing this at all. How long can we outrunmon sense?¡±


    He runs a finger down the side of my cheek. It¡¯s a sweet gesture, even if the hunger in his eyes is anything but sweet. ¡°Common sense, huh.¡±


    It¡¯s like I¡¯ve dumped a bucket of cold water over him.

 Ice Cold Boss C38

    He pulls back, looking at me for so long that I almost wonder if he¡¯s decided to instigate another staring contest.


    ¡°Henry?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he says. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    He moves off me entirely, retreating to the other side of the couch. We watch each other, both of our eyes dark with desire, with want.


    I want him to ask me to stay. I want us to forget about our positions, our jobs, our reputations. I want to pretend like I¡¯m not just his conveniently hot personal assistant.


    But I am. And he¡¯s my boss.


    And I need this job.


    Henry puts his head in his hands. In the silence, both of us are breathing hard. ¡°Fuck,¡± he breathes, ¡°but I¡¯m so turned on.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say miserably, because I am too.


    Because being with Henry feels like being alive for the first time in a very long while, where achievement and status doesn¡¯t matter. Where we just are, the two of us, understanding one another perfectly.


    ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°One-zero to you, I suppose.¡±


    He must see the confusion on my face, because he rifies. ¡°You asked if I would be able to stay away from you. I said I would, but clearly¡­¡±


    ¡°I participated. If anything, we both lost a point.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s clear that we¡¯re not as strong as I assumed, by any means.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± I bite my lip, staring at him, his thick hair mussed from my hands. ¡°Why do you really want me toe to the wedding as your date?¡±


    His eyes darken. ¡°You keep asking that. Are you hoping to get a different answer?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    It can¡¯t just be for work. This man does nothing that¡¯s not deliberate, and he¡¯s far too smart to not understand the implications and the consequences. So am I, for that matter. We¡¯re both ying with fire.


    ¡°Why do you think?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°No, you don¡¯t get to turn the question back on me.¡±


    He smiles, showing a row of white teeth. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because you¡¯re so very inconvenient.¡±


    The implied praise makes me smile. ¡°d I can be of service.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Yes. I think it¡¯s time to call it a night, before our self-control shatterspletely.¡±


    I stand on shaky legs, following him through his apartment. His hands are in his pockets-safely tucked away-and shoulders stretched taut underneath his sweater. ¡°Sure we¡¯ll be able to handle a whole weekend away together?¡±


    ¡°We have to,¡± he replies, ¡°because the opera house deadline is looming, and I have a contract to adhere to.¡±


    Oh. Mine, the one I made him sign. I grab my purse from the peg in his hallway, turning to face him. He stares back at me-eyes warm, nothing impassive left on his features.


    ¡°Thanks for signing it,¡± I say.


    ¡°Thanks for drawing it up,¡± he says. ¡°If we win thepetition, you¡¯ll get all the credit you deserve, Faye. You have my word on that.¡±


    I nce down at my shoes, trying and failing to hide the emotion that¡¯s in my eyes. Recognition. eptance. Partnership. It¡¯s everything I never got in myst job. Or in myst rtionship.


    ¡°I¡¯m very d I applied to be your assistant,¡± I say finally. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I got so lucky on a drunken application.¡±


    Henry reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I hold still, my whole body taut at the faint brush of his fingers. ¡°I¡¯m very d of that too,¡± he says faintly. ¡°Now go home, Faye, before I lose controlpletely.¡±


    I smile. ¡°All right, I will.¡±


    ¡°And take a cab home.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I whisper, stepping out into the hallway. Henry closes the door softly behind him, and I¡¯m left with the feeling of his hand on my cheek, his lips on mine, the entire ride home.


    Faye


    Weekend bag, packed. Nails, painted. Hair, blow-dried. My battle armor is on-I couldn¡¯t be more prepared-and I¡¯m still nervous, waiting outside my building for Henry to pick me up.


    May has turned into a beautiful June, and New York is in that sweet spot temperature-wise, not yet sweltering hot and unbearable. Still, I feel too warm, my summer dress clinging to my skin. What have I gotten into with this weekend trip? Meeting his family? It¡¯s madness.


    Arge gray car indicates and pulls up to the curb, stopping right in front of me. I square my shoulders and try to channel my nerves into excitement.


    Henry steps out of the driver¡¯s door. He¡¯s in dark blue cks and a soft linen shirt instead of his usual suits, but his hair remains meticulously in ce. It¡¯s impossible to look at him now and not remember how his body feels against mine.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I say, unable to stop myself from smiling at him.Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    He smiles back, bending to grab my weekend bag. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to wait outside. I would¡¯ve called when I got here.¡±


    ¡°I like being curbside,¡± I ramble. ¡°It¡¯s one of my favorite parts of the city.¡±


    He closes the trunk. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    ¡°Impossible, inconvenient, irreceable¡­ I¡¯m racking up quite a reputation these days.¡±


    ¡°A well-deserved one, I¡¯d say.¡± He turns the key in the ignition, and we make our way out of the city. New York disappears behind us in a blurry skyline, reced by intersections and fourne highways.


    He keeps one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually by his side.


    I lean back in the passenger seat, studying his profile. ¡°Are you excited?¡±


    ¡°Not particrly, no.¡±


    ¡°Not even for your sister¡¯s wedding?¡±


    His eyes slide to mine briefly. ¡°We talk a lot about me. Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C39

    I blink at him. ¡°No, we don¡¯t. I know practically nothing about you! You¡¯re the definition of a closed book.¡±


    His eyebrows rise. ¡°Nothing? You know a lot, Faye.¡±


    ¡°I know that you have a sister and you went to Yale. Oh, and that you prefer your bagels without sesame seeds.¡±


    ¡°Well, those are the most important things about me,¡± he says seriously. ¡°But the sesame thing is deeply personal. Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    I smile. ¡°A joke, Mr. Marchand?¡±


    ¡°Delivered whilepletely sober, as well.¡± He nces over at me, amusement clear in his eyes. ¡°Have I shocked you?¡±


    ¡°You are definitely more human than usual.¡±


    He wraps his fingers along the steering wheel, thoughtfully tapping his thumb along the leather interior. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to call me Henry this weekend.¡±


    ¡°Right, let¡¯s set some ground rules.¡±


    ¡°I thought we already had rules,¡± he says. ¡°You wrote a contract.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I was thinking¡­well.¡± I frown, unsure of how to continue.


    He smiles at my awkward silence-a genuine smile. ¡°You¡¯re not usually afraid to speak your mind, Faye. I¡¯m curious now.¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°What are the boundaries? Do you think we need to touch at the wedding reception, or in front of your family, to sell the illusion?¡±


    ¡°The illusion? You wound me, Faye.¡±


    I roll my eyes at him. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do. And look, they¡¯re not going to be trying to discover some ruse. They¡¯ll be busy with the wedding, with preparations, with guests from out of town. We¡¯ll breeze through the whole thing easily, with plenty of time to work on the opera house design.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡±


    ¡°But if you do feel like touching me, you have my permission,¡± he says, voice wicked, ¡°but you¡¯d be losing a point.¡±


    I want to roll my eyes at him again. ¡°Right, we turned this thing between us into a game. I almost forgot.¡±


    ¡°Much safer than confronting it with adult conversation,¡± Henry agrees, voice lighter than I¡¯ve heard it in a long while. Warmth spreads through my chest at his words, at the implication, at the way we talk. Outside the office, with open road in front of us, he seems much more himself.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I agree. ¡°The miracle of mutual attraction isn¡¯t something to handle maturely.¡±


    ¡°Especially not when it involves several HR vitions, a potentialwsuit, and a career-changing design project.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention a difference in age, ss, and race,¡± I point out. ¡°Honestly, we¡¯re a walking clich¨¦, Henry. Doomed to fail.¡±


    His smile turns wry but doesn¡¯t disappear. ¡°How tragic. We should be cast in a romantic movie, one of the tearjerker ones.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Somehow I don¡¯t think we¡¯re the kind of leads that people would cry for.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m definitely not,¡± he says darkly, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from asking what he means. That I¡¯m pitiable? Or that he¡¯s not worthy of sympathy? I don¡¯t know which option I dislike the most.


    I slip off my shoes and tuck my legs underneath me on the seat, the way I¡¯ve done for years, and contemte the sudden change of conversation.


    Henry nces over at me. ¡°Sit properly.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    His voice is cial-themanding tone he takes with people at work who don¡¯t meet deadlines. ¡°Don¡¯t sit like that.¡±


    I straighten reluctantly. Everything inside me wants to rebel at his tone of voice. ¡°All right,¡± I say. ¡°So I¡¯m your assistant, not your date. Thanks for making that clear.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Henry¡¯s hands tighten on the wheel until his knuckles whiten. I turn and focus on the scenery, on rolling hills, trees, houses, and try to ignore my irrational hurt. I keep my legs straight, my hands in myp, sitting like a goddamn crash test dummy.


    He¡¯s not a realistic love interest-he¡¯s not my friend, even-and I would do well to remember that. I have a job to do and a design project to finish. If the jury chooses our opera house, I have a shot at being employed as a junior architect and a future in this industry. The possibility hangs like the most delicious carrot in front of me, spurring me on.


    Henry finally breaks the silence, his voice resigned. ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t mean to snap at you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s clearly not.¡± His profile is strong, the jaw working. ¡°Look, I should probably tell you anyway. My sister was in a car ident when she was younger.¡±


    My hands, folded in myp, fall limp. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ It¡¯s important to sit straight, you know. To wear your seat belt properly. It¡¯s designed for an adult sitting straight. It seems trivial, but if something happens, that can be the difference.¡±


    I can hear the words he chose not to add, the difference between life and death, and I¡¯m afraid to ask, but I have to. ¡°Is she okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Lily¡¯s strong, and she nearly made a full recovery. But it was way too close.¡± He nces at me briefly, before steeling himself. ¡°She has a limp now. It¡¯s nothing major, but you¡¯ll notice it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for telling me,¡± I say softly. ¡°Is that why you reacted so strongly?¡±


    His hands rx around the wheel. ¡°I suppose so, yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s understandable,¡± I say. ¡°How old was she when it happened?¡±


    ¡°Eighteen. I wasn¡¯t home, at the time. Drove from New York while she was still in surgery.¡±


    Part of me wants to reach out, to put aforting hand on his shoulder, but he¡¯s still closed off. I try for levity instead. ¡°I was raised in the countryside, you know. Many of my friends didn¡¯t wear seat belts throughout their teenage years.¡±


    A theatrical shiver passes through him. ¡°Stop, please.¡±


    ¡°Will you tell me more about her?¡± I lean back in the seat. ¡°Who is she marrying?¡±


    A small, indulgent smile ys on his lips. ¡°She¡¯s the youngest. Has always loved art, much to our father¡¯s displeasure, but she was the strong one. She never cared what our parents thought. She opened her new art gallery just a few months back.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a small ce in Paradise Shores, but it¡¯s a good start. She¡¯s doing what she loves, which is what I want for her.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C40

    I smile at the affection warming his voice. Nothing about Henry is truly cold or aloof, not like I¡¯d once thought.


    ¡°She has three older brothers, which I know wasn¡¯t easy on her growing up. But she¡¯s neverined.¡±


    ¡°You have two brothers, too?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re the oldest?¡±


    His face turns wry. ¡°It¡¯s that obvious, is it?¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Sort of, yes. You have the vibe.¡± It¡¯s not hard to imagine him taking the lead, being the organizer, the responsible one. I bet his siblings look up to him.


    ¡°So I¡¯ve been told,¡± he says.


    ¡°Will they also be at the wedding?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And I should tell you that I¡¯m one of the groomsmen. During the ceremony itself, you¡¯ll be seated with my parents and cousins, but I¡¯ll be by your side for the rest of the evening. I hope that¡¯s not a problem?¡±


    The warmth in my chest expands even further, until I¡¯m feeling far too many things, all of them silly. Siblings. Cousins. Growing up, it had just been my parents and me, and while I love them dearly, his words paint an irresistible picture.


    ¡°Of course not. Do you know the groom well, then?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°You could say that. We grew up with him, in a way. Lily and Hayden were close in age and got along well.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a beat, and I wonder if I¡¯ve said something wrong, but then he gives a slow nod. ¡°Yes, I suppose it is, in a way.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think so?¡±


    ¡°He¡­ well, he was in that car ident as well. He was the one driving, actually. Let¡¯s just say my parents didn¡¯t handle it well. And then he was gone for a long time, serving in the Navy, and my sister was unhappy.¡± He shakes a hand, dismissing years of family history. ¡°But that¡¯s a story for some other day.¡±


    I¡¯m curious, but I just nod. ¡°And we¡¯re meeting them tonight?¡±


    ¡°Yes, for dinner. It¡¯ll be a short affair, and we¡¯ll arrive with plenty of time to spare to work beforehand.¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡±


    We drive infortable silence the rest of the way, the time peppered by casual conversation that isn¡¯t stilted or forced at all. Somehow, the further away from the city we get, the less I feel like we¡¯re our office selves. We¡¯ve shed the suit and the pencil skirt, and we¡¯re just Henry and Faye, equals.


    It¡¯s scary how much I enjoy it.


    My nerves return as we drive into Paradise Shores, two hourster. We drive past beautiful old houses with greenwns and wrap-around porches. Old oak trees rise up like guardians, their twisted branches reaching for the sky. Colonial. Georgian. Victorian. Style after style, we pass houses with turrets, shutters, porches.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°I get why you¡¯re into architecture if you grew up here.¡±


    Henry chuckles. ¡°I have yet to build anything that looks like this, but maybe one day.¡±


    We pass a beautiful little square with a yground, two parents swinging aughing child between them. Its idyllic old money, it¡¯s the Hamptons on steroids, pretty like a postcard and just as unattainable.


    And then the ocean appears. Hidden behind trees and a boardwalk, but shimmering blue nheless, endless and ageless.


    Henry lets out a slow breath. ¡°This ce never changes,¡± he murmurs.


    We drive along the shoreline, through a little town center, and I want to turn down my window and breathe in the air here. Somehow, I think it might smell like candied apples, like sea salt and money.


    Henry pulls up on the driveway to a seaside cottage,plete with blue shutters and blooming hydrangeas.


    ¡°We¡¯re staying here?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a hotel,¡± I protest.


    He chuckles again and turns off the engine. Parked, apparently. ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°I thought we were staying in a hotel.¡±


    He opens the trunk and grabs both of our bags. ¡°No, this is my sister¡¯s house.¡±


    My nervese out in full force. ¡°We¡¯re meeting them now?¡±


    ¡°No, this house is just for us.¡± He unlocks the front door, and I follow him inside. It¡¯s beautifully decorated. Homely, but with rustic, seaside details-and not in a kitschy way either. Arge kitchen and a cozy living room. Two bedrooms, both with double beds, freshly made.


    I¡¯m floored. ¡°They gave you a whole house? Don¡¯t they have a lot of guestsing in?¡±


    Henry shoots me a crooked smile. ¡°Yes, but I am the oldest son, you know.¡±


    The dramatic superiority in his voice makes me smile too. ¡°She doesn¡¯t live here?¡±


    ¡°No, she lives in the house next door with her fianc¨¦.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I say softly, running my hand over the rough linen texture of the couch. The kind of money needed to purchase these seaside houses feels staggering, somehow so much more real than the millions the skyscrapers I regrly work on cost to build. Corporations pay for those-not people.


    Henry sees my expression and pauses, his weekend bag in hand. With his thick hair and the casual linen shirt, here in this beige oceanside cottage, he looks like he belongs in an ad. ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, absolutely.¡±


    ¡°You have nothing to worry about, you know. If you decide you don¡¯t want to attend a dinner or event this weekend, it¡¯s your call. I won¡¯t hold you to anything.¡±


    He¡¯s giving me an out from the contract we¡¯d both signed. I release a shaky breath and shake my head. ¡°No, I¡¯m ready. It¡¯ll be fun. I¡¯ve just never really been introduced to a boyfriend¡¯s family like this, you know. And definitely not at a wedding. Not that you¡¯re my boyfriend, obviously. You¡¯re my boss.¡±


    Henry¡¯s mouth curves into a smile. ¡°You ramble when you¡¯re nervous.¡±


    ¡°I do not.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do. It¡¯s adorable. The great Faye Alvarez, ambitious and cutthroat architect, gets nervous. It¡¯s headline worthy.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C41

    I shake my head at him and grab my bag. ¡°Asshole.¡±


    ¡°Since long before I met you. I¡¯ll take the guest room,¡± he says, a hand on the doorframe. ¡°The master is yours.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He nces down at the heavy watch on his wrist. Judging from this ce-this town-no doubt it¡¯s some family heirloom, probably bequeathed from George Washington himself for favors rendered during the Revolutionary War. ¡°We have a few hours, still. How about we unpack and start working? I¡¯d like us to have a final draft of the structure on Sunday, with all the changes implemented.¡±


    The idea brightens me. The structure is beautiful, and I¡¯ve been wanting to get back to perfecting it for days. ¡°Sounds good. And then we can-¡±


    A knock sounds on the front door, a cheery little pat-pat-pat. ¡°Heeenry! I saw your care in!¡±


    Henry sighs. ¡°Well, you might have to meet my sister a little bit sooner than expected.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s her?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡±


    I smooth a hand over my dress and follow him to the door. A woman is standing on the porch, about my own age, with ming auburn hair and a giant smile on her face. She throws her arms around Henry.


    ¡°You made it!¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he says, wrapping his arms around her. ¡°Were you standing in your window watching, or what?¡±


    She gives a pealingugh. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s funny, I¡¯ve been so busy with wedding preparations, and now that the weekend is here I have nothing at all to do. Mom and Ingrid have all taken over now.¡± She turns to me, her smile burning impossibly brighter. Is this woman really rted to Henry? She feels like hisplete opposite.


    ¡°I¡¯m Lily,¡± she says. ¡°Henry¡¯s sister. I¡¯m so happy to meet you.¡±


    I extend a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Faye. It¡¯s really nice to meet you.¡±


    She ignores my hand and pulls me into a hug instead. ¡°That¡¯s a beautiful name,¡± she says into my hair. ¡°Faye. Very unique. Makes me think of mystical fairy creatures.¡±


    I blink at her. ¡°Yes, well, I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t really live up to that. I¡¯m awfully short for an fairy.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re just as beautiful as one,¡± she says.


    Laughter slips out of me, embarrassed and surprised. ¡°Thank you, I think.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s most definitely apliment.¡±


    ¡°Lily, let¡¯s stay on track here.¡± Henry¡¯s voice is exasperated, and I hide my smile. He sounds just like a fond older brother. ¡°Is everything going as nned with the preparations? Any fires to put out?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she beams. ¡°I¡¯m sure the other shoe will drop, but for now, everything¡¯s perfect. But trust me on that, not Mom. You know she¡¯ll give you a different story. My reception shoes are eggshell white, not cream, or something equally banal.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t even ask,¡± Henry snorts. ¡°Is Hayden doing all right?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡± Lily turns to me with a conspiratorial smile. ¡°Henry keeps thinking that my fianc¨¦ is going to run off. Leave me at the altar or get cold feet.¡±


    ¡°I do not,¡± Henry protests. ¡°Not in the least.¡±


    ¡°Sure you don¡¯t. But I don¡¯t mind. It¡¯s part of your gruff charm, not that I have to tell Faye that, of course.¡±


    And then I watch the most miraculous thing, as Henry-Henry Marchand himself-blushes. It might be the best thing I¡¯ve seen in years.


    ¡°His gruff charm is what I fell for in the first ce,¡± I tell her.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    She winks at me. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised.¡±


    ¡°All right, all right,¡± Henry interjects. ¡°Faye and I are going to get settled before we head over to Mom and Dad¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Right. Dinner is served at seven, but we¡¯re having drinks earlier. I¡¯ll see you guys soon.¡±


    I reach out to her before she leaves, a hand lightly on her elbow. ¡°Thank you for letting us stay in your house, by the way. It¡¯s absolutely gorgeous here.¡±


    Her eyes sparkle again. ¡°ttery. We¡¯re off to a great start, Faye. I¡¯m going to like you.¡±


    I have a sneaky suspicion that I¡¯m going to like her, too. ¡°Keep making Henry blush,¡± I say, ¡°and we¡¯ll get along famously.¡±


    Sheughs, and thenughs even harder as Henry reaches out to close the door. ¡°All right. Goodbye, Lily. See you soon!¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t wait!¡±


    With the front door closed again, I can¡¯t help but grin at him. ¡°Sorry. I couldn¡¯t help myself.¡±


    He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. ¡°Of course you two will be thick as thieves before this is over. I should have seen iting.¡±


    I put a hand on his arm. ¡°I¡¯m on your side in this.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says dryly. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can channel that spirit into the opera house.¡±


    Right. We¡¯re here to work, and the way we¡¯re blurring the lines at the moment is as dangerous as it¡¯s fun. ¡°Lead the way,¡± I say.


    Henry


    Faye walks by my side in silence, keen eyes taking in the beach and the boardwalk. It¡¯s not a long walk from the cottage to my parents¡¯ house on the other end of Ocean Drive, and I know it¡¯s not what she¡¯s there for, but I want to show her Paradise Shores.


    ¡°So,¡± I say finally. ¡°What¡¯s the verdict?¡±


    She nces up at me with intelligent eyes, tucking long hair behind an ear. ¡°On what?¡±


    ¡°This ce,¡± I suggest, ¡°or my sister. Take your pick.¡±


    ¡°You know that¡¯s an impossible question.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯re fishing forpliments, I can tell. And if I refuse, I¡¯m rude, but if I give in, you won¡¯t know if they¡¯re genuine.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just making conversation.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C42

    ¡°Mhm. In that case, we can talk about all kinds of things.¡± She turns and walks backward, ahead of me, her shoes in one hand. I¡¯ve slipped off my own as well, and the sand is warm under my feet.


    The summer air has gone to my head, because here with her, it¡¯s easy to imagine a different reality. One where she¡¯s actually mine-where we walk on the beach most days.


    ¡°What things?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You want me to pick a conversation topic? That can be dangerous.¡±


    I snort again. ¡°I¡¯m well aware. Maybe we could have a mature discussion about our mutual attraction.¡±


    She pretends to consider that for a bit. ¡°Maybe not. Maybe we can talk about you.¡±


    ¡°Again? You¡¯re turning me into a narcissist.¡±


    ¡°You own a firm with yourst name in the title. I¡¯d say that ship has pretty much sailed.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an excellent topic,¡± I say. ¡°Ships.¡±


    She shakes her head, but her eyes are amused. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡±


    ¡°No, but it¡¯s what we should talk about. My family sails a lot, and we have a sailing boat here.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do,¡± she says, rolling her eyes. ¡°What¡¯s next? You¡¯re rted to the Kennedys?¡±


    I wave a hand. ¡°Second cousins, but that¡¯s not important. Let¡¯s go sailing this weekend. I¡¯ll take you out. Have you ever been?¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°I am. Let me take you sailing.¡±


    ¡°No, Henry, about the Kennedy thing.¡±


    ¡°That was a joke, although I think my parents have bumped into members of the extended family at a few events.¡±


    She returns to my side, taking two strides for every one of mine. ¡°You want to go sailing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s summer. Why not?¡± And, I think, because it gives me more time with you. Time with her away from the strict confines of the office, where the title of assistant and boss don¡¯t hang around our necks like ring neon signs.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been sailing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll teach you,¡± I say. I¡¯ll never tire of it-the wind against my skin, the feeling of rope running painfully through my hands. It¡¯s been too long.


    Faye bites her full lip, reminding me of how sweet she tastes, and I have to look away before I lose yet another point in our imaginary game. ¡°It¡¯ll take us away from the project,¡± she says.


    ¡°For a few hours, yes. But I think both of us work hard enough to deserve a weekend with a bit of fun mixed in.¡±


    She shakes her head, her glossy mass of hair shimmering in the sun. ¡°Who are you, and what have you done with Henry Marchand?¡±


    I smile at that and don¡¯t reply, mostly because there¡¯s nothing to say. With her, I feel more like myself than I have for a long while, and I don¡¯t want to let that slip out of my fingers.


    When we¡¯re nearly at my parents¡¯ house, we stop to put our shoes back on, and Faye leans against me to steady herself. The small touch makes me irrationally happy. Her wit, her intelligence, her beauty-everything is intoxicating. She¡¯s a woman who gives as good as she gets in every interaction.


    She looks up at me with an apologetic smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to get all the names mixed up. I always do. It¡¯s my one w.¡±


    ¡°Your one w, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and it would be very ungentlemanlike of you to point out any others.¡±


    ¡°I would never,¡± I say. ¡°Lily is the only girl, and you¡¯ve already met her, so I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll remember her name. When in doubt, just remember that it¡¯s a flower.¡±


    ¡°Idiot.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m Henry,¡± I say solemnly. ¡°H-e-n-r-y.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re aplete asshole,¡± she says, her grin widening. ¡°Why haven¡¯t I realized it before?¡±


    ¡°I try very hard to keep it hidden.¡±


    ¡°Try harder,¡± she says.


    Something inside me aches happily at her teasing and the clear ease in her voice. I take her hand in mine, leading her across thewn toward my parents¡¯ house. It¡¯srge, Victorian, three stories and blue shutters. The picture of imposing Paradise Shores.


    ¡°This is where you grew up?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°So, Rhys is the brooding brother, Parker is theughing, nice one. It¡¯s impossible for you to mix them up.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    She nods. ¡°Right. So Parker is the adopted one?¡±


    I can¡¯t help it-Iugh. It¡¯s the kind of joke my brothers would love, and she hasn¡¯t even met them yet. ¡°Yeah, you could say that, though not to my parents¡¯ face.¡±


    ¡°I would never.¡±


    Another voice calls in the distance. ¡°Henry? Is that you,ughing?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    There¡¯s a faint whoop and then my brother¡¯s voice rings out again. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard that since 2007!¡±


    ¡°Very funny. They¡¯re exaggerating,¡± I tell Faye.


    She nods, eyes teasing. ¡°I know. You¡¯re a clown in the office.¡±


    I want to tease her back, but we¡¯re already at the porch, and there¡¯s no more time. A flurry of introductions and hugs and handshakes ensue.


    ¡°This is Faye,¡± I say, and she shoots them all a big smile.


    ¡°It¡¯s really nice to meet you all.¡±


    My youngest brother shakes her hand immediately, and something in me eases. He can talk to a wall, and there¡¯s no one who¡¯ll be kinder to her.

 Ice Cold Boss C43

    Faye¡¯s hand slips out of mine as my mom hugs me for a long few seconds. ¡°You look good,¡± she tells me.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Rhys.¡± My oldest brother shoots me a wry grin and pulls me into a half-hug. He¡¯s tan, far more than he should be, and his hair is a mess of dark curls. Spending months of the year traveling as a photographer apparently does that to you.


    ¡°Get a haircut,¡± I tell him. ¡°Think of the wedding pictures, man.¡±


    He gives me a level look. ¡°It¡¯s artfully disheveled. It¡¯s a look.¡±


    I keep a hand on his shoulder and nod hello to my youngest brother. ¡°Parker.¡±


    ¡°Good to see you, man.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡±


    ¡°Where have you been hiding this one?¡± He smiles at Faye, his hair bleached a dirty blond from the sun, and sheughs.


    ¡°Is Lily already here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, she¡¯s making cocktails with Hayden. Would you each like one?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please.¡± Faye shoots her winning smile at my mother-the megawatt one, the one that could melt ice-and the effect it has on my mother is immediate. She smiles back.


    ¡°I¡¯m so happy you¡¯re here, dear,¡± she says. ¡°Come on up, let¡¯s show you around. And Henry, your father is by the grill.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Something in me tightens at her words, at the look in her eyes. No doubt she¡¯s heard about our argument. Dad hasn¡¯t called or emailed me since I turned down the project in Chicago. I knew he¡¯d be angry, but I hope he has the wherewithal to not take it out on Lily¡¯s wedding weekend.


    Dad barely says hi to us, his back turned, focusing on the lobster tails on the grill like he has to make sure they stay put. The rest of us drink Aperols in the sun, out on the porch, the soft sound of waves crashing below.


    Faye takes the seat next to me around the table. ¡°This house is beautiful, Mrs. Marchand. Absolutely stunning.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing,¡± Mom says, but she¡¯s loving it. She¡¯s always been a sucker for ttery. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a tour after dinner.¡±


    My family is the picture of politeness, but it¡¯s clear that they¡¯re curious. It¡¯s been a long, long time since I¡¯ve introduced them to anyone, and Parker and Rhys are both currently single.


    My sister¡¯s fianc¨¦ is sitting opposite Faye, asionally shooting her bemused looks. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he tells her once, as the table devolves into a debate about the new construction project next to the marina. ¡°They¡¯re always like this. You¡¯ll get used to it after a while.¡±


    Faye smiles. ¡°I don¡¯t mind at all. I¡¯m an architect too, actually. We could talk about developments all day.¡±


    My father has barely spoken all dinner, but he immediately perks up. ¡°You¡¯re an architect?¡±


    The table quiets, as it so often does when he deigns to speak.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Faye says, her broad smile still intact. ¡°It¡¯s what Henry and I first had inmon. And I understand building runs in the family?¡±


    She¡¯s being charming and kind. If my father throws this back in her face somehow¡­


    ¡°Why did you choose architecture?¡±


    It¡¯s a simple enough question, but there¡¯s nothing simple about him. He¡¯ll inevitably find some way to spin her answer back around to critique, if not about Faye, then about me.


    ¡°I love it. Building structures thatst, the shape and the forms. It¡¯s art that we inhabit, functionality and beautybined. It¡¯s been with us since we constructed the first huts.¡± Faye¡¯s voice is earnest. ¡°It¡¯s man¡¯s attempt to tame the world into shapes, into recognizable forms, to make structures thatst. There was never anything else I wanted to study.¡±


    There¡¯s no mistaking the clear passion in her voice. Under the table, I reach for her hand, and it slides into mine without hesitation. She means every word she says, but she¡¯s also set up a situation where it can¡¯t be turned against her without making my father sound like a philistine.


    ¡°That¡¯s beautifully put,¡± Lily says.


    Dad looks unmoved. ¡°So you¡¯re the new influence, huh?¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Did you know about his trip to Chicagost week?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Dad, stop. We¡¯re not discussing this.¡±


    But he doesn¡¯t stop, and neither does Faye. I can see the exact moment it clicks in her eyes-that my friend who offered the firm the contract is my dad. Something res in them, the same kind ofpetitive anger I¡¯ve seen so many times before, and I know it¡¯s not Faye I need to protect. It¡¯s my father.


    She gives a slow nod. ¡°I knew about his trip, yes.¡±


    Dad slides his eyes from her to me, narrowing them into slits. ¡°So your decision wasn¡¯t even your own?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it was, and I still stand by it. But we can talk shop after dinner.¡±


    ¡°So you can insult me again?¡± He puts his winess down hard, the ss rattling, and the temperature around the table drops noticeably. Fuck. This was exactly what I hoped wouldn¡¯t happen. My mother¡¯s gaze flicks from me to my father, and my brothers are both gearing up for a fight.


    This needs to be diffused.


    ¡°I gave you my honest opinion on the project, Dad. It wasn¡¯t meant to be an insult, and it¡¯s unfortunate that you chose to take it as one.¡±


    His gaze zeroes in on Faye. ¡°Did you think it was immoral too? That was the word he used. Immoral.¡±


    If looks could kill, my dad would be dead from the one my mother shoots him. ¡°Michael! Behave!¡±


    I put my hand t down on the table. ¡°Dad, let this be thest we talk of it. Stop embarrassing yourself.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a simple question,¡± he says, clearly unbothered by our demands.


    Faye leans back in her chair and slips her hand out of mine, crossing her arms over her chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know the specifics, but I didn¡¯t think it seemed like a good project, no. Your son is an expert at these things. I¡¯ve seen the way his employees idolize him, even if they¡¯re scared out of their minds of him, too. I trust his opinion. If he said it was immoral, then I¡¯m sure it was.¡±


    Dad¡¯s eyes widen, and then he breaks into a surprised chuckle. ¡°I understand why you brought this one home, Henry. Damn. Do you know he doesn¡¯t own his firm? He has a co-partner.¡±


    His voice is challenging, like he wants to provoke Faye again, but it still cuts. I know he thinks I should be further in my career by now-he runs me harder than any of my siblings. Always has.


    ¡°Come on, Dad, you¡¯re being wildly unfair,¡± Lily protests. ¡°Henry is the most sessful of all of us!¡±


    ¡°Yes, and don¡¯t I know it.¡± He shoots her a pointed look that makes Hayden bristle, before returning to Faye. ¡°So? What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Well, sir, as you¡¯ve pulled no punches here tonight, I¡¯ll do the same.¡± She puts down her napkin and smooths her hand over it, like she¡¯s preparing for battle. ¡°I think it was an exceptionally smart move. Together with Rykers, Henry can attribute double the number of prestige projects to his name. They can pull in more funding as a firm, not to mention Rykers focuses on different kinds of projects. They strengthen one another. I¡¯ve been told you¡¯re a very sessful developer, but so far, I haven¡¯t seen any of that business savvy in yourments tonight. If you¡¯d like to really learn more about your son¡¯s business, you shoulde to New York. That is if he¡¯ll have you, after your rudeness. And that, sir, is what I really think.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C44

    I¡¯m in shock.


    There was not an ounce of pretension in her voice; it was ringing with sincerity. Is that how she sees me?


    The table is quiet, including my dad, who is just staring at her. Faye smiles sweetly and picks up her winess. ¡°The meal is excellent, Mrs. Marchand. Thank you for inviting me.¡±


    My mom swallows. ¡°There¡¯s sherry in the sauce. That¡¯s the secret.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to try that.¡±


    Dad is drumming his fingers along the edge of the table, for all the world the picture of ease again. His linen shirt is open at the top, his thick hair the same as his sons¡¯, but gray now.


    I meet his gaze with my own and dare him to say anything insulting back. He¡¯s been rude enough already to Faye, but if he decides to reallyy into it¡­


    He doesn¡¯t.


    ¡°Well,¡± he says finally. ¡°Wee to Paradise Shores, Faye.¡±


    The table releases a collective sigh of relief-that the tension is over, that I¡¯m not about to storm off, that Dad isn¡¯t going to retreat to his study, that this won¡¯t be another battle.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Under the table, I find her hand again, this time just for a light squeeze. Thank you. Faye smiles down at her te and squeezes right back.


    After dinner, my sister insists on showing Faye around the house, and I follow dutifully, watching as all kinds of things are pointed out.


    ¡°Here is our dog, we used to have one¡­ As. And this is Henry, winning the Paradise Shores Junior Sailing Regatta.¡± They stop at a picture of me, gawky and gangly, lifting a much-too-heavy trophy in the air.


    Faye grins. ¡°Why am I not surprised you won?¡±


    ¡°Because I win everything.¡±


    Lily rolls our eyes at me and keeps going, walking through the hallway between the dining and living rooms. ¡°Not everything, Henry. I can beat you in Monopoly.¡±


    I nod, but when she turns around, I shake my head at Faye. ¡°I let her win,¡± I mouth.


    We stop at the bookshelves with our diplomas. Three identical ones from Yale. Henry Marchand, School of Architecture. Parker Marchand, School of Management. Lily Marchand, School of Art.


    There is none for Rhys, but Faye doesn¡¯tment. She just leans in closer and reads the fine print on mine. ¡°You weren¡¯t valedictorian? I¡¯m disappointed.¡±


    I shake my head at her and follow them through my childhood home, through the nooks and crannies, listening to them talk. Despite the outburst at dinner, there¡¯s something at peace inside me, watching Faye with my sister. I want them to like each other. I want Faye to like this ce.


    I want her to like me.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I say finally. ¡°Let¡¯s grab ast drink. I think Parker was talking about cards.¡±


    Lily threads her arm through Faye¡¯s. ¡°Henry¡¯s just feeling left out. Has he filled you in about tomorrow night already?¡±


    ¡°No, he has not.¡± Faye wiggles her eyebrows at me. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not really a traditional bachelor and bachelorette party, but Hayden and I are splitting up. The boys will go do something-I don¡¯t want to know what-and us girls will be at mine in the evening. Do you want toe?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to. Thanks for inviting me.¡±


    My parents have already called it a night, but the rest of us gather around for a few rounds of rummy for old times¡¯ sake.


    Hayden pulls Lily onto hisp and ignores Parker¡¯s and Rhys¡¯s grumbles. ¡°Come on, I¡¯m marrying her on Saturday. Cut us some ck.¡±


    My sister puts a hand on his cheek,ughing. ¡°They¡¯re overjoyed that you¡¯re joining the family, don¡¯t you worry.¡±


    It¡¯s such a public disy of affection-not one they usually indulge in-but I can¡¯t fault them. Lily and Hayden have been in love for years and years, and it¡¯s only recently that they¡¯ve gotten the happy ending they deserve.


    But as Faye sits down opposite me, my hands twitch to do the same: to have her next to me, near me. It¡¯s a dangerous impulse. She¡¯s as deliciouslypetitive with my family as she is with me. I watch as she beats Parker soundly.


    ¡°A very low bar to clear,¡± Rhys says dryly, and we allugh. When it¡¯s like this, all of us together¡­ I wonder why I¡¯m not home more often.


    We y until our drinks run low, until the summer sun slowly sinks into the horizon, setting the ocean aze. Faye is a natural. She fits right in,ughing and joking, and I¡¯m the one who has to call it a night.


    ¡°All right, all right,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re heading out. Lily-get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°Some beauty sleep,¡± Parker interjects. ¡°Think about your uing nuptials.¡±


    Hayden ps a hand on Parker¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Don¡¯t encourage her. I don¡¯t think I could stand it if she got more beautiful.¡±


    We all groan at the cheesypliment, and Rhys frowns at him. ¡°Low-hanging fruit. You already got your ring on her finger.¡±


    Lily slips her arm through Hayden¡¯s. ¡°ttery is always wee, so shush. Thanks foring, Faye. I¡¯m sorry that they¡¯re behaving so badly.¡±


    Faye doesn¡¯t seem to agree at all, though. She is a living me next to me, our fingers inteced, her smile broad and true. ¡°Not at all. I¡¯ve had a fantastic time. Would have been better if I¡¯d have won thatst round, though.¡±


    Rhys shoots her a smile. ¡°I couldn¡¯t let that happen, not even for my big brother¡¯s girlfriend. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Apology epted. I¡¯ll win next time, though.¡±


    ¡°Looking forward to seeing you try.¡±


    I shake my head at their trash talk. ¡°We¡¯ll see you all tomorrow.¡±


    The door shuts behind us and we¡¯re alone in the warm evening air. Faye is still holding on to my hand, her skin warm and soft against mine, her fingers slender. I don¡¯t want to let her go.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she says. ¡°Let¡¯s walk along the beach back.¡±


    ¡°You sure? There are no lights.¡±


    Her smile is still wide, and a little wild. ¡°Scared, Marchand?¡±


    It¡¯s such a juvenile thing to say that Iugh. ¡°No. I have the home field advantage here, in case you¡¯d forgotten.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I definitely haven¡¯t. God, your family is huge.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re a lot of people. Careful there.¡± I steady her as we walk across the edge of our property, around the little driftwood fence Rhys and I built many years ago, and onto the public boardwalk.

 Ice Cold Boss C45

    ¡°And you¡¯re so beloved,¡± she says with a sigh, our hands swinging lightly between us.


    The word strikes me like a shot. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Henry, everyone hangs on to your every word. Your younger brothers look up to you, your little sister adores you, and your mom dotes on you.¡±


    It¡¯s good it¡¯s dark, or the blush she¡¯d joked about earlier would be blooming on my cheeks. Damn it, how did she manage to disarm me like this?


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about dinner,¡± I say. ¡°I didn¡¯t know my dad would ambush you like that.¡±


    ¡°You never told me he was the silent partner in the Chicago project.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°It didn¡¯t seem important at the time. The project was still bad.¡±


    ¡°Is it okay, what I said? I wasn¡¯t too harsh?¡±


    ¡°Too harsh? Faye, you were fucking excellent in there. I¡¯m sorry, but¡­ no, you weren¡¯t too harsh.¡± Not at all. Nobody had ever stood up for me the way she did.


    ¡°Is he always like that? Such a hard-ass?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much, yeah.¡±


    She shakes her head, dark silk flying. ¡°That feels like such a crime. I mean, look at you! What parent wouldn¡¯t be proud? If that¡¯s the metric being used, then no parent could ever be proud of their child unless they were the first man on the moon or something.¡±


    I¡¯m smiling, listening to her go on. Her tongue is definitely looser with drink, but then again, so is mine. With the starlit sky above us and the soft waves against the shore, I feel more at home in Paradise Shores than I ever have before.


    ¡°You¡¯re defending me. Again.¡±


    She looks up at me in surprise. ¡°I suppose so, yes. Not that you need defending. But¡­ I just don¡¯t get it!¡±


    ¡°It was sweet of you,¡± I say. ¡°Back then, and now, right here.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s why you brought me, right? Moral support, arm candy, and business partner, all rolled into one.¡±


    Her voice is amused, but at her words, I feel none. She¡¯s right, and maybe her words were only part of an act, but somehow¡­ it had felt real.


    ¡°You¡¯re awfully free-spoken tonight.¡±


    ¡°Should I not be?¡± She looks up at me, eyes luminous in the moonlight. ¡°Are we being serious now, or yful? I never can tell when we decide to switch, you know.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t? I¡¯m trying to keep up with you, most of the time.¡±


    Sheughs, and the sound sends delicious shivers across my skin. I want to make her do it again. ¡°You obviously don¡¯t see yourself very clearly.¡±


    ¡°I think the same could be said for you sometimes,¡± I say, thinking about her offhandments about just being an assistant.


    ¡°Let¡¯s y a game,¡± she says, voice dropping a few octaves. It¡¯s the same voice she used when she challenged me to the contract.


    ¡°You already know I¡¯ll win.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°If yed right, we both win.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°Get-to-know-Henry.¡±


    I groan, and I¡¯m rewarded with another one of herughs. ¡°It¡¯s all we¡¯ve been ying, Faye. I¡¯m all yed out.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about yourst rtionship.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re a little bit drunk.¡±


    Faye rolls her eyes at me. ¡°Are you avoiding the question?¡±


    ¡°Myst rtionship was with Avery, who you¡¯ve already met, in spectacr fashion.¡±


    Faye wrinkles her nose. ¡°Hmm. Walking perfection, that¡¯s what she was.¡±


    ¡°As much as she¡¯d like to think that, she¡¯s definitely not perfect. Are you okay?¡±


    She¡¯s started to tilt, slightly, and I reach out to steady her. Her skin is warm under my hands.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    It¡¯s wrong to exploit this opportunity-and I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll pay for itter-but I can¡¯t stop myself from asking her the same thing.


    ¡°Now tell me about yourst rtionship.¡±


    She tuts. ¡°That¡¯s a different game.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t y get-to-know-Faye? That strikes me as cruelly unfair.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°There¡¯s not much to know.¡±


    She still has her hand in mine, and I can¡¯t stop myself from gripping it tighter. ¡°That¡¯s untrue. You don¡¯t even believe that yourself.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± She takes a few steps forward, her hand slipping out of mine again, and walks backwards in front of me. The moonlight illuminates her hair, a dark halo around her, and it strikes me-not for the first time-how much person she fits into her short stature.


    ¡°I dated a guy called Aiden for a few years. He was a ssic Wall Street guy.¡±


    I groan. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I don¡¯t want to get any grief about that. It¡¯s in the past.¡± She holds up a finger, as if disciplining a dog, and I nod obediently. If there¡¯s one thing more amusing than Faye herself, it¡¯s Faye intoxicated.


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°He was so dreamy. I thought so, and my friends thought so too. We were going to get married in a big vi in Martha¡¯s Vineyard, you know.¡±


    That sounds serious. ¡°You were engaged?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C46

    ¡°No, God no. But these were discussions, you see. Discussions we had about our future. But eventually, those discussions turned to arguments, and our rtionship into a nothing-ship.¡±


    ¡°When was this?¡±


    ¡°Our breakup? Nearly two years ago. I don¡¯t miss him anymore. Do you miss Avery?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± I say, ¡°but let¡¯s stay on topic. Why did your ideas about the future diverge?¡±


    She throws her hands up, her face still split in a smile. ¡°See? This is why I don¡¯t like ying get-to-know-Faye with you. You¡¯re too¡­ observant. Too much Henry. You¡¯ll see straight through the cracks, and get all the details, try as I might to hide them.¡±


    She¡¯s speaking lightly, but it¡¯s revealing far more of her than I think she would have wanted sober.


    ¡°Faye, you can tell me anything.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± she nods. ¡°Anything, because we¡¯re such good friends, right?¡±


    She¡¯s being facetious, but I answer her straight-faced. ¡°Yeah, we are.¡±


    In the distance, the lighthouse revolves, a sh of light momentarily illuminating the shoreline before disappearing out to sea again. She reaches for my hand again, despite theck of an audience. I take it firmly in mine and wonder if my skin burns her like hers does mine.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll tell you,¡± she says. ¡°He didn¡¯t like my ambition. He did in the beginning, of course. It was a turn-on then. But as time went by, it became more and more of an issue. I was supposed to sacrifice for him-and I did, skipping afterwork socials to be with him-but he never once cut down on his hours. He worked straight through my twenty-fifth birthday party, because he wanted to trade on the Japanese stock market.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°And when he admitted that he didn¡¯t like my goals, or that he wanted a more traditional lifestyle like he grew up with, with a wife who stayed at home¡­ well, my ambition wasn¡¯t so sexy then. So I broke up with him.¡±


    Her tone is flippant, but her words are not. The experience must have hurt her deep. Having someone reject such an essential part of you¡­


    I would have reacted just like she did.


    ¡°He was a coward, and an asshole.¡±


    She gives me a wry smile, and I decide that I like these ones the best, not her winning, megawatt ones.


    ¡°Yes, you could definitely say that.¡±


    She leads me up through the shrubbery, onto the boardwalk, as if she knows this town by heart already. We¡¯re nearly at my sister¡¯s cottage, so her sense of direction is spectacr. I open my mouth to tell her that when she derails me entirely.


    ¡°Your mother was a stay-at-home mom.¡±


    I close my mouth in surprise. ¡°Yes. Yes, she was.¡±


    ¡°Do you expect your wife to make the same choice?¡±


    Ah. I get it, and something in me grows both warm and cold from the question.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t. Any wife of mine could decide for herself what she wanted to be. But if you¡¯re asking what I like, I like women with career ambitions.¡±


    ¡°Do you find it sexy, too?¡±


    She¡¯s half-joking, but I pull her closer regardless, wrapping my arm around her waist. ¡°Very, very sexy. But I also find it inspiring, and I¡¯d be supportive.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± Her body is warm against mine, the skin at her waist soft beneath her thin summer dress, and I know that lines are going to be crossed this weekend. How could they not be?


    I unlock the front door and we walk into the cottage, still hand in hand. I¡¯ve never been a handholding kind of guy, but with Faye, I don¡¯t want to let go.


    She pulls me to the little hallway in between the two bedrooms and we lean against the wall. She blinks slowly, long eyshes lowering over beautiful eyes, before she looks up at me bashfully. I can¡¯t help the impulse-I reach out and run a strand of her dark, silken hair through my fingers.


    ¡°Are you trying to seduce me, Faye?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she says. ¡°Is it working?¡±


    I run my hand down her cheek, down her neck, to where her pulse is beating fast. ¡°You seduce me daily, simply by being you.¡±


    Her breath catches as my fingers trail across her corbone. I sweep her hair out of the way, her skin a map I can¡¯t wait to explore.


    ¡°Who taught you to speak like that?¡± she asks, her voice a bit unsteady.


    ¡°Is it working?¡±


    She sways closer. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I should walk away, but self-discipline has never been my strong suit with Faye.


    I tip her head back, her breath ghosting across my lips, and my entire body tightens in response. Need, sharp and clear, is like a stab in my lower stomach.


    Our kiss isn¡¯t careful. It¡¯s like things have always been between us-a little fast, a little hard. I deepen it, tasting her, and Faye moans. The sound makes my mind go nk. It feels like I¡¯m unraveling,yer byyer, undone by this beautiful woman with sharp words and kind eyes.


    She pulls away, her eyes shining. ¡°I¡¯m feeling a bit reckless.¡±


    ¡°Clearly,¡± I murmur, my lips against her jaw. Her hands trail up my shoulders, tugging at my hair, and I have to fight against the fierce need inside me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do something we¡¯ll both regret, Henry.¡±


    I close my eyes against her temple and force myself to take a few deep, calming breaths. God, but I want to. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to take what she¡¯s offering, to follow her into the master bedroom and see just how well we fit together. But her words make that impossible.


    When I take her to bed, I never want her to regret it.


    Her lips are soft when I kiss her. ¡°Not tonight.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too moral for your own good.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s definitely the first time I¡¯ve heard that.¡± I smooth her hair back behind her ear, her eyes dazed and beautiful. I¡¯ve never wanted anyone like I want her in this moment. ¡°Good night, Faye. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡±


    She kisses my cheek. ¡°Sleep well.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that,¡± I say, ncing downwards, and sheughs a little. ¡°But I¡¯ll try.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    The bedroom door shuts behind her, and I put my head in my hands, trying to still the roaring desire still pounding through me. Her words ring in my head. Regret. I don¡¯t want her to regret anything from this weekend. And despite how tricky it will be, I want us to figure out a solution to our boss-assistant predicament.

 Ice Cold Boss C47

    Because despite what we¡¯d both agreed to, tonight hadn¡¯t felt like we were acting. Not in the slightest.


    Faye


    I wake up to birds chirping and sunlight streaming in through the window, to a faint headache and the scent of coffee. Where am I?


    I roll over in the massive bed as full consciousness hits me, and with it the memory ofst night. Of Henry¡¯s family, me confronting his father, his amazing sisters and brothers. Holding hands as we walked along the beach. Me and my loose tongue, feeling morefortable around Henry than I ever had before. We spoke about past rtionships and I told him about Aiden.


    We kissed right outside this bedroom door.


    I asked him to be reckless with me.


    And he said no.


    I turn over in bed again and stare up at the ceiling. He was being rational. Nothing good woulde out of sleeping together, regardless of how good it would feel. And while yesterday had felt natural, it wasn¡¯t; it was me fulfilling my end of the bargain.


    From the sounds outside my bedroom door, he¡¯s already up, doubtlessly already hard at work. I allow five more seconds of feeling sorry for myself before I jump into the shower and get dressed.


    There¡¯s a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me on the kitchen table when I get out, and an opened bag of bagels. Henry is already typing away at hisptop, hair wet from his own shower.


    ¡°Morning,¡± he tells me. ¡°Sleep well?¡±


    ¡°I did, yes.¡±


    ¡°Help yourself.¡± He nods at the food. ¡°You¡¯ll need your energy today.¡±


    ¡°I will?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯re working for a few hours, and after that we¡¯re going sailing.¡±


    I sit down opposite him and reach for the coffee cup. ¡°You were serious about that?¡±


    ¡°Dead serious, Faye.¡± His green eyes look solemn, but there¡¯s humor there, too. ¡°I hope you packed a swimsuit.¡±


    I did, but the idea of stripping down around him¡­ I take another pull of coffee and wince at the strength. He brewed it dark.


    Henry cocks his head. ¡°Are you game?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course I am. Show me the ropes.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I will. You¡¯ll be a sailor when we¡¯re done.¡±


    I walk around him to see what he¡¯s working on. It¡¯s the opera house, and he rotates the models, letting me see the changes. ¡°I added the beams here that you suggested.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± It¡¯s apletely different entryway now. I sit down next to him, absently tearing off a piece of bagel. ¡°That looks great.¡±


    ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it. Here, why don¡¯t you open yours¡­¡±


    I log on to the same project on myputer, and we spend the rest of the morning side by side, designing an opera house for the ages.


    It¡¯s early afternoon when we finally pack up our things and head out to sail. The drive to the marina is calm, the radio ying an old Fleetwood Mac song. Henry¡¯s tapping along to the beat of the song and I steal a sideways nce at him.


    I¡¯d been intrigued and attracted to the man he was in the office-an efficient hardass. Now, seeing him rxed in his element, I¡¯m dangerously close to another feeling entirely.


    He shoots me a sideways look. ¡°You¡¯ve been quiet this morning. You¡¯re not thinking aboutst night, are you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    His lips twitch, like he knows I¡¯m lying, but he doesn¡¯tment. He pulls into a small parking lot and guides me through a set of trees in silence. The ocean glitters through the leaves and then we¡¯re there, at a beautiful natural harbor with boats bobbing on soft waves. It looks heavenly.


    ¡°Come on,¡± he says. ¡°Our boat is over here.¡±


    At the end of the dock, I stop in my tracks. ¡°This thing?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He tosses our bag with snacks and water onboard and begins untying ropes with quick, steady hands. He pauses when he realizes I¡¯ve stopped.


    ¡°Something wrong?¡±


    ¡°This boat is massive.¡±


    His eyes light up. ¡°No, it¡¯s not. It¡¯s mid-sized. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll mostly use the motor, not the sails. We can handle it with two people.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t know how to. I¡¯ll be in your way.¡±


    ¡°No chance. I have faith in you.¡±


    I want to say that I don¡¯t-I don¡¯t know how to tie a single knot-but I don¡¯t want to sound weak.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he says, eying my expression. ¡°You¡¯re sailing with the winner of the Paradise Shores Junior Sailing Regatta. You¡¯re in good hands.¡±


    Iugh, the tension broken, and climb onto the boat. It¡¯s solid under my feet, rocking rhythmically with the waves. ¡°All right,¡± I say. ¡°Tell me what to do.¡±


    He¡¯s a good teacher. I¡¯m given instructions, clearly exined, to turn the key in the ignition. To turn the handle toward the starboard side-¡°your left, Faye, your left¡±-and then we¡¯re moving.


    He ties up thest of the dock lines andes to stand next to me at the helm.


    ¡°Go to the bow,¡± he tells me. ¡°Help guide me out of the harbor.¡±


    ¡°Okay. What do I look out for?¡±


    ¡°We need to stay between the red buoys. They¡¯re clearly marked.¡±


    The bow of the boat quickly bes my favorite spot. I watch as we cleave the glittering nket of water in two and feel the spray of seawater.


    Henry barely needs my instructions-he steers us out of the harbor on memory-but I give them regardless. And then we¡¯re cruising along the coast, with little coves and rocks and windswept trees.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    I close my eyes and lean back. The sun is warm on my skin and the smell of ocean is all around me. Why have I never done this before?


    ¡°Enjoying yourself?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C48

    I look up to see Henry at the helm, a hand on the steering. With his thick hair swept back by the wind and a pair of sunsses on, he looks like he belongs on the water.


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling for a bit, of not doing anything. No work, no expectations. I don¡¯t know how long we sail for, in silence, the only sound that of waves and seagulls and the motor.


    He steers into a small cove and cuts the engine. We cruise softly to a stop, in the middle of a dark-bluegoon, the shoreline rocky and tree-covered.


    It¡¯s gorgeous.


    Henry¡¯s undoing his shirt, button after button revealing skin and taut muscles. ¡°Come on.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re swimming.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t swim here.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± He¡¯s tosses his shirt aside. His skin is faintly tan, a smattering of hair on his chest, leading down to a taut stomach with the outline of a six-pack. Somehow, with all his desk-sitting, he finds the time to look like this? He radiates vitality with every limb.


    Henry meets my gaze. ¡°Ready?¡±


    I square my shoulders and reach for the hem of my summer dress. I pull it over my head, and while I like my ck bikini, nerves still dance in my stomach.


    ¡°So,¡± I repeat, and kick off my shoes. ¡°You go in first.¡±


    Henry¡¯s eyes sweep over my form in one smooth motion. His face ispletely impassive, almost pained in its tautness, and then he dives off the edge of the boat and clears the surface in one strong, beautiful line.


    I take a deep breath and jump in after him. The water is shockingly cold, far more than I¡¯d imagined, and I push up to the surface as fast as I can.


    ¡°Shit! It¡¯s freezing!¡±


    Henryughs at me, water droplets flying as he shakes hair out of his eyes. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Is it always this cold?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says,pletely unapologetic, and swims toward me with strong arms. ¡°We¡¯re right on the Antic coast, battered by ocean currents.¡±


    ¡°You knew.¡±


    ¡°Of course I did.¡± He flips over and floats past me on his back, the picture of serenity, as if the coldness doesn¡¯t bother him. ¡°Are you saying this is too cold for you?¡±


    I ssh him.


    He straightens and sputters, something shing in his eyes. ¡°Juvenile again?¡±


    ¡°I guess you bring it out in me. No, don¡¯t you dare-¡± I¡¯m sshed back, a wave that sters my hair to my face and brings me sputtering to the surface.


    ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    ¡°You started it.¡± He¡¯s closer now, long legs kicking beneath the surface. My mouth is salty from the seawater and I flick a tendril of wet hair back.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that cold when you get used to it.¡±


    He smiles, wide and true, and nods. ¡°Profound.¡±


    ¡°You seem so rxed out here, on the water. When did you learn to sail?¡±


    ¡°As soon as I could walk. It¡¯s sort of the official Marchand family pastime.¡±


    ¡°Like building?¡±


    He grimaces and dives. I kick to stay afloat and watch as he glides underneath the surface, only to appear many feet away, finding a rock to stand on. With his hair slicked to his face and his wide shoulders rising up from the water, he looks like he belongs here.


    I swim after him.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, ¡°although I¡¯m the only one who pursued that.¡±


    ¡°But that was because you liked it. Architecture, I mean. No one could build an opera house like that if they didn¡¯t truly love it.¡±


    He looks at me for a long moment. ¡°I did love it. Still do.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°We¡¯re simr that way.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re simr in many ways. More than I thought in the beginning.¡±


    I dive below the surface too, icy water closing above my head, and take a few long strokes. When I surface, I¡¯m much closer to him than I thought. Green eyes gaze back at me.


    ¡°There¡¯s more space on this rock,¡± he says. ¡°If you can reach it with your toes, that is.¡±


    I can¡¯t, and heughs, arms closing around my waist as I nearly dip below the surface in my attempt to reach the rock.


    ¡°Just one of the ways in which we¡¯re different. You¡¯re a dwarf.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. And there¡¯s nothing wrong with dwarfs.¡±


    His smile doesn¡¯t falter. ¡°Never said there was, shorty. I have to say, I¡¯m partial to your height.¡±


    My hands find his forearms under the surface, holding on, and they tense like steel bands under my grip. There are little water droplets in his eyshes.


    ¡°I¡¯m on to you, you know.¡±


    ¡°You are?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m your date to ensure we get more work done on the project, and I ept that reasoning. But it¡¯s not the only reason.¡± I tilt my head, regarding him under myshes. ¡°Am I moral support? Was that the reason yesterday, with your dad?¡±


    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t bring you as my bodyguard, but you did an extraordinary job at it nheless. If I ever need one, you¡¯ll be my first call.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C49

    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, his voice growing patient. ¡°I¡¯ve been disagreeing with my dad since the day I was born. I came early, and he didn¡¯t make it to the hospital in time. We didn¡¯t exactly get off on the right foot.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s an idiot, then.¡±


    Henry¡¯s smile widens. ¡°He¡¯s difficult,¡± he qualifies. ¡°Sometimes aplete asshole. But he taught me how to sail, how to work hard. How to build stuff. And if you ask any of my siblings, they¡¯ll be the first to tell you I¡¯m the favorite.¡±


    ¡°I imagine that wasn¡¯t always easy.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± he says. ¡°No, I suppose it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    The mood has turned serious, and I smile again, wanting to see his own in response. It¡¯s be addicting, drawing out those rare smiles of his. ¡°So if I¡¯m not here for moral reasons¡­ why?¡±


    He chuckles, and the hands on my waist tighten. ¡°You won¡¯t take my answer at face value, will you?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s clearly not because I¡¯m inconvenient, since you didn¡¯t want to sleep with me yesterday. I was determined not to mention it, but here I am, bringing it up.¡±


    He smiles crookedly, and my heart does a pathetic little dance in my chest. ¡°That¡¯s what you thought? Faye, I wanted to. I¡¯ve never wanted anything more.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Really?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡± He ducks his head, pressing a salty kiss to my lips. I cling to him fiercely, and he pulls me closer, our bodies molded together under the surface.


    ¡°I could kiss you forever,¡± he murmurs, pushing my mess of wet hair back, ¡°but I know that I shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. You¡¯re good at not doing things you want to do.¡±


    Heughs. ¡°Yes. You asked me for my workout routine, Faye, but it¡¯s this. It¡¯s me doing things I don¡¯t want to do, day after day.¡±


    I slide my hands up his shoulder,ing to rest around his neck. ¡°That¡¯s not a very fun way to live.¡±


    ¡°No, but it gets things done.¡± He releases me and flips on his back, starting a slow paddle toward the boat. ¡°It also helps keep me from making a mistake.¡±


    Because sleeping together would be a mistake. It¡¯s something I already know, but I¡¯ve desperately been trying to forget.


    When we finally climb on board the Frida, I stretch out on deck. The sun is hot and my bikini small-it shouldn¡¯t take long to dry. Next to me, Henry is wringing out his hair with a towel, but he stops and looks me over. With my sunsses down, it¡¯s easy to pretend I don¡¯t see his heated perusal.


    ¡°I should never have hired you,¡± he mutters, and something dark flips in my stomach. Yes, I think, even though that would mean my career was over. You shouldn¡¯t have.


    On our way back, Henry shows me how to hoist the main sail. He teaches me how to tie a clove hitch knot with strong, assured hands. And then he cuts the engine, and we¡¯re cleaving the water silently, just us and the waves and the sun. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever experienced anything better.


    Henry sits next to me on the helm. ¡°You like it?¡±


    ¡°Sailing?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I can tell my answer is important to him, that he¡¯s sharing something he loves with me. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s peaceful. I feel like it¡¯s just us and the ocean, the coves, nature¡­ and there are no rules.¡±


    ¡°Not many,¡± Henry says. ¡°We do have to follow thews of the sea.¡±


    ¡°Why do you like it?¡±


    ¡°Sailing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    He reaches over to flick a strand of hair back from my shoulder. Its drying inrge waves, the salt bringing out a few curls. His eyes, normally reserved, are green pools of emotion.


    ¡°My mind goes quiet when I¡¯m at sea,¡± he says. ¡°There are no goals or ns. Everything about shore life fades away, and there¡¯s just stillness. We¡¯ve been doing this for millennia, you know.¡±


    ¡°Sailing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. A sailor from two thousand years ago couldmand this vessel just fine.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never thought about it that way.¡±


    His small smile is back, a curve of his lips. My heart, already in danger of falling entirely for him, does a little flip. ¡°I¡¯m d I could share it with you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m d you did, too. Even if you didn¡¯t warn me about the water temperature.¡±


    ¡°And miss out on your reaction? Never.¡±


    We sail back infortable silence, the sun beating down on us, the waves lulling me into a state of bliss. Under his guidance, I help steer, and heughingly calls me captain. The marina eventuallyes back into view and we have to roll down the main sail. I feel a pang of sadness when he turns on the motor again and the beautiful silence is reced by the dull sound of it churning. He sees it in my eyes and smiles.


    ¡°You get it,¡± he says. ¡°I knew you would, you know.¡±


    We anchor along the dock and he shows me yet another knot, this time to secure the boat against the constant rocking of the waves.


    ¡°Let¡¯s stay here for a bit,¡± I say on impulse. ¡°At the dock. We don¡¯t have to go back yet, do we?¡±


    Henry doesn¡¯t protest, sitting down on the weathered dock. ¡°Not yet.¡±


    We bask in thete afternoon sunshine and the sound of waves. It¡¯s almost like being at sea, without the constant to-do-lists and things to aplish.


    Henry has closed his eyes, leaning back on the dock, and I take the opportunity to study him.


    He¡¯s a hardass, an impossible man, an enigma in expensive suits. And he¡¯s a man, sitting next me in an old sailor¡¯s sweater and a faint smile on his face. His skin has already begun to tan from the day outside, with the ease of skin that¡¯s long been exposed to the sun. I can imagine his younger self clearly, a carefree smile against tan skin and thick brown hair. Green eyes alight withughter. He¡¯s so handsome, so beautifully out of reach, that I can¡¯t tear my eyes away.


    Henry doesn¡¯t open his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re staring at me.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡±


    He opens one eye. ¡°Yes, you are. See? I always win.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t apetition.¡±


    He leans back on his hands, eyes closed again. ¡°Everything is apetition.¡±


    Is it?

 Ice Cold Boss C50

    For so long I¡¯ve been of the same mindset. I¡¯ve met him step by step and game for game. I¡¯ve loved our witty battles, to stretch my mental legs with him. It¡¯s felt like forey,yered with deeper meaning.


    I always win. He had told me that himself, once. When had I forgotten that that included me? He admitted to wanting to sleep with me, but not to losing any points in our imaginary game. Is that really why he stopped itst night?


    Henry sighs and stretches, starting to get up. ¡°Unfortunately, we have ns tonight.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. Our mini bachelor and bachelorette parties.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sorry I have to surrender you to my sister like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I like Lily. Besides, I¡¯ll see you at the houseter.¡±


    His eyes glitter, and something in my stomach clenches tight. It might be a game to him, but my attraction feels real-more real than it has in a long, long time.


    ¡°You sure will.¡±


    Faye


    It¡¯s a short walk from the little seaside cottage to Lily¡¯s house next door. It¡¯srger, but not by much, with a beautiful wrought-iron fence and overflowing flowerpots. Tied to the porch is a glittery foil balloon with gold lettering. Bride to be.


    Lily smiles when she sees me. ¡°Faye,e on in! Did you get here okay?¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Yes, although I had to stop to ask for directions.¡±


    ¡°You look tan. Did you sail today?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, smoothing a hand over my hair. I¡¯d showered, and didn¡¯t think I¡¯d gotten a lot of sun.


    She sees my confusion and shoots me an apologetic smile. ¡°Henry mentioned it yesterday. What did you think?¡±


    ¡°I loved it,¡± I say. ¡°Henry told me it¡¯s practically the family pastime.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you could say that. We were taught to tie knots before we could walk. Was he a good teacher?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he was.¡±


    ¡°Good. He taught most of us, when Dad was away.¡± She smiles at me again, and I¡¯m hit with a small pang of guilt. She¡¯s being so nice to me-his whole family is!-and I¡¯m here under false pretenses. Here to work. ¡°Come in,e in. I want you to meet some of my friends.¡±


    I¡¯m ushered through a beautiful hallway and into a living room that belongs in a catalogue. The interior design is homey, with linen furnishings and a sheepskin rug. There¡¯s a giant firece.


    ¡°This ce is gorgeous, Lily. Stunning.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Would you mind saying that again tomorrow when my fianc¨¦ can hear you? We¡¯ve spent so long renovating this ce, and I think he got a bit sick with all my decorating toward the end.¡±


    ¡°No, he didn¡¯t!¡± a girl calls. ¡°He¡¯d never deny you anything, the sucker.¡±


    A group of women are sitting around a dining-room table, sses in hands. Lily makes the introductions, calling me Henry¡¯s girl.


    ¡°We¡¯re ying He Said, She Said,¡± says a girl with a pixie cut. ¡°Come, join. Do you want a ss of champagne?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Jamie,¡± she says. ¡°We¡¯re not allowed to say the word bride or wedding, by the way,¡± she whispers in an aside. ¡°If you do, you have to do a shot.¡±


    ¡°If you want to,¡± Lily points out. ¡°We¡¯re not here to get drunk tonight.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Let¡¯s keep it tame,¡± Jamie says, but she shakes her head at me in disapproval. ¡°God forbid we go a bit wild. Anyway, you¡¯re Henry¡¯s date?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She leans closer, eyes glittering with curiosity. ¡°How is it, dating him?¡±


    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    She hands me a ss of champagne. ¡°He was always so reserved growing up. Would tell you off for eating too much sugar, you know.¡±


    Iugh at that. ¡°I can actually imagine him doing that. You spent a lot of time with Lily growing up?¡±


    ¡°Best friends.¡± She nods. ¡°But back to Henry in a rtionship. I can see that you¡¯re ufortable, and I¡¯m sorry about that, but I just have so many questions. I¡¯ve also had to do two shots already. When in doubt, me it on alcohol. Very adult of me, I know.¡±


    ¡°Not ufortable, per se. It¡¯s just that we¡¯re not really in an official rtionship. We¡¯re seeing each other, it¡¯s early days, and he asked me here as his date.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in her eyes. ¡°Trust me on this-Henry Marchand doesn¡¯t do anything casually.¡±


    ¡°Faye,¡± Lily calls out. ¡°Is Jamie pestering you?¡±


    Jamie blinks. ¡°Me? I¡¯d never.¡±


    We allugh, even though her words feel branded in my mind, spinning around and around. Henry Marchand doesn¡¯t do anything casually.


    The evening is filled with games and drinks andughs. The other girls had prepared questions for Lily to answer, embarrassing ones about her rtionship with Hayden. When she answers a few, her cheeks flushed, I¡¯m happy that her brothers aren¡¯t here to hear it.


    We have to recount our favorite memory with the bride to be, going around the table, and she shoots me an apologetic smile when it¡¯s my turn.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Faye. We just met.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I have a favorite memory-when you embarrassed Henry into blushing. I¡¯ve never seen that before. To you, Lily.¡± I raise my ss in a toast.


    She grins at me. ¡°To making more memories.¡±


    By the end, I¡¯m a little bit tipsy, my cheeks heated with excitement andughter. Just like the dinnerst night, this hasn¡¯t been difficult at all. It¡¯s almost surprising how naturally this is unfolding.


    I should tell Henry that, that I¡¯m having fun. He¡¯s probably wondering how his sister is doing. I excuse myself and get my phone out of my bag. There¡¯s a message waiting for me, sent over an hour ago.


    Henry Marchand: Hope you¡¯re enjoying tonight. Don¡¯t feel any pressure to stay on mine or Lily¡¯s ount. She¡¯d understand.


    Of course he¡¯d texted me first. It waspletely in character.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    Faye Alvarez: So you¡¯re the only one allowed to paint the town tonight? I¡¯m enjoying myself very much, thank you. Lily is lovely.

 Ice Cold Boss C51

    I wait with bated breath, and just a few secondster, the dots appear that indicate he¡¯s typing.


    Henry Marchand: I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m supposed to be happy or confused by your sudden friendship with my sister. Do you have a new favorite Marchand?


    Faye Alvarez: Intimidated. You¡¯re supposed to feel intimidated.


    Henry Marchand: I¡¯ll just have to raise my game then. This won¡¯t stand.


    Faye Alvarez: Competitive much?


    Henry Marchand: To my very core, Faye. nning on staying therete?


    Faye Alvarez: When does your thing end? What are you doing, by the way? Strip club?


    Henry Marchand: I asked first. And no, there are no strip clubs in Paradise Shores,st time I checked. Do you know a good one?


    Faye Alvarez: I¡¯ll be home around midnight, I think. Lily wants to try to get some sleep before tomorrow.


    Henry Marchand: Good. We¡¯ll get Hayden in bed around then too.


    I smile at the phone. I have no clue what we are, what¡¯s happening, why I¡¯m really here. And for the first time in my life, maybe I should just let myself roll with that instead of fighting it. Be more like Henry was at sea. Still and calm.


    It¡¯s a quarter to midnight when I finally walk from Lily¡¯s house to the little cottage next door, which is also her house. These people are lovely, despite having some serious privilege.


    I unlock the front door. ¡°Hello?¡±


    The cottage is empty, but Henry said he¡¯d be home soon. I put on the kettle to make tea and change into my camisole and silk shorts-thank God Jessie had convinced me to get the set months ago.


    I brush my hair out, leaving it long and loose down my back. I¡¯ve noticed how his eyes, even when they¡¯re professional and reserved, stray to my hair like he can¡¯t help himself. Henry arrives not ten minutester. A taxi stops outside, and then I hear his key in the lock.


    He stops in the door. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his thick hair unusually messy.


    ¡°Faye?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± I take a sip of my tea and tuck my legs underneath me on the couch. ¡°I just got home.¡±


    He tosses the keys on the hallway table. ¡°Did you have a nice time?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Your sister¡¯s friends were really sweet. And a bit crazy, actually. But mostly sweet.¡±


    ¡°Good. I was worried.¡±


    ¡°Worried?¡±


    ¡°Well, letting you off on your own like that. Who knows what they might have told you, or worse, you them.¡±


    I grin at him. ¡°Afraid of me spilling all your New York secrets?¡±


    ¡°Deadly afraid,¡± he says.


    ¡°There¡¯s hot water in the kitchen if you¡¯d like tea.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says, but he doesn¡¯t go there. He sinks into the armchair opposite me instead.


    ¡°How was your evening?¡±


    ¡°Wild,¡± he says. ¡°We took Hayden around Paradise Shores and made him relive all kinds of memories. Beer was involved. A fair bit of whiskey. He doesn¡¯t drink, but he¡¯s still damn good at getting the rest of us to do so.¡±


    ¡°And not a stripper in sight.¡±


    ¡°Not a single one,¡± he agrees, running a hand through his hair. ¡°A few of his old buddies from the Navy were there, and after hearing them speak, I think Parker is reevaluating his life choices.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°But not you?¡±


    ¡°Not tonight, anyway. I¡¯m happy with mine at the moment.¡± He leans back and looks at me through hooded eyes. His long legs are stretched out before him, arms curled over the armrests.


    ¡°Except hiring me, of course,¡± I point out. ¡°You mentioned earlier today that was a mistake.¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    He tips his head toward me. ¡°You heard that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°It was a mistake,¡± he says, voice heated. ¡°But I¡¯m not finding myself regretting it.¡±


    Our gazes catch and hold, and something in me tightens at the look in his. He might have turned me down yesterday, but he definitely meant what he said earlier. It wasn¡¯t forck of want-because that¡¯s clear in his darkened eyes.


    I wet my lips. ¡°We should get some sleep. Tomorrow¡¯s the big day.¡±


    ¡°Mmm,¡± he says. ¡°Showtime.¡±


    Neither of us moves.


    ¡°Did you sleep wellst night?¡±


    ¡°As well as could be expected, yes. You?¡±


    ¡°All right. The bed is very big. A lot bigger than I have at home, actually.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    I nod. What are we even talking about?


    ¡°Did you have a lot to drink tonight?¡±


    ¡°A bit. Why? Did you?¡±


    His eyes look zed, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s with alcohol. ¡°Yes. But I¡¯m not drunk.¡± He stands, his form towering over me. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go to sleep.¡±


    I take his extended hand, the skin warm against mine. Shivers travel up my arm. ¡°Together?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C52

    His fingers grip mine tightly as he leads me through the living room. ¡°God, Faye, you¡¯re really testing the limits of my self-discipline.¡±


    ¡°It seems limitless.¡±


    ¡°I thought so too, before you.¡± He pauses by my bedroom door, hand still in mine, exactly like we¡¯d been the day before. Only this time, he¡¯s the one who tips my head back. ¡°Only to sleep.¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    His gaze travels down across my lips, my chest, my body, until I feel like I might burst from the scrutiny.


    ¡°Come on, then,¡± I say softly, and pull him into my bedroom. He follows, watching me in silence as I fold back the covers and light the bedsidemp.


    ¡°Are you going to sleep fully clothed?¡±


    He smiles at that and starts to undo the cuffs of his shirt. ¡°No.¡±


    I walk into the en suite and brush my teeth, ignoring the thunderous beat of my heart. Judging from my reaction to him, you¡¯d think I¡¯d never slept in a bed with a man before-not to mention slept with one. In the mirror, my cheeks are flushed, my eyes excited.


    Henry¡¯s kicked off his trousers and is standing by the bed in just his boxers. His shirt hangs unbuttoned, revealing the same powerful chest I¡¯d marveled at earlier today.


    I slide into bed and pull the covers up. ¡°You¡¯re just going to stand there?¡±


    He huffs out a breathlessughter. ¡°Ruthless, Faye. As always.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want it any other way.¡±


    He shrugs out of his button-up. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    When he returns from the bathroom, I¡¯ve already turned the light off and snuggled deeper under the covers.


    Henry lifts the covers and the mattress dips as he lies down. For a few seconds, we lie side by side,pletely quiet.


    ¡°Well,¡± he says finally, ¡°you¡¯re right. The bed is very big.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for confirming it.¡±


    He huffs. ¡°You never stop taking me to task, do you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say softly, trying and failing to ignore how close he is in the darkness. With his head on the pillow next to mine, our bodies separated by nothing but willpower.


    ¡°All right,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Sleep well then, Faye.¡±


    ¡°You too, Henry.¡±


    Maybe it¡¯s the hours we spent at sea, or all the socializing at Lily¡¯s, but my eyes drift closed of their own ord. The bed is toofortable for me to resist.


    I¡¯m cuddled against something warm when I blink them open again. Henry is settled behind me, the warmth of his body curving around mine. He¡¯s taller than me, but it¡¯s never been as noticeable as now. He¡¯s everywhere.


    He¡¯s also tense, angling away from me.


    I peer over my shoulder and try to catch his eyes in the darkness. ¡°Henry? Did I roll over to your side?¡±


    He¡¯s fully awake, judging by the faint sigh. His strong hand on my hip turns me back. ¡°Go back to sleep, Faye,¡± he whispers.


    I catch his hand and thread our fingers together. His skin is warm and dry against mine. I like the feeling of our hands together-I have ever since he first linked them together, days ago. ¡°But you¡¯re awake.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I turn my body toward him and feel exactly what he¡¯s been trying to hide.


    Heat flushes through me, my skin burning everywhere we touch, from his bare leg beside mine to his chest against my back.


    The thick hardness of him against my hip.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°Another point to you.¡±


    I crane my head to meet his gaze. In the darkness, his eyes look ck. ¡°It¡¯s a bit hard to hide this one, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He turns his face into the pillow. ¡°Yes,¡± he mumbles. ¡°It¡¯ll go away. Ignore it.¡±


    But there¡¯s no way I can ignore this. Heart beating hard in my chest, I turn over on my back and look at him. Our hands are still interlinked, and I rest them on my stomach, directly beneath my heart.


    ¡°Won¡¯t that be ufortable for you?¡±


    His head turns back to mine. I can¡¯t read his face when he responds, voice gruff. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°Say what you want to say, Faye.¡±


    I smooth my thumb over the back of his hand and stare up at the ceiling. His hardness is still a heavy pressure against my hip. ¡°No, it¡¯s just, I¡¯ve always wondered. Not having one myself, you know. I¡¯ve heard that it can be painful sometimes. To not get¡­ release.¡± God, my mouth is just running. I can¡¯t look at his face for fear of seeing teasing amusement there. It sounds like I¡¯ve never seen one before, when in truth, I¡¯m just nervous because it¡¯s him.


    Henry¡¯s exhale is warm against my shoulder. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve been thinking about this a lot.¡±


    Damn. ¡°A bit, sure.¡±


    His hand tightens around mine. ¡°You want me to answer your questions.¡±


    It¡¯s a statement, not a question, but I nod nheless. In all honesty, I have no idea what I want. I want him, and I don¡¯t want him to move away, and I know we can¡¯t go further than this.


    Even if the throbbing hardness of him is making that fact very difficult to remember at the moment.


    ¡°What does it actually feel like to be hard?¡± I ask, and wince inwardly at the silly question. At any moment, he¡¯ll pull the plug on this, angle himself away and cut the intimacy between us.


    ¡°Ufortable, at the moment,¡± he says darkly. ¡°Like an itch you need to scratch. But they¡¯re not always the same.¡±


    ¡°Not all erections?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C53

    I frown. I¡¯d always thought they were the same. ¡°How do they differ?¡±


    Henry sighs. ¡°Not once have I had this conversation with a girl. Of course you had to be different.¡±


    I can still feel him against me-despite his own words, it doesn¡¯t seem to be subsiding anytime soon. ¡°I think the word you¡¯re looking for is unique. Tell me how they differ?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. All right. Sometimes it¡¯s just semi-hard, and it¡¯s a nuisance, but you know it¡¯ll go away. It happens. It¡¯s not painful or annoying.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s¡­¡± He breaks off. ¡°God, Faye. Fine. Sometimes it¡¯s just in hard, ready to be used.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Heat pools in my stomach at his words, at his body against mine. ¡°And that¡¯s what it is now?¡±


    ¡°No, right now it¡¯s hard as a goddamn rock. But like I said, it¡¯ll go away.¡±


    I have to swallow before I can answer. Every part of me feels alive, nerve endings on alert. ¡°That¡¯s very interesting,¡± I murmur.


    He gives a dark chuckle. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯ve been reduced to this.¡±


    ¡°To what?¡±


    ¡°Lying next to a beautiful woman in the dark, answering tonic questions about my cock.¡±


    My ownughter sounds startled. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it either. I¡¯m a grown woman, and I¡¯m asking you this?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± He closes his hand around my waist, fingers softly digging into my skin. ¡°You¡¯re nervous.¡±


    My instinct is to say no. To argue with him, to spar a bit. But maybe we¡¯ve done that too much-thepetitions and the games.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say. ¡°But maybe I don¡¯t want to ignore it until it goes away.¡±


    His hand closes around my waist. I feel him throbbing, sudden and hot, against my hip.


    ¡°Hell, Faye¡­¡±Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I know,¡± I whisper hurriedly. ¡°We can¡¯t. You don¡¯t have to tell me. But maybe talking about it is the closest we¡¯ll get. Maybe it¡¯ll help.¡±


    ¡°Mmm,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the way desire works, sweetheart. Or erections.¡±


    Something in me warms at the endearment. It sounds natural in his deep voice, husky now with arousal. I pull our interlinked hands higher, until they brush against the underside of my breast. ¡°You haven¡¯t thought about it? What it would be like?¡±


    ¡°Sleeping together?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Henry¡¯s quiet for a long moment. ¡°Yes, of course I have.¡±


    The heat in my body spreads, until I feel like I¡¯m too warm for this, for the cover and the camisole I¡¯m sleeping in. ¡°Tell me,¡± I murmur.


    Henry shakes his head, the silkiness of his hair tickling my forehead. ¡°I¡¯ve told you too much already. Your turn, Faye. Have you thought about it?¡±


    Only all the time.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    His thumb brushes across the heavy weight of my breast. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    I¡¯m d it¡¯s dark and he can¡¯t see my flushed face. We haven¡¯t slept together-haven¡¯t even seen each other naked!-and this still feels the most exposed I¡¯ve ever been. ¡°I¡¯ve thought about how it would feel¡­ having your arms around me.¡±


    ¡°Like I do now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But skin against skin. I¡¯d be able to run my hand through your hair. You¡¯d kiss me, and you would¡­¡± My voice trails off, my cheeks hot with embarrassment.


    ¡°Courage failing you, Alvarez? Tell me. What would I do in your fantasy?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d unzip my dress,¡± I whisper. ¡°All cool and professional, but your eyes would be¡­ well. You¡¯d just look at me for a long while.¡±


    He gives a low grunt, amand to continue.


    ¡°And then you¡¯d kiss me again. But your hands would be everywhere, on my skin, on my¡­ well. You¡¯d tease me for a long time without undoing a single of your own buttons.¡±


    Henry¡¯s hand has moved imperceptibly higher. ¡°I think you overestimate my restraint where you¡¯re concerned.¡±


    ¡°Well, it is a fantasy,¡± I defend myself. ¡°What would you do instead? Take me quickly?¡±


    I wanted to throw him off bnce with my words, but Henry¡¯s exhale is a dark chuckle. ¡°Oh no, Faye. You¡¯re right in assuming I¡¯d take my time. I¡¯d want you to shatter in my arms several times over before I let you help me¡±-a press of his hips and hardness against me-¡°find release.¡±


    It¡¯s hard to focus on being good. On keeping my hands to myself, on ignoring the pull of his body and words. Heat pools in my stomach.


    Remember our positions, I tell myself. Boss. Assistant. Contract.


    ¡°That sounds¡­ good.¡±


    Henryughs, pulling me in tighter so that his body is entirely curved around mine.


    ¡°Good? Faye, you have to admit it sounds fantastic.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°Will I lose a point to you if I do?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says softly. ¡°I think I¡¯ve already lost several tonight when I admitted just how much I want you.¡±


    I roll my hips lightly against his hardness, and he groans. ¡°Yes, you have an obvious disadvantage there. It¡¯s hard for you to hide it.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± His tone is heated. ¡°You¡¯re hiding yours?¡±


    ¡°Women do have that ability.¡±


    His hand trails down my stomach, rough fingertips lightly touching my skin, leaving fire in their wake. ¡°Not very sportsmanlike,¡± he murmurs.

 Ice Cold Boss C54

    I suck in a breath as his hand toys with the hem of my shirt. He ys with it long enough that I can¡¯t help but taunt him. ¡°Checking the thread count, Marchand? I thought you were going to check me.¡±


    A warm breath washes over my neck. His lips must be close to my skin, a mere inch away. ¡°Of course,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Fair is fair.¡±


    The back of his knuckles brush against my lower stomach and I close my eyes at the sudden re of heated surprise


    His hand slips in under the hem and ttens against my stomach entirely. It¡¯s inching closer to where I want him, and I don¡¯t dare breathe for fear he¡¯ll change his mind. He¡¯ll go north again, he¡¯ll say something about professionalism, or the points game.


    But he doesn¡¯t.


    Instead, he presses a hot kiss to my neck and slides his hand clean under the waistband of my shorts and panties. He gives me plenty of time to stop him, to grab his wrist and say no.


    I don¡¯t.


    His hand slides further in between my legs. I spread them slightly, still hardly breathing, and then his fingers make contact. A shuddering breath escapes me as he discovers what I already knew.


    ¡°Fuck, Faye. This conversation really got you this wet?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Feeling you against my leg hasn¡¯t helped, you know.¡±


    He responds by pushing his erection more firmly against me, his hand softly stroking me, spreading and teasing.


    ¡°There is nothing wrong with this,¡± he murmurs. ¡°You know that, right?¡±


    Maybe I should be ashamed of what I do then-the mewling that escapes me, the faint rotation of my hips to get his fingers where I need them-but there¡¯s no room for shame in my mind anymore.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur. ¡°I do.¡±


    He slides his other arm under my neck, and it forms a steel band over my chest. I¡¯m stuck, unable to do anything but lean against him and close my eyes at the sensations. His fingers circle my core and I shudder. It¡¯s been so long, and his skilled hands seem to know just what to do. They¡¯re the hands of a builder, an architect-a sailor.


    And when he slips a finger inside me¡­ I grip his arm and try to calm my erratic breathing.


    He mutters a curse against my temple. ¡°Fucking hell, Faye¡­ Spread your legs for me a little more.¡±


    I do what he says, themand sending fresh need pounding through me. He makes use of his better ess immediately. Long strokes and short circles, alternating movements, relentlessly. He touches me until I¡¯m hovering right at the edge, more turned on than I¡¯ve been with a man before.


    His lips press against my cheek. ¡°You¡¯re safe with me,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Come for me.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t protest even if I wanted to. His movements speed up, and he adds another finger to the first. It¡¯s game over-my release barrels through me. Henry holds me tight as my legs straighten, my mind nk, breathing hard.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    He slowly withdraws his hand. ¡°You feel so good, sweetheart. Unreal.¡±


    It takes several moments before I can form thoughts again, but when I do, it¡¯s to notice that he¡¯s still painfully hard against my thigh. I roll my hips, and he groans obligingly, dark and husky.


    I reach back to touch him, wanting to hear him groan with release because of my touch, to give him what he gave me. An iron grip locks around my hand.


    ¡°Not tonight, Faye.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re still hard. Won¡¯t sleeping be difficult?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll go away,¡± he says, tucking me firmly into the curve of his body. ¡°Trust me.¡±


    ¡°I do. I¡­ thank you?¡±


    He snorts, but it¡¯s good-natured, his hand once again syed innocently across my stomach. ¡°Go to sleep, Faye.¡±


    ¡°All right. You too, though.¡±


    There¡¯s a touch of something against my hair-his lips? ¡°I will.¡±


    My body is loose and heavy, and it¡¯s far too easy to rx in thefort of his arms. We drift off like that, intertwined in therge master bed, and I sleep better than I have in a long while.


    Henry


    I blink my eyes open to sunlight through the window blinds and an empty bed. Reaching over, her side of the bed is cold. Damn.


    I roll onto my back and try to think about thest time I slept this long. I genuinely can¡¯t think of a time.


    Faye didn¡¯t stay in bed and she didn¡¯t wake me up. A delicious smell is wafting from the door to the living room-coffee, bacon, something baking¡­ How long has she been awake?


    I toss back the covers and look down at my depressing morning erection. It had been difficult to fall asleep, with her in my arms and my body hellbent on sex, but I¡¯d managed. No wonder it was rearing its head again now.


    I get in the shower, my mind reying the wondrous moments ofst night. The softness of her neck against my lips. The slick warmth of her around my fingers. Her breathless moans. Yeah, the cold water of the shower is doing nothing at all for my painfully hard cock.


    Last night had been unreal, yes, but I couldn¡¯t afford to fuck this up. One wrong move and I might destroy Faye¡¯s regard for me entirely. It would kill me if she ever regretted us.


    So I take care of it myself, wrapping my hand around my hard, throbbing flesh. It doesn¡¯t take long, given how aroused I am. I remember Faye against me, her body shaking through an orgasm, her sweet warmth squeezing around my fingers¡­ and I break apart in the shower, release barreling through me.


    I lean against the shower wall and close my eyes through the faint aftershocks. In my hand, my cock is finally under control again, but I know I¡¯ll be hard again before long with Faye around.


    I dry my hair and pull on clothes. The wedding doesn¡¯t start for a few hours yet, so we have time to work before I have to get into the tuxedo.


    But when I open the bedroom door and see Faye in my sister¡¯s kitchen¡­ ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Making brunch,¡± she says, pouring orange juice into a ss pitcher.


    ¡°You¡¯ve made eggs and bacon and pancakes and¡­ what¡¯s in the oven?¡±


    ¡°Muffins.¡±


    ¡°Why on earth would you do all that?¡± I ask, despite the grumbling in my stomach. ¡°We have things to do.¡±


    She closes the fridge with a bang. ¡°Because your brothers areing over for brunch.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re what?¡±


    ¡°Parker called the house this morning. He said you guys had something to work out.¡± She waves a hand as if this is all normal, and she makes me breakfast every day and talks with my brother. ¡°Something about a wedding surprise for Lily? I¡¯m not sure, but they¡¯ll be here by ten. We¡¯ll head to the reception together after that.¡±


    It¡¯s nine o¡¯clock now. ¡°You didn¡¯t wake me?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C55

    She gives an elegant shrug. There¡¯s something about her hair, ited down her back, and her face without makeup that makes me feel off-kilter. Last night had been explosive, but this feels intimate. It¡¯s too easy to imagine that this is our life, our habits, our damn bed to share.


    ¡°You needed the sleep,¡± she says. ¡°We¡¯re not behind on schedule. I updated yourptop while I was at it and wrapped your sister¡¯s wedding gift.¡±


    There¡¯s brisk professionalism in her tone. Not a trace of what happenedst night. So that¡¯s how she wants to y it. She wants distance.


    I grab a cup and head to the coffeemaker. ¡°Nice armor,¡± I say.


    She bristles, just like I expected her to. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I nod to where herptop is propped open. ¡°Work. Tasks. Muffins. It¡¯s a straightforward tactic, but it¡¯s working. How early did you wake up this morning?¡±


    ¡°Early enough.¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± I say. It¡¯s a small thing, but some part of me needs to know if she slept as well as I did-if my presence beside her helped or harmed. Maybe it¡¯s my pride or my ego, I don¡¯t know.


    Faye sighs and turns off the heat on the stove. Bacon crackles in the pan. ¡°Fine. I woke up about an hour and a half ago. Is that precise enough or do you want an exact time stamp?¡±


    I smile into my coffee cup. ¡°That¡¯ll do.¡±


    ¡°It took me forever to find a whisk, you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure. It¡¯s a new kitchen for you.¡±


    She pushes a tendril of hair back. ¡°We should still be able to get an hour of work in. Honestly, Henry, I think we¡¯re very close to being finished. You should be able tomission a new model next week with time to spare.¡±


    I knew that already. ¡°Excellent.¡±


    ¡°Would you pass me the spat? The one in the sink?¡±


    I hand it to her and watch in silence as she handles the stove like a pro. This nket of domesticity wasn¡¯t part of my mastern,ing here together this weekend¡­ but I¡¯m finding that I like it.


    ¡°We should talk about this,¡± I say.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°Last night.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to say.¡±


    ¡°You wound me, Faye.¡±


    She looks up at me, and as she finally meets my eye, a beautiful flush creeps over her cheeks. ¡°All right,¡± she says softly. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about it, then.¡±


    And all of a sudden, I have no idea what to say.


    I want to hear her say that she doesn¡¯t regret it-that we¡¯re still us-that embarrassment has never belonged in the space between us. I want to tell her other things too, things that are buried deep, about how much I like her. That I¡¯ve been avoiding rtionships for so long, but with her, the hassle doesn¡¯t seem like a hassle at all.


    But that¡¯s not whates out.


    ¡°Guess I won the point, huh.¡±


    Faye rolls her eyes and adds yet another pancake to the stack. She¡¯s making enough food to feed an army, not that my brothers will object. ¡°Yes, I guess you did.¡±


    And after that, there¡¯s really nothing more to say.


    We work in near silence for the next hour. I nce over at her, but she¡¯s bent over herptop. Our only conversation topic is the opera house.


    As I rotate the opera house in the digital system, I¡¯m struck again by its beautiful simplicity. It¡¯s the best thing I¡¯ve ever designed. The jury might not choose it-an oue I haven¡¯t let myself consider much-but I¡¯ll still be proud of it. It¡¯s been a way to connect with the reason I chose architecture in the first ce.


    I nce over at Faye. She¡¯s biting her lip, a look of deep concentration on her beautiful features. She¡¯s taught me that too, I think. Her unbridled passion for architecture shamed my ownck of it, when we first met. It¡¯s not the structure that¡¯s rekindled it-it¡¯s her. She showed me the way back to my love of work.


    Rhys and Parker arrive just after eleven. Faye smiles and tells them to help themselves to the food in the kitchen before she graciously slips away to get ready for the wedding. The door to her bedroom closes, and then I hear the faint sound of the shower running.


    Damn. I¡¯ve fucked up somehow, lost the closeness we hadst night. I think of the way Avery described me. Emotionally uninvolved. That¡¯s not the way I feel with Faye.


    ¡°Man, this looks amazing. Faye did all this?¡± Parker grabs a stack of pancakes, bacon and eggs, dousing it all in maple syrup. ¡°Henry, if you don¡¯t marry her, I will.¡±


    Rhys smiles wryly at the look on my face and pours himself a cup of coffee. ¡°You look shell-shocked. You two had an argument?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°A misunderstanding. I think.¡±


    ¡°You were in the wrong. When in doubt, you¡¯re in the wrong. If I¡¯ve learned anything with women, it¡¯s that you apologize often and sincerely.¡± Parker grins at me. ¡°I know it might be hard for you to do, though.¡±


    ¡°That advice is terrible,¡± Rhys drawls. ¡°Youpletelyck a backbone.¡±


    Parker smiles, but doesn¡¯t say anything, because he doesn¡¯t have to. We both know that Rhys is the one who¡¯s been running from his problems for over a decade, but nothing good woulde of us pointing out thatck of a backbone. My middle brother has been an enigma since he was born.


    I grab a te and fill up on food. ¡°I didn¡¯t know she could cook.¡±


    ¡°How long have you known Faye? You haven¡¯t told us a word, man.¡±


    ¡°About a month.¡±


    ¡°Seems a lot longer,¡± Rhys says. ¡°The way she stood up to good old Dad? Henry, Parker might marry her for her cooking, but I¡¯d marry her for that.¡±


    I run a hand through my still-damp hair. They¡¯re right, both of them, and it just makes me feel worse. I didn¡¯t handle things right this morning, not at all. What happenedst night wasn¡¯t something to joke about.


    ¡°Fuck. I know. I¡¯ll fix it.¡± I nce over at her bedroom door. There¡¯s a faint sound of a blow-dryer whizzing, but I don¡¯t want to take any chances. ¡°Nowe on. What did you want to talk about?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m Hayden¡¯s best man. We¡¯re all serving as his groomsmen. I know that it means a lot to him, not that he¡¯d tell us.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not giving me any new information here.¡±


    ¡°Man, you are testy today. Could you turn down the Henry-ness just a notch? I was thinking that we could do something at the reception. I know you have a speech nned.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Rhys and I considered that too, but then we thought¡­ how about webine it and give one speech together? We¡¯ll make it funny, with anecdotes of their childhood. Dad¡¯s giving her away at the wedding, but we can sort of give her away a second time. Joke about how we¡¯re finally giving Hayden our blessing. She¡¯ll expect us to do something like that, you know.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C56

    I run a hand along my jaw. ¡°And youe up with this the morning of our sister¡¯s wedding?¡±


    Rhys throws me a wry look. ¡°It¡¯s shit nning, but it¡¯s a good idea. You know it is. It¡¯ll make her cry.¡±


    ¡°Everything will make her cry today.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but this one will be because of us.¡± Something softens in his gaze. ¡°She deserves the best day we can give her.¡±


    ¡°They do,¡± Parker corrects. He nces at his watch. ¡°So we have¡­ an hour to sort this out before we need to head to the venue. Rhys and I brought our tuxes, so we¡¯ll change here. Is that cool?¡±


    Of course. Even as grown men, they rely on me to fix things, to be the host, to crash a morning I¡¯d nned to spend with Faye.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯ll write abined speech, and we¡¯ll give Lily the best moment of her life.¡± I drop my voice a few octaves. ¡°And when Fayees out of that bedroom, you¡¯ll both tell her she looks beautiful, and you¡¯ll thank her on your damn knees for cooking all this for you with only an hour¡¯s notice.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Parker says. ¡°Thanks, man.¡±


    Rhys cocks an eyebrow. ¡°For us? Henry, she clearly did this for you.¡±


    I have no idea what to say to that.


    His words stay with me for the rest of the morning, even as wepare notes and add anecdotes to the different parts of our speech. We won¡¯t have time to rehearse, but I doubt we¡¯ll need to.


    ¡°It¡¯s nearly twelve,¡± I say. ¡°Use the spare bedroom to change.¡±


    Rhys grumbles at my heavy-handedness, but they obediently grab their dressing bags and head into the spare. The door to Faye¡¯s room is still closed.


    I knock twice.


    ¡°Come in!¡±


    Having been near her for days now, you¡¯d think that I¡¯d be used to her beauty, but it still strikes me like a physical blow.


    She¡¯s standing in front of the mirror, putting in an earring. Her hair falls in soft waves, some of it pinned back, framing her face. She¡¯s painted her lips a deadly shade of red. Her dress is modest, but it still hugs her curves, showing me the waist I had my arm around and the ass that tormented me all night long.


    ¡°Henry?¡±


    I realize I haven¡¯t said anything. I close the door behind me and lean against it, needing distance between us before I do something I¡¯ll regret.


    ¡°You look stunning.¡±


    Her lips curve into a small smile. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°You always look stunning.¡±


    She cocks her head, putting in the other earring. ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡±


    ¡°Have you eaten anything?¡±


    ¡°I had some breakfast before you woke up.¡±


    ¡°You could¡¯ve joined us, you know.¡±


    She frowns. ¡°Sorry. I just figured you¡¯d want to discuss family stuff, so I might as well get ready.¡±


    I shake my head, this conversation already slipping out of my grasp. ¡°Thank you for cooking and for baking. I really appreciated it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wee,¡± she says. ¡°Am I the best assistant you¡¯ve ever had, or what?¡±


    Assistant. All I can manage is a weak smile. ¡°Yes. The very best.¡±


    ¡°You should go get changed. We need to leave soon.¡±


    I close the door to her bedroom behind me and shake my head at myself. Well, that wasn¡¯t what I had wanted at all. I don¡¯t want to be her boss, and her my assistant.


    And I want her to sleep in my arms every night.


    Faye


    The wedding is held in the small Paradise Shores chapel, a beautiful wooden church with weathered wood and stone floors. It looks like something out of a fairy tale, filled to the brim with bouquets of lilies, one after the other, the smell heady and intoxicating.


    When Iment on the flowers to Jamie, she shoots me a grin. ¡°That¡¯s at her mother¡¯s insistence. And I¡¯ve been told that if anyone asks, we¡¯re to repeat that fact, so no one thinks she¡¯s that narcissistic.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°I¡¯ll do the same, then.¡±


    Jamie hurries to take her ce as one of the bridesmaids and I head to my allocated seat. It¡¯s on the front row, right next to Mrs. Marchand, alongside uncles and aunts.


    In the front row on the right side of the church is a handful of people. An elderly-looking man and a young woman with hair the color of Hayden¡¯s. A few men sit beside them-Hayden¡¯s military friends?


    My gaze travels back, inevitably and predictably, to the front of the church. Henry in a tuxedo is not something to miss. He¡¯s the tallest of the four men up there, his brothers and Hayden. Altogether, they¡¯re a stunning disy of masculinity in its prime-thick hair and broad shoulders, all of them tanned from time spent at sea. I can practically feel the pride and emotion radiating from Mrs. Marchand next to me.


    Henry¡¯s eyesnd on me, and under his heavy gaze, something tightens in my chest. Happiness, longing, fear. Uncertainty and embarrassment. Twice in two days, I¡¯ve basically asked him to sleep with me. And twice in two days, he¡¯s said no.


    He¡¯s clearly more in control than I am. And despite us agreeing that it wouldn¡¯t, this weekend has changed things. Last night changed things, with his hand in between my legs and lips against my neck.


    I can¡¯t have him as my boss anymore.


    It¡¯s the only way forward, even if this is just an inconvenient attraction to him and nothing more. I couldn¡¯t bear it if I had to schedule his dates or n his trips-to see him at work every day, but never get anything more in return.


    He¡¯d wanted a game about who could be more professional, and he¡¯d been right when he said he always won, because I¡¯ve reached my limit. My heart is already too invested.


    I¡¯m done ying.


    Mrs. Marchand leans in closer, whispering in my ear. ¡°Isn¡¯t he handsome?¡±


    She means Henry, who is still looking straight at me, a small crease in between his eyebrows.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur. ¡°He¡¯s amazing.¡±


    An expectant hush falls over the congregation, and in the silence, a single violin starts to y the Wedding March. It¡¯s hauntingly gorgeous. Heads turn, expectantly, but I don¡¯t look at where Lily is entering. I look at Hayden.

 Ice Cold Boss C57

    I¡¯ve only been to a few weddings before, but each time, this is what I want to see-the look on the groom¡¯s face. Call me a romantic, but it floors me every time.


    Hayden doesn¡¯t disappoint.


    The raw emotion on his face brings tears to my eyes. From the way he¡¯s staring, there might as well be no one here at all, and that¡¯s when I realize that this whole wedding is just for her. All of it. He would be just as happy in a courthouse, and he would look at her the exact same way, knowing she was agreeing to spend her life with him.


    Only then do I look at Lily, and she¡¯s glowing, a vision in whitece. Her smile is as broad as I¡¯ve ever seen it, but there are tears in her eyes, too.


    I swallow my emotions and watch in stunned silence as Mr. Marchand kisses her on the cheek and hands her over to Hayden.


    Their vows are short, but they¡¯re spoken with the kind of stark sincerity that betrays far deeper emotions. They¡¯re raw. And I can tell that it¡¯s held short because it¡¯s private; this couple isn¡¯t showy. It makes me like Henry¡¯s family even more.


    Hayden and Lily say I do. His voice is low and vibrating with emotion; hers nearly breaks with it. Their kiss makes me teary-eyed again, to my surprise. I¡¯ve just met them, and still¡­ It¡¯s the kind of wedding that makes me long for the day I might have my own.


    Mrs. Marchand reaches for my hand-unexpectedly-and squeezes as we both watch them together up there. I squeeze back.


    Henry¡¯s eyes find mine again. This weekend, we¡¯ve gone from almost strangers to almost lovers. I don¡¯t know how to act around a man who brought me over the brink, who walked hand in hand with me along the beach at midnight, and who will sign my next paycheck.


    The ceremony finishes and people all around me start to rise, watching the newlyweds walk down the aisle hand in hand. We make our way outside, the reception held on thewn outside the chapel, the sea a nket of dark blue in the distance. It¡¯s a gorgeous venue, the summer sun shining.


    I¡¯m talking to one of Lily¡¯s aunts when an arm wraps around my waist. ¡°There you are,¡± Henry says. ¡°Sorry, Auntie. Is it okay if I steal my date for a moment?¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    Her eyebrows rise in surprise. ¡°But of course, Henry. It was lovely talking to you.¡±


    ¡°Likewise, Mrs. Newman.¡±


    Henry¡¯s arm tightens around my waist as he leads me to the refreshment table.


    ¡°That was beautiful,¡± I breathe.


    He hands me a ss of champagne and takes one himself, spinning me around so I¡¯m facing him. ¡°You were watching Hayden,¡± he says, ¡°when Lily walked in. Why?¡±


    I swallow. ¡°The first look. I like it. I like seeing¡­ it¡¯s hard to describe.¡±


    ¡°It made you sad.¡±


    ¡°No, not sad. They were happy tears.¡±


    His hand runs along the bare skin of my arm. ¡°You¡¯ve just met them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± I struggle to find the words. ¡°Love is beautiful, don¡¯t you think? And it was there, in that church, in a purer form than I¡¯ve seen for a long while. Maybe I¡¯m jaded, I don¡¯t know, but it¡¯s not something I see often.¡±


    Henry¡¯s gaze is warm, and his answer is a long timeing. ¡°Maybe it would¡¯ve been easier if I didn¡¯t hire you,¡± he says softly, ¡°but I¡¯m very d I did.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡±


    ¡°What I should have said this morning. Faye, I slept betterst night than I have in years, and it was because of you.¡±


    ¡°Really? You were¡­ ufortable.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°Yes, but you were in my arms.¡±


    ¡°Another point lost.¡±


    ¡°Fuck the points, Faye. Fuck that whole thing. I want you. And not just in bed.¡±


    My world narrows, until it¡¯s just him and me, our gazes locked. The champagne ss in my hand is shaking. ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    ¡°Deadly,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯ve said so yourself-when do I joke?¡±


    ¡°Oh, but you do,¡± I say, and I¡¯m smiling, and stepping closer to him, and the sun res impossibly brighter. ¡°You¡¯re very funny when you choose to be.¡±


    He tips my head back and kisses me, his arms sliding around my waist. It¡¯s a kiss with purpose-a kiss that speaks of more kisses toe, that this is the beginning, not the end. It¡¯s the best kiss he¡¯s ever given me. ¡°You make me lose all self-control, Faye.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s my fault?¡±


    The sound of his deepugh in my ear sends shivers down my back, and then he readjusts, and I can feel just how much he wants me. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m half out of my mind with want. Have been for days, but afterst night, it¡¯s nearly uncontroble.¡±


    ¡°Henry Marchand, out of control.¡± I reach up and run a hand through his hair, warm from the sunshine. ¡°This is one for the books.¡±


    ¡°Not my best moment. We¡¯re at my sister¡¯s wedding reception, for Christ¡¯s sake. There are people everywhere. I should be mingling and catching up with rtives, but the only thing I want to do is take you away from here.¡±


    I look up at him through myshes, biting my lip slightly, and watch as his eyes darken.


    ¡°Damn it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Maybe I should move away¡­¡±


    His hand grips my waist. ¡°Not necessary. I¡¯ll have it under control in a minute.¡±


    I take a sip, the champagne cool against my parched tongue. ¡°This is going toplicate things further, you know.¡±


    ¡°You and me?¡±


    Hearing him say it gives me goose bumps. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Life isplicated,¡± he says. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out. Trust me, Faye.¡±


    And the crazy thing is¡­ I do.


    ¡°Now,e on. Let¡¯s try to do what we came here for before I gopletely mad.¡± He bends down to my ear again. ¡°Did I tell you that you look stunning?¡±


    I smile. ¡°Yes. But I¡¯m not sure I believed you the first time.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll just have to say it again. And again. And again¡­¡±


    Iugh, my head spinning happily. ¡°I¡¯d tell you to stop, but I don¡¯t want you to.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C58

    He grins. ¡°Then I won¡¯t.¡±


    We spend the rest of the reception mingling. It¡¯s like the Founders¡¯ G all over again, only this time, we don¡¯t leave each other¡¯s side. Henry¡¯s hand is on the small of my back, or at my elbow, grasping my hand, touching at all times. I¡¯m no better. I lean into him when we listen to the violinist y, and I thread my fingers through his as we suffer through anecdote after polite cocktail party anecdote.


    ¡°It¡¯s time for dinner soon,¡± he says. ¡°We¡¯re seated at the same table, but I¡¯m not sure if we¡¯re next to each other.¡±


    ¡°I can handle it.¡± He looks pained, and Iugh. ¡°Can you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I might have to rearrange the seating chart.¡±


    ¡°Henry, no,¡± Iugh, and he bends to kiss me again, without regard for anyone who¡¯s watching.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll grin and bear it, I suppose.¡±


    The dinner is gorgeous. Hayden and Lily return, both flushed, having taken their wedding pictures. I¡¯m seated at the family table, with Rhys to my right and Jamie to my left. Oddly enough for someone who¡¯s a plus-one, I feelpletely at home.


    ¡°Thanks for the breakfast this morning,¡± Rhys tells me. ¡°It was an impressive spread.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re wee. It was nothing.¡±


    ¡°No, it was effort. Plus,¡± he adds, eyebrows drawing closer together, ¡°Henry would kick my ass if I didn¡¯t give you your dues.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°I doubt that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Did you fight a lot growing up?¡±


    ¡°No. Well, yes. But not terribly. Parker and Lily, though, they liked to get into it.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I look over at where Parker is sitting, looking like an angelic Abercrombie model, with his sun-bleached hair and square jaw.


    ¡°Oh yes. Close in age and both too stubborn for their own good.¡±


    I think of Henry¡¯s determination, and the fire in Rhys¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯re all stubborn.¡±


    His lips twitch. ¡°Yes, I suppose we are. It¡¯s a family vice.¡±


    ¡°And a strength.¡±


    He raises his ss to mine. ¡°I didn¡¯t get a chance to tell you, but the way you stood up to Dad the other night at dinner was legendary. You¡¯ll be written about in the history books, immortalized in statues, saved forever for posterity.¡±


    Iugh again. ¡°I was afraid I¡¯d be convicted as a war criminal. Does your dad hate me?¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°Hate you? He loves nothing more than someone who can stand up to him, if that someone isn¡¯t rted to him. No, don¡¯t worry about that. And he knows that he¡¯d lose Henry if he ever said a bad word to you about it.¡±


    I look at Henry, sitting further up the table. He looks over, as if sensing my gaze, and smiles. You okay? he mouths.


    I wink at him, and his smile grows impossibly wider. He only looks away when he has to-drawn into conversation on his end.


    ¡°See?¡± Rhys says at my side. ¡°No, you have nothing to fear from our father. Henry¡¯s approval is all that matters.¡±


    ¡°He seems difficult, though, or so Henry has told me. Did you also have it out with him growing up?¡±


    It¡¯s meant as an innocent question, but Rhys¡¯s face shutters. ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°You could say that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to pry.¡±


    ¡°No, I know you didn¡¯t.¡±


    I frown, realizing I know nearly nothing about him. I know about Lily¡¯s art gallery and Parker¡¯s business. But Rhys? What does he do?


    I open my mouth to apologize again when someone clinks their spoon to a winess. This time it¡¯s Jamie, her maid of honor, and I watch in amazement as Lily cries during her speech. It¡¯s a funny one, too.


    ¡°I think she¡¯ll cry seven times tonight,¡± Rhys tells me in an aside. ¡°Henry wagered five, but I know her best.¡±


    I smile. As an only child, their dynamic is marvelous to observe. ¡°Where do I ce my bets?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d bet against Henry?¡±


    ¡°Of course. He always needs to be knocked down a peg.¡±


    Rhysughs, and I notice several of his family members turn their heads to observe it. The grin he gives me is a bit wild. ¡°Never leave my brother, please. You make family events so much more amusing.¡±


    I can only smile in response to that.


    We¡¯re halfway through dinner when Henry pushes back his chair. The music hushes as he raises his ss, the picture of male elegance in his tux and thick hair.


    ¡°I think we can all agree that today has been a magical day,¡± he says, voices quieting down to listen. ¡°Unfortunately, that will probably end now, because my brothers and I will attempt something that we¡¯ve failed at many times before. Cooperation.¡±


    Scatteredughter rings around the room, and I lean back in my chair, watching Henry perform. He looks down at Lily. ¡°Lily, we all love you so much. I just hope you feel the same about us after we¡¯ve butchered our speech.¡±


    Moreughter, and Lily¡¯s eyes glitter as she watches Parker stand as well. To my left, Rhys pushes back his chair.


    ¡°We have known you your whole life, Lily. While I¡¯ll admit that not all of us started out thrilled about the idea of having another sibling,¡± Henry nces meaningfully at Parker, who makes a show of looking contrite, ¡°you quicklypleted our family. You kept Parker on his toes and made Rhys experience emotion for the first time. For my sake, I was happy to finally have a student on the sailing boat who actually listened when I gave instructions.¡±


    Lilyughs again, looking up at Henry, and in that moment my heart feels like it¡¯s welling over for him.


    Parker clears his throat. ¡°For those of you who don¡¯t know-though I can¡¯t imagine that¡¯s anyone here-Lily is very stubborn. It¡¯s amazing that we made it out of the War of the Chores unscathed.¡± He regales the crowd with a story about their childhood that makes everyoneugh, about dog walking and bitter sibling rivalry.


    Rhys¡¯s voice is cold when he starts. ¡°We¡¯ve known Lily all of her life, but oddly enough we¡¯ve also known Hayden for most of his. I¡¯ll be the first to admit that we had our doubts at times. Being good enough for our little sister isn¡¯t an easy task. I didn¡¯t take it well when I found out.¡± He raises his ss to Hayden, and then to Lily. ¡°I¡¯d apologize for that, but I¡¯m not actually sorry.¡±


    Parker shakes his head. ¡°But he¡¯s happy now. Aren¡¯t you, Rhys?¡±


    The middle brother makes an elegant half-bow toward the bride and groom. ¡°Ecstatic. It¡¯s an odd thing to see two people you know so well getting married. Hayden, there is no one I¡¯d rather see my sister with. Being your groomsman today was an honor,¡± he says, sincerity ringing in his voice. Then he clears his throat. ¡°Also, Lily would have killed me if I said no.¡±


    Good-naturedughter erupts from the guests again, and I watch as Hayden ducks his head.


    Henry is smiling broadly, catching my eye. This time, he¡¯s the one who winks. ¡°Joining this family can be daunting. We¡¯re aplicated, stubborn, cantankerous bunch, everyst one of us.¡± He nces down at Hayden, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Thankfully, that means Hayden fit right in.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C59

    Henry pauses for theughter, Hayden and Lily¡¯s included. From the way they¡¯re both looking up at him¡­ he¡¯s ying his role so well. Responsible older brother and entertainer. Weing and teasing at the same time.


    By the time the three of them are finished, they¡¯ve practically brought down the house. I join in on the thunderous apuse and watch as they take turns kissing Lily on the cheek. Henry bends to whisper something in Hayden¡¯s ear, and the younger man nods in thanks, his eyes wide and sincere. Curiosity is burning inside me.


    When dinner is over, staff clear away the tables and the music changes gear, drifting away from soft and romantic to upbeat. Henry finds me, his body strong and sure behind me, as we watch Hayden and Lily¡¯s first dance.


    ¡°You were magnificent,¡± I tell him quietly. ¡°The speech was fantastic.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he says, gently running his hands up my bare arms. I¡¯m d we¡¯re in the shadows and everyone¡¯s attention is locked on the newlyweds.


    ¡°You practiced it this morning?¡±


    He presses a soft kiss to my temple. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°All this public disy of affection¡­¡±


    ¡°You object?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± I lean against his body and shiver when his arms close around my waist. ¡°Will you dance with meter?¡±


    His arms tighten around my waist. ¡°All night, if you¡¯ll have me.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    Faye


    Henry is a good dancer. He leads effortlessly, and we spin, each brush of his hand on my waist reminding me of his words earlier. Of what happenedst night.


    His eyes, darkening with each song, speak of the same emotion. The fire between us burns.


    ¡°This is nice,¡± I murmur, swaying against him. We¡¯re pressed together so close it¡¯s almost indecent.


    He bends down to whisper in my ear. ¡°Nice?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, smiling at his outrage, ¡°although I can think of something I¡¯d rather do.¡±


    Henry stills, his eyes closed, an almost pained expression on his face. ¡°Damn it, Faye.¡±


    I thread my fingers through his and pull him away from the dance floor. I¡¯d been aiming for the bar, but his strides lengthen until he¡¯s the one leading me. We¡¯re heading for the door.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°Or do you want to stay?¡±


    The urgency in his eyes makes something inside me knot darkly, my hand burning in his grip. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    It¡¯s a short walk to Lily¡¯s cottage from the chapel, the tension between us rising with each step. ¡°What we spoke about earlier¡­¡±


    He releases my hand only long enough to unlock the front door. ¡°About the point system being outdated?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And about you wanting me.¡±


    ¡°Very much.¡±


    ¡°And how it wouldplicate things¡­¡±


    ¡°We can uplicate them.¡±


    I wind my hands around his neck and pull his head down to mine. There¡¯s the faintest, sweetest pause before he touches his lips to mine, when anticipation hangs in the air.


    And then he¡¯s kissing me like he¡¯s never done anything else, like we walk home hand in hand all the time, like our bodies already know each other intimately.


    His hands tten on my back and pull me tight against his body, until I feel the hardness of his thighs against mine and the nes of his chest against my breasts.


    ¡°This dress,¡± he murmurs, lips against my neck, ¡°has been haunting me all day.¡±


    ¡°This? It¡¯s modest!¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°Anything on you looks indecent.¡±


    ¡°Are we really doing this?¡± I pull back, our gazes meeting. Fire against fire, me against me. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be someone who sleeps with her boss.¡±


    His hands flex around my waist. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be someone who sleeps with his assistant,¡± he says softly. ¡°But I do want to sleep with you, very much.¡±


    And it¡¯s the look in his eyes that undoes me-the look that says he¡¯ll make it worth my while, that there are pleasures untold waiting for me. That this is the start of something-not the end. I wrap my arms around his neck and find it hard to think about anything but his lips against mine.


    ¡°I¡¯ll send out new CVs on Monday. We¡¯ll figure it out,¡± I say in between kisses.


    ¡°I¡¯ll look for cements in other firms,¡± he says. ¡°Make a few calls.¡±


    ¡°God, you taste good.¡±


    He grins against my lips and tugs at my zipper. I shimmy out of my dress, standing there in only my underwear. His hands immediately rece the dress-they run along my sides, my back, searing my skin with his touch.


    The look in his eyes is nearly feverish. ¡°Fuck, Faye¡­¡±


    I kiss him, needing to be closer still, and tug at his bowtie. Henry is just as eager as me and we make a good team as we work on the buttons of his shirt. He slides it off and I¡¯m finally running my hands over those wide shoulders. The trail of hair that disappears into his pants makes my mouth dry.


    ¡°So hot,¡± I breathe, unable to stop myself, and heughs.


    ¡°At your service.¡± He grips my thighs and then I¡¯m lifted up, like I weigh nothing at all, my legs wrapping around his waist of their own ord.


    Henry¡¯s arousal is thick through his pants. I grind, and he groans in response. ¡°You¡¯re too much.¡±


    I¡¯m ced on a hard surface. The dining-room table? A kitchen counter? I¡¯m too far gone to notice.


    Strong hands yank on the cups of my bra, the fragilece giving way. His gaze devours me whole-there¡¯s no shyness when he¡¯s staring at me like that. Like we¡¯ve been waiting forever for this. In a way, we have.


    He ducks his head and takes one of my nipples in his mouth. I slide my hand into his hair, holding on as waves of arousal roll through me. ¡°Beautiful,¡± he murmurs, releasing my nipple long enough to switch to the other.

 Ice Cold Boss C60

    His spare hand skates across my hip andnds between my legs, already spread for him. Thank God I chose the matching set of lingerie, I think, and then I don¡¯t think at all, because he¡¯s touching me through the fabric and my head falls back in pleasure.


    He bites my nipple gently. ¡°You¡¯re already wet,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re so ready for me, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    And God help me, I didn¡¯t know that dirty talk was my kind of thing, but hearing him say those things¡­ It sends fresh need pounding through me. ¡°Yes. I need you.¡±


    He tugs at my panties and nces downwards. ¡°I didn¡¯t get a chance to see youst night.¡±


    And then he does the unthinkable-he sinks to his knees before me and puts my legs across his shoulders.


    ¡°Henry¡­¡±


    But he doesn¡¯t hesitate. He just tugs my panties further to the side and looks up at me, his green eyes nearly ck with desire. ¡°So beautiful,¡± he says. ¡°All of you.¡±


    He leans forward, his tongue searingly hot against my skin. My fingers thread through his hair again and I lose myself entirely, to his skill, his tongue, to the forbidden connection between us.


    It¡¯s the hottest moment of my life.


    He reaches up and pinches my nipple with one hand, while the other teases along with his mouth. He slips a finger inside me, my body clenched around him. He curses against my clit. ¡°Fucking hell, Faye.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop.¡±


    The warm exhale of hisugh against my exposed skin makes me shiver, and then he¡¯s right back there, and I explode.


    It¡¯s not gentle or pretty. It¡¯s strong, starting from deep inside me, spreading through my body. Henry keeps his mouth on me the entire time, never letting me go, and when my orgasm is over, he looks up at me with an unmistakably masculine glint in his eyes.


    ¡°Now that¡¯s a point game I¡¯d y with you,¡± he says. ¡°How many times can we make Fayee? I¡¯d win, sweetheart.¡±


    ¡°I want my shot at scoring too.¡± I grip his shoulders and pull him to standing. He¡¯s rock hard, groaning when I reach down and touch him through the fabric.


    Henry grunts. ¡°You have me so on edge, you¡¯d score just like that, if you¡¯d just keep going.¡±


    I affect him just as much as he affects me, and I want to enjoy every tantalizing moment of this, reveling in my newfound power. I grip his belt loops and tug him toward the master bedroom. ¡°We can¡¯t have that, can we? I haven¡¯t seen you.¡±


    He scans my eyes, my lips, my breasts, still half-exposed. With a skilled hand, he reaches around and undoes the sp of my bra. I toss it aside.


    Henry curses again, and I smile, both in pleasure and in pride. I know I have curves. So many times in life they¡¯ve been more of a hindrance than a blessing-maturing fast in school, being catcalled on the street, male employers only seeing a butt and boobs rather than an intelligent woman.


    But here with Henry, my body is a joy to us both, and I want to share it with him. To enjoy him just the same. ¡°You¡¯re so fucking unreal,¡± he says.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    Iugh and close the bedroom door behind us. ¡°Who would¡¯ve thought that Henry Marchand liked to talk filthy?¡±


    ¡°Filthy? Oh, if you think that¡¯s dirty¡­¡± He pulls me close and tells me in excruciating detail what he likes about me, all the while running a finger along my soaked panties, igniting the fire below again. His words make my cheeks me. Sweet, perfect pussy, he murmurs. Fuckable lips. Hips I want to grab a hold of. Legs that were made to be wrapped around me.


    He leans back and grins, seeing the flush on my cheeks. ¡°Dirty enough for you?¡±


    My response is to reach for his belt. He helps me unbuckle it, pushing down his pants, and my mouth goes dry at the bulge. I stroke him through his boxers, and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. ¡°Do you see how hard you make me?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, and because I want to see if my words affect him as much as his affect me, I add a little something. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to feel you inside me.¡±


    ¡°Fuck.¡±


    I push him on the bed and climb on top, pulling down the stic of his boxers. ¡°You didn¡¯t think you were the only one with power here?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve always known you were the one actually in charge.¡±


    I take him in my hand, hot and throbbing, and start to stroke. He groans in response, throbbing in my hand. ¡°You have no idea how good that feels.¡±


    I think of his mouth on me in the kitchen, the earth-shattering orgasm he gave me, and how I¡¯m on fire when he touches me. ¡°I think I have a pretty good idea,¡± I say, and bend down to wrap my lips around him.


    His groan of pleasure feels like victory. I keep going, working up a rhythm, enjoying the taste of him. With Aiden, this was simply expected of me. With Henry, I want it. I want to be the one who brings him to the brink.


    His hand slides through my hair. I twirl my tongue around the tip and he curses again. ¡°I can¡¯t, Faye. You have to stop. I¡¯ve wanted you for too long, and it¡¯ll be over too fast.¡±


    I kiss my way up his stomach. ¡°It¡¯s not fair if the rules of the new game mean I have to stop before the finish line.¡±


    Heughs and flips me over, kissing down my neck. ¡°Life¡¯s not fair,¡± he says. His arousal twitches against my stomach, trapped between our bodies. ¡°Faye¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    His arms are braced on either side of my head. ¡°I can¡¯t have you regret this afterward. Faye, I need to know¡­¡±


    I understand. I run my hands up his arms, over the strong muscles of his back, into the thickness of his hair. ¡°I won¡¯t regret this. I promise.¡±


    He sits back and grabs my panties. I lift my hips and he slides them off. Keeping a hold of my ankles, he ces them on his shoulders. My breath ising fast.


    ¡°So fucking beautiful,¡± he says again. I raise myself up on my elbows and watch as his gaze travels from my eyes to my lips, to my breasts, to my stomach and the spot between my legs.


    And then he pushes inside of me. Inch after inch disappears, my body taking him fully, before he wraps his hands around my thighs and pulls out again. He sets a slow, deliberate tempo, the strength of his body overpowering. ¡°You feel so good,¡± he growls. ¡°Too good.¡±


    Words have escaped me. I nod, my own pleasure rising with each of his thrusts. I¡¯m so deliciously, deliciously full. As he watches, I pinch my nipples and cup my own breasts. He groans in response. ¡°Touch yourself.¡±


    Obediently, my hand trails down between my legs. Circling my clit is dangerous-my body is already close, has been since his mouth was on me in the kitchen. It doesn¡¯t take much effort to bring me right back to the brink, not while he¡¯s inside me.


    There¡¯s not much thought involved. For weeks, I¡¯ve imagined this, his body on mine. His body in mine.


    Henry speeds up, reaching deeper and faster, hands gripping my thighs hard. We¡¯re both losing ourselves to this, the control in his eyes evaporating with each thrust.


    Yes, I want to say. I want you as undone as I am.


    My hand circles my clit faster. If this is a race, it¡¯s a race we¡¯ll both win.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he tells me, eyes zing darkly. ¡°Again.¡±


    Pleasure rackets through my body at the permission, something I never knew turned me on before. If my orgasm in the kitchen before was good, it¡¯s mind-blowing now, with him inside me at the same time.


    Through the fog of my own pleasure, I hear Henry groan, his hips bucking sharply against me. His heavy breathing mirrors my own. For a few beautiful seconds, we just stare at each other, neither of us moving.


    Then he smiles, gently lowering my weak legs from his shoulders, and bends to kiss me. I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him back, our bodies still connected, skin slick with heat.

 Ice Cold Boss C61

    ¡°That was amazing.¡±


    He smiles against my lips. ¡°Amazing? That¡¯s mild praise. I know you know a lot of good words. Try another.¡±


    I wrap my legs around him, locking him in ce. ¡°Extraordinary. Phenomenal. Marvelous. How effusive do you want me to be?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± he says, pressing a kiss to my neck. I want to stay here forever, in this bed, this town, where we¡¯re just us. Just Henry and Faye, exploring this thing between us. No expectations, no titles. No office to return to.


    I told Henry I wouldn¡¯t regret this, and I meant it. What I have with him¡­ it¡¯s not something I¡¯m willing to give up easily.


    We¡¯re going to solve the inconvenient puzzle of being assistant and boss. I¡¯ll quit or transfer somehow. This thing between us is stronger than that-Henry is stronger than that, and so am I.


    But in the back of my mind, a niggling doubt creeps in, impossible to stop. I have more on the line than he does, and at the moment, I¡¯m not his girlfriend, and I¡¯m not an architect. I¡¯m just a woman who¡¯s slept with her boss.


    Henry


    Faye and I wake upte the next morning, and this time, she doesn¡¯t get up before me. Her body is warm against mine, her hair draped like ck silk across the pillow.


    Sleepy eyes meet mine. ¡°Hey,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°Hey.¡± I curl my hand around her waist.


    A smile is ying on her lips, and I smile back, until both of us are grinning for no apparent reason.


    ¡°Wow,¡± she says.


    ¡°Wow, indeed.¡±


    She buries her face against my chest, her lips pressed to my skin. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we did that.¡±


    I pull her closer, fitting her against my body. Her skin is like satin. ¡°No regrets?¡±


    ¡°No, none. Just surprise.¡±


    ¡°And satisfaction, I hope.¡±


    Her smile turns crooked. ¡°Yes, there¡¯s that.¡±


    I tip her head back and run a finger over her full lips. Just woken up, with her hair messy and her eyes dazed, she¡¯s almost too beautiful to handle.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to tell you something,¡± I say.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s serious. Are you ready?¡±


    Her eyes narrow. ¡°Henry¡­¡±


    ¡°You already know I think you¡¯re stunning, but it¡¯s worse than that. You¡¯re quite literally the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°Asshole! You made me think it was actually serious.¡±


    I smile at herughter and bend to break it off with a kiss. Heat travels through me at the soft touch. ¡°You¡¯ve told me how your looks mean people don¡¯t take you seriously, though,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve resistedmenting on them.¡±


    Her smile deepens, her eyes glittering. ¡°You take me seriously, so you¡¯re allowed topliment me.¡±


    ¡°I might abuse that privilege.¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°tterer.¡±


    I flip over on my back and pull her atop me, her head resting on my chest. It makes it easy to reach out and run a hand over her hair and the soft skin of her neck. ¡°Will you tell me about it?¡±


    Faye takes a deep breath and nods, settling in. When she finally speaks, I listen, as she tells me all about the little insultingpliments given at Elliot Ferris¡¯s office. About the colleague at her internship who refused to ept that she didn¡¯t want to go out with him. About an architecture professor who regrly made pointed jokes in ss after she spoke, saying things like apparently everyone can be an architect these days, even the pretty faces. When investors took a coworker¡¯s portion of the pitch more seriously than hers.


    Practically every anecdote makes me angry, and Faye can tell, because sheughingly runs a finger over the furrow in my brow. ¡°This isn¡¯t supposed to bring us down.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not bringing me down. It¡¯s infuriating.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, it¡¯s in the past.¡± She rises up on her elbows, cocking her head. ¡°How about you?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re very hot.¡±


    I blink in surprise. ¡°Hot?¡±


    She bursts intoughter, and it rains down around me. ¡°Your expression is priceless. Yes, you¡¯re hot. Handsome. You look good, you know.¡±


    ¡°I get by,¡± I say.


    ¡°If you merely get by, I¡¯d hate to imagine how other men feel.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    I sit up in bed, pulling her up with me. ¡°All right, time to change the subject.¡±


    ¡°Wow, you really can¡¯t take apliment,¡± she says, the smile on her face wide. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to work on that.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. Shower first, though.¡± The en suite bathroom isrge, the shower doubly so, and it¡¯s an easy fit for the both of us. It doesn¡¯t take long until showering is thest thing on my mind-not when Faye¡¯s hands, slippery with soap, slide over my skin. She wraps them around me, already painfully hard, and I have to brace myself against the shower wall.


    ¡°Whoops,¡± she says, her beautiful eyes glittering with desire.


    ¡°Whoops?¡± I run my hands down the silken skin of her arms, down her back, cupping her breasts. ¡°You know where this is going to end.¡±


    Herughter is cut short by my kiss. It¡¯s one of the longest, least efficient showers of my life.


    It¡¯s also one of the best.


    It¡¯s midday when I finally crack open myptop in the living room. Work has been thest thing on my mind this weekend, but for once, there¡¯s no stress involved with that thought. Faye heads to the sofa next to me, but I grab her instead, pulling her into myp. She¡¯s a delicious weight against me.


    ¡°Henry!¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C62

    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t work like this.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I reach for myptop and prop it on herp, my arms reaching around her waist to tap away at the keyboard. ¡°It works. I don¡¯t know what you¡¯reining about.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. And how will I get anything done?¡± She leans back, her head nestled below the crook of my neck.


    ¡°You¡¯ll help instruct me. We¡¯re almost done with this.¡± The opera house isplete, and with her changes, it now has a bnce and symmetry itcked before.


    Faye¡¯s fingers trail down my arm. ¡°What will happen tomorrow?¡±


    Tomorrow, Monday. Another day at the office. It feels like an age has passed since thest time we were at work. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out,¡± I say. ¡°You know we will.¡±


    She rxes against me, but the hand ying with my arm is restless.


    ¡°How about this-you set some ground rules. You like those.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in her voice. ¡°No kissing in the office.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good. I¡¯ll agree to anything you want.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone to find out about us, obviously. That would be¡­ catastrophic.¡±


    I breathe in the scent of her freshly washed hair, her warm skin, and nod. She¡¯s right. Both our reputations would be tarnished if it got out, but it wouldn¡¯t be equally, as unfair as that is.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep it a secret. Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°And¡­. I can¡¯t work with you anymore. Long-term, I mean.¡± She twists to face me, her hand cupping my cheek. ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to. I actually think we work great together.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    ¡°But I just¡­ it wouldplicate things too much. And I couldn¡¯t spend my days afraid that someone would find out, and in a blink, I¡¯d lose everything. That¡¯s just not a long-term solution.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± I say, because I do-whole-heartedly. It¡¯s a problem I¡¯ve already begun trying to solve. ¡°We¡¯ll find you another position.¡±


    ¡°We? I think I need to do this on my own.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you, of course. I¡¯m the reason you can¡¯t stay at Marchand & Rykers, am I not?¡±


    She cocks her head. ¡°Well, technically, yes.¡±


    ¡°Then, technically, I should help. You have excellent credentials, a solid background, and tons of raw talent. You¡¯ll find a ce that you want, don¡¯t worry about that.¡±


    Faye smiles, but the expression dies as she nces down at my watch. ¡°Oh, we really need to get going. It¡¯s a long drive back.¡±


    I tip her head back to meet mine. ¡°We will. Just promise me you won¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll solve this.¡±


    She kisses me, sweet and soft. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    I reluctantly release my hold and watch as she heads to the bedroom. This morning had been unreal. The sex, both yesterday and today, was some of the best of my life. We¡¯d packed up our things and eaten breakfast together. It feels easy. It feels right.


    And I¡¯ll be damned if something as stupid as workes between us.


    We stop by my parents¡¯ house for a final goodbye before we hit the road. My mother, still in her bathrobe, is practically glowing with happiness. ¡°Yesterday was marvelous, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Faye nods. ¡°A stunning wedding, Mrs. Marchand.¡±


    ¡°Oh Faye, thank you foring this weekend. It¡¯s lovely to finally see Henry with someone, and I couldn¡¯t imagine anyone better.¡±


    I cringe inwardly at the way that makes me sound, but Faye¡¯s the picture of grace. ¡°Thank you for having me, Mrs. Marchand. And please give my thanks to Lily, when you see her after her honeymoon.¡±


    ¡°I will, dear.¡± Turning to me, Mom makes me bend so she can press a kiss to my check. ¡°Prends soin d¡¯elle, Henri,¡± she whispers.


    Take care of her.


    ¡°I will.¡±


    Faye waves onest time as we leave the giant house behind, the ocean receding in the rearview mirror, Paradise Shores bing a memory once more.


    The drive is silent, the quiet between us getting heavier with each mile of road that carries us closer to New York.


    I nce over at Faye. She¡¯s been worrying her bottom lip, practically nonstop. ¡°Thank you foring this weekend,¡± I say. ¡°It was great to have you there.¡±


    ¡°I enjoyed myself. More than I thought I would. Your family, Henry¡­ they¡¯re so great.¡±


    ¡°They really liked you. All of them, which is an aplishment.¡± I shake my head. ¡°You managed to win over both my father and Rhys, too.¡±


    She scoffs. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t exactly speak to your dad again after the little outburst. He might still hate me.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°He told me that before the wedding.¡±


    ¡°He did?¡±


    I nod, weighing my words. ¡°He said you were brave.¡± He¡¯d also told me to put a ring on her finger as soon as possible.


    ¡°Wow,¡± she says. ¡°Maybe I should start arguments with more people. Seems like a winning strategy for me.¡±


    I reach over and put a hand on her knee. ¡°It certainly worked on me. Your application letter was one hell of an introduction.¡±


    She puts a hand on mine. ¡°What your mom said¡­ is that the reason I was here, beyond moral support and work? Because your family really wants to see you with someone?¡±


    Damn. I should¡¯ve seen that oneing.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie,¡± I say. ¡°When I first asked you, that was my thinking. Combined with the fact that we would be able to get work done, it seemed like a perfectly legitimate reason.¡± I shake my head at myself. ¡°But it was all justifications, really. I wanted you here with me. Spending time with you is the most fun I¡¯ve had in a very long time. My mother¡¯s opinion, the wedding, work¡­ it was all justifications for my own, selfish desires. I¡¯m sorry for that, though.¡±


    She threads her fingers through mine. ¡°You¡¯re forgiven,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I¡¯m not exactly innocent either¡­ Even before we had the negotiation, I¡¯d decided to join.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C63

    ¡°Yes. The contract, my requirements¡­ It was to prove to myself that I wasn¡¯t a pushover. That I had dignity. But in reality, I wouldn¡¯t have said no. How could I? I¡¯ve never been able to say no to you.¡±


    I grip her hand tighter. ¡°We¡¯re on the exact same page there, Faye.¡±


    Faye


    On Monday morning, I wake up to my rm, a window full of sunshine, and a good morning text.


    Henry Marchand: Looking forward to our Monday meeting today. Wear the red dress?


    I smile at the phone. My good moodsts all the way through my shower, my breakfast, to my conversation with my sad little palm tree. ¡°Cheer up,¡± I tell him. ¡°Life is good.¡±


    And when I walk into the officeter-in my red dress-it¡¯s with renewed confidence. I might not know how Henry and I will solve our professional problem, but I have a job I enjoy, a purpose, and a man I really like.


    I open myptop and get started on today¡¯s work. Theing week is packed, but then again, so are most weeks here. As I sort through Henry¡¯s calendar, my mind is already racing ahead, thinking about the different firms I could apply for. Only working for Marchand & Rykers for a few weeks won¡¯t exactly look good, but at least I¡¯ll get a good reference.


    What can I say as the reason for leaving? Creative differences?


    An emailnds in my inbox from Terri Richards. The headline makes me pause.


    Terri Richards: I think you should check the break room. I¡¯m sorry, Faye.


    That¡¯s all it says.


    It¡¯s with nerves in my stomach that I walk down the long hallway and into the openndscape. The atmosphere is normallypetitive, but today it feels downright tense. Ben from ounting gives me a little smile, but he¡¯s the only one.


    Terri is sitting in the break room with a stack of papers in front of her.


    ¡°It has to be Kyle,¡± she tells me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Faye.¡±


    With shaking hands, I grab one of the papers, and the world drops out from beneath my feet.


    It¡¯s a picture of Henry and me from the wedding. We¡¯re dancing, and he has his lips against my temple. My hands are around his neck. It¡¯s clearly been erged-we¡¯re in the background of someone¡¯s photo-but there we are, in all our pixted glory.


    Below is an attached copy of my application letter. My eyes burn as I scan through the familiar drunken words. You¡¯re not going to hire me, you old stooge, and let me list the reasons why. And below it all is a single sentence in all caps.


    WHY DO YOU THINK SHE WAS HIRED?


    I sink into the seat opposite Terri and drop my head in my hands. I swallow, and swallow again, to keep tears at bay. Everything we¡¯ve done this weekend suddenly feels cheap when exposed under these fluorescent office lights. My dress that I¡¯d so painstakingly picked out in that washed-out picture, his hands resting just slightly too low on my back. It looks bad. The whole thing looks just as bad-no, worse-than I ever feared.


    ¡°I¡¯m over,¡± I say.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    Terri¡¯s eyes are sympathetic, her bob as perfectly cool as always. ¡°I¡¯m not one for kind lies. It is bad. I don¡¯t know who he¡¯s circted these to outside the office, but I think it¡¯s time for damage control.¡±


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s seen this?¡±


    She gives a polite nod. ¡°In the office? Yes, I think so.¡± She looks down at her nails, and her voice hardens. ¡°Kyle hasn¡¯te in today. I bet that if we spoke to HR, we¡¯d find his resignation letter.¡±


    ¡°This is so¡­ petty. It¡¯s revenge. And all because I took his spot when we pitched?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s got to be more than that. He was an asshole every single day in this office, and he never felt he got the recognition he deserved. I think you got caught in the crossfires. And¡­ I think he¡¯s mad at Marchand. He idolized the man.¡±


    Oh, Henry. He doesn¡¯t know about this yet. He can¡¯t, or he would have been at my desk immediately.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Faye. But I have to ask¡­ is it true?¡±


    What point is there in trying to hide now? I look down at the picture of us, at the clear happiness on my face, and feel nauseous. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s not what he hired me for¡­ but have we gotten closer? Yes. God, I¡¯ve been such a fool.¡±


    She reaches out and puts a cool hand on mine. To both of our surprise, I grip it tight. We sit there for a long while, the two of us, both of us the picture of hard-working, professional office women, with blow-dried hair and fitted zers. There¡¯s nopetitive atmosphere in the break room at the moment.


    ¡°It happens,¡± she says softly, her ice-blonde hair an elegant sweep along her neck. ¡°I don¡¯t know you very well. I won¡¯t pretend to. But you were excellent in here. For what it¡¯s worth, I really enjoyed working with you, and I¡¯d be happy to work with you again-as an architect.¡±


    ¡°I enjoyed working with you too.¡±


    She pats my hand gently and lets me go. ¡°Now, how are you going to get him back?¡±


    ¡°Kyle?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and Marchand. I like the man well enough, but he should not have gotten involved with his assistant. You would¡¯ve thought the man had learned that lesson by now.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Her eyes soften. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t¡­ but you should know now. His previous assistant was nice. Sara. A little shy, from out of town. Good at her job, by all ounts. But she got far too involved. I don¡¯t know what happened between them, but she was very clearly in love with the man. In the end, she quit.¡±


    Something like ice settles in my stomach. I had asked why my perfect predecessor had been fired, but every time I¡¯d gotten non-answers.


    My application letter, there on the table in front of us, res at me with its awfulness. He told me I impressed him in the interview. But how could I know it wasn¡¯t because of my looks?


    ¡°Can I sue Kyle? For nder?¡±


    Terri cocks her head. ¡°Maybe. You¡¯d have to talk to awyer about that.¡±


    ¡°My application letter. How did he get it? Did Melissa give it to him?¡±


    ¡°I know he has a background inputer engineering, before switching to architecture. If he wanted to ess the file¡­ maybe he could. But it seems unlikely.¡±


    I gather up all the papers on the table. As she watches, I tear down the ones stuck to the fridge, to the cabs, and toss them all in the bin.


    ¡°Thanks for telling me.¡±


    She nods. ¡°You would do the same for me.¡±


    And she¡¯s right. I would. No one should have to go through this, even if it¡¯s their own mistakes being thrown at them. My path forward suddenly seems crystal clear.


    ¡°What are you going to do?¡±


    I look down at the one paper I spared, my proof copy. ¡°The only thing I can,¡± I say. ¡°Damage control.¡±


    Henry¡¯s eyes soften when I enter his office, over an hour early for our Monday meeting. ¡°Hey.¡± But then my expression registers. ¡°Faye?¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C64

    I make sure to shut the door behind me and thank whoever designed this building that his office is an entire corridor away from the openndscape, currently filled to the brim with judgement.


    I put the paper down in front of him. Henry grows still as he looks it over, an angry flush creeping up his neck. ¡°So that¡¯s why Kyle resigned this morning.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what Terri thinks.¡±


    ¡°The fucking asshole. I should have fired him a long time ago.¡± The paper crumples in his hand, knuckles white. ¡°I¡¯m assuming everyone has seen this.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He looks up at me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry, Faye.¡±


    No. No, no, no. I can¡¯t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the apology, the acknowledgment that we did something wrong. I pace in front of his desk. ¡°I¡¯m ruined. Again.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. Faye, you¡¯ve done nothing wrong.¡±


    ¡°Will anyone believe that? Think about the way it looks to everyone else! It looks like you pulled Kyle from the project for my benefit, and that I¡¯ve been sleeping my way to the top!¡±


    Henry is standing now, reaching out to me, but I don¡¯t want to be touched. I throw my hands up. ¡°This job was a godsend, and I mess it up not two months in.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Really? Isn¡¯t everything Kyle said true?¡±


    Henry pauses, eyes hardening. ¡°Nothing Kyle is insinuating is true.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t give you the job because I was interested in you. I didn¡¯t pull Kyle from the project for you. And I never wanted our personal rtionship to affect our professional one. You have to believe me, Faye.¡±


    I look at him, my insides at war, fear and hope and humiliation taking up arms. I said I¡¯d never regret what we did, but right now, I can¡¯t think of anything beyond the destruction it¡¯s wrought. ¡°I really want to believe that.¡±


    His mouth hardens. ¡°I¡¯ll fix this. I don¡¯t want you to worry.¡±


    ¡°There is no fixing it. You don¡¯t think word will spread? My career is over, and it¡¯s my own fault.¡± I put my head in my hands and fight the urge to cry for the second time of the day. I need to get my head in the game, to figure out a game n, but I can¡¯t stop feeling nauseous with embarrassment. ¡°This should never have happened. How could I be so stupid?¡±


    I¡¯d applied to all the big firms in New York months ago, after Elliot Ferris. They hadn¡¯t wanted to touch me with a ten-foot pole, and then I¡¯d onlycked a reference letter and been tainted by Elliot¡¯s tentacle-like influence. This time, I look like a woman who uses her body to get ahead career-wise. I¡¯ll never be hired again.


    A warm handnds on my shoulder, like he¡¯s afraid I¡¯ll shake him off. I don¡¯t.


    ¡°It¡¯s not all over,¡± he says, and his voice is vibrating with emotion. If I¡¯m despairing, Henry is furious. It rolls off him in waves. ¡°It might feel that way now, but it¡¯s not. And Kyle won¡¯t get away with this. Not in a million years.¡±


    ¡°Can I sue for nder?¡±


    ¡°Potentially. I¡¯ll look into it.¡±


    Right, I thought. Henry¡¯s name is being dragged through the mud as well. Both of use out of this looking bad, and the unnamed thing between us looks crude in the harsh light of day. I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together. His hand drops as I stand, smoothing down the wrinkles in my skirt.


    ¡°Why did your previous assistant quit?¡±


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    Something inside me sinks at the question, at the wariness in his eyes. ¡°Someone just told me that she was in love with you. Did the same thing happen earlier?¡±


    He rubs his neck. ¡°No, Faye, it wasn¡¯t simr at all.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I take a step back, unable to handle this discussion any longer, unwilling to hear whatever damning thing he¡¯ll say next. My chest feels painfully tight. ¡°Well, we didn¡¯t exactlye out of this looking good, did we?¡±


    ¡°We will,¡± he says, with far more conviction than I feel. He¡¯s already back at his desk, shoulders wide with tension and purpose, picking up his phone. ¡°I¡¯ll make this disappear. Don¡¯t worry, Faye.¡±


    I take a few steps toward the door and watch him in action. Thick hair and a strong jaw. In the corner, the model of his opera house is resting, covered by the sheet. I¡¯d been naive enough to hope I could have it both-my dream job and the man of my dreams.


    I should have known that was too good to be true.


    Henry


    I adopt my most friendly of tones. ¡°Of course, and I wouldn¡¯t ask you to. But I felt it was my obligation to let you know the reasons behind his dismissal.¡±


    ¡°And I appreciate that,¡± John Keys says, one of the architects on Elliot Ferris¡¯s team. ¡°We offered Kyle a contract just a few days ago. In light of your allegations, we might re-assess that.¡±


    ¡°Do whatever you feel prudent,¡± I say. ¡°I just know that on my end, nder and misuse of personal files is a serious offense. I¡¯d call Mr. Ferris directly, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard¡­¡± I trail off, hoping he¡¯ll catch on. The feud between my dad and Elliot is well-known and has never been easy for me to navigate.


    ¡°Ah, yes. I understand. And nder is a big deal for us too. Thank you for calling, Henry.¡±


    ¡°Anytime, John.¡± In truth, I hadn¡¯t spoken much to him after architecture school-and even less after he started working for Elliot.


    John pauses delicately on the line. ¡°Now that I have you on¡­ How about golf one weekend? It¡¯s been a long time since we yed.¡±


    I resist the urge to snort. We hadn¡¯t yed together since we were seniors. ¡°Absolutely,¡± I say. ¡°Shoot me an email and we¡¯ll set up a time.¡±


    I stare at my phone for a long time after we hang up. So Kyle had gotten a job at Elliot Ferris¡¯s firm, the snake, which was why he felt confident enough to pull this kind of stunt. I have little doubt he was offered the contract on Elliot¡¯s instructions, specifically to score a point against us. But if my call can turn even one of the architects at Kyle¡¯s new job against him, it¡¯ll be worth it.


    Kyle Renner, snake extraordinaire, would never get a rmendation from us-instead, he would get a warning, a call to every future employer. There was no cocktail party I¡¯d go to now where I wouldn¡¯t mention his name. Asshole.


    I rub my temples against a headache, and the image of Faye in my office reappears, as she has so often over the past couple of hours. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake, she had said.


    Fuck. This weekend had been one of the best of my life, and everything was-for once-perfectly on track. And then this happens. What had we said, just yesterday? That we wouldn¡¯t let work get in the way? We might as well have jinxed it.


    I force my hand to rx from its death grip on my armrest. One part of me wants to find Kyle Renner-I have his home address at my fingertips-and kick him senseless for hurting Faye like this. Another part of me wants to kick myself instead, for moving too fast. She¡¯d promised she wouldn¡¯t have any regrets, but that was exactly what had been on her face this morning.


    You have to believe me.


    And her response, broken and hurtful. I really want to.


    We¡¯d barely spoken since then, her at her desk and me at mine. Every feet of distance between us felt heavy.


    I send an email to Melissa in recruiting and ask her toe by my office this afternoon. The question of how Faye¡¯s application got into Kyle¡¯s hands is still unanswered. I want to order her to my office right away-I want to hold people ountable for this-but the anticipation will make it worse for her.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Faye¡¯s voicees through the inte. ¡°Rykers is here for you.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C65

    I want to groan. Thest thing I can stand at the moment is a dressing down from my senior partner. ¡°Send her in.¡±


    Rykers saunters in with a wry smile, obviously aware of the situation. ¡°I know,¡± I say preemptively. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look good.¡±


    She sinks into the chair in front of me. ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Kyle was a snake from the start.¡±


    ¡°He was. I think that¡¯s why we liked him, because he would do anything to get a project done.¡± She sighs, running a polished nail along her chin. ¡°But if these are his true colors, then good riddance to him.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t berate you, but we do have to talk about¡­ it.¡± Her smile turns sardonic. ¡°I¡¯ve known you for a long time, Henry. I don¡¯t believe this is simply a lustful slip.¡±


    I release a breath. ¡°It¡¯s not. It¡¯s poor timing, and it¡¯s been handled poorly at that, but it¡¯s not particrly scandalous at all.¡±


    ¡°You two like each other, then.¡±


    I give a curt nod, even though Faye¡¯s feelings are a mystery to me. All I have are hopes.Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°She¡¯s smart. I saw her pitch with Terri, you know. Quick on her feet.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a brilliant architect.¡±


    Rykers leans back, a thoughtful look on her face. ¡°Do you know what, Henry? I think it might be time for us to split up the firm.¡±


    Fuck. This? At the same time?


    I put my hands at my temples. ¡°I understand that this could tarnish our reputation with clients and other firms, if it¡¯s circted widely. But I already have a nder suit filed, and-¡±


    ¡°Oh, Henry, no. Men have been having improper rtions with their assistants since women joined the workforce. It¡¯s not ptable, but it happens. And if you two are actually serious, I doubt this will have any negative repercussions for business.¡±


    I¡¯m floored. ¡°Then why?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s time? We¡¯ve both benefitted from this. We¡¯ve built a good name for the both of us. But I want to branch out, outside of New York. I want more creative control over the projects. We¡¯ve reached a point where it makes sense.¡±


    I regard her, the woman who fought side by side in the trenches with me to establish this firm ten years ago. Who was brilliant at convincing investors, using financial calctions I¡¯d drawn up overnight.


    We¡¯ve had a good decade together. Both of us have independent client bases now. Her suggestion has terrible timing, but it makes sense, echoing some of my own thoughts. ¡°You might be right.¡±


    She smiles. ¡°It will be amicable, just like this was when we started.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll split the associates?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll solve something with HR. And-here¡¯s the part you might or might not enjoy-Faye Alvarez handed in her resignation an hour ago.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be angry. It¡¯s the only reasonable thing for her to do, in this position. But I¡¯ve offered her a job in my own firm after the split.¡± Her smile is triumphant. ¡°See? Isn¡¯t splitting the firm a good idea?¡±


    My hand stills. ¡°As an architect, I hope.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. I know talent when I see it.¡±


    My mouth sours at the implication. ¡°I know you¡¯re not doing it for me, but is it wrong that I want to say thank you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says immediately, standing. ¡°Because it¡¯s your loss, and my win. But as one friend to another, Henry¡­ She¡¯s been humiliated in the worst possible way for a woman in the workce. Let her find her footing again and regain some dignity before you push.¡±


    ¡°Push?¡±


    She shakes her head at me. ¡°You¡¯re a pusher, Henry. So am I. But it¡¯s not always a recipe for sess in private rtionships.¡±


    And with that she leaves, and I¡¯m left to ponder a world that looks radically different than it did just a few hours ago. Faye resigned. My heart feels squeezed in my chest, pushed too far by this entire ordeal. Why didn¡¯t she talk to me about it?


    When I open my office door, she¡¯s right there, her beautiful features fixed in a mask of cold professionalism. I watch in disbelief as she packs up her belongings. A set of mints from the bottom drawer. A hairbrush from another.


    She¡¯s ignoring me, standing just a few feet away.


    ¡°You resigned?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way.¡± Her voice is infuriatingly calm. ¡°I can¡¯t work with these people anymore.¡±


    ¡°Of course you can. It¡¯ll pass.¡±


    ¡°No, it won¡¯t. I can¡¯t call them into a meeting or demand they adhere to their deadlines, all the while knowing what they¡¯re thinking.¡±


    I put a hand on her wrist. ¡°Let¡¯s solve this. I¡¯ve already-¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve what? Handled Kyle? Made angry phone calls? I¡¯ve heard, and that¡¯s good. But it won¡¯t fix my reputation.¡±


    I want to shake her, shake us both, into some form of understanding. But Faye¡¯s face is the picture of distance as she shakes off my hand. ¡°I have to do this.¡±


    ¡°Did Rykers speak to you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She offered me a job.¡± Faye pauses, swallowing miserably. ¡°It¡¯s generous. It¡¯s what I want. I said yes on the spot.¡±


    She looks at me as if she¡¯s daring me to protest. ¡°I heard. That¡¯s great, Faye. Truly.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, it is. It¡¯s a chance to make something of myself out of all of this. A chance I don¡¯t really feel like I deserve.¡±


    ¡°You do. Fucking hell, Faye, you¡¯re so talented. The opera house is twice the building it was before you joined.¡±


    It must have been the wrong thing to say, because she shuts her bag with a snap. ¡°I¡¯ve written an instruction sheet for my recement and notified recruitment that we need to put up another ad for your personal assistant.¡±


    ¡°Faye¡­¡±


    She pauses and looks up at me, her eyes closed off in a heartbreaking way. I want to tell her that it¡¯s all going to blow over. That we¡¯re still us, that I¡¯m sorry. But all of it feels too little and toote. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say again. ¡°News of this won¡¯t spread.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t promise that.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C66

    ¡°I can. This doesn¡¯t change anything between us, Faye.¡±


    Her hand flits over mine, fingers soft and warm against my skin. I want to pull her near, to remind her of the closeness we¡¯d shared this weekend. Offer reassurance and be reassured in kind. But her eyes shutter, and she releases my hand.


    ¡°It does,¡± she whispers.


    I watch as she walks away, cursing myself for not being better with words, for not knowing what to say, for a situation that¡¯s somehow spun wildly out of my control. Yesterday morning, I had been happier than I¡¯d been in years. Fate has a funny way of giving you a taste of something wonderful, only to wrench it away immediately.


    Faye doesn¡¯t answer my calls. One textes in, two days after her resignation, asking for space. Space. Like we¡¯ve had an argument, like we¡¯re over.


    So I give her space.


    I fire Melissa from recruiting, who apparently gave Kyle the file after she read it herself. When she confessed to me, she admitted that she found it funny, and worth sharing, but hadn¡¯t ever imagined that he¡¯d use it for that. As if that was an excuse for viting confidentiality.


    Mywyers call daily with updates on the nder suit. Apparently, Kyle had gotten a hold of the picture of Faye and me through someone¡¯s public Facebook ount, and it was considered fair game, but the application letter and the implication he made weren¡¯t.


    ¡°We might not be able to get him on all these points in court,¡± mywyer told me. ¡°But we can make it painful for him to fight the allegations.¡±


    I¡¯d given them a very simple response. ¡°Make it as painful as possible.¡±


    The legal fees would be worth it-more than worth it-if it could discredit this thing. I see Faye¡¯s face in front of me daily, the look in her eyes when she said how this made her feel, and I feel nothing but shame. She¡¯s amazing, and smart, and strong, and talented¡­ proud and funny. And this job, and us together, had somehow broken that spirit.


    She still doesn¡¯t answer when I call.


    So I give her even more space, as one week turns into two. I go to the gym in the mornings. I sit through excruciating interviews with new assistants, but none of them are Faye, and none of them could be. It¡¯s unfair of me topare, and despite it, I see her in all of them. It serves no one.


    I receive the new model for the opera house with the changes that Faye and I worked on. Curving steel,bined with thick timber. It¡¯s gorgeous. It¡¯s truly an abstract violin now. The shape flows beautifully, a ready-to-build monument. It¡¯s the best piece I¡¯ve ever designed, and it¡¯s better because of Faye.


    The longer I look at it, the clearer the touches she added be. The beam at the bottom. The increased stage space. Her specific ideas were never mere additions; they were fundamental. They altered it entirely, making it stronger. Some of the changes were abined effort. I remember when we discussed the curve on the outer beams-we had both been excited, referencing some of the early ¡¯20s work in Manhattan as our inspiration-and sketched it out together.


    She¡¯s not a junior architect on this project. She¡¯s an executive. And that¡¯s the way I credit her, when I submit the application. Architects: Henry Marchand and Faye Alvarez.


    On the third week post-Faye, I drive to Paradise Shores for the weekend. Lily and Hayden are back from their honeymoon and both Rhys and Parker are in town. The entire weekend is miserable. The Frida, which had been my family¡¯s refuge for so long, reminds me of Faye. Staying in my sister¡¯s spare house reminds me of Faye. ying rummy reminds me of Faye.


    It¡¯s not made better by my siblings asking about her all the damn time.


    Sitting on the porch in the July sun, they¡¯re relentless. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you bring her this weekend?¡± Parker pushes.


    I re at him, but don¡¯t answer. What is there to say? I fucked it up?


    My youngest brother rolls his eyes at me. ¡°You were more fun when she was around.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    Lily frowns. ¡°Don¡¯t mock him. He¡¯s clearly upset about the whole situation.¡±


    ¡°Henry doesn¡¯t get upset. That would require feelings.¡± Rhys throws in his final hand. ¡°And I win again.¡±


    I toss down my own cards, the loss souring my mood even further. She¡¯d fit in here like a glove, by my side, giving as good as she got on every topic. Even my father-who barely spoke to me after the Chicago incidentmented on her absence. He called her that girl, but he had grunted in displeasure when I said she hadn¡¯t joined this time. Mentally, I wondered if she ever would again, or if I¡¯d ruined everything by going too fast.


    It¡¯ste when I finally drain my whiskey and decide to go home. Parker has already gone to bed, and Rhys has long since retreated into himself, lying on his back to stargaze. Lily is watching him fondly, leaning into Hayden. They¡¯ve been different since the wedding. Closer, if that¡¯s even possible.


    I sigh as I watch them. Easypanionship. It wasn¡¯t always easy for them, I know that now. Part of that was probably our fault-the entire nosy family. But now, with his arm around my sister and his eyes filled with quiet adoration, I know Lily couldn¡¯t have chosen a better husband.


    And I need to get out of here, before I¡¯m reminded even more of the woman I¡¯d found and let slip through my fingers. For a few days, we¡¯d had¡­ oh, hell if I knew. Something that felt like everything.


    Lily quietly extricates herself from Hayden¡¯s arm. ¡°I¡¯ll follow you out,¡± she says, as if I don¡¯t know the blueprint of her house, having designed the remodel.


    She¡¯s unusually quiet. ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yeah, everything¡¯s fine. But Henry¡­ are you fine?¡±


    Not this again. I nod. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Did you two break up?¡±


    I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s because it¡¯s just her and me, or the whiskey, or thete hour, but I nod. I must look as miserable as I feel, because Lily¡¯s eyes soften.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. It was my fault.¡±


    ¡°I find that very hard to believe.¡± Her eyes hold the same tint of hero-worship they used to have when she was a child, and I was lifting her up on my shoulders, orter, teaching her how to drive stick. It makes the guilt roil in my stomach.


    ¡°She was my assistant at work. Not my girlfriend.¡±


    I wait for the admonition, but it doesn¡¯te. Lily just nods. I narrow my eyes at her in suspicion. ¡°Did you know?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± A faint pause. ¡°I suspected. She mentioned something about the two of you not being serious, and then I did some inte research. She¡¯s listed as one of yourpany¡¯s employees.¡±


    I groan. ¡°Lily.¡±


    ¡°Faye and I spoke about you, briefly.¡± She puts a hand on my arm. ¡°I basically asked her what she felt about you, when we had dinner.¡±


    ¡°You were supposed to give her a house tour!¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, you know how I get.¡±


    I run a hand over my jaw. ¡°Yeah, I do.¡±


    ¡°She was¡­ worried that you didn¡¯t care for her?¡±


    ¡°She said that?¡±


    My sister¡¯s hesitation says it all. ¡°Well, that¡¯s what she meant. And I told her that Henry Marchand doesn¡¯t do half-measures. That if you¡¯re bringing her here, it¡¯s because you like her. We¡¯ve never met any of your girlfriends before! I tried to put her at ease.¡±


    ¡°She was worried about that? That I wasn¡¯t really interested?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Lily shoots me a look that says this should be obvious to me. ¡°It¡¯s not hard to imagine why. She was basically considering getting together with her boss, Henry. It¡¯s not exactly rmended.¡±


    ¡°I know that. Hell, I do. That¡¯s what ended the whole thing.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C67

    ¡°I think she wanted to know if it was worth it. I told her that you were.¡±


    My throat tightens unexpectedly. Lily is staring up at me with determination, her small frame set in a mixture of frustration and unwavering belief. For so many years, I was the one who held us together as siblings, but she¡¯s always been the beating heart.


    ¡°Now, Henry Edward Marchand, was I right? Will you work hard for what you want, and for those you care about? Were you worth her taking a risk?¡±


    Faye¡¯s expressiones back to me. Her anger at Kyle, at the situation. At the uncertainty I¡¯d helped create. I¡¯d given her space without a second thought. It had been what she asked for, and I¡¯d respected that.


    But maybe I¡¯d been too fast with it. There were still things between us that needed to be said-and things I need to make clear.


    I wrap an arm around my little sister, who leans into me withplete trust, as she always has. Her head barelyes to my shoulder. ¡°Thanks, Lils.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± She looks like something is on the tip of her tongue, eyes expectant, but then she shakes her head. ¡°Go and get Faye back, and then bring her back for another weekend here. I want us to go sailing together with Hayden.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± I say, backing away from her. She¡¯s framed by the porch light, and in her white summer dress, she looks like an angel. ¡°I love you, Lils!¡±


    ¡°I love you too!¡± she calls back. ¡°Go get your girl!¡±


    Back in the cottage, I sit down and write a letter. I write down everything that could have been a potential point of mimunication between Faye and me. Everything is detailed. As soon as I get back to New York, I¡¯ll drop it by her mailbox. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll be enough, but it¡¯s a start, and I¡¯ll refuse to stop from there.


    Faye


    I stare at the envelope. It had been waiting for me in the mailbox this morning. There¡¯s no stamp, only my name on the front, written in his handwriting. Faye. He must have hand delivered it. He¡¯d been that close-just downstairs-and I hadn¡¯t known. I¡¯d been here in my apartment, stress cleaning or ironing or doing whatever other semi-productive thing I could during the days, waiting for my work contract with Rykers to start.


    I don¡¯t know what I would have done if I knew he¡¯d been downstairs, to be honest. If he¡¯d texted me and asked me toe down. I¡¯d have been panicked, of course. Excited. I want to see him-it¡¯s like an itch under my skin, theck ofmunication between us, even if I¡¯m the one initiating it.


    Am I being a fool for needing space?


    The envelope is lying innocently on my coffee table. Despite my staring, it¡¯s not giving me any answers. Jess, who has taken to staying over several times a week, gives me a disapproving shake of the head. ¡°Are you actually going to open it? You¡¯ve been staring at it for half an hour.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I want to know what it says.¡±


    She sits down opposite me. ¡°What do you want it to say?¡±


    I look at the envelope again, at my name scribbled across the top. He¡¯d called several times after I walked out of his office. I hadn¡¯t answered a single time.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say.


    She shoots me a crooked smile, like she doesn¡¯t believe me. ¡°You want it to make things better between the two of you.¡±


    ¡°Yes. But I can¡¯t see how it could. What happened¡­¡±


    ¡°Was seriously messed up,¡± she fills in. ¡°And it¡¯s perfectly understandable that you¡¯re still upset about it.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Your self-confidence was hurt.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say again, weaker now.


    Jess leans forward and puts a hand on my knee. She¡¯s just put a loaf of bread into my oven, and the scent in my apartment is divine. Thank God for being in-between jobs when you also have a best friend who mostly works nights.


    ¡°And I get why. We both do. But what happened wasn¡¯t like with Elliot Ferris. Henry didn¡¯t try to cut you out of his project. He didn¡¯t imply topanies around the city that you made improper advances. He is suing that asshole for nder.¡±


    ¡°I know that.¡±


    ¡°You do rationally, but you¡¯re in exactly the same state as after you were fired from Ferris. Worse, actually.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a harsh friend, I know. But you love it, and frankly, you need it at the moment. This whole thing hit you right where you¡¯re weakest. Punished for your ambition. Your looks made out to be something dirty. And Henry and you¡­ well, I¡¯m guessing you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him. And then it all came crashing down, and the issues are mixing in your head, when they¡¯re actually very separate things.¡±


    I look up at the ceiling and feel hollow inside, like I¡¯ve been emptiedpletely. ¡°When did you get so wise, huh?¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in her voice. ¡°People talk to bartenders a lot. More than they should, probably. And I¡¯ve known you a long time.¡±


    ¡°I know what I don¡¯t want the letter to say. That he¡¯s saying goodbye for real.¡±


    ¡°See? Progress!¡± The sofa dips as she sits down next to me. ¡°Do you miss him?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    ¡°From what you¡¯ve told me, he was very concerned about not crossing any lines, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I think of his body against mine, of my promise to him that I wouldn¡¯t regret sleeping together, that I was in this with him. I had messed this up, too. Other memories flood back. Hisughter as we walked along the beach. His hair wet from the ocean. He¡¯d let me into a piece of his world, his mind, his soul. And when we were found out, I¡¯d retreated.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been an idiot. Not news, exactly.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯ve been afraid. There¡¯s a difference.¡± Jess nods at the coffee table. ¡°And I think it¡¯s time you stop.¡±


    She¡¯s right. I need to find the version of me who sent a drunken application letter to a high prestige architecture firm. Who showed up to the interview determined to take any chance she got. I reach for the envelope, pulling out the letter with a trembling hand. It¡¯s long, written in Henry¡¯s neat hand.


    My heart is a war drum in my chest as my eyes scan through it. ¡°Oh,¡± I sigh in relief. ¡°It¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Maybe I still have a shot.¡±Text ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Of course you do. He¡¯s wanted you since you two met. Tell me what it says.¡±


    So I read it out loud, Henry¡¯s words filling my small apartment.


    Faye,


    I¡¯m d you¡¯re reading this, that you didn¡¯t throw my letter out, and with it any chance of us. Thank you for that.


    You¡¯ve asked for distance, and I¡¯ve tried being respectful of that. But I also want to make a few things very, very clear. Maybe these are things you¡¯ve been thinking about and maybe not. But for a long time, you and Imunicated in riddles and games. That¡¯s been more fun than I can express, but this is too important for that.


    I did not hire you for any other reason than I thought you had potential, and I didn¡¯t like the idea of Elliot Ferris getting away with ruining someone¡¯s career. I did not hire you to piss him off. I did not bring you to the Founders¡¯ G to show you off to him. Most importantly, I did not hire you to sleep with you.

 Ice Cold Boss C68

    Nothing ever happened between my previous assistant and me. She got too attached, and I felt it interfered with her ability to do her job effectively. I informed her about it, and she agreed, deciding it would be best to end her contract. She left with an excellent rmendation.


    You have asked me repeatedly why I invited you to my sister¡¯s wedding, and why I agreed to the contract with you. The truth is simple. I wanted yourpany. That was selfish, I¡¯ll admit, and I¡¯ll never forgive myself for the way it ended. I regret what it led to, with that picture. But I can¡¯t find it in myself to regret the weekend itself or what happened between us, and I hope you don¡¯t either.


    I¡¯m sorry for not making that clear earlier. For not being more careful. For hiring Kyle all those years ago. For not letting you know that the risk you were taking was worth it-that I always wanted something long-term with you. I¡¯m sorry for not following you out of the office the day you left. For not giving you enough space afterwards, or for giving you too much space. I know I¡¯ve fucked up, Faye, and if you want to yell at me for it, you know where I live. You¡¯re very wee.


    I would very much like to be a part of your life going forward, and I¡¯ll ept whatever terms you set for me. Give me a contract if you want-I¡¯ll sign it blindly.


    PS. Rykers has kept me informed about your employment. I understand you¡¯re starting your new job next week. I¡¯d wish you good luck, but I know you won¡¯t need it. You¡¯re the most talented architect I know.


    Henry


    I release another shaky breath and lean my head back on the couch, closing my eyes again. He addressed every single point I¡¯d been thinking about, even the banal ones, the small ones, that I hadn¡¯t been able to get out of my mind at night.


    Jess was right. This wasn¡¯t the Elliot Ferris situation all over again. We weren¡¯t doomed because of the way things went down at the office. With the exception of Terri and Rykers, I wasn¡¯t nning on seeing most of those people again. Who cared what they thought? Kyle was an asshole, but in the end, he wasn¡¯t right at all.


    Henry and I had begun as a mess. Messier than either of us were used to, and far too messy for my taste. A forbidden office romance. Assistant-boss rtions. Project deadlines, co-workers, family.


    But that didn¡¯t mean the connection we had was a lie. It had just happened inconveniently. And when had inconvenience stopped either of us from going after what we wanted in life? Suddenly, all of my feelings of shame or fear make no sense at all.


    ¡°Well?¡± Jess prompts. ¡°What do you feel?¡±


    ¡°Like I need a shower and a n.¡±


    Her smile is glorious. ¡°You¡¯re going to see him?¡±


    ¡°If he¡¯ll see me, yes. Hell, even if he won¡¯t, I¡¯ll make him.¡±


    I don¡¯t let myself overthink it, either. That¡¯s been my mistake for these past few weeks, when I¡¯ve been stuck in my head and in my memories. I fish out my phone from behind a cushion and find his number immediately. Thest text we¡¯d exchanged was mine, when I¡¯d told him I needed space nearly three weeks ago. Looking at it now makes me feel uneasy. Yes, there had been a power imbnce between us, but we¡¯d spent a weekend together¡­ and then I¡¯d pulled away without any exnation.


    I text him a single, simple sentence.


    Faye Alvarez: Can I see you today?


    To my infinite pride, I don¡¯t toss my phone away from me, either. I put it down calmly on the coffee table and bow to Jess¡¯s theatrical little apuse.


    ¡°Now, off to the shower,¡± I dere, and she shoots me a thumbs up. One-quarter of my deep conditionerter, I emerge to freshly baked bread and Jess smiling from ear to ear. ¡°He responded,¡± she says.


    ¡°He did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Your phone beeped and I looked. You know I can¡¯t help myself.¡± She hands me the phone and I read the response, just as sparse as mine.


    Henry Marchand: Yes. I cane over?


    Something inside me rxes, at the same time as new nerves emerge. He¡¯s never been in my apartment.


    Faye Alvarez: Meet me in Brooklyn. Let¡¯s take a walk?


    It¡¯s the coward¡¯s way out, but he agrees, and we set a time. I put my phone down and look over at Jess, who is still smiling at me. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to meet him,¡± she says.


    ¡°Jess!¡±


    ¡°Not today, of course. But from the way he sounds, and the way you¡¯re all in knots over him¡­ I¡¯ll meet him one day.¡± She opens my fridge in search of butter. ¡°Of that I have no doubt. You two are basically soulmates.¡±


    I watch her in silence as she cuts two thick slices of bread for us both. Her words are hyperbolic, but they¡¯re spoken with sincerity, and something in them rings true. With Aiden, I never had this feeling, the desire to integrate our lives into one. To share our friends, our family. I¡¯d met Henry¡¯s entire family before we¡¯d ever even shared a bed. And every step of it had felt right.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, reaching for one of the slices of bread. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right about that.¡±


    ¡°I know I am.¡±


    Faye


    I see him before he sees me.


    Henry is leaning by the corner of a deli, looking supremely out of ce, shirtsleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. His hair is a bit longer than thest time I saw him, pushed back from a face that¡¯s gotten tanner. He must have been out sailing again at some point. His eyes scan passerby, coiled energy clear in his tall frame.


    I smile as soon as I see him. He hasn¡¯t done anything particrly smile-worthy, but it¡¯s still etched on my face by its own ord. He catches sight of me as I cross the street. My heart clenches as a smile spreads across his own lips, transforming his stern features.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he says.


    I rock back on my heels and look up at him. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m d you came.¡±


    ¡°So am I.¡± I nce at the busy street around us. ¡°Sorry for the dramatic set-up. ¡®Meet me at the corner of Prince and Fifth¡¯ sounds like something out of a movie.¡±


    His smile turns crooked. ¡°We¡¯ve had our share of drama, so I suppose it¡¯s fitting.¡±


    ¡°I was never the dramatic one in school.¡±


    Henry snorts. ¡°I definitely wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Head in the books?¡±


    He nods. ¡°Or on the sailing boat.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I say softly. ¡°The winner of the junior sailing regatta.¡±


    ¡°You remembered?¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s your highest achievement.¡±


    He gives me a crooked smile, and I return it, warmth spreading through my chest. ¡°Where do you want to walk?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a park down here. Is that okay?¡±


    ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    It¡¯s a beautiful summer afternoon, and children are ying in the sun, the park filled with people. Henry kicks an errant ser ball back to where a group of boys are ying, and they shout their thanks. The silence between us isn¡¯t ufortable, but it¡¯s heavy with things left to be said. I can almost see them floating between us.

 Ice Cold Boss C69

    ¡°Thank you for the letter,¡± I begin.


    He nods. ¡°I¡¯m d you read it.¡±


    ¡°It was¡­ oh, I¡¯m sorry, Henry.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°For pulling away. For needing time.¡±


    ¡°No, don¡¯t apologize for that.¡± His handnds on the small of my back-lightly, like he¡¯s afraid I¡¯ll object-and he heads toward an empty bench. We sit close, but not touching. ¡°Faye, you have nothing to apologize for.¡±


    I meet his strong gaze. ¡°Neither do you.¡±


    His mouth turns down in a faint frown, eyes unreadable. ¡°What happened with Kyle was unforgivable. Mywyers are working on a nder suit as we speak, and if I have any say in the matter, he won¡¯t work again. Not in New York, at least.¡±


    The fierceness in his voice makes me want to smile. ¡°He acted out of envy and rashness.¡±


    ¡°It was petty.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but he doesn¡¯t deserve to have his career destroyedpletely.¡±


    Henry¡¯s gaze drops to my hands, resting in myp. He¡¯s quiet for a long beat before he speaks. ¡°You¡¯re a better person than me, to be capable of believing that.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve just thought about this a lot.¡±


    He nods, but it¡¯s miserable. ¡°Then you know as well as I do that Kyle isn¡¯t the real culprit. I am, and I¡¯m sorrier for that than you can imagine.¡±


    ¡°Henry?¡±


    ¡°I hired you, knowing what I knew about why you left yourst job. I knew how important this job was for you. Regardless of whatever pull I felt, I shouldn¡¯t have asked you to be my date to the wedding. It was unprofessional at best, seedy at worst.¡±


    I reach for his hand and thread my fingers through his. He lets me, even as he continues to stare out across the park with his jaw clenched. ¡°Did you ever see me as an easyy? An assistant you just wanted to fuck?¡±


    His eyes flick to mine, and there¡¯s both hurt and anger there, despite his efforts to mask it. ¡°Jesus, Faye. No. Never.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    I grip his hand tighter. ¡°And did you ask me to the wedding with the aim of sleeping with me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± His voice grows fainter. ¡°I wanted time with you.¡±


    ¡°Then your actions weren¡¯t seedy. Henry, I said yes. Every step of the way, I was right there with you.¡± I fight through my embarrassment and say the next part, too. ¡°I was even urging you on, at some points. We both acted unprofessionally. But it wasn¡¯t seedy.¡±


    His fingers curl around mine, my hand nearly swallowed whole in his steady grip. ¡°You have regrets. It¡¯s the one thing I couldn¡¯t bear, and I caused it anyway.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    His look tells me that he doesn¡¯t believe me, and I scoot closer, our thighs touching. ¡°I don¡¯t. Did I, at the moment, with Kyle? Yes. The price seemed high. But Henry, do I regret anything that happened between us? Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°I never wanted to hurt you,¡± he says. ¡°Not the way Elliot Ferris did. I never wanted you to feel like I only wanted you for your body, or that I didn¡¯t value your ambition. You¡¯re the most talented woman I¡¯ve ever met. I wanted to support your career, not ruin it.¡± He runs his hand through his hair, and the agitation in him breaks and spills over, his carefully controlled features dissolving into anger. ¡°I didn¡¯t handle it right. Us.¡±


    His words, the longest speech I¡¯ve ever heard him make, warms something in me. ¡°You didn¡¯t y your cards right? Henry, I thought you always won.¡±


    ¡°You were never a game.¡±


    I lean in closer, until his eyes widen in surprise, and neither of us is breathing. ¡°You weren¡¯t a game to me either,¡± I say. ¡°But¡­ if we were ying, I¡¯d say we could stille out of this as winners.¡±


    ¡°Both of us?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    His hands find my waist, pulling me closer. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°As far as I see it, there¡¯s nothing stopping us from being whatever we want to be, now.¡±


    Henry¡¯s thumb smooths over my waist. He¡¯s giving me a smile, so genuine that it squeezes something inside me. ¡°You¡¯re giving me another chance, Faye.¡±


    ¡°No. We¡¯re giving us another chance, because we¡¯re both responsible for this. If that¡¯s what you want?¡±


    His smile turns teasing, reminding me of the many nights we¡¯d spent sparring in his office. ¡°If? I need to work on my writing skills, if you¡¯re still unsure of what I want after that letter.¡±


    I press my lips to his. He responds softly, sweetly, and warmth spreads through my body. This. This is what I¡¯ve wanted since the beginning. Him beside me, holding me. Someone I respect and like in equal measure.


    ¡°Maybe we could do things right this time. In the right order.¡± We¡¯d never even been on a proper date together, and still, I¡¯d met his family. We¡¯d done things out of order.


    He pushes my hair back. ¡°You want to be taken out to dinner?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Wined and dined, huh.¡± He puts a hand on my knee, a warm weight against my skin. ¡°Breakfast in bed. Sunday brunches.¡±


    I grin at him. It all sounds so¡­ coupley, so unlike anything I¡¯ve had with a man before, and the teasing in his voice is lovely. ¡°Morning showers,¡± I add.


    The hard cut of his jaw clenches once as he swallows. ¡°Yes. To save water,¡± he says. ¡°Very sustainable of you.¡±


    ¡°I was top of the ss in Intro to Sustainable Building. Haven¡¯t I told you?¡±


    Henry¡¯s smile widens. ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe you have, but it doesn¡¯t surprise me.¡±


    ¡°Material efficiency,¡± I whisper. ¡°Ecological conservation.¡±


    He leans in and kisses me again, with more pressure this time. All thoughts of teasing him evaporate as the warm heat of his tongue slides against mine. Nobody has ever kissed me the way he has; like he wants to own my body and crown me as queen at the same time. Strong fingers tip my head back slightly, giving me better ess. I¡¯m breathless when he pulls away.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he says, ¡°but talking about sustainable architecture gets me pretty riled up.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Really? How do you get through a day at work?¡±


    ¡°Barely.¡± He reaches for my hand and pulls me into standing. ¡°Nowe on, Alvarez. Show me your neighborhood.¡±


    We walk through the park and out onto the main street. My part of Brooklyn is quiet and calm, and I tell him that, but he only shakes his head.

 Ice Cold Boss C70

    ¡°No part of New York is ever truly calm.¡±


    I study his profile. The city might not be calm, but he looks it, the restlessness gone from when I¡¯d seen him waiting by the deli. ¡°Not like Paradise Shores?¡±


    His eyes slide to mine, and I wonder if he¡¯s remembering it all the way I am. The two of us on the boat or walking along the shore at midnight. Alone together in the cottage.


    ¡°No,¡± he says softly. ¡°Not like Paradise Shores.¡±


    ¡°Would you ever move back?¡±


    He frowns, but it¡¯s his thoughtful look, not his displeased one. I¡¯m not sure if most people realize there¡¯s a difference. ¡°Maybe,¡± he says finally. ¡°But it would have to be the right time. I can¡¯t see myself leaving all of¡­ well, this.¡± He sweeps his arm across the busy street, the water beyond, the pounding beat of the city we both live and work in. I can¡¯t imagine leaving it either-not yet, anyway.


    Our slow, meandering walk eventuallyes to a stop outside my building. I¡¯ve been leading us here, to the red brick building that¡¯s been home since I moved to the city nearly six years ago.


    ¡°This is me,¡± I say.


    Henry looks past me to the lobby. ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°Right, the letter. Thanks for that, by the way. Truly.¡±


    He rubs his neck. ¡°I should have thought of it sooner. We could¡¯ve had this discussion weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°It came at exactly the right time,¡± I say, and I mean it, too. These weeks have been long, but I¡¯d needed the time to sort through my own emotions-to separate Henry and me from the professional role we¡¯d met in.


    Henry takes a step closer, until we¡¯re nearly touching. He runs his fingers along my cheek, my jaw, tipping my head back again.


    ¡°I like our height difference,¡± I say, stupidly.


    His mouth quirks up. ¡°I¡¯m d. That¡¯s not something I could¡¯ve changed, had you not.¡±


    I smile at him, and he smiles back crookedly, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. ¡°Can Ie up?¡±


    I think of him in my apartment, his giant size in that small space, the shabby carpet, my dying palm tree. I think of my framed architecture posters on the wall and his visionary mind. Of his arm around my waist as we sleep.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    Something in him rxes, as if he¡¯d been unsure of my response. He slides a hand down my arm, taking my hand. ¡°Lead the way, then.¡±


    When we reach my front door-Apartment 13C emzoned in gold letters-my heart is beating with a mixture of excitement and nerves. Henry, here in my space. Good thing Jess left for work at the same time I did.


    I unlock the door and he steps past me, opening it for me.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°You wanted us to do this properly,¡± he says with a sideways grin. Once, I¡¯d thought that smile was rare, and treasured each one. He¡¯s been liberal with them today, just like he was during the weekend in Paradise Shores.


    Henry stops in my living room and looks around, his gaze taking it all in-my crocheted throw on the sofa, made by my mother. My overflowing bookshelf filled with biographies and architecture books.


    He takes a step forward and looks at the posters on my wall. With his hands in his pockets, his shirt stretched out over his broad shoulders and thick hair kissing his neck, he feels too good for this space. Too much. I wait with bated breath for hismentary.


    ¡°These are magnificent,¡± he says finally, looking at the architectural crosscut of the Colosseum. ¡°Where did you find these?¡±


    There¡¯s a faint lump in my throat, all of a sudden. Jess was my best friend in the whole world, and she had never paid them any mind. Aiden had though they were needlessly expensive and yet another disy of my inconvenient ambition.


    ¡°Online,¡± I say. ¡°An artist makes them, drawing on real historical records. Some parts of them are spective.¡±


    Henry nods, wrapping an arm around my waist. ¡°Have you ever been?¡±


    ¡°To Rome?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    He trails a hand down my arm, his fingers leaving goose bumps. ¡°Good to know. Are you hungry?¡±


    ¡°Um, yes. A bit. Do you want us to cook something? I think I have chicken in the freezer.¡±


    He pulls me toward my couch, and we sink down on it effortlessly, his arms still around me. ¡°Absolutely not,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll order something, and we¡¯ll eat right here on your couch.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re having our first proper date right away?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I smile. ¡°Not wasting any time, are we?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve wasted too much already,¡± he says. The sunlight illuminates a faint five-o¡¯clock shadow along his jaw and circles under his eyes. How had I missed that earlier?


    ¡°Sounds good.¡± I put a hand on his cheek and smooth my thumb over his cheekbone, his eyes closing in pleasure. ¡°You look a bit tired. Have things been stressful at work? Splitting up Marchand & Rykers?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he sighs. ¡°Dividing up the projects turned out to be harder than we thought. Rykers and I have had a few disagreements about personnel, too.¡±


    I slide my hand into his hair and run my fingers along his scalp. ¡°She might be the only one at work who¡¯s not afraid to go toe to toe with you.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°At the moment, yes. But only because you left.¡±


    ¡°tterer.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the truth.¡± Henry sighs again, leaning into my touch, eyes closed in pleasure. It makes me smile. ¡°Plus, I¡¯ve been terribly distracted at work. Forgetting to reply to emails. Losing my train of thought. Forgetting the details of projects.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like you.¡±


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t.¡± A smile hovers on his lips, even as his eyes remain closed. ¡°I had this smart, talented, beautiful woman in my life, and then I screwed up and lost her. And it turns out I couldn¡¯t really think of anything else after that.¡±


    I slide my fingers down to the nape of his neck, gently massaging the thick muscles. ¡°You really are a tterer tonight,¡± I murmur, ¡°but I¡¯m enjoying it immensely.¡±


    His smile quirks up. ¡°Another point to me.¡±


    ¡°You want to y thepliment game?¡± I kiss the edge of his jaw, the stubble tickling my skin. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to get used to being called handsome, then.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C71

    ¡°Mmm,¡± he says softly. ¡°If it¡¯s by you, I think I¡¯ll manage, somehow.¡±


    Epilogue


    One monthter


    Faye rolls away from me in bed. ¡°We need to get going.¡±


    She¡¯s fast, but I¡¯m faster. I tug her back against my chest, smiling as sheughs in protest. ¡°We¡¯re going to bete!¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    She struggles against me, but there¡¯s no escape, and I tell her that. She rolls her eyes at me. ¡°You used to be so punctual. What¡¯s happened?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a bad influence.¡± I push back her silken hair and rest my face in her neck. She smells as wonderful she always does-warm skin, soap, and something unmistakably hers.


    Faye turns in my arms. We¡¯re back in Paradise Shores for the weekend, borrowing my sister¡¯s seaside cottage, and the sunlight streaming in through the window paints her skin a thousand different shades of beautiful.


    ¡°A bad influence, huh?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely terrible.¡± I run a hand down her waist, her hip, finally gripping her butt. ¡°I took a two-hour lunch break twice this week, and I me you entirely.¡±


    Faye¡¯sughter is the best sound in the world. She wiggles closer in the bed, running her nails over my back in the way she knows I love. ¡°You weren¡¯t exactly innocent either, mister. Do I have to remind you that I¡¯m still trying to make a good impression on my boss?¡±


    Her naked body against mine is making it hard to think-she feels too good-but I make a heroic effort. ¡°Rykers is obsessed with you.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she corrects, ¡°you are. She¡¯s still undecided.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Don¡¯t undersell yourself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not, I¡¯m just not biased. Nowe on. We¡¯re going to bete, and I really want your family to like me.¡±


    ¡°They already do. Probably more than they like me.¡±


    Sheughs, and I revel in the sound again. With her, I feel amusing in a way I¡¯ve never felt before. ¡°Patently untrue. You¡¯re fishing forpliments and I won¡¯t give you any. Nowe on, you vain man. I need a shower, and-¡±


    ¡°So do I.¡±


    ¡°-you can¡¯t join me, or we¡¯ll never get out of here. Put on the coffee machine in the meantime?¡±


    I lean back and watch her slide out of bed. Rising from the sheets, all of her beautiful curves on disy, she¡¯s gorgeous. Tan skin and ck hair that kisses her low back. Best of all, her body fits against mine perfectly, like they¡¯repanion pieces.


    ¡°Do I ever tell you that you¡¯re beautiful?¡±


    Faye walks toward the bathroom, a small smile on her face. For all of her confidence and ambition, I know she still likes to hear this, and I love giving it to her.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± she says.


    ¡°Only sometimes? I¡¯ll have to remedy that.¡±


    She pauses by the door to the bathroom, facing me, stillpletely naked. I let my eyes roamsciviously over her figure. ¡°Well, while you shower, I¡¯ll be writing an ode to your beauty.¡±


    She grins. ¡°An ode?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I can go Shakespearean, but knowing how you react to me talking dirty, I might go that route instead.¡±


    Faye rolls her eyes-she hasn¡¯t stopped doing that-but color rises in her cheeks. Somehow, she¡¯s still affected by my words. It¡¯s beyond fun to tease her about¡­ and I exploit it regrly in bed. One dirty word about the act itself and her cheeks go scarlet.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I toss the cover back so she can see just what the sight of her naked body is doing to me. ¡°You¡¯re so gorgeous, and I want you so much. All the time. All I want is to feel you beneath me, to spread your legs, and fuck your tight pussy until-¡±


    Faye shuts the bathroom door with a bang, and I burst intoughter. She must have heard me, because a secondter, her voice calls through the door. ¡°Save it forter!¡±


    I brew coffee as she showers and get dressed. It¡¯s the first time she¡¯s meeting my family since the wedding weekend, but they¡¯d beenpletely smitten with her-she has no need to be nervous. Besides, things have been good between us since we got back together. Well, good is perhaps somewhat of an understatement. Fucking fantastic is a much better description.


    It was made better by the fact that we work next door to one another. Rykers has the office space next to Marchand¡¯s, so Faye and I spent most evenings together, either at mine or hers. Mine was closer to work.


    I smile into my coffee, thinking of thest time she¡¯d spent the night. I¡¯d casually suggested she get some stuff to keep at mine-a blow-dryer, her shampoo and conditioner, a drawer of clean underwear-to make the mornings before work easier. She¡¯d been floored, and then kissed me in a way that made it clear the suggestion had been very, very appreciated.


    We¡¯ve taken things slow, but there is no doubt in my mind where this is heading, if I don¡¯t identally screw things up again. I couldn¡¯t handle another bout of separation between us. And never before had I met someone who understood, even appreciated, the person I am at work. Building is a part of me, just like it is for Faye.


    She emerges fifteen minutester, hair loose and a navy dress hugging her figure. She looks like a million bucks.


    ¡°Quit staring, Marchand. We have a brunch to attend.¡±


    ¡°When did you get so bossy?¡± I reach for her, wanting her hand in mine again. ¡°Don¡¯t ever stop.¡±


    ¡°When you stopped,¡± she says, grabbing her handbag. ¡°Now, remind me-what terms are you and your father on at the moment?¡±


    My good mood doesn¡¯t vanish, but it sours slightly. ¡°Speaking terms, of course. But thest time was a few weeks ago. He¡¯s still upset about Chicago.¡±


    She squeezes my hand. ¡°His loss. You made the right call.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± And I do, but it¡¯s nice to hear her say it-especially because she genuinely thinks it, too. It¡¯sing from a ce of both support and honesty. She¡¯s as knowledgeable about this business as me or my father and understands these decisions.


    We walk over to my parents¡¯ house. Faye asks my opinion on one of the projects she¡¯s working on, and we¡¯re deep into a discussion of structural materials when we arrive at the end of Ocean Drive.


    Lily and Hayden are waiting for us on the porch, Parker sprawled in a sun chair nearby, a pair of sunsses on his face. He looks half-dead. I shoot a look at Lily, and she nods in confirmation. He¡¯s hungover.


    Stopping by my brother, I reach down and yank the sunsses off. He sputters in surprise. ¡°Hey!¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Late nightst night?¡±


    He puts a hand to his temple. ¡°Yes. And don¡¯t speak so loudly, Jesus, Henry.¡±


    ¡°Are you twenty-nine, or neen?¡±


    Lily plucks the sunsses out of my hand and puts them back on Parker¡¯s face. ¡°Don¡¯t answer that, but don¡¯t let Mom see, either. Or Dad.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C72

    ¡°I know, I know,¡± Parker grumbles. Our parents have been forgiving with their youngest son-his mediocre grades were alwayspensated for by his athletic prowess-but they¡¯re not lenient about partying.


    Faye steps around me and gives Lily a hug. ¡°It¡¯s so nice to see you again.¡±


    Lily smiles at me over her shoulder. ¡°You too. We missed you around here this summer.¡±


    ¡°I did too.¡±


    ¡°And now we¡¯re all here, together again.¡± Lily shoots us all a wide grin, using her announcement voice. I narrow my eyes at her.


    ¡°Rhys isn¡¯ting?¡±


    She shakes her head. Damn. He¡¯s always had a tendency to go off the rails, to make rash decisions, or retreat back into himself. Thest text he¡¯d sent me was just a picture of a sunrise somewhere in Asia from one of his photography trips.


    Parker snorts. ¡°He¡¯ll be back. He always returns.¡±


    We all hear the word he doesn¡¯t add. Eventually.


    ¡°Yes, he always does,¡± Lily says, smiling happily, but no doubt she¡¯s worried. She¡¯s always worried about Rhys, despite being the younger sibling. I¡¯ll talk to her about itter and reassure her. ¡°Anyway, we wanted to tell you guys something before Mom and Dad join us outside. We don¡¯t want them to know quite yet.¡±


    Hayden slides an arm around her waist. His face is rxed, eyes happy, even as they watch both Parker and me intently.


    Parker straightens. ¡°Lily¡­¡±


    Her smile widens. ¡°I¡¯m pregnant. It¡¯s early, still, but I wanted you to know first.¡±


    For a moment, all I can do is stare at her, at them both. I didn¡¯t know they¡¯d decided to start trying. Next to me, Parker seems simrly frozen. Faye is the one who says congrattions and rushes forward, enveloping my little sister in a hug.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Parker finally says. ¡°Congrats. Wow.¡±


    I hug Lily, and she fits neatly into my arms. Her cheeks are rosy with happiness. ¡°Congrats, Lilypad.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    She smiles up at me. ¡°I¡¯m making you all uncles, you know. It has a nice ring to it, doesn¡¯t it? Uncle Henry.¡±


    I have to swallow before I can reply. ¡°Yes, it does.¡±


    Parker has his arm around Hayden¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Uncle Parker. Man, do I sound old. This is unreal.¡±


    ¡°I know. Trust me, I know.¡± Hayden is grinning too, an unusual expression for him. ¡°And amazing.¡±


    ¡°Good thing you guys got married.¡±


    Lily gives me a gentle shove. ¡°Hush, Henry.¡±


    Hayden meets my gaze head-on. He¡¯s a few years younger than me, but his years in the Navy changed something in him. The broken boy I¡¯d once met is gone.


    ¡°The house is perfect,¡± he tells me. ¡°You¡¯re basically the architect of this pregnancy, since you added a nursery to the master bedroom.¡±


    Lilyughs. ¡°We just had to fill it right away.¡±


    Faye leans into my side. ¡°You designed their house?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Just the remodel, though.¡±


    ¡°That ce is gorgeous,¡± she says, sincerity in her voice.


    Lily beams at her. ¡°It is, isn¡¯t it? Henry did a great job.¡±


    ¡°He has a fantastic eye,¡± Faye agrees. ¡°You should see the project he¡¯s working on now-it¡¯s a skyscraper for a medicalpany, the most boring client ever, but Henry is making it stunning. Adding details they couldn¡¯t dream of, and all within budget, too.¡±


    My little sister¡¯s eyes widen in excitement, and I ignore the amused looks both Hayden and Parker shoot me. ¡°Really? Henry, you¡¯re designing a skyscraper?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s sort of my job.¡±


    ¡°You never tell us anything,¡± Lily says, turning to Faye. ¡°He never does.¡±


    Faye¡¯s voice is amused. ¡°Not hard to imagine.¡±


    ¡°How exactly did this conversation swing back around to me? Lily, let me know if you need anything, all right? Anything at all. That goes for you too, Hayden.¡±


    They both nod at me, but if they think I¡¯m being overbearing, neither of them mentions it. They¡¯re grown-ups, but it¡¯s hard to ignore the urge to fix things for them. This is one time where I can¡¯t show them the ropes, though. Lily will be the first of us to try parenting. Faye is smiling beside me, her face the picture of happiness, and my mind immediately wanders to her expecting. To a child with our features mixed together.


    She smiles up at me. ¡°What are you thinking?¡±


    ¡°Just about you,¡± I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple, calming my racing imagination.


    The rest of the evening passes in a blur. It¡¯s early September, but the weather is still warm, and we eat on the porch. I watch in amazement as my dad teaches Faye how to grill lobster.


    ¡°The ws need to be on the upper level,¡± he instructs her, ¡°because they need more heat.¡±


    She handles the creepy crawlies like a pro before returning to my side, a ss of white wine in her hand.


    ¡°That,¡± I say, ¡°was very impressive.¡±


    ¡°Oh? A woman by the grill is a turn-on for you?¡±


    I snort. ¡°You by the grill, yes. But I was referring to how you wrangled the beast.¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°Your dad can be nice.¡±


    ¡°Yes, because he loves you.¡±


    ¡°So arguing with Marchand men is the way to their hearts?¡± Her brown eyes glitter, the way they do when she¡¯s teasing me, and my arm tightens around her waist.


    ¡°Yes. Be as argumentative, as challenging, and as ambitious as you want, and you¡¯ll have us all wrapped around your little finger in no time.¡±


    ¡°Well, as long as I have you wrapped, I¡¯m happy.¡±


    After dinner, Dad asks me to join him in the study. It¡¯s subtle-one of his looks and a nod-but I recognize it for what it is. So do my siblings, who watch in curiosity as I follow him into the house. Our difference of opinion hassted for months this time. It¡¯s almost a record.

 Ice Cold Boss C73

    I watch in silence as Dad rummages through papers on his desk. What will it be this time? Another wed investment opportunity? A chance to disparage my business decisions?


    Finding what he¡¯s looking for, he hands it to me, a frown on his face.


    Ah. It¡¯s a short excerpt of a newspaper article, but the message is clear. A group of city nners, activists and lobbyists had managed to stop the Chicago project and the city¡¯s building council, buoyed by the momentum, is set to announce new zoningws for the area.


    I lower the paper. ¡°Rolfe and Pierce can¡¯t be happy about this.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not.¡± Dad leans back in his office chair. ¡°But I was.¡±


    It¡¯s impossible to hide my surprise. ¡°Did you end up investing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But not as much as I had originally nned. They¡¯re going to reimburse me everyst penny, too.¡±


    Through the window in his study, the sun is setting, bathing the backyard and the shoreline in warm golden light. Studying it gives me a moment topose my features. ¡°All right,¡± I say finally. ¡°I¡¯m d you weren¡¯t more exposed.¡±


    His grin is crooked, containing something rare. Self-mockery. ¡°If you won¡¯t say it, I will. You were right, son.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it,¡± he says with a snort.


    A smile is slowly spreading on my face. ¡°Oh, I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have dismissed your opinion like that. Now, what¡¯s this I¡¯ve heard about a split between Marchand & Rykers?¡±


    My grin is full-blown now. We haven¡¯t discussed business or building for months, so he hasn¡¯t been able to ask me about this. It must have been eating him up inside.


    ¡°We can discuss it,¡± I say,ing around to his side of the desk. ¡°I¡¯ve been lining up projects for theing years, deciding on a profile for the new firm.¡±


    He fires up theputer. ¡°Show me?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I will.¡±


    It¡¯ste when Faye and I finally walk home that evening, taking the route along the beach, her hand in mine. The sun might have set but the boardwalk is teeming with life, with teenagers skateboarding and couples in hushed conversation on benches. The unseasonably warm September evening has brought everyone out.


    Faye squeezes my hand. ¡°I love this ce.¡±


    ¡°Mmm, good. You¡¯ll have to be here a lot, you know.¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°Good thing I like your family too.¡±


    ¡°Even better.¡± I press a kiss to the top of her head, conveniently within reach. ¡°Tell me again what your parents said when you told them about me.¡±


    Faye elbows me. ¡°You vain creature.¡±


    ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°Finally, they said.¡± Her cheeks flush. ¡°That I¡¯d finally met my match.¡±


    I slide an arm around her waist, bending so my lips are close to her ear. She smells divine. ¡°Don¡¯t be embarrassed. My mom told you they¡¯d been waiting for me to meet someone. To meet you.¡±


    She clears her throat. ¡°Dad also said that I sounded head over heels when I described you.¡±


    ¡°Did he?¡± Interesting.


    ¡°Yes.¡± She sneaks a sideways nce at me. ¡°Mom agreed.¡±


    ¡°You sound head over heels, or you are head over heels? There¡¯s a difference.¡±


    She pushes me away, herughter exasperated. ¡°Henry!¡±


    I catch her. It¡¯s not difficult, wrapping her in my arms and tipping her head back. She kisses me back, surprised, warm and lovely.


    ¡°I am head over heels,¡± she murmurs finally. ¡°You¡¯ve tortured it out of me.¡±


    I grin. ¡°Tortured? You wound me, Faye.¡±


    ¡°Not in the least,¡± she says. Her eyes glittering with happiness might be the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen.


    ¡°Come on.¡± I pull us along toward the cottage. Her words have worked like catnip. The past month has been one of the best of my life with her in it, and the need to be alone with her-to show her that-is nearly overwhelming.


    Fayeughs as she hurries along beside me. ¡°Hey! My legs are shorter!¡±


    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯ll slow down.¡±


    ¡°Or I¡¯ll speed up.¡± She releases my hand and starts to jog, her hair trailing behind her. ¡°Down for a littlepetition, Marchand?¡±


    I grin at her. ¡°You know I don¡¯t lose.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says, already ahead of me. ¡°Only to me!¡±


    We reach the cottage almost neck-and-neck, neither of us running to win. Fayeughs as I lift her up and carry her across the threshold.


    ¡°Getting ahead of yourself, Marchand?¡±


    I don¡¯t reply. I kiss her instead, and she melts in my arms, my hands ttening against her back as I press her closer still. Her lips move hungrily against mine as I kick the front door shut behind us. A month together and I still can¡¯t get enough. I doubt I ever will.


    I walk her backward toward the bedroom. ¡°Are you still wearing that thong?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Faye¡¯s lips trail down my neck, undoing the buttons in my shirt. Her response sends fresh need pounding through me and my hands fist the fabric of her skirt, wanting to tear it off, to see the little piece ofce she¡¯d bought to tease me with. It barely covers anything.


    She pushes me onto the bed, eyes zing. ¡°But you¡¯re going to have to earn it.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I put my hands behind my head, letting my gaze sweep across her body. ¡°I do love a challenge.¡±


    Faye proceeds to give me exact instructions, her cheeks on fire from the words she¡¯s using. She¡¯s gotten better at handling the dirty talk-but I hope it never stops embarrassing her a little.


    ¡°God, you¡¯re sexy,¡± I breathe. ¡°Come here.¡±

 Ice Cold Boss C74

    ¡°You do your part first.¡±


    ¡°Want me to sign a contract as well?¡±


    She shakes her head, eyes following my hands as I unbuckle my pants, following her instructions to the T. It¡¯s not difficult-I¡¯m already hard. ¡°This is what you do to me,¡± I say. ¡°Every day.¡±


    She swallows. ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°Want to see just how badly?¡±


    She nods, hand toying with the zipper in her dress. I grin and tell her in excruciating detail what I feel, what I want from her. How I need her tonight. I use all the words she likes-the ones she¡¯s admitted get her even wetter than she thought possible. It takes a long time before we finally settle down to sleep that night, every minute more enjoyable than thest.


    Spoiler: we both win.


    Afterwards, she¡¯s warm in my arms, body curved neatly against mine. The scent that clings to her skin is intoxicating. Sea and sex and sun. My arm is resting around her waist, and her hand smooths up and down my skinzily. I close my eyes.


    It feels too good, this. A dream. A fantasy.


    ¡°Henry,¡± she murmurs softly. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me earlier. Are you head over heels, too?¡±


    I smile. ¡°I¡¯m weak after sex. Are you exploiting it?¡±


    Fayeughs, burying her face against my neck. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    My arm tightens around her waist. Her body against mine is something I¡¯d never stop taking for granted. The quiet is expectant, but not ufortable. Faye will be okay with whatever I reply, as long as it¡¯s the truth.


    ¡°In every rtionship in my life, there have been¡­ expectations. I have to be someone. A son. A big brother. A winner, an instructor. A role model. A boss.¡± My thumb rubs a circle over the silken skin on her stomach. ¡°But here with you, I¡¯m just me. And it¡¯s enough.¡±


    Faye is quiet for a long moment. Then her lips, gentle and warm against mine. ¡°Henry,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°That was a yes,¡± I rify. ¡°To your question.¡±


    Herughter is soft in the dark, surrounding mepletely. ¡°I¡¯m d.¡±


    The next day¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ve been practicing my knots,¡± Faye says. ¡°I bought some string at the supermarket.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it, you¡¯re the best student I¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    ¡°Anything to impress you,¡± she says with a smile, grabbing her bag from the trunk. Lily and Hayden¡¯s car is already here-parked next to ours. They should be waiting by the Frida.


    My phone rings, and it¡¯s a number I don¡¯t recognize. On a Sunday? I debate letting it go to voice mail, the ocean beckoning, before I decide differently. Still watching Faye, I answer.


    ¡°Henry Marchand.¡±


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m so d I could reach you. My name is Richard Drew from the Architecture Society of New York. As you might recall, we¡¯re in charge of the jury selection for the new opera house.¡±


    My throat has gone dry. ¡°Yes, I recall.¡±


    ¡°Well, we were very impressed with your submission. The jury has met and deliberated, and they have unanimously chosen your design. Congrattions!¡±


    Faye locks the car and gestures with her head. Can we start walking toward the dock?


    ¡°Erhm,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s good news.¡±


    ¡°It certainly is! The public announcement won¡¯t be made yet, not until this week. We will be in contact on Monday with all the details. I¡¯m sure you have a ton of questions.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°But we wanted to let you have the weekend to digest it.¡± He pauses, voice happy. ¡°Congrats again, Mr. Marchand. We¡¯re looking forward to a great partnership.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Thank you. So am I.¡±


    We hang up. Faye, now staring at me curiously, takes a step closer. ¡°You okay? You look white.¡±


    I grin at her, excitement racing through me. ¡°Well, Miss Alvarez. Think you could handle working together with me again?¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I don¡¯t answer for a second, just letting her see my smile. It feels massive-etched on my face. After I sent in the model, I¡¯d almost forgotten about the dates for the jury¡¯s selection. My mind had been upied with Faye, with getting her back, and then with being with her.


    ¡°Henry,¡± she prompts. ¡°Who was on the phone?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°The Architecture Society of New York.¡±


    Her arms fall limp at her sides. ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Guess who¡¯s going to be building New York¡¯s new opera house?¡±


    ¡°You will,¡± she murmurs, her voice weak. ¡°Oh my God, Henry.¡±


    ¡°We will,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re both listed as executive architects.¡±


    And then her arms are around my neck, and she¡¯sughing, or maybe crying, and I swing her around on the marina parking lot. They chose our design. Out of hundreds of applications, they chose ours. The curving steel and wooden beams we¡¯dbored over in digital detail will be real.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she finally breathes, her smile wide. ¡°I¡¯ll work with you again.¡±


    I kiss her soundly. ¡°Just draw up the contract, sweetheart, and I¡¯ll sign.¡±


    ***


    Thank you so much for reading Henry and Faye¡¯s story! Receive new book updates

 Red Hot Rebel C1

    Ivy


    I look up at the giant Hamptons mansion with nothing but trepidation. It¡¯s the first time my modeling agency has sent me to do a live modeling gig. They¡¯re bizarre things. Stand here and look pretty. There¡¯s a reason I¡¯ve always turned them down, but when Tina showed me the paycheck for this one, there was no refusing.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    Melissaes up beside me. ¡°We¡¯re going home together?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I tell her. ¡°Right after our shift is up. I have a portable charger in my bag, too.¡±


    ¡°Good call.¡± We¡¯d been stranded at a shoot two months ago, both of our phones dead, with no way to contact an Uber.


    We turn at the sound of high heels on the path behind us as the rest of the models join us. Some of them I recognize. Far from all these women share Melissa¡¯s and my¡­ well, let¡¯s call it dedication to staying on the right side of the line. Throw around the word ¡°model¡± and you¡¯ll get invited into a lot of exclusive areas. ces with expensive drinks and even more expensive drugs.


    ¡°Two years ago I was the face of a national jeans campaign,¡± Melissa mutters at my side. ¡°Now I¡¯m posing at a designer¡¯s party for all his friends.¡±


    I shoot her a smile. ¡°It¡¯s three hours, and he¡¯s paying well.¡±


    ¡°Thank God for that.¡± She pulls her bag up on her shoulder and leads the way into the house, where a woman with a headset and a clipboard is waving us in. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    Ten minutester, I¡¯m smoothing my hand over a dress that barely covers my butt. Short, flimsy and colorful, it¡¯s part of the designer¡¯s spring and summer collection for this year.


    ¡°Time to move!¡± Clipboard-Lady calls out. One of the newer models from my agency, a girl I don¡¯t recognize, is struggling with the tiny sps of her strappy heels.


    I bend to do up the little clip. ¡°Put them on looser than you need to,¡± I advise her. ¡°When you¡¯re walking a runway, you want straps like these to be tight. When you¡¯re standing or posing at a photoshoot, you want them loose, or they¡¯ll cut into your ankles when they get swollen.¡±


    She shoots me a shy smile. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Anytime. I¡¯m Ivy.¡±


    ¡°Jordan,¡± she says and falls into step beside me as we walk out of the pool-house-turned-dressing-room.


    The house is stunning, with the turquoise water of the pool beckoning in the summer sun, and the open-air bar is fully stocked with liquor. The bartender watches us walk and grins in appreciation.


    ¡°Here, here, hurry,¡± Clipboard-Lady says. She¡¯s clutching it tight to her chest. ¡°I want the first four of you over here¡­. You, you, you, and you.¡±


    Melissa is in that group, ushered into the house. ¡°You¡¯ll nk the entranceway-I¡¯ll see you in a second.¡± She turns to the five of us remaining. ¡°There are small x¡¯s put around the pool. Find one each.¡±


    And those are our only instructions.


    I shoot Jordan a chagrined smile, like the things we have to do, and walk around the pool in search of an x marked by tape.


    The one I find is on the back corner, close to a secluded area of the yard with lounge chairs. I suppose it won¡¯t be long until they¡¯re filled with guests.


    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Clipboard-Lady calls. ¡°Stay there, and if you need refreshments or to use the bathroom, you can rotate back to the pool house.¡±


    Then she leaves us in a stomp of righteous agitation, off to solve another logistical puzzle to this Hamptons party.


    The five of us look around at each other.


    ¡°Everyone put on sunblock?¡± I call.


    That earns me a fewughs from the other models.


    And then the boredom begins.


    That¡¯s what I¡¯d always feared with these live modeling gigs, the ones fancypanies, clubs or designers host.


    I run my hand through my hair, ensure the dress is in ce. And then I go through the parts of the human skeleton I need to memorize for my physical therapy test in two days.


    The spine, made up of the cervical, thoracic and lumbar vertebrae, sacrum and cyx. The sound of tropical beats starts soon thereafter, sting from artfully ced speakers around the house and yard.


    I keep going.


    The pelvis, made up of the ilium, pubis and ischium.


    The first guests arrive, walking out onto the patio in sunsses and suits. I stick out a leg, put my hand on my hip, and make my expression carefully, beautifully bored.


    I continue with my mental study session. It¡¯s something I¡¯ve perfected over the years. Waiting backstage at shows, standing in line for castings¡­ and all the while, I¡¯d study in my head. First for my online bachelor¡¯s degree. It might have taken me five years toplete part-time, but I¡¯d done it, while modeling paid the bills. It didn¡¯t hurt that the job had other perks too. The dress I¡¯m wearing fits like it was made for me-and I¡¯d heard it whispered amongst the models that the designer in question often gifted his samples to models.


    I wouldn¡¯t mind taking this one home.


    My gaze drifts over the sea of guests milling around the pool. Colorful drinks are in hand, or food from a catering table located somewhere inside the house. I see mini Beef Wellingtons. Oysters served on ice. Something that looks like chicken sliders.


    My stomach rumbles loudly at the sight.


    I press a hand to my side, making it look like a pose, and nce over to the guests sitting in the lounge chairs next to me. But they hadn¡¯t noticed.


    It¡¯s a group of men in suits. Well, all except one. The man in the middle wears a linen button-down with the top button undone, a long leg thrown over the other. Worn, expensive boat shoes on his feet.


    He¡¯s not speaking, but he¡¯s being spoken to-the others look to him.


    He gazes at the man talking with an expression that¡¯s haughty disdain and cool indifference rolled into one. Everything about him screams impress me.


    Then his gaze shifts to mine. A dark lock of hair falls over a tan forehead, the look in his eyes switching into what do you want?


    I tear my gaze away.


    It¡¯s unprofessional to stare. To be anything more than a living statue, a piece of art. I¡¯m disying the clothes, and that¡¯s all.


    So I keep my gaze on the milling guests beyond, changing poses, sticking out my hip. And yet all my attention is on the group of men to my side.


    If I strain my ears, I can just make out their conversation. I¡¯m not a fly on the wall, I¡¯m a model by the pool, but at events like this, there¡¯s really no difference.


    ¡°Australia is the right move,¡± a man says. ¡°We should have the ce open before the year¡¯s end.¡±


    ¡°Sydney?¡± another asks.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    A deep humming sound.

 Red Hot Rebel C2

    ¡°Skeptical, Rhys?¡± the first voice asks.


    I dare a nce over.


    The man who watched me is leaning forward now, hands braced on his knees. I¡¯d wager he¡¯s about thirty.


    ¡°You know I am. You¡¯re making it too easy for people.¡±


    Another of the menughs. ¡°Yes, and god forbid anything be easy. Where did you just return from? The Andes?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± A wild, taunting grin on his face. ¡°You should try hiking sometime.¡±


    ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯ll leave that to the customers.¡±


    The dark-haired man named Rhys gives a snort of disdain. ¡°As if they¡¯d leave a five-star resort.¡±


    ¡°Some do. It¡¯s all part of the experience.¡±


    ¡°The carefully packaged, curated experience, you mean.¡± He leans back in his chair and turns his gaze back to mine, catching me eavesdropping. Our gazes lock.


    Again.


    ¡°Can we help you with anything?¡± His raised voice isn¡¯t friendly, an eyebrow cocked in the same expression as earlier. Like he¡¯s skeptical of the world atrge.


    Crap.


    ¡°No.¡± I toss my hair back. It¡¯s a vain move, but it¡¯s part of the role I¡¯m ying tonight. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t fault the woman for getting bored,¡± one of his friends points out. He turns drink-zed eyes on me, sweeping them up and down my form. It¡¯s a perusal I¡¯m used to.


    Doesn¡¯t make it any less ufortable.


    ¡°How long do you have to stand up there, sweetheart?¡±


    I keep from gritting my teeth at his tone, at the epitaph. Acting professional is all I have to do.


    ¡°Until the end of the party,¡± I say, waving a hand over my dress. ¡°Showcasing the uing collection.¡±


    Well, that was a mistake.


    All four of the men now look down at my minuscule dress, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s to admire the intricacy of the pattern. Rhys leans back in the sofa, an arm outstretched along the back of it. He doesn¡¯t say a thing, even if he¡¯d been the one to call me out on my staring.


    ¡°Are you allowed to drink?¡± one of his friends asks. ¡°Are you even allowed to talk?¡±


    I give them a polite smile. ¡°There are refreshments for us in the back. They said nothing about talking, but I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s not what they had in mind, no.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you do it. I¡¯d be bored after a few minutes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re bored with everything after a few minutes,¡± Rhys drawls at him. ¡°This isn¡¯t an exception.¡±


    Making my expression apologetic, I turn back to the crowd beyond. The sun is setting, and the pool reflects the glorious colors of the sky. Summer in the Hamptons, and all these rich people are enjoying themselves. I still haven¡¯t seen the designer, despite it being his party.


    The men¡¯s conversation is hard to tune out, though.


    ¡°Harsh to hire models and not let them mingle with the guests. What¡¯s the point of having them here?¡±


    ¡°To look at, of course.¡± Rhys¡¯s voice again. It¡¯s sardonic-like he hates the practice, or considers it beneath him.


    ¡°Hired eye-candy,¡± another one responds. ¡°Here to tempt us, but not to touch.¡±


    Okay.


    Disgusting.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I nce over in time to see Rhys give a dismissive flick of his hand. ¡°They¡¯re just models.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± his friend asks, grinning. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what was I thinking. They¡¯re obviously nothing that¡¯d ever tempt you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Rhys confirms, ignoring the sarcasm. ¡°After a lifetime of being around beautiful women, I¡¯m immune.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not. I like the look of the dark-haired one over there.¡±


    I know without looking that he¡¯s talking about Jordan on the other side of the pool. I grit my teeth and look back out at the crowd.


    Their words shouldn¡¯t bother me. They¡¯re strangers. Rich, asshole strangers, but strangers nheless. And yet theirments slide like splinters beneath my skin.


    ¡°Ours is better,¡± the fourth man responds. ¡°Blonde, busty-and look at those legs.¡±


    It takes every ounce of self-control not to turn and re. I¡¯m standing right here, and they know I can hear them.


    Which means they don¡¯t give a damn.


    Privilege rises from them in waves, like a too-thick cologne, oozing from the tailored clothing and disdainful voices.


    I can¡¯t wait until this party ends and I can return to the real world, my world, filled with cheap coffee, textbooks and gym sessions.


    An edge of steel enters Rhys¡¯s voice when he speaks again. ¡°They¡¯re just models. Air-headed and vain, here to do a job and then to leave.¡±


    My head whips around to re at him. He ignores me, but the surrounding men don¡¯t. The two who¡¯dmented on Jordan and me justugh at my outrage.


    ¡°We have better things to discuss,¡± Rhys continues. The tone brokers no future deliberation on the topic.


    The men fall silent.


    Anger curls in my stomach, sharper than before. Who does he think he is, toment on our purported intelligence while he knows I can overhear?


    A movement to my right. I turn my head in time to watch Jordan fall from her spot by the pool, and break the surface of the water.


    She¡¯s not moving.

 Red Hot Rebel C3

    My reaction is borne from instinct. I dive off the edge and break the surface of the cold water. The pool isn¡¯trge and I reach Jordan quickly, wrapping my arms around her.


    She¡¯s limp in my arms. The flowy fabric of her dress is heavy, pulling her down, and she¡¯d fallen into the deep end. I kick my legs against the weight of the water to keep us both afloat. Stunned guests look at us around the edge of the pool.


    Nobody helps.


    Strong arms brush against mine beneath the surface, wrapping around Jordan. She¡¯s pulled out of my grasp entirely.


    Rhyses into view. The man who¡¯d disparaged me as vain and air-headed, his dark hair now stered in unruly curls over his forehead. He moves in two strong, skilled strokes and then he¡¯s reached the stairs in the pool.


    I swim after him, gaze locked on Jordan¡¯s face. She lolls against his shoulder.


    ¡°Jordan?¡± I kneel on the steps, half-submerged in water. ¡°Jordan, wake up.¡±


    She blinks twice, and then coughs, struggling to sit. Rhys releases her but stays next to us in the water.


    ¡°Fainted,¡± she whispers, and then breaks into a coughing fit that racks her body. I put an arm around her shoulders and look over at Rhys. He gazes back with serious intent, none of the snideness I¡¯d seen earlier.


    ¡°Help me get her to the pool house,¡± I tell him.


    He doesn¡¯t respond, simply slides his arms around Jordan and lifts her straight out of the water. The crowd parts around us as he carries her toward the adjoining building.


    I rush ahead, shaky from the adrenaline, the dress clinging like a second skin to my body. I pull open the door for him. ¡°Put her on the couch.¡±


    Grabbing towels, I drape them over her and smooth her hair back from her forehead. She¡¯s starting to shake.


    ¡°Jordan? Are you okay?¡±


    She nods, then closes her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I fainted here.¡±


    ¡°Lucky you fell into the pool,¡± Rhys says. He¡¯s retreated, hands deep in the pockets of his wet chinos. The shirt clings to broad shoulders and forms droplets on the tan skin. ¡°A fall on the stone would have been far worse.¡±


    Jordan nces at him, eyes wide. A realization dawns in them. ¡°Tina is going to drop me,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°She will do no such thing,¡± I tell her firmly. ¡°The agency wouldn¡¯t have sent you here if they didn¡¯t like your work.¡±


    ¡°This is my first booking,¡± she whispers.


    And her fear makes sense, as does my sneaking suspicion that she fainted because she hadn¡¯t eaten, hadn¡¯t had enough to drink, and standing out there in the sun did her in.


    I grit my teeth. ¡°When was thest time you ate?¡±


    The guilty look on her face is enough, even if she doesn¡¯t answer me.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say, all my physical therapy and anatomy lessons kicking in. ¡°You need to change into warm clothing. There are towels in the bathroom. Think you can do that?¡±


    She nods, and I help her walk to the en suite. ¡°Don¡¯t lock the door,¡± I tell her. ¡°I¡¯ll stand guard, but if you get the least bit dizzy, call out.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± she whispers, pushing the door closed behind her.


    I blow out a frustrated breath and run a hand through my now wet length of hair. Tina won¡¯t be happy about this, that much is true. The head of our modeling agency rules it with an iron fist. And every model I talk to who doesn¡¯t eat enough reminds me why I dislike this part-time industry of mine.


    ¡°You should change too,¡± Rhys points out, nodding tactfully to my second-skin dress. A nce down reveals what I already know-my nipples are hard and visible through the fabric. Thank you, unheated pool.


    I cross my arms over my chest. ¡°You dove in after us.¡±


    He nods. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± The wordse out through gritted teeth. His words to his friends still ring in my head. Vain. Air-headed. They¡¯re just models, as if our profession and our identities are fused. I hate it when people do that.


    His mouth quirks at a corner, like he¡¯s smiling at a joke only he¡¯s heard. ¡°All right,¡± he says. ¡°Do you need anything else?¡±


    Anything else? As if Jordan and I had asked for his help. ¡°No thank you,¡± I tell him. ¡°We¡¯re just models, after all.¡±


    He runs a hand through his wet hair, smile widening on his face. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    Completely unashamed.


    The sight of that smile is so disarming that I take a few steps back, caught off guard. The steady dripping of water from my hair echoes in the room.


    ¡°I should change.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He turns to leave, but pauses with a hand on the door out of the pool house. ¡°You had quick reflexes earlier.¡±


    The words are spoken like it¡¯s the greatest ofpliments.


    ¡°Uh¡­ yes.¡±


    A single nod of his head, and then he disappears, the door closing behind him. When Jordan and I emergeter, there¡¯s an overflowing te of food pilfered from the catering table waiting outside. But the man who¡¯d left it is long gone


    .


    Rhys


    Two weekster


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since we¡¯ve made a bet like this,¡± Iment, following Ben down the hallways of his luxury travel agency. He¡¯d been tired of meining about how all themercial stuff was beneath me. You think you can shoot my next travel campaign better than a marketing agency?


    There had been only one answer to that.


    Of course I can.


    Ben chuckles. ¡°A decade, perhaps more.¡±


    ¡°Remind me to stop going out with you,¡± I tell him, ¡°or I¡¯ll keep bargaining weeks of my life away.¡±


    ¡°Admit it. You love the challenge.¡±


    I don¡¯t answer. I look at the framed, glossy pictures that line the walls of his agency instead. Highly edited. Oversaturated. Beautiful beaches and turquoise, mirror-like water. It¡¯s easy. Basic.

 Red Hot Rebel C4

    Anyone can photograph beautiful environments and make them look, well, beautiful. Point and shoot. All you need is an iPhone, for Christ¡¯s sake. Where¡¯s the art?


    ¡°This is what you want me to shoot?¡±


    Ben ps a hand on my shoulder, even if he has to reach up to do it. His shit-eating grin is obnoxious. ¡°Yes. Doubting your talents?¡±


    ¡°No. And my pictures won¡¯t look anything like this asinine shit.¡± I point to a picture where a coconut has been ced in white sand, photographed up close with the ocean in the background. ¡°Prepare yourself for a masterpiece.¡±


    As much as I don¡¯t travel like Ben¡¯s clients, I understand them intimately. They¡¯re my parents. They¡¯re my siblings. They¡¯re the people I grew up with, the people I meet through my job.


    I know what they want.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± he says. ¡°Just remember that it¡¯s a marketing campaign. It¡¯s not going to hang in the Louvre.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I haven¡¯t forgotten.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll receive the same brief as the marketing agency we¡¯ve hired.¡±


    ¡°Sounds fair.¡±


    ¡°Your itineraries are nned in reverse, so you¡¯ll never be at the same resort together.¡± He shoots me a wide grin. ¡°I¡¯ve never had two contractors race against one another like this.¡±


    ¡°Exciting?¡±


    ¡°I might make it standard practice.¡±


    ¡°And the best marketing campaign wins the bet,¡± I confirm.


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯ll take an internal vote, me, my CFO, my head of PR.¡±


    I roll my neck, work out the kinks. ¡°Perfect.¡±


    ¡°Our shoot director will email you lists of some specific shots we need, some inspiration, what we¡¯re expecting. But for the rest? You have free rein, just like you asked for. We¡¯re not sending a stylist or assistant with you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want either of them,¡± Iment. The part of me raised by my politer-than-life mother urges me to say thank you. But this is just a bet to the two of us, and money isn¡¯t an issue.


    And I was never good at following my mother¡¯s rules regarding etiquette.


    ¡°The representative from the modeling agency is here, too, together with the model we chose.¡± There¡¯s smug anticipation in his voice. ¡°Ready to meet your partner in crime?¡±


    ¡°If I must.¡±


    He rolls his eyes at me. ¡°Try looking a little less tortured, will you? You¡¯re getting to stay at all of my best resorts, and you¡¯re traveling with a drop-dead-gorgeous woman.¡±


    My grin is crooked. ¡°When you put it that way¡­¡±


    ¡°Just remember to get the campaign wrapped before you cross any lines.¡±


    ¡°I would never.¡±


    ¡°Never my ass,¡± he scoffs. ¡°You might consider all of this beneath you, but I know you. You¡¯ve dated models before. Who was thest one?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t kiss and tell,¡± I say. In truth, I don¡¯t know which one he¡¯s referring to-Ben¡¯s information can¡¯t be up to date. I enjoy women and women enjoy me. It¡¯s always consensual, it¡¯s always brief, and it¡¯s always honest.


    ¡°The woman we chose is damn good. Sinfully sweet, you know? High-end look, but still approachable. Fierce, but would help a friend out in a pinch. Could be a good new face of Rieler Travels.¡±


    ¡°I thought you wanted the locations to be the face of Rieler Travels.¡±


    ¡°Have I ever told you how annoying I find you?¡±


    ¡°Regrly, yes.¡±


    We turn down a corridor, passing office after office. Corporate prisons. I¡¯d trade one of those for the beaches in the oversaturated pictures in a heartbeat.


    Ben grins, hand on the door to the conference room. ¡°The model? She¡¯s someone¡­ how do I put this? She¡¯s the kind of person who¡¯d dive straight in to help a friend.¡±


    My eyes narrow. ¡°Ben, what did you do?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t respond, just pushes the door open to reveal a conference room, beige walls, colorful art on the walls. A testament to Rieler¡¯s luxury clientele. And seated at the table, nked by two middle-aged women, is histest practical joke.


    It¡¯s the blonde model from the Hamptons party, the one who¡¯d looked at me with such disdain. The one who¡¯d shivered after her dip in the pool in that tiny dress.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Fucking hell.


    Ben handles the introductions, transformed into the picture of professionalism. If you hadn¡¯t seen him drunk at two a. m. in New York clubs, like I have, you¡¯d doubt he¡¯s ever anything else.


    ¡°This is Rhys Marchand.¡± He introduces me with a flourish, but I can hear the glee in his voice. ¡°He¡¯s the photographer hired to shoot this campaign.¡±


    ¡°Delighted. I¡¯m Tina.¡± A dark-haired woman extends her hand to me, her hair cut in a no-nonsense bob and a calcting look in her eyes. From Star Model Management, apparently. We shake hands.


    I extend my hand to the familiar model next to her. Her blonde hair is pulled back from a face made for the camera, flushed and agitated. The eyes locked on mine are filled with more than simple dismay. Not rm, exactly. Anger? Distaste?


    Then her own professionalism kicks in and she grasps my hand. ¡°Ivy Hart,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure.¡±


    I grip her hand tight. ¡°I¡¯m sure it is.¡±


    Her eyes sh, but there¡¯s nothing she can say, not in front of everyone.


    I grab a seat across from her and turn my attention to Ben and the shoot director, giving her absolutely none.


    So her name is Ivy.


    Ben must have contacted the designer from the party, learned the name of the agency. Hunted her down somehow and hired her to spite me. It¡¯s just his sense of humor.


    My hand curls into a fist on the table.


    I¡¯d expected some vapid girl who¡¯d want to party in every location we¡¯d visit. Someone I¡¯d spend as little time as possible with.


    But no. It has to be the honey-blonde knockout I¡¯d insulted in an effort to shut Ben¡¯s inane friends up.

 Red Hot Rebel C5

    ¡°This is your itinerary.¡± The shoot director pulls up a list on a giant screen, his over-styled hair like a helmet on his head. It doesn¡¯t move when he turns.


    And I¡¯m to take direction from him?


    ¡°You¡¯ll start in our Caribbean resort and end in our newest hotel in Sydney, Australia, still under construction. That¡¯ll be fifteen days solid of traveling and shooting. We know it¡¯ll be grueling, so we¡¯ve put in a few rest days here and there.¡±


    Ben winks at me.


    I shake my head at him.


    ¡°Star Models will provide all the clothes for Ivy. They¡¯ll be clearly marked for each day and each shoot for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been briefed,¡± Ivy says. She¡¯sposed herself into the picture of calm professionalism, but there¡¯s a note of annoyance in her voice.


    Yeah, I¡¯m not happy about this either.


    ¡°Rieler will be in charge of all the logistics. You¡¯ll have contact personnel at each location; they¡¯ll be the ones to pick you up at the airports, drop-offs, arranging transportation to locations where you might want to shoot. Suggestions will be avable at each ce for you, Rhys.¡±


    I tip my head in a shallow nod. I¡¯ll find my own shot locations.


    Helmet-Hair swallows and continues. ¡°As you¡¯ve both been briefed, I¡¯m sure, we¡¯re looking for both pictures and moving images. Filming clips that can be used for a travel video. On this note, I was informed that Rhys would handle all that, as well?¡±


    It¡¯s unusual as hell, that Ben is giving me this much leeway. ¡°I will,¡± I say.


    And despite Ivy¡¯s presence, the challenge burns in my veins. I can see the shots I want to film already. One of my drones is packed, set to take aerial shots of locations.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Excellent. We¡¯ll be here all the time if you have any questions. Just a phone call away. You can never ask us enough questions.¡± Helmet-Hairughs to soften the blow of his words. He¡¯s not sure about this at all-nor, I¡¯m guessing, is Rieler¡¯s creative team. Hiring two marketing teams is unusual.


    Even more so when one is the owner¡¯s friend.


    Ivy is the one who thanks him. ¡°We appreciate that,¡± she says smoothly. ¡°Thank you for your detailed itinerary and all the suggestions on locations, shoots and angles. It¡¯s very appreciated, and we¡¯ll remain in contact throughout.¡±


    Helmet-Hair blinks twice, dazed.


    Ivy smiles wider, confident in her ability to dazzle.


    My jaw works. I don¡¯t need or want her to speak for me.


    The rest of the meeting is formalities and paperwork and repetition of the word coboration. This is a coboration. How many times did it need to be said for them to beat me over the head with it?


    Ben is the one who stands, stretching his legs. ¡°I think we¡¯ve hammered out all the details we can here. How about we leave Rhys and Ivy to get better acquainted and I¡¯ll show you some of Rieler¡¯s newer projects?¡±


    And just like that, I¡¯m left alone in the now ustrophobic conference room with a model staring daggers at me.


    I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against one of the walls of the corporate bastion. ¡°Nice to see you¡¯re allowed to talk today.¡±


    There. That¡¯s a good ice-breaker.


    Ivy¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°The travel agency couldn¡¯t find a more qualified photographer to hire?¡±


    It¡¯s cute she thinks that would hurt me.


    So she doesn¡¯t know about the bet, nor the two marketing teams¡­ or the fact that we¡¯re the B team.


    ¡°I suppose they couldn¡¯t,¡± I respond. ¡°Just like the modeling agency didn¡¯t have someone better to send?¡±


    Her eyes sh. It does nothing to mar her beauty. The woman could be screaming in anger and she¡¯d still be photogenic. It¡¯s a nauseating level of perfection. And like the artificially enhanced images on the walls, it feels like a mirage.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already thanked you for diving into the pool to help.¡±


    ¡°I know you have.¡±


    A muscle works in her jaw, like she wants to say something but knows she shouldn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you even epted this project,¡± she says. ¡°Must be unbearable for you to work with a model for fifteen days, considering your low opinion of the profession.¡±


    A spark of amusement at her words. She gives as good as she gets, this woman. ¡°Thanks for the concern,¡± I tell her. ¡°I think I¡¯ll manage, though.¡±


    She swipes up a hardbound book from the table and clutches it to her chest. Her portfolio? ¡°Good, because I¡¯mmitted to holding up my end of this coboration.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Great.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± I say, ncing from her to a picture of a smoothie bowl against a Bali sunset. This is beyond childish.


    Her voice is collected again. ¡°We don¡¯t have to like each other to do this job. We just have to be professional,¡± she says.


    Right. Because photography never includes a measure of trust. I run a hand through my hair, cursing at how easily this woman has managed to goad me.


    If I¡¯m going to pull this bet off, I need to find a way to get onto her good side.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be professional.¡± I grab one of the printed itineraries from the table, reading from the top as I make my way to the door. ¡°I¡¯ll see you next week at three thirty at the Diplomatic Hotel in St. Barts.¡±


    She narrows her eyes at me. ¡°I¡¯ll see you there.¡±


    I wake to blinding lights through my windows, New York¡¯s sun not the least bit diminished by the construction outside. A pounding headache, too, courtesy of Ben¡¯s insistence that we share celebratory drinksst night. As if spending thest weekend in the Hamptons with him hadn¡¯t been enough.


    I prefer him in small doses, like I do with most everyone. Anyone bes grating inrge quantities, and that includes myself.


    I drag myself out of bed and walk through my apartment. Stacks of books line the wall to my office. Manuscripts, potential projects. Brew a cup of coffee as I sort through the emails in my phone. A few from one of my editors, excited about thetest photography book we¡¯re publishing. Running a small publishingpany isn¡¯t as much of a one-man show as my family likes to think.


    My hand stops over an email from Ben.


    We¡¯d just been outst night.


    But my scrolling stops as I read the headline. Ivy Hart¡¯s contact details.


    And ites back to me. The conversation we¡¯d had, the anger in her dark-blue eyes. The challenge I¡¯d looked forward to has be something genuinely challenging.


    I run a hand over my face and head into the living room. Pause in front of the disy cab where I keep my cameras.

 Red Hot Rebel C6

    The gritty, old Canon is at the top. My favorite.


    My gaze shifts from the camera that promises gritty authenticity to the shiny one I keep on the shelf below. I¡¯m going to have to use this one to shoot Ben¡¯s campaign in all its high-quality glory.


    But I reach toward the old Canon DSLR just in case.


    I¡¯ll have to clear my schedule for theing two weeks to shoot his campaign, but the alternative is reneging on a bet, and my pride would snap rather than bend. I turn one of my cameras around in my hands. Besides, it¡¯s been a while since I was pushed out of myfort zone. This¡¯ll be another adventure.


    Meeting people that have real lives and real problems, and not the kind who attend Hamptons parties in the summer. A party where someone hired models just to lounge around. The sheer vanity of such a thing.


    What¡¯s more, the inaction of all those high-flying guests when a woman had fallen into the pool, when her friend had been struggling to help her¡­ disgusting. They¡¯d all probably been too afraid to ruin their hair and dress and makeup.


    Ivy had been so angry at me. It had been there in her eyes as she¡¯d red at me, first after I¡¯d tried to turn the men¡¯s attention away from the models, and then again in the pool house. Facing me like a queen, even as the thin, soaked fabric she wore made her look naked.


    I put my camera back in the cab and close the doors to protect them from dust. Two weeks traveling and shooting a campaign is just what I need. Dirt on my hands andnguages I don¡¯t speak.


    My phone rings. I debate letting it go to voice mail, but a quick nce at the name changes my mind. ¡°Hi, Lily.¡±


    My little sister¡¯s voice is cheerful. ¡°Good morning. Did you sleep well?¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to know?¡±


    ¡°Instantly suspicious,¡± she chides me. ¡°I might not be calling because I want something.¡±


    ¡°When you ask about my well-being,¡± I point out, ¡°you always want something. I¡¯ve known you for¡­ twenty-nine years.¡±


    A soft gurgling sound, and then a childish chuckle. Lily makes a cooing sound. ¡°There, there. Jamie wants to say hi,¡± she says.


    ¡°Hi, bud.¡±


    My nephew¡¯s happy little voice rings out, more babble than words. I make out what sounds like row row row, and when I point it out, Lilyughs.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been singing a lot of ¡®Row Your Boat,''¡± she exins. ¡°Hayden is keen on getting started on Jamie¡¯s sailing.¡±


    ¡°Good man,¡± I say. He¡¯ll have three uncles who¡¯ll instill the very same thing.


    ¡°Are youing back to Paradise soon?¡±


    I run a hand through my hair. Summer is the best season for Paradise Shores, and the pull from my hometown is never stronger than now. But I have plenty of practice resisting the siren¡¯s call.


    ¡°I¡¯m going away for a few weeks, actually.¡±


    ¡°You are?¡±


    ¡°Shooting a campaign for a travelpany. I can send you the itinerary.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± she begs. ¡°I spend all my time at home or in the gallery, and always with a toddler in my grip.¡±


    ¡°You can live vicariously through me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she says. ¡°You won¡¯t miss Dad¡¯s seventieth party, will you?¡±


    I close my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll likely be away.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Rhys¡­¡± she says. There¡¯s no censure in her voice, just kind concern.


    ¡°You know I hate those things. It¡¯ll be all status, no substance.¡±


    Not to mention it¡¯s an event celebrating my dad, who I haven¡¯t wanted to exalt in over a decade.


    ¡°Don¡¯te for him,¡± she responds. ¡°Come for us. For the family. You know we¡¯d love spending time with you. And hey, Jamie always wants to see his uncle.¡±


    ¡°Lily, stop with the guilt.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she responds. ¡°I¡¯ll just find a different tactic.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of.¡±


    ¡°At least think about it, okay? You know the seaside cottage is empty. Stay for a week. Stay for a month. Stay forever.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all I ask,¡± she says. ¡°I miss you.¡±


    I close my eyes. ¡°Yeah, Lils. I miss you too.¡±


    But as we hang up, and as the guilt she¡¯d tried to instill sinks its ws deeper into me, I already know I¡¯m not going to that party. I have a campaign to shoot, a model to argue with, and adventures to embark on. And solving the drift between my father and me is not one of them.


    Ivy


    Penny looks up from the giant, oversized, pre-packed suitcase to me. ¡°Please,¡± she says.


    ¡°Absolutely not. The clothes in that one are steamed and prepped and if we take anything out, there¡¯s no way it¡¯ll fit again.¡±


    My little sister runs her fingers over a piece of deep red silk. A dress? A shirt? I have no idea-and I¡¯m not bound to find out until I¡¯m in each location, struggling to find the correct outfitbelled Singapore, day two.


    ¡°I think I can fit in here,¡± Penny says. ¡°I¡¯m actually pretty sure I can.¡±


    Laughing, I grab one of the pairs of jeans I¡¯m packing into my personal suitcase and lob it at her head. She disappears in a huff, stretching out on my fluffy living-room carpet. ¡°There¡¯s no way foreign countries would let you in. You¡¯re too big of a threat.¡±


    She pokes her head up, blonde curls in every direction. ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯d be the one to finally knock over the leaning tower of Pisa. The Sphinx would lose another of its appendages if youe near.¡±


    Penny sits up with a huff, but she¡¯s grinning. ¡°I¡¯m not that clumsy.¡±


    ¡°Sure you¡¯re not. Everyone breaks as many bones as you do.¡±


    She lobs my jeans back at me and I catch them soundly, folding them up into a tight roll. I¡¯m trying to pack for this monster of a trip like a pro. I¡¯ve watched YouTube videos-I¡¯ve ordered packing cubes on Amazon-there¡¯s no way my suitcase will turn into a writhing heap of fabric by day two.

 Red Hot Rebel C7

    One can hope, at least.


    Penny clears her throat and continues to read from the itinerary. ¡°Paris. Rome. Singapore. Bali. Sydney-Ivy, you¡¯re going to Australia!¡±


    I look up from my careful roll stacking. ¡°I know. Can you believe it?¡±


    ¡°No! You have to take pictures of everything.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s sort of my job.¡± But I grin at her as I say it. ¡°I¡¯ll buy you stuff, too. Treats from every destination.¡±


    ¡°God, that sounds so morous. But you know what my favorite thing is?¡±


    I smile. ¡°That you get to live through me?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, but what else?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It says you¡¯ll be shooting with foreign models, too. In Rome.¡± Her eyes grow to two round saucers. ¡°You know what that means. Some hot, Italian model will be feeding you pasta and wine in a cute little ristorante.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it¡¯ll be like that.¡± And then, because I can¡¯t keep up my big sister facade anymore, I squeal with her. ¡°But I know. Imagine if it is! Rome! I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m getting to go to all these ces. Penny, what am I going to do with myself!¡±


    She grabs my hands and swings me around. Hard to do, in my tiny Manhattan apartment, but it works. ¡°You have to get with some of them. With one of them, at least. This is the chance of a lifetime!¡±


    Iugh at her. ¡°That would be beyond unprofessional.¡±


    ¡°Unprofessional? You¡¯re leaving the country the next day! Besides, you never tell me about guys.¡±


    Myughter turns a tad strained, and I pop her on the nose. ¡°Not everything is fit for your ears.¡± And, most importantly, I had no stories to tell. None at all, and over the years, that had be embarrassing in and of itself.


    Penny rolls her eyes. ¡°Right. As if I don¡¯t tell you every embarrassing story about Jason? Pfft.¡± She sinks back down on my couch, fishing out a pair of beautiful shoes from the do-not-touch suitcase sent by my agency.


    ¡°Dolce & Gabbana heels,¡± she sighs. ¡°Ivy, why don¡¯t I have your life?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re infinitely smarter than me.¡±


    She stretches out on the couch and closes her eyes, so I resume packing. What do you need to visit seven different countries? I¡¯ll be in agency clothes most of the time, but for the rest¡­ Gah. I had never even left the country before.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to enjoy staying here while you¡¯re gone,¡± she muses. ¡°Jason wille up one weekend, too. He¡¯s promised to take me out to Broadway.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I reach for my sneakers and stuff them in a stic bag for traveling. ¡°What did Dad say?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know. That I should be careful in the big city. That I shouldn¡¯t get any ideas about following Ivy¡¯s career path. The usual.¡±


    Penny¡¯s voice is cheery, so I try to match that. Dad has never been pleased about my choice to model. I grab the pile of physical therapy textbooks I¡¯ve sorted out. Three should be enough to upy me on the long flights, although they weigh the same as a toddler.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°You¡¯re really bringing those?¡± Penny asks. ¡°Ivy, you¡¯ll be in the most beautiful, exotic ces, with hot foreign models. You can¡¯t seriously be trying to study at the same time.¡±


    ¡°I have to. There¡¯s an exam a few weeks after I get back,¡± I say, fitting book after book into my tightly packed suitcase. ¡°But don¡¯t worry. I n on enjoying every single moment as well. I¡¯ve already started writing a list-¡± Penny groans, but I barrel on, ¡°with all the things I can¡¯t miss in every destination. Eat a croissant in France, go to the Colosseum in Rome. Take a picture with the Trevi Fountain.¡±


    ¡°Thank God you put that on a list!¡± Penny says dramatically. ¡°You might have forgotten!¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I say. ¡°Plus, I was imagining myself doing all of these things as I wrote the list. Visualization, you know.¡±


    ¡°You have to add being kissed in Paris.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the city of love, Ivy!¡±


    Iugh, shaking my head at her. ¡°Who would I even kiss?¡±


    ¡°A mysterious Frenchman?¡± Penny asks. ¡°And didn¡¯t you meet the photographer a few days back? How was he?¡±


    I close my suitcase with a loud, stic snap.


    ¡°Ouch. That bad? He¡¯s not some old creep, is he?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not. He¡¯s just someone I don¡¯t like.¡±


    ¡°You like everyone,¡± Penny says. ¡°What¡¯s his name? Let me Google.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not that famous,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t even know why he was chosen. Had no idea he was a photographer until a few days ago.¡±


    ¡°That sounds sketchy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it doesn¡¯t surprise me. He has the kind of arrogance, you know? Photographers nearly always do.¡± Too much, actually. More than their fair share. I frown to myself as I see Rhys in front of me, dark curls, sardonic smile, hard glint in his eyes. Traveling with a cynic who found me air-headed.


    Awesome.


    ¡°So why do you dislike him, then?¡± Penny flops over on her stomach and stares longingly at the Dolce & Gabbana heels, now ced on the floor in front of her.


    ¡°It¡¯s like I dislike him because he dislikes me. From the first time I saw him, it¡¯s like I¡¯ve rubbed him the wrong way. Like my very presence offends him. He thinks models are vain, by the way.¡± I pause, looking out the window. The summer heat has just begun hitting New York, a tropical assault. ¡°I know exactly how the men he¡¯s friends with think. They never have to work for anything, you know? They¡¯ll spend five hundred dors on a bottle of champagne andugh it off with a self-deprecating joke about how they¡¯re stimting the economy. Doing their part. And he dislikes models on principle.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± Penny says. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve thought about this a lot.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t, really.¡±


    ¡°And is he attractive?¡±


    ¡°Conventionally speaking, yes, I suppose.¡± Though the word conventional could never really be attached to Rhys Marchand. I suspect he would buck under the word, indignant and angry at ever being called something so basic. The thought makes me smile.


    ¡°Right,¡± Penny says, ¡°you¡¯re in trouble. He¡¯s attractive and he¡¯s a challenge for you.¡±


    I put down my handbag. ¡°I¡¯m not in trouble.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are. Tell me, when was thest time a guy was ever truly a challenge for you?¡± My little sister grins like a cat who¡¯s just eaten a particrly juicy canary. ¡°When they didn¡¯t just barrage you with demands for your phone number? When they outright challenged you?¡±


    I frown at her. ¡°Toothpaste. I¡¯ve forgotten to pack toothpaste.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C8

    Her voice reaches me easily in my small bathroom. Everything in this apartment is small. Square feet is an endangered species in Manhattan. ¡°Thest time was never!¡± she says. ¡°They¡¯re always asking you out or judging you on your looks and you hate it, Ivy. You also hate when someone is angry at you or doesn¡¯t like you. Ipso facto, this photographer is like your specially designed kryptonite. A man who doesn¡¯t immediately swoon. You¡¯re in trouble.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being ridiculous. Can you imagine how unprofessional that would be?¡± I force my suitcase open to fit my toothpaste inside. ¡°Not to mention I don¡¯t like him. He¡¯s an overgrown trust fund brat. I¡¯ve seen my fair share of them.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°Give me a little credit, Penny. Getting with a photographer would be beyond irresponsible.¡±


    ¡°But wouldn¡¯t it be romantic?¡±


    I shoulder my suitcase over to the door. It¡¯s tiny inparison to the gigantic Samsonite the agency sent over with all of my outfits. ¡°What time is it?¡±


    ¡°A quarter to nine.¡±


    ¡°The car should be here in ten minutes.¡± I give my handbag ast check-wallet, passport, keys. ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you.¡±


    Penny bounds up off the sofa and wraps me in a hug. Her hair smells like it always has, papaya and coconut. She¡¯s used the same shampoo since she was fourteen. ¡°Have the best time,¡± she tells me. ¡°This is a once-in-a-lifetime trip.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to enjoy every minute,¡± I promise.


    ¡°Good. And don¡¯t let a spoiled photographer or dear Dad get into your head.¡± She pulls back, grinning. ¡°Or me. I¡¯ll be here, protecting your apartment for you.¡±


    ¡°That makes me feel so safe.¡± But I¡¯m smiling too, ruffling her hair. She ducks under my hand and grabs a hold of the Megalodon of a suitcase.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you bring all this stuff down. And you¡¯re really traveling alone? They¡¯re not sending someone with you?¡±


    ¡°No, just me and the photographer. But there will be ground staff in each location.¡±


    She lifts the giant into the elevator with a huff. ¡°This is a workout, Ivy.¡±


    ¡°Workout clothes. Did I pack that?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I saw you roll it up all neatly.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Penny winks. ¡°But you can work out in other ways. Hot foreign models, hot challenging photographers¡­¡±


    I shove her and she shoves me back. But she stays on the sidewalk as I step into the ck Town Car waiting outside, waving to me as it speeds away toward JFK. Away from Manhattan and the life I¡¯ve led, from the only country I know.


    The photographer might not like me, but I¡¯m not going to let him take away a single minute of enjoyment from this trip.


    Ivy


    ¡°Ivy Hart?¡± The man asking is in a suit, a ck cap on his head and an electronic sign in hand. And on it, my name is written in capital letters.


    I¡¯ve only been traveling for six hours, but it¡¯s already exceeded all of my expectations. Rieler Travels has gone all out. Business ss seating on the ne-I did not know you got as much champagne as you wanted-and someone to pick me up? Never had my in-country travel in America been like this, not on any of the shoots I¡¯d attended in Los Angeles.


    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    He reaches for my bags. ¡°Wee to St. Barts, miss. Or is it Mrs.?¡±


    ¡°No, just miss.¡± I nce over my shoulder for Rhys, as if he might magically appear out of thin air. Wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he could, but he¡¯s nowhere to be seen. Hadn¡¯t been on the flight, either.


    ¡°Is this your first time here?¡± The name on the tag reads ¨¦tienne. He speaks with a thick French ent. I¡¯d been reading up on the ne, and now I know absolutely everything there is to know about St. Barts, from its time as a Swedish colony to its incorporation as an overseas territory of France.


    ¡°Yes, it is. I¡¯m very excited.¡±


    His smile widens. ¡°Why, I get to y tour guide too! My favorite role.¡±


    Warm, humid heat hits me the second we step out of the air-conditioned airport, but it¡¯s not overwhelming. The parking lot is tiny, just like the airport is tiny. Because this ind is tiny.


    ¨¦tienne drives to the other side of the ind, as he says, but it takes no time at all. He tells me stories throughout, of the ind¡¯s cultural makeup, of the French and Portuguese who inhabit it. My eyes are glued to the passingndscape of green hills and glimpses of blue water. At one point I consider rolling down my car window, but think better of it when I realize I¡¯ll be sitting with my head out like a dog.


    ¡°Here we are!¡± ¨¦tienne slows to a crawl as we arrive at Rieler Resort. The road is lined with palm trees, and beyond them, a sliver of beautiful turquoise water glistens.


    I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m here!


    ¨¦tienne parks outside of a beautiful vi with a straw roof and begins unloading myrge suitcases. ¡°Right through there,¡± he says with a nod to the reception. ¡°They¡¯ve been expecting you.¡±


    And so they have. Attentive staff help me with everything, from checking in to rolling in my luggage to showing me the way to my room.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    Although I can¡¯t really call it a room. It¡¯s a poolside and oceanside vi, one on either side, with thergest king-size bed I¡¯ve ever seen. Perhaps this life is normal for really high-end models, but not for most of us. Work is usually shooting in warehouses in Brooklyn or changing backstage for shoots while stylists scream at you for buttoning a shirt wrong. This kind of mour, on the other hand¡­


    I throw myself on the bed. It¡¯s like floating on a cloud.


    I let myself float for a solid five minutes before I bounce back off and head to the double doors that open up to my own private patio. The itinerary is clear. We¡¯re not to start shooting until one of the local staff knocks on my door for hair and makeup. So I¡¯ll stay put. It¡¯s not a particrly hard ce to be.


    I¡¯m taking pictures of the view for my sister when there¡¯s an impatient knock on the door to my vi. ¡°Be right there!¡±


    Reaching up to tug my ponytail into ce, I pull open the door with a smile.


    It dies when I see the person on the other side. Rhys is in a button-down and cks, a camera in one hand and a scowl on his face. Judging from the tan that dusts his skin, he¡¯s been here for a while already. When did he arrive?


    ¡°Good,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re finally here.¡±


    I cross my arms over my chest. ¡°I arrived right on schedule.¡±


    ¡°Come on, then. Let¡¯s go shoot.¡± He takes a step back and nods toward the beach, like I¡¯m to follow him right here and right now. Dressed in jeans. With my hair undone.


    ¡°I can¡¯t shoot like this,¡± I tell him. ¡°Besides, the itinerary clearly says that we¡¯re to start in an hour and a half. I have hair and makeup first.¡±


    The bastard actually looks up at the sky, like I¡¯m being impossibly difficult. ¡°The light is excellent right now,¡± he says slowly. ¡°I¡¯d like to shoot now.¡±


    ¡°All right. Perhaps you can shoot scenery? But for our shoot together, I¡¯m sticking to the schedule.¡± If there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learned in my years of modeling, it¡¯s that you don¡¯t disobey orders regarding a shoot. ¡°There is no way Rieler Travels wants me photographed like this. I¡¯m not even wearing makeup.¡±


    Rhys pushes a hand through his dark hair and mutters something that sounds very much like vain models. Right, buddy, as if you¡¯re a peach.


    ¡°It¡¯s my job,¡± I grind out. ¡°So I¡¯ll see you in¡­ an hour and a half for our scheduled shoot to begin.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C9

    ¡°Fine,¡± he says.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be by the beach. Come on down when you feel inclined to work.¡± And on that scathing note he strides off, down from my vi and toward the glittering ocean beyond. I force my fists to rx at my sides and to not scream at him that the entire ind is a damn beach and how the hell am I supposed to find him?


    So he thinks this is beneath him? Doubting my abilities, too, surely.


    Well, he¡¯ll see about that.


    Ny minutester I¡¯m done, dressed in the first of several bikinis the agency had packed, a wide straw hat on my head. My hair is washed and blown out in soft, beachy waves. I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror and feel the familiar res of self-consciousness. There¡¯s not a model in the industry that doesn¡¯t have the same thoughts, and they¡¯re always magnified ten times over when it¡¯s a swimwear shoot.


    But I¡¯ve done my damnedest not to fall into the same pit. I look good. I look strong. The bikini fits well-my agency knows my sizes to a T-and the spray tan they¡¯d made me get is natural. I look good and I refuse to let my job make me doubt that.


    I repeat it again. You look good.


    And then I stride down the walkway to the beach in search of a photographer I don¡¯t have a shred of trust for. I¡¯ve been photographed by strangers. By photographers that barely spoke English, that I didn¡¯t understand or connect with.


    Somehow, though, I have a suspicion that Rhys will be different.


    He¡¯s staring at the ocean when I spot him. The beach is deserted-I wonder if that¡¯s the hotel¡¯s doing. Had they cleared it out for our shoot? Looking down, I make sure that my bikini top is still sitting correctly. It is.


    And then I clear my throat. ¡°Ready to work?¡±


    Rhys turns, an eyebrow raised and mouth open to deliver a retort. But nonees out. For a magical second, he falters, his gaze taking me in. It¡¯s the briefest of victories, but it¡¯s there.


    But his face soon snaps back into the usual mask of cynical nonchnce. ¡°Finally,¡± he says. ¡°I want to start with you walking along the water¡¯s edge.¡±


    ¡°Challenging,¡± I say, putting down my water bottle on a nearby table. ¡°From here to there?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll film you walking from behind, panning out to the resort.¡±


    And so I walk. Over and over and over again, the waterpping warmly around my ankles. Rhys doesn¡¯t say a thing. I¡¯ve had silent photographers before, but they¡¯ve never been this silent. It¡¯s like he¡¯s trying to unnerve me.


    ¡°Now walk toward me.¡±


    We switch, and go over that a fair number of times. It¡¯s not hard-looking out at the horizon, clutching at my hat, kicking at thepping water. We do it with his drone, we do it with his camera, over and over and over again. Is he a perfectionist?


    I pose on one of the lounge chairs, my legs crossed over, lowering the hat so that it covers my face entirely. He dislikes that pose, though, telling me to change after only a few takes. ¡°You look too¡­¡± He frowns. ¡°Posed.¡±


    I grit my teeth and try to look more natural. Like I¡¯m just sitting here. Ignoring the angles I know I look best in is difficult.


    ¡°Look back at me, yes, like that.¡±


    I do what he says, but whates over me then, well¡­ I look straight into the lens-into Rhys¡¯s eyes-and lean back on the chair with my arms bent. It¡¯s a provocative pose, and he keeps snapping. Slowly, I twist around onto my stomach, my head on my hands.


    He¡¯d insulted my dedication earlier.


    Well, let him watch me work.


    And work we do. It¡¯s endless suggestions, poses, stand there and stand here. I ept a drink from one of the staff in about a thousand different variations that I never get to taste.


    The sun is just beginning to set when he lowers the camera. ¡°Getting tired?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Not that I would ever admit that to you.


    His lip curls. ¡°Good. The sun is about to set this sky on fire.¡±


    I stand, dusting off a bit of sand from my legs. ¡°Where do you want me?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you show me what you¡¯ve got?¡±


    I can¡¯t raise just one eyebrow like he can, but I do my best to smirk. ¡°Is this a test?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s me asking you to do your job.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    Asshole. ¡°And I have free rein?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He wants me to fail. We¡¯ve already shot practically everything on this beach, from every possible angle. I¡¯ve done everything there is to do.


    Well.


    Not everything.


    I¡¯ve long since tossed the straw hat to the side. Walking down the warm, white sand, I step past the waterline. Warm waterps at my feet. It feels like a crime to be on this beautiful beach with the entire Caribbean stretched out in front of us and not swim.


    I look back at him, standing in knee-deep water with the zing sky behind me.


    Rhys looks back at me. And slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifts up his camera.


    These posese effortlessly. Reaching down to feel the water, turning to beckon to someone on the beach, looking up at the beautiful sky. And with each step I¡¯m deeper in the water. Itps around me like a nket of warmth.


    I dip my head back and wet my hair entirely. It drips down my back as I emerge, grinning, the sky now a marvelous mixture of purples and oranges above me.


    Rhys takes another picture.


    I swim toward him on the beach, and when I get to the shoreline, I don¡¯t get up. I lie on my stomach instead, my head on my hands, and look at him like he¡¯s the best thing that¡¯s ever happened. The only thing I¡¯ve ever wanted in life.


    Rhys falters, finger on the shutter.


    And then he sinks down to his knees and keeps shooting. I close my eyes and lie like that for a moment. The photographer dislikes me, and yet this is the best shoot I¡¯ve ever done. I¡¯m on a beach in the Caribbean. Nothing elsees close.


    When I open my eyes, Rhys has moved back, still snapping pictures. He lowers the camera when he sees me watching him again.


    For a long moment, neither of us speaks.


    ¡°The sun is almost gone,¡± he says finally. ¡°No more light.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C10

    I don¡¯t want to get out of this water. I don¡¯t want to leave this ind. ¡°Okay.¡±


    He looks down at his camera and puts the lens cover back on. There¡¯s no way he¡¯s going to admit that I did bring it, but the nonchnt way he says the next words still feels like victory. ¡°I suppose we should eat something.¡±


    I get up reluctantly, the warmth of the water dripping away into a slight chill. Dismissing him like he¡¯s been dismissing me feels fantastic. ¡°I have ns,¡± I say, thinking about the pool outside my patio, room service and the FaceTime call I promised my sister. ¡°But thank you.¡±


    And then I march straight past him.


    Ivy


    Rhys is waiting in the lobby the next day, arms across his chest. Admiring him is difficult, because it has to be when he¡¯s not looking, which means I now have the perfect opportunity. He¡¯s tall. A lot of men are, but when you¡¯re as tall as me, the number who make you look up are vanishingly small. He¡¯s one of them.


    And he moves like the world is one big personal insult. Or perhaps like he¡¯s the insult, constantly saying screw you to anything that mighte his way, smiling ironically the entire time. Even the way he stands now, shoulders wide and arms crossed, like he¡¯s daring the world.


    I square my shoulders and head his way. Rhys sweeps his gaze over my flowing, floor-length dress. The red silk is cool in the heat, and the long split up my leg keeps the fabric moving with every step.


    ¡°You¡¯re wearing that?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°We¡¯re going into Gustavia, on a tour of the old town.¡± He¡¯s speaking like I¡¯m a toddler. ¡°Not the Met g.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I ask sweetly. ¡°I thought this was a ball.¡± And then I twirl in front of him for good measure, the red silk billowing out around me.


    A muscle jerks in his jaw. ¡°Ivy.¡±


    ¡°It had a note pinned in thebel. St Barts, day two, town shoot. Would you like to see it? I think it¡¯s still in my room.¡±


    ¡°No. Let¡¯s just get going.¡±


    ¡°Thought you¡¯d never ask.¡±


    To my delight, the man waiting by the car is one I recognize. ¡°¨¦tienne!¡±


    ¡°Miss Hart.¡± He tips his hat. ¡°You look beautiful today.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Will you be our tour guide today?¡±


    ¡°Bien s?r, I even volunteered for the job!¡± He looks to Rhys, whose scowl is growing deeper by the second. ¡°And who is this? Your boyfriend?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s my photographer,¡± I say, barely keeping the smile out of my voice. I don¡¯t dare look at Rhys, either, but he feels like a ck cloud at my side. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    ¨¦tienne holds the door open for me. ¡°After you.¡±


    Rhys ms his and I have to turn my face toward the beautiful surroundings outside the window to hide my grin. Perhaps I could make annoying Rhys a game during the trip. If it¡¯s always this easy, not to mention fun, I¡¯ll be having a ball.


    ¨¦tienne drives us in a loop around the ind, pointing out beaches and coves he thinks we should see, often sprinkling them with anecdotes from his own experiences. Some are less appropriate than others-one beach is, apparently, especially good for lovemaking. Rhys snorts at that.


    When we drive into Gustavia, he starts extolling the town¡¯s virtues.


    ¡°Gustavia is unique in the world, because it has no¡­ what¡¯s the word¡­ restauration rapide.¡±


    ¡°Fast food,¡± Rhysments.


    ¡°Yes, exactly! There is none of that here. But we have a lot of fine dining. Many Michelin chefs.¡± ¨¦tienne turns onto a minuscule street in Gustavia, barreling down toward the sailboats in the harbor. I hold on to the door handle and look at Rhys.


    ¡°You speak French?¡±


    He shrugs.


    Right. What an answer.


    ¡°I will leave you here,¡± ¨¦tienne says, parking next to the central harbor in Gustavia. He hands us a business card. ¡°You call me when you¡¯re done and I wille.¡±


    ¡°The hotel is not that far, is it?¡±


    ¡°No. But thedy is in¡­ talons hauts.¡±


    Rhys frowns, ncing down at my feet. ¡°High heels. Yes, that she is.¡±


    I look down at the shoes in question. They¡¯re fairly low heels, and they¡¯re wedges, too. I want to kiss the agency stylist who thought of that little detail.


    ¡°Thank you, ¨¦tienne. We¡¯ll see youter.¡±


    ¡°Good luck!¡±


    Rhys doesn¡¯t look at me when we¡¯re the only two left in the calm harbor. Gustavia¡¯s colorful houses and small streets beckon just yards away, and a palm tree next to us waves in the breeze.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± I say, shaking out my hair. The hair stylist this morning had styled it straight, and it hangs in a golden waterfall down my back.


    Rhys turns his camera over in his hands, looking over the settings. ¡°Good for you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. That means a lot,ing from you.¡± There¡¯s liquid sugar dripping from my voice. ¡°All I¡¯ve ever wanted in life is your approval.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°You¡¯re a nuisance.¡±


    ¡°Morepliments! What have I done to deserve this?¡±


    He starts to walk away, but I keep up easily, even in my talons hauts. ¡°The call sheet says we¡¯re to shoot me walking on these streets. Interacting with local culture. Eating lunch.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve read the call sheet too.¡±


    ¡°Awesome, you¡¯re literate. See, I can give outpliments too. But you¡¯re heading in the wrong direction.¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± If my voice had been sugary-sweet, Rhys¡¯s is desert-dry. ¡°I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you see, blue is ocean.¡±


    ¡°How are you so energetic? Did you eat an all-sugar breakfast?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C11

    ¡°No. I got up early and exercised.¡±


    He stops by the edge of the dock, back to me, and takes a few pictures of the harbor. ¡°This is good. I want you to stand here.¡±


    I walk past him to the very edge of the dock. ¡°For you to push me in?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me.¡± But he backs away, camera raised. I take a deep breath. Showtime.


    Posing isn¡¯t always difficult, but sometimes it is. When there aren¡¯t clear elements to work with. When I¡¯m unsure of the direction the shoot is going. When I know the photographer isn¡¯t pleased.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t working,¡± he says, putting down the camera a few minutester. ¡°Try sitting.¡±


    ¡°On the edge?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I pause, half-crouched. ¡°You¡¯re definitely nning on pushing me in.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°You tter yourself.¡±


    I sink down on the edge of the dock and swing my legs over the edge, the turquoise water glittering below. Being pushed in wouldn¡¯t even be that bad. The dress would be ruined, but as long as I could me it on Rhys it would be cool.


    Leaning back on my hands, I shake my hair over my shoulders and look at the horizon. ¡°Are you taking pictures?¡±


    A testy voice behind me. ¡°Yes.¡±


    And then a hand on my shoulder and a sudden exertion of force. I grip onto the edge of the dock and push back, and the pressure vanishes immediately. Behind me, Rhysughs.


    ¡°You asshole!¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t resist. Don¡¯t worry, I wouldn¡¯t have gone through with it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± Standing up, I brush off the dress. It falls like a cloud of red silk around me.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Rhys tells me, looking out over the distance. A dark curl has fallen over his forehead. It¡¯s very, very easy to see how the roles could be reversed. Give me your camera and I¡¯ll photograph you. ¡°The all-mighty call sheet has dictated that I¡¯m to shoot you walking in the streets.¡±


    He strides down the dock, shoulders wide, camera gripped in one hand, like a soldier at war. Perhaps that¡¯s what he¡¯d rather be shooting-nature or people or wartime atrocities. Not me.


    We spend the rest of the afternoon walking around Gustavia. I do all kinds of mundane things, posing all the while. Sipping a ss of wine at an outdoor caf¨¦. Buying fruit from a vendor. Walking down cobblestone streets. Twirling under a giant, blooming bougainvillea.


    ¡°Good,¡± Rhys says finally, looking through images in his camera. ¡°We¡¯re done for today.¡±


    But I¡¯m not. Because somewhere in the distance, music is ying. ¡°Do you hear that?¡±


    He frowns down at me. ¡°Hear what?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a live band ying.¡± I walk down an alley, following the tune of a saxophone. It¡¯s definitely live. A few turnster and I emerge in a small square. Nestled against colorful houses, a band is indeed ying, and people are dancing salsa in front of it.


    I clutch my bag to my chest. ¡°Oh.¡±


    Rhys snorts by my side-I hadn¡¯t been sure he was following. ¡°You were right.¡±


    ¡°This is perfect.¡±


    ¡°For what? For shooting?¡±


    ¡°For¡­ experiencing.¡± I head to one of the small tables by the side and sit down, grabbing my phone. I have to take a picture of this for Penny.


    Rhys sprawls in the chair next to me, cing his camera on the table with a sigh. ¡°Filming for your online followers?¡±


    ¡°And so what if I am?¡±


    ¡°I thought you wanted to experience this.¡± He raises his hand for a waiter. ¡°Une biere, s¡¯il vous it,¡± he orders. ¡°Ivy?¡±


    ¡°Just water for me, please.¡±


    ¡°Bien s?r,¡± the waiter says, retreating through the dancing couples. I watch them move, the beat intoxicating.


    ¡°So you do speak French,¡± I say.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.


    ¡°Guilty.¡±


    ¡°Are the French?¡±


    ¡°Usually.¡± His small grin tells me he¡¯s somewhere else, thinking of other experiences. And perhaps that¡¯s more infuriating than anything he¡¯s done so far-because he¡¯s intriguing.


    I want to ask how. Why. But it¡¯ll no doubt yield nothing at all, so I watch the dancers instead. Breathe in the scent of the town, the beat of the live band, the feeling of being somece new. It¡¯s addicting. Beside me, Rhys fiddles with his camera, the picture of bored elegance.


    A middle-aged man in a French boater hat breaks away from the group dancing to stop in front of our table. He looks straight at me, holding out his hand.


    ¡°Mademoiselle?¡±


    There¡¯s only one answer to that.


    I put my hand in his. He pulls me out amongst the other dancers. The man leads me into a hesitant salsa, but grins when he sees that I know the steps.


    ¡°I used to dance,¡± I tell him. He nods, still smiling, and turns me around. The music flows through me, the beats strong and seductive, and I let go. It¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve danced like this. No routine, no n, no timer. Just pure uninhibited dance.


    He spins me once, twice, the skirt billowing out around me. The second I¡¯m still again, he grins. ¡°Tr¨¦s bien,¡± he tells me. I don¡¯t know how long we dance for, as one song bleeds into the next. And perhaps I put a bit extra sway in my hips, knowing that Rhys is sitting a table away and watching.


    Sweat is running down my back, beneath the beautiful silk dress, when the man I¡¯m dancing with nods toward the beach and asks me something.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t speak French,¡± I say.


    He chuckles, like I¡¯ve made a joke, and his grip on my waist tightens. He repeats the question, smile widening.


    I pull back. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I think I¡¯m done dancing.¡±


    Raised eyebrows and yet another question spoken in the same iprehensiblenguage. I shake my head and take a step back. ¡°Sorry.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C12

    A tall figure appears by my side, a hand resting lightly on my lower back. Rhys says something in French that I don¡¯t need to interpret to understand. It¡¯s a polite but decisive fuck off.


    Straw hat guy grins again and steps back, hands raised. And when the music picks up again, well¡­ Rhys and I are the ones left dancing.


    His hands are light on me, barely touching, like he doesn¡¯t know if he has touching rights. I don¡¯t know if I have them either, but his shoulder is firm under my hand.


    ¡°I can role-y as a boyfriend when I have to,¡± he says darkly.


    ¡°How chivalrous.¡±


    ¡°You okay? He wasn¡¯t too forward?¡±


    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t understand what he was saying, so I¡¯ll give him the benefit of the doubt.¡± Around us, dancers are moving in tune with the beat. And nothing, not the sweat on my skin, not even Rhys¡¯s perpetually bad attitude, can take me down off the high I¡¯m on. I smile up at him. ¡°This ce is fantastic.¡±


    Rhys is quiet for a beat. He leads me slower than the beat, perhaps not as used to dancing, but he makes up for it with his physicality. ¡°Where did you learn to dance like that?¡±


    ¡°I danced growing up.¡± Pulling at his arm, I spin underneath it, returning to his side in the next second. ¡°It was my first passion.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t respond. I look up at his jaw, still tense. Is it always tense? ¡°What?¡± I tease. ¡°Surprised I have some form of marketable skill?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Truthfully, yes.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t pull any punches, do you?¡±


    Another beat of silence. ¡°I prefer honesty,¡± he says. We sway softly side to side, not really dancing, not really standing still.


    ¡°Even if it¡¯s brutal?¡±


    ¡°Especially if it¡¯s brutal.¡±


    Nodding, I spin again, unable to entirely resist. ¡°Let me ask you something then.¡±


    Wariness. ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°I get the feeling that you¡¯d rather photograph endangered species or bombing sites or perhaps just anyone who isn¡¯t me. Is that true? I just want to know what I¡¯m dealing with here.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t prefer shooting models, no.¡±


    ¡°Then howe you epted this job?¡± It¡¯s an honest, serious question.


    We sway to aplete standstill. ¡°I prefer brutal honesty,¡± he says. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m an open book.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d never confuse you for that,¡± I murmur.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    A twitch of his lips before they stretch into his sardonic smile. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°How about we just agree that we don¡¯t like each other very much and leave it at that?¡±


    It must be clear that I don¡¯t like that, because he chuckles. ¡°You were the one who said that, in New York. All we have to do is stay professional.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± My hands slip from his, dropping to my side. ¡°And great coborations have been built on worse.¡±


    Rhys


    Flying is a bitch.


    It¡¯s just not logical. Our species didn¡¯t evolve wings for a reason, and nowhere is that fact more obvious to me than when I¡¯m halfway up in the heavens and surrounded by clouds. It¡¯s unnatural. Worse, it¡¯s deranged. And yet the collective world has somehow agreed that this is now the preferred mode of travel and woe to anyone who¡¯d have preferred a good old steamship.


    I look down at my watch. A minute has passed since Ist looked, and we¡¯ve only been weightless for an hour. What joy. I push my chair back and close my eyes, breathing through my nose. The beginning of a flight is always the hardest. Thank God for the extra space in first ss.


    ¡°These peanuts are very salty,¡± Ivyments at my side. ¡°Did you know they always add far more salt and spices to airne food than normal? Apparently human tastebuds are desensitized at these altitudes.¡±


    First ss isn¡¯t quite spacious enough, though, because we¡¯ve ended up next to each other. I suspect that I¡¯ll find the same pattern emerge when I look at all of our future travels. No doubt Ben thought he was doing me a favor.


    I don¡¯t open my eyes, and I definitely don¡¯t open my mouth.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ivy says. ¡°Sorry. Are you busy brooding?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t brood.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the textbook definition of a brooder.¡±


    ¡°I am? Show me the textbook, then.¡±


    ¡°See? That¡¯s exactly what a textbook brooder would say, while pondering the questions of life and it¡¯s endless miseries.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t ponder life¡¯s endless miseries.¡± A small part of my brain registers just how petnt my response sounds, but the other is too busy being annoyed by Ivy Hart. I¡¯m not brooding. I¡¯m busy surviving our five-hundred-miles-per-hour hurtle through the Earth¡¯s lower stratosphere.


    ¡°Its pointlessness, then? Its inequalities? How unfair it is that you¡¯re forced to fly to Europe together with someone you find marginally annoying so you can shoot a campaign worth several thousands of dors?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡±


    ¡°About which part?¡±


    ¡°I find you far more than just marginally annoying. Especially right now.¡± But my grip on the armchair has loosened, somewhat. At least her inane babble gives me something to focus on.


    ¡°You can¡¯t argue and brood at the same time. Which one do you want to do the most?¡±


    ¡°Brood,¡± I say. And then, ¡°Damn it, I¡¯m not a brooder, Ivy.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡± Her voice brightens and I open my eyes, too curious not to see. She¡¯s scrolling through the movies on her screen. She stops at one that¡¯s awful. I¡¯m talking would-make-Shakespeare-spin-in-his-grave-at-the-fate-of-the-entertaintment-industry-kind of awful. ¡°This one is my favorite,¡± she says, and apparently there¡¯s something worse than argumentative Ivy. It¡¯s chirpy Ivy.


    ¡°All right, now you¡¯re the one picking a fight,¡± I say.


    ¡°How am I doing that?¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°That movie? It¡¯s pure shit, filled to the brim with clich¨¦s. I bet I could predict every single plot point.¡±


    ¡°So you haven¡¯t seen it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to. It writes itself.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C13

    ¡°How do you know it¡¯s terrible if you haven¡¯t seen it?¡±


    I reach for the small case with toiletries we¡¯ve been given. There has to be an eye mask in here. Fishing it out triumphantly, I put it on. ¡°Some things you just know.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    I lift up the eye mask a whileter to see Ivy snuggled up in her seat, her hair a thick, blonde braid down her side and a pair of beige sweats on. Her headphones are in and her eyes are glued to the screen.


    She catches me watching and takes out an earpiece. ¡°See? You couldn¡¯t resist watching either!¡±


    I demonstrably pull down my eye mask. Lovely ckness beckons. ¡°Wake me when wend in Italy.¡±


    She mutters something that sounds like such a bore. To my surprise, though, I actually manage to fall asleep, and I¡¯m woken by the announcement in the speakers hourster. Beside me, Ivy has already packed together her things.


    She¡¯s glued to the window.


    I shouldn¡¯t ask. I shouldn¡¯t be intrigued. But I do it anyway. ¡°First time in Rome?¡±


    She doesn¡¯t turn from the view. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Good thing we¡¯re shooting all around the city.¡± I pull out the itinerary from the inside pocket of my jacket. The small, innocuous piece of paper, a list of ces they wanted me to shoot Ivy in front of, besides, behind or with. But traveling isn¡¯t a checklist. It¡¯s an adventure.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait,¡± she says, and there¡¯s a dreaminess to her voice. No pretense. No guard up, either. It¡¯s¡­ disconcerting. I look at her as she looks at the rapidly approaching ground, and find that it¡¯s almost a surprise when the airne¡¯s wheels touch the tarmac. My hands aren¡¯t gripping the armrests.


    Ivy is quiet beside me the entire way through passport control, as we get into the car to the hotel, even as she disappears down to her hotel room.


    ¡°We start shooting in an hour!¡± I call.


    She just nods, lost in some sort of daze. Shaking my head, I head into my own opulent room. Ben had truly pulled out all the stops for this trip, showing us the best his hotels and travel agency had to offer. Luxury trips for luxury clients, a tailor-made package for all needs.


    And I¡¯m supposed to shoot this dream.


    Grabbing the old Canon from my suitcase, the one that¡¯s only fit for my own photography, I open the windows of my hotel room wide. The hot Roman air greets me, along with a view that is almost impossible to beat. Terracotta roofs and beige, stone-colored walls beneath a blue, cloudless sky. A cityndscape of cobblestone streets and trattorias. I snap a picture of the tranquility. Perhaps I¡¯d have timeter to shoot around the city just for me, not with Ivy or my expensive digital camera. It sometimes captured life in too sharp of an image.


    Life can be a dream, and dreams are best a bit blurry.


    Ivy is the one who knocks on my door an hourter. ¡°Come on,¡± she announces. ¡°The eternal city is waiting, and we don¡¯t have many hours of sunlight left.¡±


    I run my eyes over her form. Gone is the surprisingly gentle vision of her on the ne, in sweats and without makeup. Back is the woman with sharp eyes, even sharper eyeliner, and perfectly blow-dried hair. She¡¯s wearing another silky dress, but it¡¯s a burgundy color today. A straw bag hangs at her side.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    She looks like the elegant poster child of Italian dreams.


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± she says impatiently. ¡°This is what they put me in. I know I¡¯m wearing heels, but I stuffed a pair of ts into my bag. I won¡¯t slow you down this time.¡±


    I could say that she hadn¡¯tst time. Or that she looks stunning. But neither are appropriate, nor relevant, so I just nod.


    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s get going.¡±


    ¡°When are we meeting Paolo?¡±


    ¡°Paolo?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re shooting with a model tonight. Another model, besides me, I mean.¡± Am I imagining it or is there genuine excitement in her voice? She flicks her thick hair behind her shoulder, and with her heels, she¡¯s almost the same height as me. It¡¯s a very rare thing. It almost throws me off my bnce.


    ¡°At seven,¡± I say. ¡°Haven¡¯t you been studying your itinerary?¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°All right, all right, I¡¯m the schedule queen,¡± she says. ¡°Are we starting in this neighborhood.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I grab the camera and undo the lens, following her out into the Roman afternoon. The air is beautifully warm, the building behind her a soft sienna color. Ivy stops in the street and looks around. For a moment, she doesn¡¯t do anything, just breathes in the air.


    I raise my camera and take a picture. It¡¯s impossible not to capture that moment of first contact, of blissful intoxication on her face. It¡¯s not fake, either.


    For theing hour, I don¡¯t direct her at all. I let her walk down whatever streets she fancies, and what she does seems toe so naturally. It¡¯s barely posing at all, the way she interacts with the city. I¡¯ve taken well over four hundred photos before the hour is up.


    For being a model, well¡­ she¡¯s damn good at her job.


    Not to mention it¡¯s getting harder and harder to dismiss her as just a model. Some people do stop when they see her, or when they see me photographing her with a professional camera, but she handles it in stride. Like she¡¯s used to it, because she likely is.


    No doubt she¡¯s been gawked at since she was a teenager.


    It¡¯s mid-evening by the time we stop on Ponte Sant¡¯Angelo. The beautiful statue-lined bridge is not on the list, but there¡¯s no way I¡¯m in Rome and not photographing it. Ivy leans against the railing and looks out over the Tiber, her hair glittering in thete-day sun.


    ¡°This ce is magical. I wonder what that building is. Or used to be.¡±


    I look up at where she¡¯s pointing. ¡°Castel Sant¡¯Angelo. It was once the mausoleum of Emperor Hadrian, but it¡¯s been used as a bunch of things since. Pieces have been added and rebuilt and torn down, like everything in Rome.¡±


    ¡°It really is the eternal city,¡± she breathes.


    ¡°Yes. I think this bridge is around two thousand years old.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not serious.¡± She looks down at her feet, firmly nted in a pair of sky-high heels on the stone bridge, as if it¡¯s about to copse under her.


    ¡°It¡¯s sturdy, don¡¯t worry. The Romans knew what they were doing.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here before.¡±


    ¡°I have, yes.¡±


    She narrows her eyes at me, like I¡¯ve said something wrong, but she doesn¡¯tment. Her gaze sweeps to the side instead, to the setting sun. ¡°We¡¯re going to bete,¡± she says.


    ¡°No we¡¯re not.¡± I nod toward the adjoining district. Little caf¨¦s line the street. ¡°I asked Paolo to meet us there.¡±


    She strides past me, but I keep up easily. She might be skilled in walking in heels, but my legs are longer.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m about to shoot this.¡±


    Ivy cocks her head. ¡°Shoot what?¡±


    ¡°You and him. Did you look at the sample pictures they sent over?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C14

    ¡°I did.¡± She doesn¡¯t sound the slightest bit agitated. ¡°And so what?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like I¡¯m shooting a bad perfumemercial.¡± I roll my neck, trying to work out an age-old crick. ¡°A scene from Lady and the Tramp.¡±


    She chuckles, pausing on the sidewalk. ¡°I always liked that movie.¡±


    ¡°Of course you did.¡±


    She fishes out a smaller bag from herrger one, a clutch this time, and hangs it over her shoulder. Fixes her hair. Rummages around after something.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°The instructions were clear,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to transition to an evening look.¡± She pulls out a small mirror and a ck lipstick tube. Her full lips part as she applies red lipstick, looking at her reflection through half-lidded eyes.


    Christ.


    I raise my camera and take a picture of her applying her lipstick, her hair a tumble around her shoulders and Rome the backdrop.


    She nces past the mirror to me, a challenge in her eyes.


    I take a picture of that too.


    ¡°I¡¯m not posing right now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of that.¡±


    Ivy closes her mirror with a snap, once again the woman who¡¯d stood up for herself in New York. ¡°Come on,¡± she tells me through newly painted lips. ¡°I have an Italian model to meet.¡±


    Right.


    Paolo is every stereotypee to life. I hate him immediately, not in the least because he¡¯s leaning suit-d against the corner of a house, a cigarette in hand and the other sping his phone.


    He looks up and sees Ivy, and I see the exact moment the calction crosses his mind. She¡¯s gorgeous. I wonder¡­?


    She extends a hand, but he pulls her in for a kiss on the cheek instead. ¡°Paolo,¡± he says, his English softly ented. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡± Ivy rocks back on her heels and gives him a wide, blinding, thousand-dor smile. ¡°Want to go for a stroll?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love to.¡± He takes her arm and tucks it under his, effortlessly, like this was the agreed-upon direction. The two of them begin to stroll up the trattoria-lined street like they¡¯re a real couple just out together.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the photographer?¡± he asks her.


    Ivy nces over her shoulder. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s back there.¡±


    All right, Ivy.


    Perhaps she¡¯s still pissed about the just a modelment from weeks ago. Or some of the other things I¡¯ve said. And perhaps rightly so, but this is in no way a proportional response. I grit my teeth as the Italian runs a hand through his wavy, styled hair and smiles widely down at Ivy.


    He looks like every Italian male model ever.


    I shoot the two of them walking arm in arm from behind. Turning down little alleys, stopping as Ivy points at a trattoria sign. It¡¯s all mindless, thoughtless pictures, meant to look enticing to the high-end clients Rieler attracts.


    I hate that it¡¯s working. Even just walking around, the two of them attract admiring looks from tourists and locals alike. Maybe it¡¯s Paolo¡¯s form-fitting suit. Maybe it¡¯s the way theyplement one another. Or maybe it¡¯s Ivy¡¯s wide, effortless smile. She¡¯s aiming that thing around without a thought to who might get hit.


    I gain small, vindictive pleasure from snapping a few shots where Paolo has his eyes closed.


    Ivy looks over at me. It¡¯s the first time she has given me a second nce since Paolo arrived. ¡°Gteria?¡± she asks.


    I nod. It¡¯s not on the list of shots or locations they want, but it¡¯s a solid idea. I regret it five secondster, though, as I¡¯m forced to photograph Paolo feeding Ivy a scoop of lemon gto.


    Objectively, it¡¯s a gorgeous shot. Ivy looks up at him with something akin to amazement, and he¡¯s smiling crookedly, a dimple in his cheek.


    He knows that¡¯s the moneymaker.


    People around us stop to watch as Ivy giggles, as they pose, as Paolo bends his head closer to whisper in her ear. My finger keeps moving over the shutter at a furious pace.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± an ented voice asks at my side. ¡°But are they, like, famous?¡±


    I nce over to see a woman with wide eyes standing at my side, a map of Rome in her hand. A tourist.


    ¡°No,¡± I say.


    She nods absentmindedly, but she grabs a picture with her smartphone regardless. And I can¡¯t really me her, not as Paolo has his hand on Ivy¡¯s waist. They¡¯re eating from the same ice cream cone.


    ¡°All right!¡± I call. ¡°We¡¯re done at this location.¡±


    And the bastards don¡¯t look at me! Paolo justughs and offers Ivy a napkin, and she blots at her red fuck-me lips.


    ¡°Vespa now?¡± Paolo asks me.


    ¡°Sure.¡± Why the fuck not.


    So I shoot the two of them on a Vespa, as Paolo drives up and down the same, carefully chosen street. Ivy keeps her arms wrapped around his waist, her blonde, perfect hair flying in the wind. And just before they dip out of view, she turns and gives me the money-shot.


    Gorgeous.


    Over and over and over we do it.


    I don¡¯t know who¡¯s more relieved when we¡¯re finally by the tiny trattoria specified on the call sheet we¡¯d received. This is where the agency wants the shot of the two of them sharing a romantic, candle-lit dinner.


    I busy myself by rearranging the chairs and props, but their conversation is easy to overhear.


    ¡°You¡¯re only here for a few days?¡± Paolo asks.


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯re off to the next location tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s such a shame,¡± the softly purring Italian says. I consider if he¡¯d look better with a ck eye. Now, I¡¯m not a violent person-not usually, anyway. But I grew up with two brothers and one who was basically adopted, so I know my way around fists.


    ¡°Have a seat,¡± I tell them. Ivy sinks down onto a chair like it¡¯s an art, crossing her legs and letting the silky fabric drape around her. Tanned legs and high heels on disy, and I can¡¯t fault her for them, not when they make her look like that.

 Red Hot Rebel C15

    The woman is a walking painting.


    Damn it. I was supposed to be immune. I¡¯d once told her I was.


    She rests an elbow on the table, her hand softly curving around her cheek. Long hair flows down her back. Okay. So this woman knows her angles, and she knows them damn well.


    ¡°Where are you from in Italy?¡± she asks Paolo in a soft, mellifluous voice that fits the scenario we¡¯re shooting perfectly. Intimate. Casual. Elegant.


    He leans back in his chair and stretches his long legs out in front of him, proving that he too knows his angles. I take a step back and alternate between filming and shooting.


    ¡°Napoli,¡± he says.


    Ivy leans across the table, an alluring smile on her face. I shoot that too.


    ¡°In the south of Italy?¡±


    ¡°You know Napoli?¡±


    ¡°I know of it.¡± Her eyes light up. I zoom in and snap a few shots of her, just like that, perched on a chair in Rome, no Italian in sight. Anyone could imagine they were on the receiving end of that sweet gaze. Anyone.


    ¡°You should visit someday,¡± he says. ¡°When you have more time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love that-¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s change the seating arrangement.¡± I step forward, motioning for Paolo to move.


    He shifts closer to Ivy. ¡°Like the set images we received?¡±


    I think of the images that we¡¯d received from this shoot-an elegantly dressed couple practically making out.


    I nod. Forming the words would be too difficult.


    Ivy leans her head against his shoulder and takes his hand. They sit like that for a while, posing while looking very un-posed, letting me snap pictures. Wine arrives, and they hold it, sipping, gazing at each other. And all the while my camera keeps going. Snap, snap, snap.


    Paolo turns to face her. His mouth crooks up and leaning forward, he pushes her hair back. Ivy¡¯s mouth opens softly.


    It¡¯s a killer shot. Obligingly, I take it.


    I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m happy or annoyed that they¡¯re handling this so well on their own. Do I want to be the one to give directions to this? He¡¯s touching her, and now she¡¯s touching him back.


    Her hand is on his shoulder as she bites her lip. There isughter in her eyes, seduction in her expression.


    I photograph them like that, with the quaint Italian trattoria behind them, cobblestones under their feet. We¡¯re selling the Italian dream to tourists, the idea that anyone whoes here on vacation can be what they are. Can look like they do. It¡¯s an illusion, but it¡¯s no less gorgeous for that.


    My hands grow tight around my film camera when Paolo leans in to kiss Ivy on the cheek. Her eyes flutter closed and I catch the entire moment, the coyughter she gives as he pulls away, the way she ducks her head, the way he reaches for his wine and takes a deep sip. He says something I can¡¯t catch and she blushes.


    And then I call cut.


    ¡°We have everything we need.¡± I start to pack down my camera and equipment. Photography used to be my secret, hidden joy. At the moment it feels like a death sentence. ¡°Shoot¡¯s over.¡±


    Paolo helps Ivy to her feet, steadying her when her heel gets caught in a cobblestone. Fucking death traps, those. It might make her legs look killer, but I prefer them unbroken. Whatever stylist had chosen her outfits was an idiot.


    ¡°You were amazing.¡± Paolo¡¯s voice is filled with confident swagger. ¡°So talented.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank you. You did good too.¡±


    ¡°Let me show you Rome tonight,¡± he offers. ¡°The real Rome, not a set.¡±


    I screw one of the lenses on and ignore the conversation. It¡¯s very, very difficult to.


    Ivy¡¯s voice is kinder than it¡¯s ever been when it¡¯s directed just to me. ¡°Oh, I¡¯d love to, but we actually have a bit more of shooting to do. Just Rhys and I-the agency wants a few night shots.¡±


    The agency doesn¡¯t want a few night shots. But I look straight at Paolo as I nod. ¡°Sorry, man.¡±


    He gives an elegant shrug. ¡°Another time, then. You¡¯ll be back to Italy, Ivy. I¡¯m sure of that.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait.¡± There¡¯s no doubting the sincerity in her voice. Paolo pulls her unnecessarily close to kiss her on the cheek.


    ¡°Until next time,¡± he tells her, before he shakes my hand. His grip is firm. I make mine firmer. Petty, perhaps.


    But satisfying.


    And then he strolls off, down a street where people turn around to watch him. Like Ivy, he must be more than used to that.


    She sinks back down on the chair with a sigh, bending to take off her heels. ¡°I am so hungry. Do you want to go grab a pizza?¡±


    For a brief second, it¡¯s hard to find words. She¡¯d turned down an Italian model for pizza with me? The heady sense of victory that sweeps through me is as unbing as it is potent, but it¡¯s there. I shoulder my camera bag and hold out my hand to her.


    ¡°Make it two, and you have a deal.¡±


    Ivy


    My feet feel ten thousand times better once I¡¯ve switched back to my ts, the beautiful Jimmy Choos back in the bag on my shoulder. I¡¯m starving and tired, but I always am after shoots. It¡¯s supposed to be easy, modeling, or at least that¡¯s what everyone says-including my father. But it¡¯s not. It¡¯s exhausting having to remember what you look like at every single angle at every single second.


    Rhys leads the way down the quaint, cobbled street, the air the perfect amount of hot, not humid. ¡°How about the ce we saw earlier?¡± he asks.


    ¡°The one that smelled amazing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡± I smile at him, and to my surprise, I get a crooked smile back.


    ¡°Surprised you don¡¯t want to go to a Michelin star restaurant,¡± he says.


    ¡°I could say the same about you.¡±


    He puts a hand to his chest. ¡°Me? I¡¯m but a simple man of the people, not a supermodel.¡±


    I roll my eyes at the exaggeration, on both counts. Whatever Rhys is, it¡¯s not simple, and certainly not a man of the people. ¡°Everyone loves pizza, and if they don¡¯t, they¡¯re not human.¡±Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.

 Red Hot Rebel C16

    ¡°No disagreement here,¡± he says, stopping at one of the tables that line the street. ¡°Here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please.¡± I sink down onto one of the wobbly wooden chairs with a sigh. My whole body aches from the day of walking and shooting, but it¡¯s nothing. I¡¯m in Italy. I¡¯m sitting on a busy street, watching as people from all countries walk hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm.


    Rhys motions for a waiter with a wan hand. With his dark hair and tanned skin, he looks more Italian than the model I¡¯d shot with. How would the pictures have looked if he¡¯d been the one who had nuzzled my neck instead of Paolo?


    How would it have felt?


    We order a pizza each. I go for the parmesan and prosciutto, and a ss of white wine. Rhys raises an eyebrow immediately after I¡¯ve ordered.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Just tell me.¡±


    ¡°Well, most models I¡¯ve met wouldn¡¯t order a pizza just like that.¡±


    I reach for one of the breadsticks and take a decisive bite. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°But you do? That¡¯s impressive.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not impressive. It¡¯s indulgent. But,¡± I tell him, waving my breadstick around, ¡°if someone tries to tell me that I¡¯m in Italy for the first time but I¡¯m not allowed to eat pizza or pasta, I might stab them with this.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    Something darkly amused sparks in Rhys¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°I would never be that person,¡± he vows. ¡°I¡¯d be the person handing you more breadsticks as ammunition.¡±


    ¡°Good answer.¡± I reach out and grab the olive oil for good measure, pouring a small dollop onto my bread te. ¡°In truth, of course I shouldn¡¯t eat this. I should be watching my every bite. My agency likes to remind me that I only have five more years, and that¡¯s a generous estimate.¡±


    ¡°They like to do what?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not very surprising or anything. Models are young. If I¡¯m lucky, one day I won¡¯t be.¡± I shrug. It¡¯s an obvious thing, and it¡¯s one I¡¯m happy my dad made me well-aware of when I went into the profession. It¡¯s never been my everything-and I¡¯ve seen what¡¯s happened to the models to whom it is everything, who see doom in every new wrinkle and imperfection.


    Rhys drinks his wine and a dark lock of his hair falls over his brow. Watching his sprawl on the small chair, long legs stretched out, it¡¯s hard to imagine that I¡¯m somehow the model here.


    But I don¡¯t tell him that.


    ¡°How did you like shooting Paolo?¡± I ask him instead. ¡°Considering you don¡¯t like shooting people, shooting two must have been your own personal inferno. Dante¡¯s, perhaps, since we¡¯re in Italy.¡±


    ¡°You read Dante?¡±


    ¡°No one has actually read Dante. People read about Dante.¡±


    A small, sideways smile. ¡°I don¡¯t dislike shooting people. I just don¡¯t like shooting uninteresting people.¡±


    I make a dramatic show of putting a half-eaten breadstick against my heart. It¡¯s not difficult, with the low-plunging neckline of this silky dress.


    He snorts. ¡°I don¡¯t mean that you¡¯re uninteresting.¡±


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t. You just think I¡¯m vain and air-headed.¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair, a furrow on his brow. Like he¡¯s bothered by the words he¡¯d spoken by the pool in the Hamptons. ¡°Well, most models just kinda are, in that they¡¯re being photographed because they¡¯re attractive. I¡¯d want to photograph people to share their story.¡±


    ¡°Like for National Geographic?¡±


    ¡°Something like that, yes.¡± He raises his winess, looking over the rim at me with dark eyes. ¡°And just for the record, I don¡¯t find you air-headed or uninteresting.¡±


    ¡°What apliment,¡± I say. ¡°Please, try to control yourself.¡±


    His lips twitch. ¡°It¡¯s very high praiseing from me.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m gathering.¡± I flip my hair and gesture with my hand. ¡°Come on, what else. You don¡¯t find me intolerable? I¡¯m not awful? Hit me with it.¡±


    Rhys snorts, reaching for one of the breadsticks. ¡°You¡¯re not going to monopolize the breadsticks for much longer.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not apliment.¡±


    ¡°I guess I ran out.¡±


    My response is cut off by the arrival of two giant, delicious-smelling pizzas. Cheese oozes across the surface. ¡°Bon appetito!¡± the waiter announces, disappearing back through the throng of tables.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to ughter this pizza,¡± I announce. ¡°Absolutely demolish it. st it into space.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a violence fetish?¡± Rhys asks calmly, starting to cut his into triangles.


    ¡°With pizza? Sure.¡± I fish up my phone and snap a quick picture of our food.


    Rhys groans. ¡°Of course you¡¯re the kind of person to photograph your food.¡±


    ¡°Of course you¡¯re the kind of person to be annoyed by that,¡± I deadpan. ¡°The way I see it, I can only eat it once, but I can look at it forever.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant logic.¡± Rhys lifts up a slice to his mouth, taking a bite. For a second, he just closes his eyes and chews. ¡°Yes, this is what it¡¯s supposed to taste like.¡±


    I follow suit and an explosion of marinara sauce, mozzare and vorful meat takes ce in my mouth. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve died and gone to food heaven. I¡¯d been absolutely right to ignore the little voice in my heads that warns we¡¯re shooting tomorrow too in order to indulge in this. So what if I have to drink a gallon of water tobat the sodium.


    You only live once.


    ¡°Besides,¡± I tell Rhys when I¡¯ve regained the ability to speak, ¡°I¡¯m photographing this to send to my little sister.¡±


    ¡°She appreciates unsolicited food pics?¡±


    I shake my head at him. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you went there.¡±


    He shrugs, not looking the least bit contrite. ¡°It was ripe for the taking.¡±


    ¡°And to answer your question, yes, she does want unsolicited food pics. I¡¯m under strict orders to photograph anything of interest to send it back to her. She wants to live vicariously.¡± Perhaps I¡¯ve revealed a bit more than I meant to, there. It¡¯s clear from myments that we¡¯re not a family who travels a lot, and he¡¯s, well¡­ a Marchand. A simple Google search the other day had revealed that his older brother is building New York¡¯s new opera house, and that his little sister runs a renowned art gallery.


    And that¡¯s not even ounting for his father.

 Red Hot Rebel C17

    But Rhys doesn¡¯tment. He just nods. ¡°Cute.¡±


    My mouth babbles on. The filter must have be disconnected somewhere around the second slice of pizza, tiredness starting to set in. ¡°She¡¯ll have my head, though, when I tell her I didn¡¯t see the town with a genuine Italian.¡±


    ¡°Paolo,¡± Rhys says. ¡°Did he have to have such a generic name? I wonder if it¡¯s a nom de plume.¡±


    It takes me a second to sort through hazy memories from English Lit ss. ¡°Like a stage name? Why on earth would he have that?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°To sound more authentically Italian. Imagine if he was actually called Mark.¡±


    ¡°You mean Marco.¡±


    ¡°Why did you turn him down? He was devastated,¡± Rhys says, cutting up another slice of his pizza.


    ¡°He was not.¡±


    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°Sure he was. I think he was offering more than just a simple tour of Rome, too.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°If you can¡¯t see that, then you¡¯re the one who¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Rhys says. ¡°Surely you must be used to men asking you out all the time.¡±


    Ah, the age-old assumption, the stereotype, the truth-verging-on-untruth. I take another bite of my pizza and think as I¡¯m chewing. I¡¯m finding that with Rhys, I don¡¯t want to give flippant answers, either.


    ¡°I am,¡± I say truthfully. But it¡¯s only part of the truth. It¡¯s often like Paolo had just done it, offhand, confidently, expectantly. By men who know they¡¯re good-looking.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    By men who have expectations of how I¡¯ll act and behave.


    And their expectations always kill mine.


    Rhys nods, like I¡¯ve confirmed something he knew all along. ¡°Can¡¯t be astonishing when that pattern carries over to Europe too.¡±


    I shake my head. This is not what I want to talk about, not what I want to get into. Myck of romantic experience-and the reasons for that¡­ I can¡¯t go there. I can¡¯t even tell my own baby sister that I¡¯m still a virgin.


    ¡°As if you¡¯re not ogled everywhere,¡± I tell him. Turning the tables-a surefire tactic.


    Rhys scoffs, but he doesn¡¯t protest. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s conceited or insightful, or perhaps both, abo only he could carry off. He reaches for his wine and drinks, holding the ss between his fingers afterwards with the ease of someone who knows vintages. ¡°Tell me something.¡±


    ¡°Tell you something? So I¡¯m not just not uninteresting, but now I¡¯m interesting too?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t gloat,¡± he says.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to. Make it interesting.¡±


    ¡°Tough crowd,¡± he says. ¡°Very well. Tell me why you chose modeling when you could¡¯ve been anything else.¡±


    It¡¯s not a question I¡¯ve ever been asked-not by anyone that isn¡¯t my father. Everyone else, from high school, from my town, who I meet in the industry, sees this career as a lottery ticket.


    The answer is a foregone conclusion. It¡¯s self-evident.


    I lean back in the chair and grip my own ss of white wine by the stem, trying to adopt at least a portion of his controlledposure. ¡°I could have chosen anything else?¡±


    Rhys snorts. ¡°That¡¯s fairly obvious, yeah.¡±


    ¡°And here I thought I was just a vain model.¡±


    He nces past me toward the piazza beyond, and is it just me or is there a hint of contrition on his usually unforgiving features?


    ¡°I just told you you weren¡¯t uninteresting. And anyone who spends five minutes talking to you can see that you could¡¯ve been anything.¡±


    I sigh, looking down at his ss. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the honest answer. I was scouted a few years back and toyed around with the idea of calling the scout back. And once I did, things started to snowball. It¡¯s not an easy industry, not by any means, and I¡¯ve worked hard at it, but I¡¯ve never had my entire heart in it.¡±


    ¡°Which is why you¡¯re also a student.¡±


    Now it¡¯s my turn to look up. ¡°You know that?¡±


    ¡°I saw the textbooks on the ne.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were asleep,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°Not the entire time.¡±


    I shift in the seat and stretch my legs out beside me, crossing them. It¡¯s odd, being around men that are considerably taller than me. Both Rhys and Paolo had been today. ¡°I¡¯m studying part time,¡± I say. ¡°Like I said, I know I won¡¯t be a model forever. We have a rather finite shelf-life.¡±


    His lip curls slightly, and it¡¯s not in a smile.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like that description.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯smon in the industry. It¡¯s the truth.¡±


    ¡°Which I¡¯m normally a fan of, but this expression¡­¡± He shakes his head and motions to the waiter for another ss of wine. I shake my head for a no. If there¡¯s one thing I know, it¡¯s that I can¡¯t spend a whole day posing in tight outfits with a hangover. Learned that one the hard way.


    ¡°Right,¡± I say. ¡°The more brutal the honesty, the better.¡±


    He smirks, looking past me to the people milling about again. I wish I had a camera at hand to photograph him doing just that-there¡¯s something intriguing in his expression¡­ ¡°You remember.¡±


    ¡°Of course. A pretty violent metaphor, by the way.¡±


    ¡°I guess we¡¯re both fans of violence,¡± he says.


    ¡°Or exaggeration.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go with that one.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C18

    I find myself just looking at him, my mouth curving into a smile. He looks back at me calmly, but there¡¯s something swirling in the depths of those eyes, too. ¡°You know what,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t find you uninteresting either.¡±


    His eyes spark. ¡°Well, perhaps this trip will be tolerable after all.¡±


    Ivy


    We touch down in the City of Love midday. I feel like a kid in a candy store. This had once been a distant dream, and here I am, about to walk streets I¡¯ve only fantasized about.


    ¡°You never told me why you speak French,¡± I say to Rhys as we follow the bell boy upstairs to our rooms. The Rieler hotel in Paris is magical. The ride to the hotel had been magical. I think that might be the lead word for this stop-magical.


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t,¡± he says, like that¡¯s a reply. I roll my eyes at his broad back. Predictably unpredictable, that¡¯s Rhys.


    The bellboy opens the door to a room that is splendor personified. Gilded bedframe. Painted ceilings. It looks like a pared-down version of Versailles. He informs me in near-wless English that the hotel has a gym on the fourth floor, that breakfast is served from seven, that the staff are at my beck and call. I can barely focus on the words, my eyes locked on the balcony doors.


    I open them the second I¡¯m alone, and the view¡­ the Eiffel Tower stretches up into the blue, Parisian sky in the distance, a giant amidst the mid-rise silhouettes. I can clearly make out the sliver thread of the glittering Seine.


    It¡¯s a balcony to loudly proim Let them eat cake! from, minus, you know, the subsequent beheading. I grip the railing tight and just breathe it all in.


    You¡¯re a lucky, lucky bastard, I tell myself. And then I take pictures and send them to Penny,plete with a small video of myself freaking out on the balcony.


    A knock on the door and it¡¯s time for makeup and hair, done by a very talented French woman who gives reluctant smiles at my enthusiasm. Forty minutester I¡¯m all done, dressed up in the first of the four outfits the agency has packed for me to wear in Paris.


    So when Rhys knocks on my door, I answer it with the widest of grins. ¡°We¡¯re in Paris,¡± I tell him.


    He blinks at me. ¡°Yes, we are.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been here before.¡± And for good measure, I twirl, my skirt floating around me. ¡°And I have the best hotel room in the world, courtesy of Rieler.¡±


    Rhys looks past me, eyes zooming in on the balcony immediately. ¡°We should shoot there, perhaps around sunset.¡±


    ¡°Yes, good idea.¡±


    ¡°After all,¡± he says dryly, ¡°we¡¯re selling the hotel, too.¡±


    ¡°Yes we are.¡± Not even his trademark cynicism will dampen my mood. Paris beckons outside the hotel doors like a flirtatious lover, all its secrets and streets avable to us. Rome, yesterday. Paris, today.


    Rhys snorts by my side. ¡°Excited, are we?¡±


    ¡°Just a tad. Where do we begin?¡±


    He eyes the bag of clothes I¡¯m carrying. ¡°You¡¯re nning on changing a lot?¡±


    ¡°I was told they wanted shots of all these outfits.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll grab taxis. I think we¡¯ll start at¡­¡± He looks at the shoot list and shakes his head in disgust. ¡°Whoever wrote this has never been to Paris.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it put together by Rieler?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But there¡¯s no logic in this. Montmartre first, then St. Germain, then up to Le Marais? We¡¯ll be crossing the Seine the whole day. Idiots.¡±


    I bite my lip to keep from smiling. ¡°But you know Paris.¡±


    He lifts his camera high and snaps a picture of me like that, looking at him on the sidewalk. The sound of the trigger goes off like ammunition. ¡°Yes,¡± he says, ¡°luckily for us, I do.¡±


    Rhys talks to the cab driverpletely unhindered, his French fluent. I try not to let it show on my face how deeply impressive I find that, but perhaps I fail, because he turns to me with a raised eyebrow.


    ¡°What?¡± he asks me, like he doesn¡¯t already know, the arrogant man.


    We shoot along the winding, tourist-filled streets of Montmartre, both with Paris as our backdrop and Sacre Coeur as the majestic church above us. Rhys swears more than once about the absolute mass of tourists.


    ¡°And I thought we¡¯d bypass them by being here early,¡± he mutters, reaching out impatiently to put a hand on my low back. I can¡¯t walk fast in these heels, but I¡¯m trying to keep up.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°We could return tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°We could.¡± He shakes his head again. ¡°Fucking tourists.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what we are?¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯re here to work.¡±


    ¡°You speak like a local.¡± He lowers his hand and I slow my pace, grateful. Perhaps I should switch into the ts I¡¯d brought-depending on how far we¡¯re walking¡­


    Rhys is quiet for a beat. ¡°I was, for a while.¡±


    ¡°A local?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I pause, sinking down on one of the low stoops. ¡°Changing shoes,¡± I inform him. ¡°You¡¯ve lived in Paris?¡±


    ¡°For two years, yeah.¡±


    I want to roll my eyes and gape at the same time. It doesn¡¯t seem the least bit surprising, in many ways, that he would do something like that. Was there any part of the world that wasn¡¯t your oyster when you were a Marchand?


    ¡°So that¡¯s why you speak French?¡±


    His smile is a slow curve. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Do you thrive on being a mystery?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t answer that.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because then I¡¯d stop being mysterious.¡±


    I roll my eyes at him, but I¡¯m smiling. ¡°And you use models of being vain.¡±


    ¡°Never said I wasn¡¯t.¡± Out of his back pocket, he fishes out the shoot list. He studies it for a second before returning it, crumpled up on his pocket. ¡°They want you walking by the Louvre and along the Seine next. We¡¯ll do those back-to-back, including Tuili¨¨res.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C19

    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I say. ¡°But I think I should change.¡±


    He hands me the bag of outfits that he¡¯d insisted on carrying. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Here?¡±


    He nces from left to right. ¡°You can¡¯t change out here.¡±


    ¡°Then where else?¡± I head into one of the more quiet alleys and hear him following me. There are no tourists here. ¡°This is the life of a model.¡±


    ¡°Changing out in the open?¡±


    ¡°Yes. If you¡¯ve ever been backstage at a fashion show, you know there¡¯s no such thing as modesty.¡± My words are confident, strong, but my heart is beating fast. It is normal, that¡¯s true. But not with him here.


    I find the garment bagbelled Louvre, stuffed in the bag. Short skirt, zer, camisole-and I get to wear the t loafers. Victory.


    Rhys scoffs as soon as he sees the zer. ¡°They¡¯re dressing you up like the stereotypical Parisian.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m selling the dream,¡± I tell him, ncing past his shoulder toward the main street. A few people are passing by in the distance, but none really look into this alley.


    So I reach down to the hem of my dress and start pulling it off, only to discover that Rhys has acted just as quickly. He¡¯s holding up the zer like some sort of shield.


    It¡¯s tiny, it covers almost nothing, and I¡¯m still in my underwear-practically like I¡¯m wearing a bikini. But Rhys is looking away with his features locked in iron, the face of a manpleting a herculean task.


    Iugh, and he nces at me at once. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, nothing.¡± But I¡¯m chuckling as I reach for the skirt, tugging it up my legs. ¡°I don¡¯t think that zer covers anything.¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    He nces down and frowns,ing to the same realization. ¡°Worth a shot.¡±


    I put on the camisole, and then, because the list of outfits had dictated it, I take off my bra. I do it underneath the shirt, the way every woman who¡¯s ever lived knows how to.


    Rhys raises an eyebrow but doesn¡¯t look away. ¡°They want you to go without underwear?¡±


    ¡°The straps,¡± I say, tapping my shoulder. ¡°They¡¯ll show whenever we photograph sans zer.¡±


    He mutters something that sounds like Jesus Christ. Perhaps it¡¯s that, or perhaps it¡¯s the warm Parisian air, but it gives me courage. ¡°What?¡± I ask him. ¡°I thought you said you were unaffected by models. What was the word you used? Immune.¡±


    He looks up at the sky as if it might give him strength.


    ¡°You did say that,¡± I point out.


    ¡°I say a lot of things.¡±


    I grin.


    Above us, out through one of the many open windows, someone calls something in French. I don¡¯t catch a word of it, not that I would have understood it if I did. Rhys does, however, and he looks up to yell something back. Whatever it was sounded decidedly un-nice.


    ¡°Someonementing on me changing?¡± I grab the zer he holds out to me and shrug into it.


    ¡°Someone who didn¡¯t know their manners.¡± Rhys grabs the bag and shoulders it for me again. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I run a hand over my hair. ¡°I¡¯m actually a little bit surprised that they just let out us out like this.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Rieler Travels is a bigpany, right? I was told this campaign was really important to them. That it would make or break theing year for them, and that we¡¯d be given help on each location. And, I mean, we have been-but not as much I would have expected.¡± I hurry to keep up with his sudden very long strides. ¡°I don¡¯t mind changing on the street, but I just didn¡¯t think I would be.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Rhys says, raising a hand to g down a cab. ¡°Well, I guess they decided we could handle it.¡±


    ¡°I suppose so.¡± I shrug and follow him into the cab. It didn¡¯t change the fact that it was an amazing opportunity for me, both personally and professionally. The biggest campaign I¡¯d ever booked.


    And any thoughts of that evaporate as the cab rolls down the cobbled streets of Montmartre toward the center of Paris, toward the Louvre and art and culture and life and everything I¡¯ve ever wanted to see.


    We spend the rest of the day working. Rhys is relentless, but so am I, and we try every angle, every possible idea he has. He listens to mine, too, when I suggest that he film me running through the mazebyrinth in the Tuli¨¨res Garden or sitting on a balustrade by the Seine, my zer around my shoulders. Getting material to be used in the editing room.


    The sun is beginning a slow descent when Rhys puts down the camera and leans against the bridge railing beside me. His linen shirt clings softly to his chest, his shoulders, and his hair is tousled by the wind and the long day¡¯s work.


    It¡¯s not the first time my fingers itch to photograph him instead.


    I don¡¯t think it will be thest, either.


    ¡°Back in your old hometown,¡± I say. ¡°Have you missed it?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no.¡± He looks out over the gilded bridge, the statues that line it, the ce de Concorde to our left. ¡°Remember Paolo?¡±


    ¡°We met him yesterday, so yes, I remember him.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to sound like him,¡± Rhys says, ¡°but I¡¯m afraid I might.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m having dinner with my cousin tonight. Care to join?¡±


    I can¡¯t help it. Iugh. ¡°What part of that sounded like Paolo?¡±


    ¡°I could try it in an Italian ent.¡± But Rhys¡¯s lips are curved.


    ¡°I¡¯d pay good money to hear that, actually.¡±


    ¡°My cousin is insufferable sometimes, but harmless. Join us.¡±


    We¡¯re not friends. And yet¡­


    ¡°Are you sure? I won¡¯t be able to speak French. And perhaps you want to talk about family business.¡± Why am I talking him out of this?


    He snorts. ¡°He speaks English, and if you¡¯re there it¡¯ll save me from thetter.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± I push off from the railing and walk backwards, away from him. ¡°So I¡¯m supposed to be your buffer.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C20

    ¡°Was it that obvious?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You could have juste out and said it.¡±


    ¡°But then I¡¯d appear weak,¡± Rhys says, but there¡¯s nothing weak about him at all as he follows me, tall and dark and with a sly look in his eyes. ¡°We should head back to the hotel to get the shot of you on the balcony.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± And I tell myself it¡¯s only Paris that¡¯s responsible for the sudden intrusion of butterflies in my stomach, but it sounds like a lie, even to my own ears.


    ¡°Will you give me some hint as to what I¡¯m walking into?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll do great as you are.¡±


    ¡°But what am I acting as a buffer against?¡±


    ¡°Annoying questions,¡± Rhys drawls, reaching up to run a hand through his still-damp hair. He had showered at the hotel, and now he smells like soap and fresh linen and man, dressed in a pair of cks and a button-down. I¡¯d seen the thick, branded watch on his wrist, too. It¡¯s the only casual disy of wealth I¡¯d seen on him so far.


    So modest, Rhys Marchand.


    ¡°How descriptive,¡± I say. ¡°Please try to rein in your flowerynguage.¡±


    His lips twitch. ¡°I think I like you best when you¡¯re being sarcastic.¡±


    ¡°Because that¡¯s your native tongue?¡±


    A full-fledged smile now, the crooked, glorious thing that it is. ¡°Yes. Thank you for recognizing that.¡±


    I smooth a hand down my dress. It¡¯s one of my own, and couldn¡¯t I have packed nicer things? The ck, scalloped dress is certainly nice, but it¡¯s a far cry from the red silk I¡¯d worn on the streets of St. Barts. I¡¯d just assumed I¡¯d be in the agency clothes most of the time.


    Rhys stops outside an innocuous-looking facade, and swears under his breath. ¡°Of course he wanted to meet here.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with this ce?¡± It looks nice. Inviting. I nce down at the menu, but I don¡¯t understand a single thing listed apart from the prices.


    And I nearly have a heart-attack. 120 euros for¡­ whatever magret de canard is?


    I can¡¯t afford that. I mean, I can, but I shouldn¡¯t. I save everything I can and it¡¯s not to spend it on this. But then Rhys¡¯s hand settles on my lower back and he whispers in my ear that he¡¯ll trante the menu for me and I focus on smiling.


    Buffer. Dinner. Cousin. Focus on moneyter.


    And for 120 euros for dinner, you bet your ass I¡¯m going to photograph the hell out of that meal.


    ¡°What was wrong with this ce?¡± I whisper as Rhys leads me through a darkened corridor. A hostess dressed in, well, wow, that was revealing, leads us down a pair of stairs and out onto a secluded courtyard. Lanterns hang from the branches of a giant olive tree and the chairs are filled with throw pillows.


    ¡°It¡¯s very trendy,¡± Rhys murmurs back, distaste dripping from thest word. Something¡¯s working in his jaw. Damn, but he really does need me here as a buffer.


    ¡°The horror,¡± I whisper back. Smile for me.


    He doesn¡¯t, but the nce he shoots me is approving. Note to self-keep deploying sarcasm against Rhys Marchand.


    A young man rises from a nearby table, curly brown hair and intelligent eyes looking us over. I get the impression that he sees far more than simply our forms. ¡°Rhys!


    His voice rolls over the r and drags out the middle ees.


    Rhys sps his cousin on the shoulder. ¡°Baptiste.¡±


    A flurry of French, too quick for me to follow, ensues. And then I¡¯m introduced. ¡°This is my co-worker, Ivy.¡±


    Co-worker. I almost want to elbow Rhys for that one, but I don¡¯t, extending my hand to Baptiste. He ignores it and leans in to kiss me on both cheeks, smelling faintly of rosewater. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure,¡± he tells me, ¡°to meet a friend of Rhys¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡±


    Baptiste looks at Rhys with a wide smile. ¡°Traveling the world with a beautiful model, hein? Not a bad job to have.¡±


    Rhys reaches for the menu. ¡°I¡¯ve had worse.¡±


    ¡°When Rhys told me you were joining us, I had a look at your social media,¡± Baptiste tells me. ¡°The amount of followers, whew. It must be challenging?¡±


    ¡°It can be, yes. I mean, it is. I¡¯m still not entirelyfortable with it, especially not considering so many of my followers are young.¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Young, an impressionable. I know exactly what striving for unrealistic beauty standards feels like, and the idea that I might be contributing that myself¡­


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Baptiste says. ¡°And using that kind of thing for marketing, too? You must be swamped with people wanting you to, ah, promote things?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, I get a ton of messages. I turn it all down, though.¡± I order the cheapest thing on the menu, but it¡¯s still eighty-seven euros. Live now, think about moneyter, I tell myself. The waitress is more than attentive to us, going so far as to bring us an extra bread basket.


    It feels like unusually good service in a city Rhys had just earlier derided for itsck of hospitality.


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Baptiste says at some point, waving his hand at Rhys. ¡°I¡¯m d you¡¯re here, Ivy. Perhaps you can settle a dispute between us.¡±


    ¡°Not this again,¡± Rhys groans.


    ¡°Yes, yes. You see, my American cousin believes that Paris is overrated. Over-hyped. I keep telling him it isn¡¯t-no Parisian could ever say that. Rhys disagrees. You, our beautiful guest, will have to decide.¡±


    I take a sip of my wine. ¡°I¡¯ve only been here for a day.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but that¡¯s even better! You¡¯ve seen it all with virgin eyes.¡±


    My wine gets stuck in my throat and I have to cough once, twice. Rhys puts a hand on my back. ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, thanks, I¡¯m fine.¡±


    Baptiste looks between the two of us. ¡°Or perhaps you¡¯re not impartial, ah? You¡¯re biased?¡±


    ¡°Baptiste.¡± There¡¯s a warning in Rhys¡¯s voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a question.¡± His smile turns teasing, raising a ss to me. ¡°We¡¯re bing friends, aren¡¯t we, Ivy?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I raise my ss to his. ¡°And I¡¯m not biased.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C21

    ¡°No.¡±


    He nces toward Rhys, smile widening. ¡°Good to know.¡±


    The dinner is nearly over when I finally start picking up on the reason I¡¯m supposed to be a buffer. Baptiste¡¯s voice turns casual, nonchnt. ¡°And of the family, Rhys? What¡¯s be of my other cousins?¡±


    Rhys pushes his ss of wine away. ¡°They¡¯re good.¡±


    ¡°Henry?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s doing well. Busy, but, when is he not?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Henry,¡± Baptiste agrees. ¡°I remember. Lily?¡±


    An entirely private smile ys on Rhys¡¯s lips. ¡°She¡¯s doing well. Her son is almost a year, now.¡±


    Baptiste sighs. ¡°Little Lily, a mother.¡±


    ¡°Mhm, I know. It was a mindfuck for me, too.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s your sister?¡± I ask, and they both nod. I¡¯m getting to hear about his family. Piece after piece, more of the real Rhys Marchand is falling in line.


    ¡°Parker is good too,¡± Rhys says. How many siblings does he have? ¡°He¡¯s thinking of buying the yacht club, actually.¡±


    ¡°In Paradise?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Parker Marchand, the one sibling that hadn¡¯te up when I¡¯d googled his name. My curiosity feels like a burning thing inside me, one that I can¡¯t really contain. I force it down with another sip of wine.


    ¡°And my aunt and uncle?¡± Baptiste asks, draping his arm around the back of the chair next to him. ¡°They nevere to France anymore.¡±


    Rhys gives a sharp nod. ¡°It¡¯s rare.¡±


    ¡°My mother misses Eloise.¡± Baptiste gives an elegant shrug, reaching for his ss. ¡°It¡¯s a shame, really, that siblings should drift apart like that.¡±


    ¡°It really is,¡± Rhys agrees, reaching for his own.


    There is so much subtext here, and I don¡¯t know any of it.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°But,¡± Rhys drawls, ¡°the good thing is that flights go both ways.¡±


    Baptiste¡¯s lips quirk, but not with any real humor. ¡°So they do, cousin. So they do.¡±


    Both of them pause to drink wine.


    I stare at one of the waitresses moving between the tables and try to think of a way to undercut this tension, to turn this thing around. Ie up empty.


    ¡°D¡¯ord,¡± Baptiste murmurs. And then, in a voice that makes it clear we¡¯re turning the page, he asks me, ¡°and what are your ns for your one night in Paris?¡±


    ¡°My ns?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Where is Rhys taking you after this?¡±


    I nce toward Rhys, but his face is the same inscrutable mask he always wears. ¡°I think we¡¯re going back to the hotel?¡± I ask him.


    ¡°Of course you¡¯re not.¡± Baptiste waves for the check. ¡°You¡¯reing out with me.¡±


    ¡°We are?¡±


    Rhys sighs. ¡°We can¡¯t be outte.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know, I know¡­ but there¡¯s a great bar just around the corner. It¡¯s not even midnight, no way you¡¯re leaving yet.¡± He grins at me. ¡°Let us show you the real Paris.¡±


    And unlike with Paolo, I find myself nodding. ¡°Okay. Yeah, let¡¯s.¡±


    He gets up and stretches, smiling at us both. ¡°Restroom break, like you say.¡±


    Rhys shakes his heads and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. ¡°We don¡¯t have to go,¡± he says quietly.


    ¡°Do you not want to?¡±


    Another beat of silence. And then, ¡°I do want to see you dance again.¡±


    We could be anywhere, surrounded by anyone, and I wouldn¡¯t be able to look away from his eyes. They¡¯re dark and unfathomable and tentative. Like he¡¯s offering a tiny bit of truth, and it¡¯s not cloaked in sarcasm or wit.


    I swallow. ¡°Okay, yeah. We¡¯ll do that.¡±


    Rhys pays the entire bill. When I try to stop him, he just shakes his head. ¡°I invited you out,¡± he says, returning the ck credit card to his wallet. ¡°It¡¯s only fair.¡±


    But his eyes aren¡¯t entirely clear, and I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s because of me or because of Baptiste¡¯s convenient restroom excuse after asking for the bill.


    There¡¯s more here than meets the eye, but hasn¡¯t that always been the case with Rhys Marchand?


    Rhys


    Baptiste monopolizes Ivy during the short walk to the nearby bar. It¡¯s not surprising-I¡¯m starting to understand the impulse-but I have to clench my teeth together to keep from interrupting him as he asks what it¡¯s really like to be a model.


    Like it¡¯s a mode of being and not a profession.


    I shouldn¡¯t have epted his text to go out to dinner. The possibility of an evening alone in Paris, perhaps showing Ivy around, drawing out the magic that Paris possesses but is so good at hiding¡­ yeah, that would have been better. But the opportunity has passed.


    I force my clenched fist to rx at my side as Baptiste loops back around to me. Nearly as tall as me, we¡¯d once been thick as thieves growing up. Summers spent in the French countryside had seen us racing on bikes down to the ocean. He¡¯d been someone to discuss French history with that my siblings weren¡¯t interested in. If it wasn¡¯t a painter, Lily wouldn¡¯t listen-if it wasn¡¯t an architect, Henry wouldn¡¯t. Parker didn¡¯t care about history at all.


    But things had changed sometime in our teens, and irrevocably when I left Paris all those years ago.


    ¡°A model,¡± he whispers to me in French, sping my shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re really living in the fastne, Rhys!¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a person.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C22

    ¡°Of course, of course. And you¡¯re not together?¡±


    I consider lying. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Baptiste¡¯s smile is wide. ¡°A model,¡± he repeats to himself before returning to Ivy¡¯s side. Her hair flows softly down her back, and the dress she¡¯s wearing fits her better than anything she¡¯s worn so far on the trip. It¡¯s more¡­ her. Understated. Gorgeous.


    Natural.


    She gives us both a wide, blinding smile when we stop outside the bar. Music sts through the open door. ¡°Is this the ce?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s not too loud, is it?¡±


    ¡°Not at all!¡±


    I step past Baptiste as we enter and put a hand on her low back, bending to whisper.


    ¡°We can leave whenever you want,¡± I tell her. ¡°Just let me know.¡±


    She turns her face up, distractingly close. ¡°All right. Dance with me?¡±


    She smells like woman and warm skin and whatever sweet, floral shampoo she¡¯s used. And there¡¯s only one response. ¡°If you want to.¡±


    Her smile is a mischievous thing, reminding me that she¡¯s more than I¡¯d first thought she was. She disappears into the bar, nodding for us to continue. I shrug to Baptiste and follow her inside, with him on my heels.


    Ivy weaves her way to the middle of the dance floor. I follow her less gracefully, using elbows and half-shouted pardons.


    She finds the rhythm instantly, as if she¡¯d been waiting to since she heard the song. Baptiste asks her what she¡¯d like to drink, and shoots me an obnoxious smile as he heads to the bar to get it for her.


    So he can pay for her drink but not his own dinner?


    It¡¯s such a small thing, but knowing what he would have asked me if Ivy wasn¡¯t there, it grates.


    She beckons me closer, holding on to my shoulders to reach my ear. ¡°This ce is amazing,¡± she tells me.


    ¡°It¡¯s like every other bar back in New York,¡± I half-shout back.


    Her smile then is breathtaking. She¡¯s truly enjoying this, seedy and cramped though it is. ¡°Yes,¡± she shouts back, ¡°but it¡¯s not in New York!¡±


    I grin back at her at that. She¡¯s embracing the adventure, and for fuck¡¯s sake, so should I. It¡¯s my brand, after all.


    Baptiste returns soon enough, handing her a tall cocktail and me a beer. Ivy manages that careful, oddly feminine thing of dancing while she¡¯s sipping her drink, her body fluid. Having seen her dance salsa in St. Barts, I know she¡¯s talented, but somehow she can carry that over to the mindless beating drums of contemporary pop. It¡¯s spectacr to watch.


    I want to photograph her dancing.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    A well-lit studio and Ivy twirling to a song that only she hears. The image strikes me suddenly, the angles, how I could try to capture movement with a still image.


    Baptiste¡¯s attempts to engage her in conversation are skillfully deflected. She smiles and dances, tossing her hair, a moving flurry under the beating lights. He doesn¡¯t seem to mind, which is his style, but I¡¯m irrationally pleased nheless.


    It¡¯s not my business if she chooses to spend time with Paolo or Baptiste.


    And yet, I¡¯m d she¡¯s not taking their bait. And why should she? I have no doubt this is amonce urrence for her.


    The music shifts into a deep, throbbing beat that I feel in my bones. Ivy tosses her hair and twists her hips a little, subtle but irresistible, and nces my way. There¡¯s a smile on her lips.


    Maybe it¡¯s her. Maybe it¡¯s the alcohol.


    But I can¡¯t look away, and through it all, it feels like she¡¯s dancing for me, because I asked her to.


    A woman stops at my side, putting a hand on my elbow. She says something in low French that I don¡¯t hear.


    I bend my head. ¡°Pardon?¡±


    She repeats her question, a variant of do youe here often? I¡¯m a bit harsher in my response than I usually am, but I thank her for her interest and tell her I¡¯m here with someone. Not technically a lie, not technically the truth. I¡¯m skirting the line.


    I¡¯m starting to skirt a lot of lines.


    When I nce back, Ivy¡¯s not where I¡¯d left her. She¡¯s dancing with Baptiste and he has his arm around her shoulders. The emotion that courses through me isn¡¯t something I¡¯ll be proud ofter.


    I push my way through the throng of people, and perhaps I¡¯ve gonepletely mad, but I see relief in Ivy¡¯s eyes. She slips under Baptiste¡¯s arm andes to my side, still moving, as if she¡¯s never stopped dancing. As if it¡¯s all part of the routine.


    Baptiste gives me a shrug, the universal sign of I had to try, and nods toward the bar. He disappears a few secondster.


    Ivy looks up at me with a smile. ¡°I think your cousin was interested in me,¡± she says, but because of the loud music, she has to stand on her tiptoes. Her hand curls around my bicep for support and God help me, but I flex.


    ¡°I know he was,¡± I say in her ear, pushing her hair out of the way. ¡°First Paolo, now Baptiste? Must be tough being this wanted.¡±


    Her hand tightens on my arm, and her voice¡­ ¡°They don¡¯t actually want me,¡± she says. ¡°They want the idea of me.¡±


    But before I can ask her to borate, she pulls away from me with a smile and turns. Her dress flows around her, long legs on disy.


    ¡°Onest song,¡± she mouths, beckoning me forward. So I do. I dance to music I despise, in a club I¡¯ve never heard of, in a city I haveplicated feelings for, all for a sarcastic girl with golden hair and boundless positivity.


    I tell Baptiste we¡¯re leaving as soon as he returns. He makes the usual arguments, but I silence them with we have to work tomorrow.


    He pulls me in for a half-hug. ¡°Take care. Come back soon, and bring some of your siblings. We¡¯ll go down to the countryside.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to convince them,¡± I say, already knowing it¡¯s a battle I¡¯ll lose. Not offering an invitation to New York.


    Ivy surprises me by grabbing my hand, pulling me toward the exit. We emerge into the still-warm air of Paris past midnight. It feels like a legendary night in the making.


    Ivy is beaming. ¡°Let¡¯s walk back to the hotel.¡±


    ¡°We could,¡± I agree, shoving my hands in my pockets. ¡°But it¡¯s a rather long walk.¡±


    ¡°Give me the stats.¡±


    ¡°A mile?¡±


    ¡°In minutes.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C23

    ¡°About twenty. Think your feet can handle it?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡± She nces down at her t shoes. ¡°I got to choose my own today, and I want to see Paris at night.¡±


    I nod toward an adjoining street, leading us down to the Seine. ¡°It¡¯s best at night. The tourists are all gone.¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t like tourists, do you?¡±


    ¡°No, I really don¡¯t,¡± I say. Her voice has a floaty, airy quality, and her cheeks are rosy. The wine must be affecting her, too. ¡°Tell me what you meant, earlier.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡± She bnces along a low ledge, hair falling forward to hide her face. The street we¡¯re following is deserted, a stark contrast to the cacophony of cars that traffic it during the day. That¡¯s one of the things that¡¯s a pro in Paris¡¯s book as opposed to New York¡¯s-despite being a major world capital, Paris most definitely sleeps.


    The French never miss their beauty sleep.


    ¡°You said that men want the idea of you.¡±


    She jumps down from the ledge with a soft bend of her knees. ¡°I say a lot of things.¡±


    ¡°Are you deflecting?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Is it working?¡±


    ¡°Not particrly.¡±


    She pushes back a strand of hair, notching it behind her ear. ¡°You really want to hear a modelin about how tough it is to be a model? It¡¯s usually a tough sell.¡±


    She¡¯s joking, but I wonder¡­


    ¡°Everyone has problems. You¡¯re part of everyone, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She nces at me out the side of her eye, like she¡¯s judging how sincere I am. Is she worried I¡¯ll make fun of it? A faint pang of guilt hits me at the first words she¡¯d heard me speak.


    ¡°Fine. People hear the word model and it dazzles them. It¡¯s like a neon sign goes off in their heads. I can see it in some men¡¯s eyes, especially. It¡¯s like I be abel or an item on a checklist. Something to tick off.¡±


    ¡°I apologize for my cousin,¡± I say.


    Sheughs, trailing a hand along the stone fence that guards off pedestrians from the murky waters of the Seine below. ¡°He¡¯s not your responsibility.¡±


    ¡°Still, my apologies.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Thank you. I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d understand, you know, considering you¡¯re immune to models and all¡­¡±


    I groan. ¡°I¡¯m always going to be reminded of myments, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes. At least until I stop being annoyed by them.¡±


    ¡°And when will that be?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t hold your breath,¡± she says. ¡°Or do, actually. Perhaps you¡¯ll set a world record. Something new to add to your shelf of trophies.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m a collector of trophies?¡±


    She gives me a winning smile. ¡°Yes. You wouldn¡¯t call them anything that mundane, though.¡±


    Our gazes lock. Challenge dances in her eyes, lit by the moonlight. Her words are teasing but true, striking through a calcted exterior. She digs her teeth into her lower lip. ¡°Will you tell me why you needed a buffer with your cousin?¡±


    I run a hand through my hair. ¡°Is it too much to ask that you drop that?¡±


    ¡°Not likely. I¡¯m good at deflecting deflections too, you know.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve noticed.¡±


    ¡°Besides, I¡¯ve just told you my deepest darkest secret.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°That men sometimes think you¡¯re nothing but a pretty face? That can¡¯t be your darkest secret.¡±


    Ivy¡¯s smile is cheeky. ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s that I can¡¯t raise just one eyebrow like that, like you can. How do you do it and can you teach me?¡±


    ¡°Deflecting.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re deflecting.¡± She gives me a shove and I step out onto the empty road, hands in my pockets. ¡°I asked you first about my job as a buffer.¡±


    ¡°Noment,¡± I say.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t an interview,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m not a journalist. You don¡¯t get to say that.¡±


    I groan. ¡°You¡¯re worse than any journalist I¡¯ve ever encountered.¡±


    ¡°And have you encountered many?¡±


    ¡°My fair share,¡± I say darkly, thinking about the multiple family portraits my father liked the press to do when I was younger. All of us kids interviewed and made to recite pre-prepared answers.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯lly off,¡± she says. ¡°He seemed nice though. You guys had a lot of stories from your childhood.¡±


    ¡°It had its highlights.¡±


    She bumps me again. ¡°Come on, spending your summers in the south of France? Do you know how you sound?¡±


    ¡°As privileged as a modelining about being pretty?¡± I raise an eyebrow. ¡°How about we both concede that we¡¯re privileged, and we won¡¯t use that against one another.¡±


    ¡°A privilege truce,¡± she repeats. ¡°I can agree to that.¡±


    And then she extends her hand to me, a wide smile on her face. She gives them away so freely, those smiles, the ones that make me feel like I¡¯ve somehow be one of her favorite people in the whole world. It¡¯s as undeserved as it is addicting.


    I shake her hand. It¡¯s soft and warm in mine, and even though there¡¯s no loud music to me this on, I pull her closer as I reply. ¡°Truce.¡±


    ¡°Truce,¡± she murmurs. My eyes drop toward her lips and then the expanse of skin down her arms, and through my hazy, wine-addled mind, I recognize something. She¡¯s cold.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t bring a jacket.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C24

    ¡°No,¡± she murmurs, her hand slipping from mine.


    I shrug out of my thin leather jacket and hand it to her. She epts, fingers curving over mine. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Don¡¯t mention it.¡±


    We turn onto a bridge spanning the river, wooden beams beneath our feet and lights glittering across the water. My jacket hangs over her shoulders.


    I clear my throat. ¡°This bridge used to be where couples put love locks.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Used to be?¡±


    I nod, pointing to a panel of plexiss. ¡°It got too heavy. The mayor decided to cut them all down.¡±


    Ivy¡¯s smile turns wistful. ¡°That¡¯s a shame. Well, perhaps you don¡¯t think that. You probably think it was touristy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like that I¡¯m so predictable to you.¡±


    Sheughs, slowing to a halt on the bridge. ¡°Only sometimes. You didn¡¯t think it was romantic at all?¡±


    ¡°Mmm. Perhaps a bit.¡± I step closer, unable to resist. ¡°Although, I suspect most who did it were only doing so because it was a thing to do.¡±


    She nods. ¡°So it would only have been romantic if you¡¯d have been the first to do it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    ¡°Admit it,¡± she murmurs. ¡°You like it when I challenge you.¡± Behind her, the Seine glitters with reflecting lights, as age-old bridges and riverbanks are illuminated. It¡¯s a beautiful sight. It¡¯s Paris.


    But I can¡¯t tear my gaze away from Ivy, from the smile on her face. It¡¯s innocent and teasing at the same time, like she¡¯s offering me something that she knows she shouldn¡¯t be.


    A mistake we need to make.


    ¡°It¡¯s growing on me,¡± I admit.


    She sways closer, a strand of blonde hair curving over her cheek. My hand aches to smooth it back. ¡°Thank you for showing me Paris today.¡±


    ¡°Do you feel like you¡¯ve had the full experience?¡± I reach up to smooth the piece of hair back. My finger doesn¡¯t stop, though, running down the soft skin of her cheek.


    Her eyes are wide, but not afraid. ¡°Almost. I suppose there¡¯s one thing I technically haven¡¯t done that was on the list.¡±


    ¡°It was on a list?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You see, my sister made me add¡­¡±


    ¡°Add what?¡±


    A blush creeps up her cheeks. ¡°Well, they call it the city of love.¡±


    ¡°Do they? I hadn¡¯t heard.¡± I rest my fingers on her neck, using my thumb to turn her head up toward me. She¡¯s the perfect height for me.


    ¡°It¡¯s one of those tourist things,¡± she breathes.


    ¡°Exins why I don¡¯t know it.¡± I run my thumb over her full bottom lip. Disconnect the part of my brain that tells me this is a bad idea. ¡°Let me guess, then.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°You want to be kissed in Paris.¡± I can hear the roughness in my voice. Does she, too?


    ¡°To gain the full experience, yes.¡± Her handse up to rest on my chest. Can she feel how my heart is beating?


    My other hand finds her waist, curling around it. ¡°I can help with that.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she murmurs.


    Her eyes flutter closed as I close the distance between us, the most beautiful image I¡¯ll never be able to capture on camera. It¡¯ll have to be stored in my mind instead, but stored it will be, because I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever be able to forget how Ivy Hart looks under the Parisian moonlight, standing on a bridge with her face turned up for me to kiss.


    I ghost my lips over hers gently, once, twice, almost not kissing. Drawing out the anticipation. Her fingers curl into fists in the fabric of my shirt.


    I put us both out of our misery and kiss her fully.


    I¡¯d nned on maintaining self-control, on this being a soft, tentative kiss, one to remember. Kissed in Paris, the memory.


    But this kiss has a mind of its own, or perhaps my lips do, because soft and tentative are thest two words applicable here.


    I flick my tongue along her lips and she opens to me, tasting warm and sweet and just faintly like whatever drink she¡¯d just had. My grip on her tightens, as if this sensation might float away if I don¡¯t hold on.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    And Ivy, dear God¡­ her arms twine around my neck in a surrender that feelsplete, and so trusting. My left hand knots itself in her hair. It¡¯s just as soft as I¡¯d imagined.


    And I don¡¯t want to let go.


    It scares me just how much I don¡¯t want to lift my head from hers. Howpletely her sweetness floods my system and hijacks my thinking. It feels like it takes ten years of my life, like it costs me half my hair to grayness, but I press my lips softly to hers onest time. The space between us fills with the sound of our breathing.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she whispers. ¡°That was¡­ yeah. Okay.¡±


    I untangle my hand from her hair and slide it down, gripping her waist with both of mine. She looks like she could use the steadying.


    ¡°Just okay?¡±


    Her eyes flutter open and she smiles at me. Is it just me or does she look dazed? ¡°Better than okay.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°My ego smarts, but I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    ¡°As if I could bruise your ego.¡± She slips her hands down from around my neck, my skin tingling through the shirt where she touches. ¡°Kissed in Paris. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Happy to oblige.¡± I let go of her, force my hands to drop to my sides. My entire body still curves toward her, and I swear, if she were to turn up her face and ask for a second round¡­

 Red Hot Rebel C25

    But she doesn¡¯t. She nods to the other side of the river, a fierce blush on her cheeks. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to the hotel.¡±


    Ivy


    I¡¯m packed and my hair and makeup is done early the next morning. We only have a half day left to shoot in Paris, and most of that will be filming me walking around little streets and alleys. We¡¯ve yet to shoot by the Eiffel Tower, too, which is an absolute must.


    Beneath the fluffy hotel robe, I¡¯m wearing the flowy summer dress the agency put me in. It clings to my shape perfectly, which means I¡¯ll have to think about not hunching over. Combined with the hat they want me to wear and the ts, it does feel a bit¡­ French countryside-ish, not that I have any frame of reference outside of movies.


    Sitting on the giant gilded bed, the covers neatly made, my heart feels like it¡¯s in my throat. Rhys will be here any minute, knocking on that door with his camera in hand, like he has for the past few days.


    We said goodbyest night right outside that door, his kiss still lingering on my lips.


    It¡¯s only been five days since we left New York, and in that short amount of time I¡¯ve managed to kiss him. My sister would pass out if I told her, but not before she yelled I told you so!


    My lips still tingle at the memory.


    I haven¡¯t been kissed often. I¡¯ve rarely let men get that close, and every time it¡¯s happened, I haven¡¯t been able to get out of my own head. But with Rhys, staying in my own head hadn¡¯t been an option.


    For the first time ever, it didn¡¯t feel like I was on the outside looking in. I was fully there with him, my lips moving with his.


    It was the kind of kiss that makes you understand why people love kissing so much. It was the kind of kiss that makes you want another.


    There¡¯s a knock on the door.


    And he¡¯s there when I open it, a stray lock falling down across his forehead. A dark eyebrow is already raised. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Good morning.¡± I rock back on my heels, unable to keep from smiling. Why am I nervous? ¡°Did you sleep well?¡±


    ¡°I did. Did you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He looks down at me. ¡°Did you forget to get dressed?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The robe?¡± He narrows his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not terribly hungover, are you?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all. I was actually going to ask you for a favor. Come on,e inside.¡±


    Rhys steps into my hotel room, and it shrinks. Perhaps that¡¯s one of the undiscoveredws of physics or he¡¯s just bending them entirely, but there¡¯s a lot less space with him standing in here.


    ¡°Another favor?¡±


    Another? Does he mean the kiss yesterday?


    ¡°Yes. Not¡­ yes. Here.¡± I hand him my phone and struggle to find my way back to a joke, to our camaraderie. ¡°I know you hate photographing with smartphones, so I¡¯m asking you to go against your own principles here.¡±


    He groans. ¡°You want me to take a picture of you?¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± I open the double doors to my balcony, weing the already-warm air of the city. The sky is a beautiful pale blue, strewn with wispy clouds, and the Eiffel Tower beckons in the distance.


    Nothing could break my happiness today, not even Rhys Marchand¡¯s witheringments.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°While I¡¯m standing here. Is that okay?¡±


    He looks from my phone to me. ¡°That depends. My fee is pretty steep.¡±


    ¡°Shoot. Do you ept favors? I bet you¡¯ll need my help with something during this trip.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°I already have-and you helped me with that yesterday.¡±


    For a mind-numbing second, I think he¡¯s referring to the kiss. But no, it¡¯s Baptiste, the dinner, and my role as buffer.


    ¡°Right. Well then, take pictures of me here, and then we¡¯re even.¡±


    ¡°Is this for your social media ounts?¡± he asks.


    My fingers clutch around the balcony railing. ¡°It might be.¡±


    He grumbles behind me.


    ¡°I know you hate that,¡± I add.


    ¡°Yes. But it¡¯s the game I hate, not the yer.¡± He holds up my phone. ¡°Let me attempt a bit of pointing and shooting, then.¡±


    I pose against the balcony railing, my robe wrapped tightly around me. Rhys backs up a little, changes his angles as I transition between poses. We¡¯ve only been shooting together for a few days, and most of those had been fraught with tension.


    Now it¡¯s starting to feel¡­ natural. I know what angles he¡¯ll ask me for before he does. He knows what poses I look best in before I shift into them.


    I¡¯ve never shot with the same photographer for this long.


    ¡°This is a good idea,¡± he says, brow furrowed, the way it always is when he photographs. Concentration makes his features sharpen in intensity. ¡°You¡¯re selling the hotel this way, too.¡±


    ¡°Rieler might want one of these shots too.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Maybe.¡±


    I nod towards the double doors. ¡°What do you call French doors in France?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Just doors, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a riddle.¡± I turn around, tossing my hair down my back, and lean out over the railing. The Eiffel Tower is gorgeous in the distance. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever tire of this view,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°To the left.¡±


    ¡°Look?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C26

    I do as he says, and when I glimpse back, he¡¯s shooting with his big camera. ¡°For Rieler?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡­ well, you had a good idea.¡±


    My lips curve. ¡°Bound to happen every now and then.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± he says, but there¡¯s a smirk there, too.


    ¡°So what do you have against social media?¡± I ask him, turning around to look at him. He keeps shooting, so I keep posing, even as I wait for his reply. Closing my eyes and tilting my head back. Gripping the waistband of my robe.


    Rhys finally lowers the camera. ¡°I recognize that it can be great,¡± he says, words measured. Like he¡¯s being careful. ¡°For keeping in touch with people, for getting news. But more and more, people seem to be turning to social media for human connection rather than to, you know, actual humans. Not to mention that the beauty standards on social media are sending kids¡¯ self-esteem to record lows.¡±


    His words are a bucket of ice water.


    I tug my robe off, revealing the dress I¡¯d worn beneath, and head back into the hotel room. He follows silently. He doesn¡¯t speak when I pull on my shoes either, and he helps me roll one of my giant suitcases down the corridor. We don¡¯t speak until we¡¯ve checked our bags in with the concierge for the day, not until we¡¯re out on the bright streets of Paris.


    ¡°Hey, I know that was harsh,¡± he says.


    I don¡¯t reply for a moment, because I don¡¯t feel like I can.


    ¡°Ivy¡­¡±


    ¡°You prefer brutal honesty.¡± I look up at the sky, because I can¡¯t look at him. The sharp sting of his early judgement is back, but it¡¯s so much more cutting this time, because it¡¯s reaching a wound that¡¯s already hurting. ¡°You touched on one of my biggest fears,¡± I admit.


    Rhys doesn¡¯t reply, but there¡¯s permission in the silence. My words find their way out. ¡°I know this industry is shallow, and models are just¡­ just models. Paid to look pretty. I mean, part of that is what you said just two weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°I could have phrased it better.¡±


    ¡°You know, when the average woman sees a picture of me that¡¯s in an ad or a magazine, it¡¯s gone through so many rounds of editing. And I¡¯m talking before it ever became digital-this is my job.¡± I pause, pointing to my hair. ¡°Professional highlights. My skin? The agency pays for a dermatologist that I see every month. I¡¯m never in the sun. This tan is fake, courtesy of the agency. I work out pretty much every day, and I¡¯ve worked with both personal trainers and dietitians. My job is to look the best I possibly can. Who else can say that? And when images of me, or of other models, end up on social media¡­ There are additional filters. Retouching. And knowing that teenagerspare themselves to¡­ I know, Rhys,¡± I grind out. ¡°I know. And yet social media and beauty is the currency of my industry. I don¡¯t know how to escape it.¡±


    ¡°Shut down your ounts,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I¡¯m not saying you have to, but if this is eating at you, that¡¯s one solution.¡±


    I look away from him. ¡°I suggested it to my agency. Mentioned it in passing, actually. That I was tiring of the whole thing.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°I was informed in no uncertain terms that if I did that, I could find myself another agency.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±


    ¡°I wish I was.¡±


    His hand closes around my arm. ¡°They actually said that?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t tell people that, though.¡±


    ¡°Of course I won¡¯t. But Ivy¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the industry.¡± I shrug. ¡°How many followers girls have on social media determines what gigs they book, what opportunitiese their way, their ie¡­ It¡¯s everything. That was why I was so happy when I got this job, apart from the obvious-all the traveling. I¡¯m not the model with the highest follower count or the most experience at the agency, but I still booked this one.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s expression is impossible to decipher, like so much of his personality. Is he judging me? Pitying me? It could be either and everything in between.


    ¡°I¡¯ve tried,¡± I say, but it sounds weak to my own ears. ¡°I never edit the pictures I post. I try to be more real, to show behind-the-scenes photos too.¡±


    No sign of his emotions in his eyes. Does it sound as pathetic apromise to him as it does to me?


    But then he sighs. ¡°You¡¯re stuck in between a rock and a hard ce.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    But what he¡¯d said so sinctly, summed up and neat, had felt like salt in a pre-existing wound. One I¡¯ve pondered how best to heal, with every solutioning up short. I don¡¯t want to be part of the reason why people feel bad. I don¡¯t want to be someone peoplepare themselves to, not appearance wise.


    Rhys slides his hand in his back pocket and hands me my phone, which I¡¯d forgotten about at the hotel. It looks small in his grip. Innocent. Like it¡¯s not the home of all of these problems.


    ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out,¡± he tells me. ¡°The fact that you¡¯re already thinking about this makes it clear you will. There are tons of public profiles who use their tforms for good.¡±


    My smile is a bit forced. The ones who do aren¡¯t models, but then again, I¡¯m not nning on being one forever. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°You know what else I¡¯m right about?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to spend the entire day shooting. After we¡¯re done by the Eiffel Tower, I want to show you a few ces around town. We have enough time before we have to head to the airport.¡±


    ¡°ces you visited when you lived here?¡±


    ¡°The very ones.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to get a tour through Rhys Marchand¡¯s Paris? Does that make me a tourist?¡±


    Rhys shakes his head and looks away, but he¡¯s smiling. ¡°Don¡¯t go there.¡±


    ¡°Will you be carrying a little sign, so I don¡¯t get lost? Are headphones included?¡±


    ¡°Another joke out of you and the tour is cancelled,¡± he says, nodding ahead. ¡°Let¡¯s go. The faster we take pictures of you, the quicker we can look at the city.¡±


    I pretend to lock up my lips and follow him toward the Eiffel Tower in the distance. We work quickly, gathering the shots necessary for the agency. Rhys adds a few extra ideas, having me stop to buy a croissant, sitting along the Seine, buying art from one of the street vendors. I actually go through with it, too, buying a small painting of the French skyline.


    It¡¯ll hang in my tiny New York apartment. I already know the spot.


    ¡°Tourist,¡± Rhys tells me.


    ¡°Cynic,¡± I tell him, and I win, because his lips curve into a half-smile.


    We film a lot by the Eiffel Tower-me walking down the steps of Trocadero, with Paris in the foreground. Me sitting on the steps and sipping on a cup of coffee. The clips will be put to good use when he edits together the travel film.


    ¡°All right,¡± he finally deres, screwing on the lens of his camera. He¡¯s staunchly ignoring the tittering of a few teenage girls who have stopped to watch us as we work. The attention makes me ufortable in a way it rarely does. I don¡¯t want those girls topare themselves to me.


    I stand, brushing off a few leaves from my dress. ¡°You got what you needed?¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

 Red Hot Rebel C27

    ¡°Yes.¡± He hands me my bag without question. ¡°Time to switch your footwear.¡±


    I hold on to his arm as I slide out of my strappy, heeled sandals and into myfortable loafers.


    Goodbye pinched feet, hello freedom.


    ¡°That¡¯s something I wouldn¡¯t be sad if humanity had never invented,¡± I say. ¡°Heels.¡±


    Rhys nces back at the people watching us. A few have snapped pictures, probably thinking that his equipment and my posing meant we might ¡°be¡± someone. They¡¯ll be disappointed when they realize we¡¯re not.


    ¡°Smartphones,¡± he mutters.


    I snort. ¡°You¡¯re very predictable sometimes.¡±


    He looks at me like I¡¯ve just insulted him gravely, and I can¡¯t help it, I burst outughing.


    A reluctant smile tugs on his lips. ¡°Predictable,¡± he mutters. ¡°My family would have a collective aneurysm if they heard me described that way.¡±


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been your MO in the past?¡± I shoulder my bag and wave a little goodbye to the few people still watching us. Two of the girls wave back and turn around, giggling to one another.


    ¡°Not exactly. Wait¡­¡± He keeps a hand on my arm, the other reaching up to gently untangle a leaf from my hair. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have made you lie down along that hedge.¡±


    ¡°It made for a good shot.¡± I say, speaking more to his Adam¡¯s apple than him. The first few buttons in his shirt are undone, showing a slice of tanned skin.


    It had been easy to forget the kiss while we worked. Well, forget might be too strong of a word. Push it to the side-keep myself from thinking about it, when all I had to do was focus on posing or looking at his camera, not at him.


    But it¡¯s just the two of us now, and no lens in between us.


    He takes a step back. ¡°Come on,¡± he says. ¡°We have ces to see, and Paris waits for no one.¡±


    We grab a cab half of the way, and spend the rest of the time walking around the small streets in St. Germain. He takes me to a bookstore by Notre Dame,plete with two stories and a cat sleeping in one of the chairs.


    ¡°The best English bookstore in Paris,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s be a bit touristy these days, though.¡±


    I look over at where he¡¯s standing, having to duck his head to fit under a low beam. The shirt stretches over wide shoulders as he reaches for a book on a top shelf.


    My mouth is dry when I speak, and I find myself having to clear my throat. ¡°I saw you reading on the ne the other day.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°Do you read a lot?¡±


    ¡°Well, I do run a small publishing house,¡± he says absent-mindedly, turning the paperback he¡¯s holding over to read the back. ¡°So yes. I¡¯ve finished that one, though.¡±


    I follow him, smiling, as he pays for his book and we head out. He shoves it in his back pocket. ¡°Something for the flightter,¡± he says.


    ¡°It¡¯s a long one.¡±


    He nods, face shuttering. ¡°I know.¡±


    I don¡¯t want him shutting down, though. ¡°Have you ever been to Kenya?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s been a while.¡±


    ¡°Have you been to every ce we¡¯re going to?¡±


    The bastard actually needs to take a moment to think about it. ¡°No,¡± he says, ¡°but nearly.¡±


    ¡°This trip must be so boring for you.¡±


    ¡°Unbearably so,¡± he says, but he doesn¡¯t look the least bit bored. ¡°Tell me about your dancing.¡±


    ¡°My dancing?¡±


    ¡°You said the other day that you danced when you were younger. I want to hear about that.¡±


    ¡°You find that interesting?¡±


    He raises an eyebrow in that enviable, maddening way only he seems to be able to. ¡°Yes.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    We pass Notre Dame, the church closed for visitors, and I stop to take a picture. The reconstruction will go on for years. Somewhere to my left, people are speaking in anguage I can¡¯t ce. Rhys might not like tourists, but I do.


    They¡¯re a reminder of all the ces I¡¯ve yet to see and can¡¯t wait to go.


    ¡°I danced for nearly ten years,¡± I say. ¡°From the age of six to sixteen. It was my passion-everything I did was centered on that. Getting as many hours in the studio as I could.¡±


    ¡°It shows,¡± he says. ¡°When you dance.¡±


    Perhaps it¡¯s stupid for that to mean anything, but it does. Something in my chest lurches dangerously. The memory of his lips on mine resurfaces again. Before, under the bright Parisian sun, the kiss we¡¯d shared at midnight felt like an age ago. Belonging to a different time and to different people.


    But now¡­ what would it be like to kiss him right here on the street, without the excuse of alcohol or ambiance?


    ¡°Ivy?¡±


    I blink. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever try to make it into a career?¡±


    The old wound barely hurts anymore, and my bitterness¡­ well, it stings, but it doesn¡¯t linger. ¡°I hurt my knee.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t too bad, in the sense that I¡¯m fine today. I can do practically anything on it, except a job that means jumping or twirling on it for hours on end.¡± I push my hair behind my ear and shrug. ¡°It¡¯s amon enough story for dancers.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t make it any easier.¡± His voice is not distant at all, and not the least bit sardonic. It¡¯s deep and true.


    It¡¯s the same voice who asked mest night if I wanted to be kissed.


    ¡°No, but the years have passed. I¡¯ll always miss it, but¡­ I think it¡¯s been a strength.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C28

    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    I bite my lip. This means putting things into words that I never have before. ¡°That¡¯s to say¡­ I know other models who make this their identity. They¡¯re terrified of the day they have to find another job. But I¡¯ve already had that, in a way. Dancing was my true dream, not modeling.¡± I shake my head. ¡°I know this is falling in the category of privileged problems.¡±


    ¡°Hey, we called a truce on that,¡± he says. ¡°I honor all of my truces.¡±


    A smile tugs at my lips. ¡°I do too. So I take it back.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He pulls us to a pause in the shade of arge tree, right by the Seine. ¡°We have an hour left. You decide what we do. I have suggestions, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure we have time¡­ could we go to the Louvre?¡± I ask. It had been highest on the list of what I wanted to see here, but I¡¯d no idea we¡¯d actually be able to do it. The schedule was tight enough as it was.


    Something pleased flicks through Rhys¡¯s eyes, giving me an inordinate amount of satisfaction, like I¡¯ve given the right answer.


    It makes me want to do it again.


    ¡°We have time,¡± he says. ¡°And Ivy¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°About yesterday. I¡¯m sorry for my cousin.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Don¡¯t be. He was nice.¡±


    The faint furrow in Rhys¡¯s forehead doesn¡¯t disappear. It makes me want to move closer, to rise up and press my lips to his cheek. It¡¯s an impulse I¡¯ve never had with anyone before. The memory of his arms around mees crashing into me like a tidal wave.


    Rhys¡¯s lip curls. ¡°Sure he was. I¡¯m also debating whether I should apologize for what happened on the way home.¡±


    My heart explodes into a stampede in my chest. ¡°Why would you?¡±


    ¡°Just figured you might be regretting it.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°I¡¯m not regretting it.¡±


    Quite the opposite.


    Rhys gives a crooked smile. ¡°Good,¡± he says. ¡°Then I¡¯m not, either.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I murmur. My mind is trying to find something else to add, something clever, but it¡¯s like fighting my way through fog. His face is the only thing I can see. ¡°Thanks for doing me a favor.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been known to be helpful every now and then,¡± Rhys murmurs. ¡°Like right now. Let¡¯s see the Louvre before we have to go to the airport.¡±


    I force myself to nod. We start walking again, and while it¡¯s in no way awkward, I feel like I missed an opportunity somehow. That whatever happenedst night¡­ well, the odds of it happening again have grown slimmer.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    Rhys


    I¡¯m short with the hotel attendant. I¡¯m short with Ivy, too, but she¡¯s used to it after nearly twelve hours of traveling. The flight to Kenya had been a ride from hell. Like the Devil¡¯s private roller coaster.


    Turbulence after turbulence.


    Ivy hadn¡¯t seemed fazed, and I knew there was a possibility that my mind was over-exaggerating things¡­ but fuck, I¡¯m finished with flying after this trip. Done. Trains and boats for me from here on out, thank you very much.


    I know my resolution won¡¯tst. The urge to travel will win out.


    It always does.


    Ivy is talking excitedly with our attendant, named Joy. The drive out to the Rieler¡¯s lodges is near an hour, thendscape changing dramatically as we make our way into nature. The view of endless grasnds and trees is nearly enough to bring me out of my bad mood. It¡¯s been years since I wasst in Africa, and Kenya had been¡­ well, near on fifteen years.


    It had been a family trip, us kids obsessed with the idea of going on a safari. My little sister had created bingo sheets for all of us with hand-drawn images of the animals for us to spot. It hadn¡¯t really worked out-we all saw the animals together, after all, so we all got bingo at the exact same time. But it was cute.


    Joy pulls the Jeep to a stop outside a beautiful lodge. I have to give it to Ben, hispany has sourced some of the most beautiful ces in the world. Dark wood, the lodge is nestled into the surroundingndscape, located on a hillscape.


    The roof is thatched and thick, and wooden double doors beckon. ¡°Wee to your lodge,¡± Joy says, jumping out of the driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°This ce is¡­ wow. It¡¯s beautiful,¡± Ivy says.


    I lift her heavy bag out of the back of the truck. It¡¯s still insane that the agency sent her with this amount of clothes, but¡­ it¡¯s starting to annoy me less.


    Everything about her that once irritated me is starting to do so less.


    ¡°It¡¯s the best lodge we have,¡± Joy says. ¡°It¡¯s top-tier. Come on,e on, let me show you¡­¡±


    We follow her into the lodge, and what greets us is nothing less than the best Rieler has to offer. A giant bed is in the center, nked by windows on either side that open up to thendscape beyond. Private, but right in the middle of nature.


    I look into the other areas of the lodge. A living room, a giant bathroom¡­ but only one bed. Ivy registers it at the same time as I do.


    ¡°Is there another bedroom?¡±


    Joy falters, but only slightly. ¡°No, sir. We were told to set you up in one lodge. Will that be a problem?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all.¡± I¡¯ll grab the couch. Won¡¯t be the worst thing I¡¯ve slept on-not by a long shot.


    Joy¡¯s smile is back. ¡°All right, then. I¡¯ll leave you to get settled. There¡¯s a golf cart outside your lodge, which you can take to go to the main house for breakfast and dinner. We¡¯re just a call away if you need anything at all.¡±


    ¡°And our scheduled safari starts in two hours?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right, sir.¡±


    I sink down into the giant sofa. It¡¯s amazing-it doesn¡¯t hurl through the sky at ungodly speeds. Perhaps I could finally get a bit of shut-eye before we have to shoot. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Ivy talks to Joy on the way out. It¡¯s a long while until she finally makes her way back into the lodge, and when she does, I have to force my eyes open.


    ¡°Are you doing better?¡± she asks.


    I close my eyes again. Something about her noticing that I disliked flying rankles me. It shouldn¡¯t, but it does. Almost as much as the fact that she¡¯d thanked me for doing her a favor by kissing her.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say.


    I¡¯m not. The idea of sleeping just a few feet away from her in this lodge creeps through my system like a disease. It meets with the memory of her lips against mine, heat exploding beneath my skin.

 Red Hot Rebel C29

    Endless possibilities.


    It¡¯ll be tempting to try to get close again, I know myself well enough for that. What¡¯s more-it¡¯ll be tempting to get to know her better. She¡¯s surprised me every step of this trip.


    She¡¯d called me predictable. Me, while she is quickly turning out to be the most unpredictable person I¡¯ve ever met.


    She¡¯s broken ever box I tried to fit her into.


    I put a hand over my forehead and keep my eyes closed against the bright Kenyan light. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep on the couch,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯sfortable enough.¡±


    Ivy gives a softugh. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. Your feet are hanging off it. You don¡¯t fit, Rhys.¡±


    I open my eyes to respond but fall silent. No wordse out. She¡¯s standing over by her open suitcase. And she¡¯s not wearing a shirt.


    Oh, she¡¯s in a bra, and perhaps she thinks that shouldn¡¯t matter to me-I¡¯ve seen her in it before, not to mention shot her in a swimsuit-but it does. Because now it¡¯s just her and me. Because there¡¯s a locked door between us and the outside world.


    And because I know how sweet her lips taste.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Getting ready.¡± She rummages through the suitcase. I watch as she grabs what looks like a ridiculously sized toiletry bag. No human in existence has ever needed a toiletry bag that big.


    ¡°We have two hours to go.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but there¡¯s no hair or makeup artist here.¡± She tucks the bag under her arm and scoops out another one, like she¡¯s carrying all of the world¡¯s products in there. ¡°I¡¯m doing it myself. The agency sent a list of instructions, so I¡¯ll just follow those.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°This is unusual for you, right?¡±


    ¡°Sharing a room with a photographer?¡± She¡¯s smiling as she says it, but it still hits me in my gut. It takes me a second before I can answer.


    ¡°That too, but handling¡­ all of that yourself.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m still not really sure why they didn¡¯t send a stylist with us¡­¡± she muses, rummaging for something. How much stuff does she need? ¡°Considering how much they¡¯re spending on us, and how important this campaign is, I can¡¯t quite understand it.¡±


    I put a hand under my head. A brief pang of guilt hits me, but I shove it away. Telling her I¡¯m the reason we travelled like this-that the bet with Ben had specified no crew and no assistants-would aplish what, exactly?


    Besides, she¡¯ll get paid regardless of the oue. It doesn¡¯t matter which campaign is chosen as the winning one. It only matters for my pride.


    I close my eyes again with that knowledge. ¡°So you need two hours to get ready?¡±


    ¡°Scoff all you like,¡± she says, ¡°but I don¡¯t just walk around looking like I did in Paris or Rome. You¡¯re wee to view part of the prep workter. I could teach you the difference between a foundation and a concealer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass.¡±


    ¡°Your loss,¡± she says brightly. ¡°It does wonders to cover up dark circles under your eyes.¡± The bathroom door closes, and soon thereafter, the shower runs.


    Tiredness is fighting to bring me down, but I force myself to check one final thing. I open the camera on my phone and inspect my face. Whatever she says, I don¡¯t have dark circles under my eyes.


    There¡¯s a message waiting for me from my younger sister.


    Lily: Hope you¡¯re having fun in Kenya! Just checked your itinerary. Sorry I didn¡¯t have time to make you a bingo sheet this time. I also saw that you¡¯ll be back in the States right before Dad¡¯s party. Please, Rhys? Looking forward to seeing the photos you take!


    I put my phone away with a groan, resolving to replyter, even if it won¡¯t be what she wants to hear. I have no ns to attend a party in our father¡¯s honor.


    The sun is high in the sky when I brave the near-sweltering heat on our patio, overlooking the surroundingndscape. It¡¯s not quiet here. No, nature is loud. There are cicadas and birds and somewhere in the distance something muchrger, much angrier makes a sound I can¡¯t identify. The sky is a light blue, the ground nearly beige with dried grass.


    I lean against the railing and just look. This is what life is about-this is what life should be like. Traveling. New experiences. Not a stuffy two-story house in the same town where I was raised, not weekends spent at the Yacht Club, not days in an office. My siblings¡¯ choices were theirs, but this¡­ this is mine.


    Ivyes to stand beside me, so quiet on bare feet that I barely hear her. The scent of soap and shampoo hits me, subtle but powerful. I nce over.


    They¡¯ve put her in a pair of white chinos and a khaki-colored linen shirt,plete withced-up boots and a leather belt. It¡¯s magazine safari clothing.


    And God help me, but yes, I can tell that she¡¯s put in prep work, whatever that means. Her eyes are darker, and somehow they look deeper. Magic. Sorcery. Unnecessary, as if she needed to be more striking.


    ¡°Well?¡± she asks. ¡°Will this do?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll do,¡± I say.


    She leans on the railing next to me. ¡°I know you¡¯d rather be photographing wildebeest than me.¡±


    My lips twitch. ¡°Infinitely preferable in every way but one,¡± I say. ¡°They don¡¯t handle directions as well as you.¡±


    Ivy¡¯s lips curve, but it¡¯s not her wide smile. This one is¡­ well. It reminds me of the one on the bridge in Paris. The one that¡¯s somehow a bit shy, which is thest word I¡¯d ever expected to use to describe Ivy Hart.


    ¡°What apliment,¡± she murmurs.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    A million possible responses race through my head. A million more that I discard immediately.


    The loud sound of a car horn breaks our eye contact. Someone¡¯s outside our lodge, and they¡¯re impatient. I grab my camera equipment and follow Ivy outside to the oversized Jeep,plete with the Rieler logo on the side.


    Joy is standing beside it, a massive grin on her face.


    ¡°Ready for your private safari?¡±


    Ivy¡¯s excitement is obvious, and it¡¯s infectious, even as I listen to the two of them talk. She asks endless questions. So this is a national park? Are there rangers? When was thest time you saw cheetahs? Lions? Leopards?


    I shoot from the side of the car. It¡¯s not difficult to, not with thesendscapes. A horde of gazelles. A giant vulture on the side of a carcass. My entire being itches with the desire to camp out here for a night, to photograph animals up close. To lie in wait with my camera the only tool.


    Joy leads us to a group of elephants, and for nearly half an hour we sit in silence and watch the graceful giants move. The only sound is the clicking of my camera.


    We finally park on arge patch of grassy area, with the savannah behind us. The light is excellent-so we start shooting. Ivy is grinning as she climbs onto the hood of the Jeep. ¡°You want me like this?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, pointing back. ¡°On your elbow¡­ like that.¡± I back up to photograph her, watching through my camera as she adopts her posing face. The one that¡¯s casual and rxed, but disying all the right angles.


    She breaks in five minutes. ¡°Look at me,¡± she says, ¡°just reclining on my Jeep. Come travel with Rieler and you can recline on a Jeep, too!¡±


    I lower my camera. ¡°Ivy,¡± I say, but there¡¯s no real annoyance in my voice.


    She grins at me. ¡°Sorry, I can¡¯t help it. Joy?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C30

    ¡°Yes?¡± our guide calls back, standing to the side with a book in her hand.


    ¡°Is this how most of the guests go on safari?¡±


    Joyughs. ¡°This has to be a first.¡±


    Ivy looks down at her pants. ¡°White has to be the mostmonly worn color, too, when in nature.¡±


    I snort. ¡°That¡¯s on the agency, not on me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, absolutely. The same agency that thought it was important I wore a push-up bra for this.¡± Ivy leans back on both of her elbows and arches her back, her hair spilling down. She might be joking around, but this is a great shot. I grab it, the Jeep in the foreground, the wide-open savannah in the background. Perhaps I¡¯ll be able to edit the horde of elephants into the back¡­


    Ivy turns to look straight at me. ¡°Should I act more like a wildebeest?¡±


    I¡¯m grinning now. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°You sure? Perhaps a giraffe, then?¡± She makes a show of sticking her head up high, as high as she can, looking at me from the corner of her eye.


    I put my camera down. ¡°You¡¯re jetgged.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t know what time it is. Not a clue.¡± She looks up at the sky and closes her eyes, and I take a picture of that too, because¡­ Ivy. ¡°But I¡¯m in a ce I¡¯ve always wanted to see and that¡¯s enough, even if I want to see lions and not sit on a Jeep. But then again, you want to photograph said lions and not me, so perhaps we¡¯re even.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll do,¡± I say, grinning. ¡°The Jeep¡¯s notfortable?¡±


    She puts a hand down on the metal. ¡°Oh, this is thefortablest Jeep hood there ever was.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Get off there, you idiot.¡±


    She jumps off and puts a hand to her forehead, like the clown she¡¯s acting. It¡¯s a far cry from the determined, fierce model I¡¯d seen on the beach in St. Barts, despite her dedication for the rest of the shoot. She poses next to the Jeep, under a gigantic tree, walking through the bush. I grab a beautiful picture of her standing in the Jeep, watching thendscape through a pair of binocrs.


    I film us driving through thendscape. My drone is a whirl above the Jeep, and I¡¯m so focused on getting all the material I need that I barely notice when Ivy sits down next to me in the car.


    ¡°You okay over there?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, my eyes on the camera. The drone is capturing the surroundingndscape. I need to get the lodge, too¡­ perhaps in the morning?


    ¡°I was thinking,¡± she says, ¡°that we can shoot on the balcony too. In our house? Same as we did in Paris.¡±


    ¡°Good idea.¡±


    ¡°You two work so well together,¡± Joyments from the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°I always thought it would be difficult to work with your partner, but you have proved me wrong. Me? I could never work together with my husband.¡± Sheughs at that. ¡°I¡¯d demand a divorce by noon!¡±


    My thumb stops flicking through images I¡¯ve taken.


    Perhaps it¡¯s the devil on my shoulder, or the way Ivy hadughed on that Jeep, but I want to mess with her. See how far I can push. ¡°It¡¯s surprised us too,¡± I tell Joy. ¡°We had the same fear. Didn¡¯t we, Ives?¡±


    Her smile is locked in ce, but the look she shoots me is deadly. ¡°Sure did, honey.¡±


    I give her a wide smile back.


    ¡°Well, the two of you make a beautiful couple,¡± Joy says, pulling onto the dusty road leading to the Rieler resort. ¡°I should be the one photographing the two of you!¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re a couple?¡±


    I bite my tongue to keep from grinning, grateful that the camera is shielding my face. Ivy reclines against the terrace railing, the sunset behind her draping the Kenyanndscape in a golden hue. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help myself.¡±


    ¡°Thought you didn¡¯t like lying.¡±


    ¡°I make exceptions foredy.¡±


    She reaches up to notch a strand of golden hair behind her ear. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good to know.¡±


    ¡°Something to bear in mind?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± She smiles at me, looking straight at the camera. And there¡¯s not a trace of disapproval or dislike on her features. I snap a shot of her like that, looking at me, rather than posing for the camera.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I say. ¡°I think we¡¯ve got all the shots we need out here.¡±


    ¡°Awesome.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just get some of thendscape.¡±


    ¡°That means I can finally remove my face,¡± she says, heading into the lodge.


    ¡°Your face?¡±


    ¡°The makeup!¡± she calls back.


    Shaking my head, I set about capturing thendscape. It¡¯s not long until I have everything I need, which is good, because the sun doesn¡¯t stay. It¡¯s dark when I pull the door to the balcony door firmly shut behind me. With the AC on and the onught of insects outdoors, we want to keep one in and the other out.


    I head to my suitcase. ¡°I¡¯ll grab the sofa.¡±


    ¡°If you insist,¡± Ivy responds. She¡¯s taken a cross-legged seat on the sofa in question, her hair in a low ponytail. ¡°But it¡¯s not thatte yet?¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you exhausted?¡±


    ¡°My crazy little jetg episode is over.¡±


    ¡°It was very amusing, so I didn¡¯t mind.¡± I sit down on the opposite side of the couch, my eyes roving the shelves. Is there a minibar somewhere here?


    ¡°I can imagine,¡± she says, turning something over in her hands. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯d be interested, but I bought this at the airport in Paris before we left.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Cards. Just some simple, effective fun.¡± Ivy shrugs, looking at me. ¡°But perhaps it¡¯s too mundane for you.¡±


    I snort, holding out my hand. She gives me the deck. ¡°I¡¯ll y.¡±


    ¡°Awesome.¡± She¡¯s removed her makeup, and I¡¯m struck with the desire to take a picture of her right here, right now. Sitting cross-legged and rxed, with her face bare.

 Red Hot Rebel C31

    ¡°What are we ying for?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°The honor?¡±


    I shuffle them smoothly. ¡°We can think of something more interesting than that.¡±


    ¡°We can?¡± Ivy frowns, her gaze traveling across the lodge. Stopping on the giant bed. ¡°We could y for who gets to sleep in the master.¡±


    My lips twitch. ¡°You¡¯re sure? I¡¯ve already ceded that, so you don¡¯t have to put it back on the table.¡±


    ¡°Well, what else is there?¡± She nods at the cards. ¡°Gin rummy?¡±


    I haven¡¯t yed that in years, but I know the rules well enough. With three siblings, every type of game was yed growing up.


    ¡°We¡¯ll y for information,¡± I say.


    ¡°Information? You sound like a mafia boss,¡± she says, but she¡¯s grinning. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I have information that is worth enough to be a prize.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m absolutely positive that you do,¡± I say, dealing the cards. ¡°The victor gets to ask a question.¡±


    Her teeth dig into her lower lip. ¡°And no deflecting? We¡¯re both good at that.¡±


    I hesitate only for a moment. ¡°No deflecting.¡±


    She rubs her hands together in anticipation, but there¡¯s a furrow in her brow. So she has things she doesn¡¯t want to talk about either. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±


    Ivy wins the first round, but it¡¯s close. She leans against the back of the couch and puts her head in her hand. ¡°I keep thinking of what you said the other night with Baptiste. The real reason you wanted me there as a buffer¡­ but I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s a good starting question.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Are you considering giving me a softball?¡±


    ¡°I can be kind.¡± She looks down at the cards in her hands. ¡°All right. Here¡¯s my question-why did you decide to be a photographer? You already run a publishingpany, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to write books, and to publish others. That part was a natural career choice. As for photography¡­¡± I nce past her to the wide-open lodge behind, the beautifully designed space. ¡°A photo is like capturing a sliver of time. Of history, for all to remember. It¡¯s telling a story. It¡¯s¡­ you can¡¯t lie with a good photograph. I¡¯m discounting all the editing and fake shit here, what I mean is just a good, pure photograph. The greatest pictures ever taken, the ones that have affected countries and nations, they were honest snapshots.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s mine, photography. No one in my family does it. I have very few friends who do, either. It¡¯s a solitary thing.¡± Not to mention it¡¯s a disappointing career choice in the eyes of my father. I¡¯d once picked it up as a hobby for that very reason.


    But it had stuck.


    I shuffle the cards, my movements stiffer than usual. Ivy notices, because she cocks her head. ¡°I thought that would be an easy question.¡±


    ¡°It was.¡± I deal the cards. Damn it, why is it difficult to talk about real things with her? I¡¯ve done it plenty of times before, with all kinds of strangers in my travels. ¡°Your turn to start.¡±


    She does, and when the game is nearly over, she puts down her final card with a flourish. ¡°I win again, Rhys. What is this? Are you deliberately throwing the game?¡±


    I put a dramatic arm over my face. ¡°Yes. I love being tortured with personal questions.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your cry for help,¡± she says cheerily, reaching for her cards. ¡°You know what question I¡¯ll ask.¡±


    ¡°No, I really don¡¯t. Come on. Hit me with it.¡±


    ¡°Why did you want me to be a buffer at dinner with your cousin?¡±


    Ivy


    ¡°You¡¯re really asking me that?¡± His voice is offended, but it¡¯s clear he¡¯s faking. ¡°How painful.¡±


    Rhys keeps his arm over his head, stretched out against the back of the couch. His shirt has ridden up, and there¡¯s a sliver of tanned, taut stomach on disy. A bit of dark hair that disappears into his pants.


    I look away. I¡¯ve never forgotten that Rhys is an attractive man. That¡¯s an impossible thing to do, with howrge his presence is. And yet the knowledge ms back into me with the force of a tidal wave.


    I reach out with the cards and smack them against his knee. ¡°You said no deflections.¡±


    ¡°And now you¡¯re resorting to physical violence. It¡¯s sad, really,¡± he says. ¡°I can picture the headlines already. Charming photographer clobbered to death by jetgged model-vultures feasted on his body.¡±


    ¡°Vultures? Try hyenas.¡±


    ¡°Even worse.¡± He tucks his arm behind his head. ¡°So you really want to know?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Rhys raises an eyebrow. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t been there, he would have asked me for money.¡±


    I put my cards down. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He looks up at the ceiling, a hand buried in his dark curls. Comfortable, sprawling, elegant. ¡°Do you know anything about my family?¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°I might have searched you on the inte before we set off together.¡±


    ¡°Right. And what did you find?¡± His voice makes it clear that he already knows the answer. I humor him anyway.


    ¡°Well, there was a lot. You have really¡­ impressive family members, for one. Very sessful ones.¡±


    Rhys snorts. ¡°Yes, and the French side of the family, my mother¡¯s family, have tried to capitalize on that for decades.¡±


    More questions rise up, and perhaps he sees that in my eyes, because Rhys looks away. ¡°It¡¯s not like we wouldn¡¯t have helped them out in a pinch. But it¡¯s be¡­ greedy. My mother barely speaks to her sister, and my siblings don¡¯t have much time for our cousins for that very reason.¡±


    A few of Baptiste¡¯smentse back to me, now in an entirely new light. Rhys¡¯s face when he paid the bill. His tone when hemented about the choice of restaurant. It makes sense, now.


    ¡°Even rich people have family problems.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re very good at them. We make it an art form.¡± Rhys nodszily at the cards, a lock of hair falling down over his forehead. ¡°Your turn to deal, Ives.¡±


    I re at him briefly before I begin to shuffle. There¡¯s a lot more I want to ask.


    ¡°I¡¯ll win this one,¡± Rhys says. ¡°I¡¯m done being the interviewee.¡±


    And damn him, but he does. He wins with a flourish and raises an eyebrow at me. ¡°So, you told me that men rarely see you, they just see your beauty.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C32

    I wet my lips. ¡°I didn¡¯t phrase it exactly like that.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s what you meant?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Rhys leans in closer. ¡°Tell me about thest man who saw you.¡±


    Oh no.


    I nce down at my cards and try to find the convenient lie, the one I¡¯ve told before when people have asked about my exes. I¡¯ve dated around a bit. Or my favorite one, I work too much for anything to get, you know, properly serious. Those answers imply experience. They¡¯re vague.


    They¡¯re also lies.


    ¡°Ivy?¡± Rhys asks, and something in his tone sends my lies out the window. I doubt he¡¯d buy it, anyway. So I look at the giant photographs of wildlife on the wall. A leopard in a tree is easier to face than him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure anyone really has.¡±


    He gives a thoughtful hum. ¡°Well, damn. Perhaps I should apologize for my gender.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not responsible for other men¡¯s actions.¡± I reach for the cards, but Rhys isn¡¯t done.


    ¡°So you¡¯ve only had rtionships with men who don¡¯t see you?¡±


    I shuffle the cards, keeping my eye on them. There¡¯s an illustrated image of the Eiffel Tower on the back. ¡°I¡¯ve never had a proper rtionship with a man.¡±


    Rhys blows out a breath, his gaze piercing. ¡°How is that possible? Men must have tried.¡±


    ¡°Have you seen the men who usually hang around models? The men you hung out with at the Hamptons party?¡± I shake my head. ¡°They ask me out, sure, but I know what that entails. It¡¯s not me they want, it¡¯s a model. It¡¯s the status. And I know the part I¡¯m expected to y in return for a fancy dinner-and I have no interest in that.¡±


    His lip curves. ¡°Ivy,¡± he says, ¡°I hope you take this as apliment, but you¡¯re interesting enough for men to talk to beyond that. They might want that, sure, but I doubt it¡¯s the only thing all of them want.¡±


    I deal the cards. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten a lot of mileage out of your question.¡±


    ¡°It was an interesting answer. One that¡¯s spawned more questions.¡± He raises a finger to me. ¡°So don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll win again.¡±


    I groan and get up from the sofa, heading toward the shelves. ¡°In that case, I think we need reinforcements.¡±


    ¡°Excellent thinking.¡± He reaches for the hotel phone on the side table at the same time as I open the hidden minibar I¡¯d found earlier. There¡¯s still nothing in it but a few sodas and miniature bottles of alcohol.


    ¡°Mix our own?¡± I suggest.


    He shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯ll order drinks. What do you want?¡±


    ¡°A ss of wine.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll get a bottle. Red okay?¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡±


    I drift off to my giant suitcase and listen to Rhys as he orders a bottle of wine, discussing vintages with the person on the other end in a confident,petent tone. He has his back to me, so I shrug out of my pants and shirt with a pounding heart. Pull on my silken pajama shorts and the matching top.


    He gives me a once-over when I return. ¡°Gettingfortable?¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re to y games and drink, I don¡¯t want to be in pants I¡¯veid on a Jeep in.¡±


    ¡°But it was such a winning pose.¡±


    The wine arrives a few minutester, and he pours it into two sses, one for each of us. ¡°Your turn to start,¡± he says, nodding toward the cards.


    He wins this time again, and not by a little, either. Rhys runs a hand through his hair. ¡°You might need more wine for this question.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that bad?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And perhaps I shouldn¡¯t ask, but I want to know.¡±


    I sp my hands together in myp, and his eyes track the movement. ¡°Go on,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°Before Paris, how long had it been since you¡¯d kissed someone?¡±


    Oh God.


    My cheeks heat up, but I don¡¯t look away from his dark gaze. Not when I¡¯m standing on the edge of admitting something that has been buried deep, deep inside me for as long as I can remember.


    ¡°I see,¡± he says softly, and I wonder if perhaps he might.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    If he might be the only one who¡¯s ever seen.


    I look down at my hands. Nude, short nails. No rings. ¡°It¡¯s been at least a year,¡± I confess. ¡°Perhaps a year and a half.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡±


    His long hands sort the cards with elegantpetence. ¡°I¡¯m thinking that¡¯s a shame, since kissing can be so much fun.¡±


    ¡°Was ours?¡±


    ¡°Fun?¡± He nces at me, an eyebrow raised. ¡°I think you already know the answer to that.¡±


    I bite my lip to keep from smiling. ¡°Yes, perhaps I do.¡±


    He hands me the cards, and I watch him do it, staring at the broad, tanned backs of his hands. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to ask me the final question?¡±


    ¡°The final question?¡±


    ¡°About sex,¡± I say, the word like acid on my tongue. I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m inviting in his opinion like this.


    But here, with him, a thousand miles from thergest city and with only the sounds of the savannah as ourpanion¡­ it feels different. Like my worries about this were all childish.

 Red Hot Rebel C33

    ¡°I¡¯m not that much of an asshole,¡± Rhys says.


    I take another sip of my wine, wondering if it¡¯s giving me courage or making me foolish. Perhaps it¡¯s only ever a mixture of both. ¡°But you want to know?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do. And by the way you¡¯re goading me, I wonder if perhaps you want me to ask you.¡±


    ¡°And why would I want that?¡±


    ¡°You tell me.¡± His hand stops next to mine as he finishes dealing out the cards. The space of couch between us has shrunk in the past hour. We¡¯re closer than when we started. ¡°Perhaps you don¡¯t talk about this to a lot of people.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Tell me, then,¡± he murmurs. ¡°If you want to. If it¡¯ll make you feel better.¡±


    I look down at his hand. Wonder if I can take it, and then admonish myself for the thought. Whatever Rhys and I are, we¡¯re not that. Kissing on bridges in Paris had given me ideas.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had sex,¡± I admit. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ never happened.¡±


    Rhys is quiet for so long that I have to look up to see what¡¯s happened. Has he had a stroke? But no, he¡¯s watching me, his eyes inscrutable. I meet them and can barely hear his words over the furious beating of my heart.


    Rhys blows out a long breath. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not what I was expecting.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d say it¡¯d been a while. That you¡¯d had a less than satisfactory experience. That¡­ well. Not that.¡± He raises an eyebrow. ¡°You know I have even more questions now.¡±


    I bury my head against the back of the couch, and heughs, breaking the tension. Something pokes my bare knee and it¡¯s him, using the deck of cards the same way I¡¯d done to him earlier. ¡°Come on. Doesn¡¯t it help to talk things out? I feel like I¡¯ve been told that once or twice myself in the past.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re a therapist?¡±


    ¡°I can be, for the evening.¡± There¡¯s no judgement on his face, which was what I¡¯d been afraid of. What I¡¯m always afraid of-that people will draw all kinds of false conclusions.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re on a couch,¡± I say, taking another sip of my wine.


    ¡°You know what I¡¯m going to ask. You already know I¡¯m thinking it,¡± he says.


    ¡°Yeah, I can guess.¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair again. ¡°You¡¯re a virgin,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but how the hell can that be true?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    I blow out a frustrated breath. ¡°It¡¯s like, somehow, everyone around me in high school started getting boyfriends, got used to having sex, and then it was all casual hook-ups all the time, everywhere, like everyone was on some express train to Sexville but I¡¯d still not gotten a ticket.¡± I throw up my hands, half-smiling out of awkwardness. ¡°I go to college online. I¡¯m working most of the time, and the men who ask me out all expect it to happen on the second or third date. There are expectations, and that¡¯s what I hate, those damn expectations. Because I don¡¯t know if I can deliver on them.¡±


    Rhys frowns. ¡°And you don¡¯t think they¡¯d understand? If you told them?¡±


    ¡°They might.¡± I wrap my arms around myself. ¡°But I¡¯ve never met anyone I feltfortable telling. It¡¯s all so¡­ Look, I regrly deletements on my social media. I don¡¯t read my direct messages anymore. It¡¯s all a flood of things, of men who only want one thing. And I guess I¡¯m afraid that if I were to admit to this, I would be¡­¡± I can¡¯t bring myself toplete the sentence.


    ¡°They¡¯d see you as even more of a trophy?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And that¡¯s thest thing I want.¡±


    He nods slowly, like he¡¯s trying to sort through a puzzle. I hope he¡¯ll share the solution with me, if he finds one, because I could use some rity. ¡°So what do you want?¡±


    ¡°What do I want?¡±


    ¡°Yes? Do you want to have sex, ever?¡±


    My cheeks heat up. ¡°Yes, of course I do.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Right. And what would your ideal situation be like?¡±


    ¡°Rhys, I-¡±


    ¡°No, I mean it. Is there one?¡±


    I close my eyes. ¡°Yes, I suppose. I¡¯m not¡­ it doesn¡¯t have to be serious. I¡¯m not walking around and waiting for the one, not that there¡¯s anything wrong with that. But I don¡¯t need that level ofmitment. I just want to¡­ God, Rhys.¡± I push my hair back. ¡°I just want there to be trust. To go slow. Tough. And to be seen.¡±


    He nods slowly, the cards abandoned between us. ¡°I get that.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You don¡¯t like the pressure.¡±


    I breathe out a sigh of relief. ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°I also think you might be too kind for your own best interest.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    He leans back against the couch, arms over his chest. ¡°You can tell a man you don¡¯t want to sleep with him. You can tell him mid-sex that you want to stop. You can make him wait ten, fifteen, twenty dates. You don¡¯t owe anybody anything, and fuck them and their expectations if that makes them annoyed. You don¡¯t have to please them in any way.¡±


    It¡¯s like he¡¯s put his finger on my pulse and calcted it expertly, all in a matter of minutes. And from the expression on his face, he knows it.


    ¡°It¡¯s one thing to know that intellectually,¡± I say, ¡°and another to do it. I m up at the idea of it, of having to exin this to someone I¡¯ve just met.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do. It¡¯s scary, but I know you¡¯re brave enough.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Yes. You agreed to this crazy trip with no one else to apany you but me, didn¡¯t you? And you¡¯d never left the country before?¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°No, I hadn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So yes, Ivy, you¡¯re brave enough.¡±


    I nce toward the giant, linen-d bed in the lodge. Think about all the different things I want to know, to see, to experience. Thefortable sense of exploration I¡¯ve sought.

 Red Hot Rebel C34

    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡±


    ¡°Without winning a round? I don¡¯t know. Seems greedy.¡± But Rhys is smiling crookedly, so I go ahead.


    ¡°How was your first time?¡±


    He barks augh. ¡°Not what I was expecting.¡±


    ¡°Too personal?¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯ve already strayed deep into personal territory tonight. What¡¯s another step, right?¡± He loosens a long breath. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you¡¯ll enjoy my answer.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Well, for the first thing, it was spectacrly unromantic.¡± He raises an eyebrow. ¡°It wasn¡¯t what you described at all. It was more¡­ how did you put it? Like getting my ticket to Sexville. Very poetic, by the way.¡±


    I groan. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone I said that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try my very best not to,¡± Rhys says seriously, ¡°but it might end up in my memoir, when I inevitably write one.¡±


    ¡°You think those words are worth preserving for posterity?¡±


    He grimaces, but his words are sage. ¡°That¡¯s for posterity to decide.¡±


    ¡°How noble.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    I rest my head on my hand. ¡°So it wasn¡¯t spectacr?¡±


    ¡°No. It was at a party in my hometown. She was two grades above me, more experienced. We didn¡¯t talk much before, during or after.¡±


    ¡°That sound fantastic,¡± I deadpan.


    He rolls his eyes at me. ¡°It was all right, but I reckon we¡¯ve both had far better since then.¡±


    ¡°That reminds me, I¡¯m curious. When was yourst kiss before me?¡±


    Rhys shakes his head. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be talking about you.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m switching things around. It¡¯s only fair after all the things I¡¯ve said.¡±


    He seems to consider it, whether he should answer or not, but when he does it¡¯s unquestionably honest. ¡°Two and a half weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± I look away,paring his response to mine. We really are different people, at least in this way. It makes my cheeks heat up again, and this time, it¡¯s true embarrassment. And I¡¯d been hoping that the kiss had been as powerful for him as it had for me.


    ¡°Ivy? Hey, look at me.¡±


    I do. His gaze softens, deep and dark and enthralling. ¡°Not only do I have more experience than you, but I¡¯m what, seven years older? Stopparing yourself to everyone who managed to get a ticket, all right?¡±


    ¡°To Sexville?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, lips curving, ¡°to Sexville.¡±


    I smile too. ¡°Will I get a share of the royalties?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Of your memoir, if you end up using that phrase?¡±


    Rhys nods. ¡°Of course. I¡¯d never cheat a fellow artist out of their due.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I look down at his hand, resting close to mine along the back of the couch. I really, really, really want to find out what it would feel like. Nothing else, nothing more, just¡­ learn his body the way I¡¯m starting to learn him.


    Rhys clears his throat. ¡°Perhaps we should go to sleep soon.¡±


    ¡°We have to work tomorrow,¡± I agree.


    Neither of us moves, though.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s fair that I get to sleep in the bed. This couch isn¡¯t long enough for you. Won¡¯t your feet hang off the end?¡±


    His smile is crooked. ¡°Nothing I¡¯m not used to. It¡¯s fine, Ivy.¡±


    But it¡¯s not, despite his protestations, and I can¡¯t decide why. Why my heart is pounding quicker again, as if this entire evening hasn¡¯t been nerve-wracking enough. As if my body doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s been locked in fight-or-flight mode.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    I stand from the couch, pulling at my pajama shorts. ¡°Come on,¡± I tell him. ¡°It¡¯s big enough for two. Besides¡­ we¡¯re friends now, right?¡±


    Rhys rakes a hand through his hair again. ¡°Yes, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Even if I am just a model.¡±


    He runs a hand over his face. ¡°You know I just said that to get the other guys to shut up and stop objectifying you.¡±


    ¡°You chose a backhanded tactic.¡±


    He snorts, rising from the couch. ncing toward the bed. ¡°I could¡¯ve handled it better.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Nowe on. No doubt we¡¯ll be out like a light anyway,¡± I say, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. ¡°Jetg and all. Not to mention long flights, and a long day at work. And the wine.¡±


    Shut up, Ivy, I think as I brush my teeth. My heart still hasn¡¯t entirely settled down, and it certainly doesn¡¯t when I slide under the cover. It¡¯s thick and downy and this bed is heaven. How is it that hotel beds always feel better than your bed at home?


    Rhys pauses by his side of the bed in nothing but a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re just sleeping, Rhys.¡±


    He snorts and reaches for the hem of his shirt. ¡°I know that,¡± he mutters. Pulls the shirt over his head. I look away, but not before I¡¯ve glimpsed the wide expanse of his chest, the dips and grooves of his stomach, the smattering of hair, the tanned skin.


    I stare up at the beams in the ceiling wide-eyed.

 Red Hot Rebel C35

    Rhys slides into bed beside me and reaches for the light. A click and it¡¯s out, the lodge submerged in darkness, the both of us quietly breathing next to each other. There¡¯s still a veritable ocean of bed between us.


    ¡°You know what this means,¡± I say, because I can¡¯t figure out when to shut up, and my brain has be scrambled eggs after seeing his abs.


    ¡°What?¡± His voice is everywhere in the darkness, and why hadn¡¯t I noticed it was that deep before?


    ¡°I¡¯ll have more questions for you.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be able to match that,¡± he says. ¡°You haven¡¯t exactly be uninteresting, now, either.¡±


    ¡°Right. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡±


    ¡°You might regret opening this door, though. Because I might abuse it.¡±


    ¡°In what way?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had a male friend I could ask questions about sex.¡±


    Rhys sighs in the darkness. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d live to see the day.¡±


    ¡°No? I thought you¡¯d thrive in the role of instructor. You could quote books and sound superior and ask people to call you sensei.¡±


    Heughs. ¡°Now that you mention it, that does appeal to me.¡±


    ¡°Good, because I have a lot of questions.¡± Things I¡¯ve wondered but never been able to ask. Things guys have done or said that never made sense. ¡°I¡¯ve googled practically everything I want to know, but there are more intimate things. Guy things.¡±


    A long breath. ¡°All right. I¡¯ll do my best to help you buy a ticket to Sexville.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I turn on my side, trying to stay the beating of my heart. In the darkness, he could be anywhere. ¡°I¡¯ll think of a few questions for theing days.¡±


    ¡°God help me,¡± he murmurs.


    IvyN?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea?¡±


    Rhys looks over at me from the driver¡¯s seat, and the look on his face is withering. I hold up my hands.


    ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll stop asking.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve done this before,¡± he says, also for the hundredth time. So I settle back into the passenger seat and turn my face to our surroundings, because¡­ wow.


    We¡¯re at the entrance to Kenya¡¯s Nyiri Desert, on the outskirts of the national park where Rieler¡¯s resort is located. Joy had told us earlier that day that it¡¯s not particrlyrge, andughed when I asked her what it was likepared to the Sahara.


    ¡°Like you next to a blue whale,¡± she¡¯d said.


    But that didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t gorgeous. Beautiful red dunes beckon, sloping and rising in all kinds of formations, the wind rearranging them day by day.


    It¡¯s a foreignndscape, something out of a painting.


    And I¡¯m here-in a four-wheeler currently racing up the side of a slope, driven by someone who had been very determined that we didn¡¯t need a guide. He¡¯d made the two-hour drive out here himself. We have a few hours to shoot here before the sun sets, which means driving in the darknesster. That, too, seemed like nothing at all to him.


    ¡°They emailed me just the other week about these pictures,¡± Rhys says from my side. ¡°They might use them for their Kenya promotion or when they open their new hotel in Dubai.¡±


    ¡°So I might be in Kenya or I might be in the Middle East in these pictures?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Rhys shakes his head once. ¡°Marketing,¡± he says, spitting out the word like it¡¯s a curse.


    I grin at him, and he sees it. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It just struck me that you sometimes have the attitude of a grumpy, curmudgeonly old man, and you¡¯re not even thirty.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m thirty-two.¡±


    ¡°Well, the rest of my point stands.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Curmudgeonly. You¡¯d really destroy my reputation if you got a chance, wouldn¡¯t you? Suddenly I¡¯m predictable and grumpy.¡±


    I bite my lip to keep from grinning and look out at the dunes. I can¡¯t wait to send pictures of this ce to my sister.


    Rhys pulls the car to a stop on the top of a sloping dune.


    ¡°Here?¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± he agrees, putting the car in park and grabbing both his camera and his drone.


    I climb out of the car and put my bare feet gently down on the sand. It¡¯s warm at first, but the longer my soles are against the desert sand, the hotter it grows. Yep, ts on.


    When I make it out of the car, I stop, just staring. We¡¯re surrounded by red dunes in nearly every direction, with the exception of where we¡¯de from. The gravel road is still visible at the base of our high dune.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say loudly, ¡°you can pinch me now.¡±


    ¡°Pinch you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t really think I¡¯m here. I must still be in my cramped New York apartment, and I¡¯m just dreaming of traveling the world.¡± I close my eyes and hold up my bare arm. ¡°Come on, Rhys. I¡¯m ready.¡±


    I hear a camera click and open my eyes. ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°You looked good.¡± His voice is unrepentant behind the camera. ¡°Despite the monstrosity they¡¯ve put you in.¡±


    I twirl, which isn¡¯t an easy feat when you¡¯re standing on sand. The silk chiffon swirls behind me. It might be the most beautiful dress I¡¯ve ever worn, the blue contrasting starkly with the red sand.


    ¡°Tell me it won¡¯t look good in pictures, though.¡±


    ¡°It will,¡± Rhys says darkly. ¡°It¡¯s the only reason I¡¯m willing to let it slide.¡±


    ¡°Where do we start?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C36

    He lifts up the drone. ¡°Run,¡± he tells me, a crooked smile on his face. So I do, running along the dune, down the dune, up the dune, making sure the dress flows and spreads out around me like the petals of a flower. The only sound is that the of drone softly humming above us.


    I finally halt with my hands on my knees. ¡°We done?¡±


    ¡°Running out of breath?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, ¡°you could say that.¡±


    ¡°Almost.¡± He grabs his camera from the car and looks off in the distance. Calcting, thinking. A burst of wind grabs hold of the locks of his hair and tugs at his linen button-down, as he stands there on the top of the slope. His jaw works as he thinks.


    I should photograph him.


    And perhaps it¡¯s our conversation yesterday, or the fact that we¡¯d woken up in the same bed, but I tell him that. I even grab my phone from the car.


    ¡°Ivy,¡± heins, but I shake my head.


    ¡°No, you look¡­ impressive right there. Like a modern-day explorer.¡±


    He sighs and looks at me, resigned, masculine, chaotic. ¡°I refuse to recline on the hood of the car.¡±


    My lips twitch. ¡°What a shame. You would have been the cover model for this month¡¯s Hot Men with Jeep Calendar.¡±


    He shakes his head and looks across the dunes, a smile tugging at his lips. I click, grabbing the perfect picture. ¡°There. Thank you. Wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?¡±


    ¡°It was excruciating,¡± he says, but his voice is light.


    ¡°We really should flip this. Me, the photographer. You, the model.¡±


    ¡°We really shouldn¡¯t,¡± Rhys says, lifting hisrge camera to his face. I rearrange myself, standing on the dune, posing. Looking off into the distance. Sitting down with my skirts flowing behind me.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Rhys murmurs, and the word sends shivers up my arms. Everything means more when ites from him, I¡¯m learning, even though I¡¯m scared to discover quite why I feel that way. ¡°Look at me, Ivy.¡±


    I do, turning to the camera. Smiling. ¡°You snore,¡± I say.


    ¡°I do not,¡± Rhys says behind the camera.


    ¡°Very faintly.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s libel.¡±


    ¡°Libel is written defamation. You¡¯re thinking of nder.¡±


    He lowers his camera, his eyes meeting mine. I shrug. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. Now I know what to put when I take you to court.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wee to try,¡± I say sweetly, ¡°but the act urred outside the continental US.¡±


    ¡°Damn it. I¡¯m at the mercy of you entirely, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Seems like it, yes.¡±


    He nods to the car. ¡°The sun is about to set. I want more photos over there.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I smooth a hand over my skirt. ¡°Sure you¡¯re able to drive out of here in the dark?¡±


    ¡°You know the difference between libel and nder, and I know cars.¡±


    The following half an hour is probably the best shoot I¡¯ve ever had. I thought that in Paris. I thought that in Rome. I definitely thought it in St. Barts. But no, this, sitting on warm sand under the sinking golden sun, the air clear and thick, and red dunes spreading out around us aze with the sun¡¯s rays¡­


    ¡°I could live like this,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°You could?¡± Rhys keeps shooting-I hear the clicking, but I¡¯m closing my eyes and breathing in this experience. ¡°Always traveling?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think I could, but it¡¯s very, very appealing at the moment.¡± I reach down and grab a handful of sand, watch it run through my fingers like water. ¡°I might start making really cheesy remarks soon, like carpe diem or hakuna matata.¡±


    ¡°As long as you don¡¯t start singing ¡®The Circle of Life,¡¯ we¡¯re good,¡± Rhys says. There¡¯s a smile in his voice, but I don¡¯t turn to see him. I lean back on my elbows instead and watch thest of the sun sink behind the dunes in the far distance.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we get going?¡± I ask. ¡°Not that I want to, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, we should.¡± Rhys offers me a hand and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. It¡¯s warm and softly calloused against mine. ¡°Unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°At least we have a nice lodge to return to. It¡¯s not this, but it¡¯s something.¡±


    He lets go of my hand, but not before his thumb smooths gently over mine. ¡°Not to mention afortable bed.¡±


    ¡°Veryfortable.¡±


    Rhys raises an eyebrow. ¡°So what¡¯s the review?¡±


    ¡°The review?¡±


    ¡°You slept with a man for the first timest night, right?¡±


    I can¡¯t help it-Iugh. He chuckles too, his right hand in his pocket. ¡°I suppose I did,¡± I say, bumping him with my elbow. ¡°I was a bit nervous at first, but he made it really great for me.¡±


    ¡°What a relief to hear. I would¡¯ve had to kick his ass otherwise.¡±


    ¡°You would¡¯ve?¡±


    Rhys nods. ¡°As a gentleman, it¡¯s my duty.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t know you were one.¡±


    ¡°I keep it under wraps,¡± he says. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    ¡°It would ruin your reputation?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Completely, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C37

    I pause with my hand on the passenger door. ¡°Your secret is safe with me.¡±


    His eyes darken, and I don¡¯t know what¡¯s in there. If we¡¯re still joking. What we¡¯re even talking about. ¡°Good to hear,¡± he says.


    I climb into the car while Rhys chucks his equipment into the back. But when he turns the key to the ignition, the car doesn¡¯t budge. Not even an inch.


    He tries again. Restart. Restart. The engine of the four-wheeler roars, but we¡¯re not moving more than a few millimeters. If anything, we¡¯re digging ourselves in deeper.


    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± he mutters, climbing out of the car. I follow suit and grimace at what I see. Both tires on my side are at least half-buried in the dune.


    ¡°Rhys,¡± I say softly. He doesn¡¯t respond-he¡¯s too busy walking around and inspecting the catastrophe. ¡°I think we might need to be pulled out by another car.¡±


    He crosses his arms over his chest. ¡°This car is supposed to handle this. It¡¯s made for this.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps not for being parked on a dune,¡± I say gently.


    Rhys swears again, but then he sighs. ¡°You¡¯re right. The weight has made it sink, and it¡¯s dug in. Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Can we contact the lodge?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He reaches for his sat phone, but he¡¯s frowning. ¡°Little chance of them making it out to us tonight, though. It¡¯ll be pitch dark before they arrive.¡±


    I swallow. Run my hands over my dress. Then I hitch up the hem and walk around to the trunk. ¡°All right,¡± I say. ¡°Call them and let them know. I¡¯ll make us a bed back here.¡±


    Rhys ispletely quiet for a second. Another second. I open the trunk to the Jeep, each back door. We should be able to fold the back seats.


    Rhys¡¯s voice reaches me. ¡°You¡¯d really sleep out here?¡±


    ¡°Well, if you don¡¯t think they can reach us in the darkness, what other option is there?¡±


    He¡¯s quiet again for a beat. ¡°None. But I thought you¡¯d sound a bit more displeased about it.¡±


    I snort. ¡°My father took my sister and me camping every summer. I¡¯ve slept in far worse than this monster of a Jeep. We¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    But even so, there¡¯s a thread of uneasy excitement running through me. It¡¯ll just be the two of us in the middle of nowhere for the ten hours or so it¡¯ll take until dawn. The sun is setting fast, and after that it¡¯s just Rhys and me, a pair of shlights and the wide-open Kenyanndscape.


    What had my sister said before I left?


    Make sure you have a grand adventure.


    Well, Penny, watch me now, I think. You wouldn¡¯t believe your eyes!


    I fold the seats and listen to Rhys¡¯s conversation. He¡¯s testy, but epts that he made a mistake in parking. I grin at that. Curmudgeon perhaps, but not above epting his mistakes.


    Whoever¡¯s on the other line probably agrees with him, although Rhys sighs. ¡°Yes, we can manage. Thank you. I¡¯ll send our exact coordinates.¡±


    I reach for the duffel bag I¡¯d thrown into the Jeep this morning. It has one thick sweater and a few snacks, but nothing more than that. Perhaps it¡¯ll do as a pillow.


    Rhys snaps the phone shut andes to inspect my handiwork. It¡¯s getting difficult to make out his features in the near darkness.


    ¡°Cozy,¡± hements.


    ¡°It¡¯s not our white heaven bed, but it¡¯ll do.¡±


    He sighs, ncing down at the heavy watch at his wrist. ¡°As much as I¡¯d rather stay outside, bugs will make their way into the car if we keep the shlights off.¡±


    ¡°And lions.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°And lions.¡±


    I shut the lights off, throwing the whole car into darkness. ¡°Come inside. We can make do, right? I have¡­ two apples, one for each of us, and a chocte bar. And tons of water.¡±


    ¡°A feast.¡± But Rhys has a seat next to me on the back of the car, both of our feet in the sand. Mine, barefoot. His, in boots.


    Thendscape is quickly falling into darkness around us. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Rhys says. ¡°I know you probably want to say ¡®I told you so¡¯ right about now.¡±


    My lips tug, but I keep myself from smiling. ¡°I would never.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a better person than me,¡± he says, epting the apple I hand him. ¡°I would rub my own nose in it by now.¡±


    I tug one leg up and tuck it beneath me. ¡°You don¡¯t give yourself a lot of credit.¡±


    ¡°No, I know myself,¡± he says. ¡°So your father took you camping, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s ex-Marine, very big on nature and survival.¡± I break the chocte bar in half and hand one to Rhys. ¡°Our vacations were the three of us in a car, heading to some faraway national park.¡±


    We eat our bars in silence, listening to the sounds of nature. Of faraway crickets, of the beautiful and absolute serenity that only being alone in the wilderness can produce. I¡¯ve missed it.


    ¡°Your mother?¡± Rhys asks.


    ¡°She left us, very early on.¡± It doesn¡¯t hurt to say. Her face is one I know only from images in photo albums and scrapbooks, and my grandmother¡¯s muttering about that woman. Apparently that woman decided children and a husband were too much for her to handle.


    Rhys hums. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I say, ¡°so don¡¯t be for me.¡± I jump out of the Jeep and look up at the sky above. With the sun setting, the stars are starting to appear. ¡°I think we¡¯re in for a treat tonight.¡±


    Rhys stands next to me, his arm brushing mine. The solid presence of him is oddly reassuring. ¡°I think so too. The night skies down here are beyond.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Did you bring a camera for that?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°You need special lenses. As this was an entirely idental overnight trip, I didn¡¯t bring them.¡±


    ¡°Guess you¡¯ll have to take mental pictures.¡±


    He groans. ¡°That¡¯s terrible, Ivy.¡±


    ¡°My terrible jokes are part of my charm,¡± I say.


    ¡°God help us all if that¡¯s the case.¡± But he doesn¡¯t sound like he means it, his voice a deep, soft hum.

 Red Hot Rebel C38

    One after one, the stars in the sky start toe alight, until it¡¯s shimmering above us, the Milky Way on full disy. It¡¯s breathtaking. Unlike anything I¡¯ve ever seen before. ¡°It¡¯s because we¡¯re in the Southern Hemisphere,¡± Rhys says. ¡°The constetions are different.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± This is one of those experiences I can tell Penny about, but she won¡¯t really believe or understand the true magic of. Standing on a dune in the middle of nowhere, under the wide-open heavens, with Rhys by my side.


    I shiver. The air turns cool quickly out here when the sun¡¯s abandoned us. Deserts are mercurial that way.


    Rhys notices, and nods to the Jeep. ¡°Feel like reclining?¡±


    ¡°On the hood?¡± I climb into the open space I¡¯ve made, pulling at the silken dress. ¡°I think I¡¯ll take the inside of the car this time.¡±


    ¡°How traditional,¡± he says. ¡°I thought you were more adventurous than that.¡± But he follows me inside, closing the trunk behind me. I tug the door on my side shut too, locking us in.


    ¡°No lions.¡±


    Heughs as he cracks the front windows for air. ¡°They can¡¯t get in through this.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I rummage through the duffel bag for the sweater and pull it on over my silk dress. The Jeep might berge but it¡¯s still a tight fit, what with the two of us.


    ¡°Cold?¡±


    ¡°A tad,¡± I admit. ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly dressed for this.¡±


    Rhys reaches for something, and then I¡¯m handed a soft jacket. ¡°Put this over you too.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get cold, too,¡± I protest. ¡°The night¡¯s just getting started.¡±


    ¡°Well, in that case I¡¯ll steal it back,¡± he says. ¡°Come on, I¡¯m not the one who¡¯s wearing a silk shift.¡±


    I ept the weight of the jacket and turn on my side, facing him, head on the duffel bag. He rearranges himself too, stretching out.


    ¡°Do you have enough space?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll do.¡±


    ¡°Your legs can¡¯t fit.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Not really, but I¡¯ll manage.¡±


    I try not to say what I do next, but I can¡¯t help it, not really. ¡°So I¡¯m sleeping with a guy two nights in a row.¡±


    Rhysughs. ¡°Once you start, you¡¯re reallymitted, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±


    ¡°Who knew?¡±


    ¡°Not me, that¡¯s for one.¡± He turns onto his back, his shoulder now only inches from my face. There¡¯s not enough space here to sleep like we hadst night, an ocean of linen apart. The thought sends a shiver of something unidentifiable through me. Anticipation. Excitement. Nerves.


    ¡°I¡¯m still waiting, you know,¡± he says.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°For you to ask me the first of whatever sex-rted questions had you so flusteredst night.¡±


    I groan into the duffel bag. ¡°There¡¯s no good way to start.¡±


    ¡°The best way to start is just to do it.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a motivational poster.¡±


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Rhys says, ¡°you¡¯re right. Give me another try, and I¡¯ll find some quote by Hemingway.¡±


    ¡°The moment¡¯s passed.¡±


    He shakes his head in the darkness. ¡°You¡¯re tough. I respect it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I can start, then, because you bet I have questions for you.¡±


    I fold my hands under my head and try to think past the excited ball of nerves in my chest, in my stomach. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever wanted to sleep with a man? If you disregard the fact that you haven¡¯t met someone who wasn¡¯t a creep, or felt brave enough to try.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± He tucks a hand under his head. ¡°Meaning you¡¯ve been turned on by a man before?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have.¡± I bite my lip, and then power on. If I¡¯m ever going to get the ticket to Sexville¡­ ¡°I mean, I have seen sexy scenes in movies, read books, seen guys that I found attractive on the street.¡±


    ¡°Ever watched porn?¡±


    ¡°Christ, Rhys.¡±


    I can¡¯t see it, but it¡¯s easy to hear the wolfish grin on his face when he speaks. ¡°What? Perfectly normal thing to ask someone you work with.¡±


    I¡¯m d I can¡¯t see his face, because I don¡¯t think that would make this any easier. ¡°I have, yes.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he says, the sound of a man deep in thought. ¡°And you have no trouble getting off to that?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Rhys!¡±


    He chuckles into the darkness. ¡°All right, all right. Maybe you need to ask me questions first before you feelfortable answering a few of my own.¡±


    I rack my brain for questions to ask, but all the ones I most want to know feel almost too crude to speak. Does he watch porn? What does he like women to do in bed? Would he be turned off by someone¡¯s inexperience?


    I tug his jacket tighter around myself, tucking my arms close to my body to keep from the cold. It smells like him, and the memory of the bridge resurfaces, as it has so often these past days.


    ¡°The kiss in Paris,¡± I say, because there¡¯s no thinking now, apparently. It just slips out. ¡°What did it mean for you?¡±


    Ivy

 Red Hot Rebel C39

    Rhys releases a quiet breath, the tension rising between us. I shouldn¡¯t have asked. ¡°You asked me for a favor, Ives. I did it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± I murmur. ¡°But what I mean is, what did it feel like for you?¡±


    ¡°No, you asked what it meant for me. There¡¯s no need to overanalyze that. It means I find you attractive.¡±


    My breath catches in my throat. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°I figure it felt pretty much the same way it felt for you,¡± he continues. ¡°Which is to say, awesome.¡±


    I reach over to push against his shoulder, and it¡¯s meant to be yful, but I don¡¯t take my hand away. It rests there, against the solid curve of him. ¡°I never said it was awesome.¡±


    ¡°It was clear on your face.¡±


    ¡°You can read me that well, huh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to, yeah.¡± Rhys¡¯s voice lowers. ¡°I¡¯m a very good reader.¡±


    I open my mouth to speak when another shiver rocks through me. It¡¯s not really that cold, but my legs arepletely bare, and have been for hours.


    ¡°Shit. Come here,¡± Rhys says, his arm moving. I shift closer and he tucks it beneath me, his othering up to rest around my waist.


    He¡¯s warm. That¡¯s the first impression, that¡¯s he¡¯s warm and big and everywhere against me. I rest my cheek against his chest and wonder at how natural this feels, when it should be sending my breathing into overdrive. But I¡¯m not nervous.


    His hand strokes up and down my back quickly, trying to get my body heat up. ¡°I owe you one after making you spend the night out here like this, dressed in nothing but this ridiculous thing.¡±


    ¡°You said it was pretty earlier.¡±


    ¡°I said it would photograph well,¡± he corrects.


    I smile against his chest. ¡°What is it with you and frivolity?¡±


    ¡°I guess I¡¯m just a grumpy old man who¡¯d prefer the world to read books over social media posts and women to wear shoes they can walk in as opposed to death traps.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re confusing.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I thought you were this¡­ high-flying, rich, good-for-nothing guy who goes to summer parties in the Hamptons. Who¡¯s seen so much beauty that he¡¯s immune to it.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°I wish I could have those words erased from your mind.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not that,¡± I say, and then grin. ¡°Well, not only that.¡±


    His hand settles around the curve of my waist, fingers digging in just slightly. ¡°Well, considering I thought you were vapid and materialistic, I think we¡¯re pretty even now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve changed your mind?¡±


    ¡°Try not to sound so gloating about it.¡±


    I chuckle, daring to reach out an arm and wrap it around him, too. His body is hard to the touch. An image of himst night, pulling off his shirt,es back to me. That¡¯s what I¡¯m touching right now, that rigid set of muscles covered by tan skin.


    ¡°So you want to have sex,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s not a question of ack of want.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I say. ¡°Are you continuing to y therapist?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. Is it working?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I wonder if you¡¯re going on a sort of power trip.¡±


    ¡°You can tell me to shut up if I do. I won¡¯t be offended.¡±


    I snort again, my fingers curling gently into the fabric of his shirt. He really is very warm. ¡°Do you know,¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯ve never really enjoyed kissing before. Before Paris, I mean. Most of the time, it was with men who were¡­ rushing, somehow. Like they thought they only had a short window of opportunity to kiss me and they had to go in there like a rocket, all force and all tongue.¡±


    ¡°Rockets use tongue?¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±


    ¡°I guess I do. So you¡¯re telling me that being kissed by me was the first time you¡¯ve enjoyed kisses, period?¡± I feel him run a hand through his hair. ¡°Fuck, Ivy, but you¡¯re doing wonders for my ego over here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re also not doing great for my self-control.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    He groans, his hand tightening on my waist. ¡°Look, I just told you I was attracted to you, right? And you¡¯ve told me over and over that you¡¯re very used to that from men. In fact, you kinda wish they were less attracted to you.¡±


    I blink. Twice. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ yeah.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve also demanded that I answer any sex-rted question you might have, and I agreed.¡±


    ¡°Demanded is perhaps a bit too strong of a word.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    He snorts. ¡°Regardless of the word choice, you do realize what all this is leading me toward? And I¡¯d be a damn bit more subtle and smooth about it if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that you¡¯re tired of men putting the moves on you.¡±


    I wet my lips, my heart a sudden pounding beat in my chest. Being around him is giving me heart palpitations, and that can¡¯t be healthy. ¡°I thought you were immune to beautiful women.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. Not to you, anyway.¡±


    I have to swallow twice before I speak. ¡°I realize what it¡¯s leading you toward. It¡¯s leading me to the same ce, I think.¡±


    He groans. ¡°We¡¯re discussing this so calmly. Fuck, but it¡¯s bizarre.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize.¡±


    ¡°Okay, then I won¡¯t.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C40

    His handes up to rest on the side of my neck, a thumb stroking across my skin. In the near dark, it¡¯s difficult to see, but it¡¯s not impossible. And I see well enough when he turns his head to mine.


    ¡°You want someone to explore with.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°And you enjoyed kissing me.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    He rests his forehead against mine, and my hand on his shirt grows into a fist. ¡°Let¡¯s explore, then.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s the one who closes the gap between us or if it¡¯s me, but then his lips are against mine, warm and soft. Expert, but leashed.


    He¡¯s thinking about thement I made about men and tongues and rockets. It almost makes me smile, but I can¡¯t, my lips pre-upied.


    He breaks apart for a second, lips a hairsbreadth from mine.


    ¡°Still good?¡± he murmurs.


    I don¡¯t answer-I kiss him instead, catching his lower lip with my own. He groans softly in the back of his throat, deepening the kiss. His tongue sweeps softly over my lower lip before slipping in, and it¡¯s delicious, sending heat dancing down my spine.


    He lifts his head again.


    ¡°I could get used to that,¡± I whisper, and even I can hear the dreamy quality to my voice.


    ¡°Keep going,¡± he whispers back. ¡°My ego isn¡¯t big enough.¡±


    I chuckle, but it dies the second he presses his lips back to mine. This time, I slide my hand up his neck and into the thickness of his hair. His curls are like coarse silk through my fingers.


    Rhys rises up on an elbow, moving until he¡¯s half-above me, his lips never lifting from mine. It makes it easier to wrap both arms around him, and I use the newfound liberty to explore. His hair, his shoulders, his neck. Down to the solid strength of his chest.


    I don¡¯t know how long we kiss for, because kissing time seems to run on its own clock, but I¡¯m breathless when he lifts his head again. ¡°This is good,¡± he murmurs. ¡°You¡¯re practicing.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± I agree. ¡°Great practice. Great exploring.¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡± What are we even saying?


    Slowly, he tips my head back and presses his lips to my neck. Oh.


    Oh.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that would feel like¡­ this.¡±


    Rhys keeps kissing my neck. The jacket he¡¯d given me is tossed to the side, so there¡¯s nothing stopping him from continuing further down. He doesn¡¯t, though.


    I look up at the dark ceiling of the Jeep and try to form thoughts. To find the apprehension I should be feeling. But there isn¡¯t any.


    I bend a knee, and he fits more naturally against me.


    ¡°Neck kisses are great,¡± I say. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I know that before?¡±


    ¡°A shame,¡± Rhys murmurs, ¡°but I¡¯m happy to rectify it.¡±


    I run a hand down his arm, the one he¡¯s bracing himself on. His bicep is like a rock to the touch, and I wrap my fingers around it, unable to circle more than a third.


    ¡°Rhys?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± His lips pause at my corbone.


    I find his other hand, the one that¡¯s still curved over my waist, and slide it upwards. ¡°Perhaps I should get used to being touched, too.¡±


    Heughs against my skin. ¡°You¡¯re more than wee to give me orders.¡±


    ¡°Just a suggestion.¡±


    His lips begin to move again, his right thumb grazing the underside of my breast. I shiver, but it¡¯s not from the cold now. My body feels like it¡¯s gathering electricity with every touch, every kiss.


    His hand slides up to cup my breast entirely. My nipple is hard and he must feel it through the thin silk, because he curses softly. ¡°Ivy¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to talk to me.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I arch my back a little, because the pressure of his hand on my aching nipple is magical.


    ¡°You¡¯re not feeling buried under expectations right now, are you?¡±


    ¡°No. In fact¡­¡± I reach up and push the thin shoulder strap down. He slips his hand underneath and then there¡¯s nothing but skin against skin.


    Rhys presses his lips to mine as he gently worries my nipple between his fingers. I¡¯m caught between the two sensations and the third one, the one that¡¯s growing between my legs.


    And I don¡¯t feel scared.


    I reach down to his shirt, tugging at the buttons. His skin is hot to the touch beneath.


    Rhys rests his forehead against mine again. ¡°You can tell me to stop whenever,¡± he says. ¡°We¡¯re just exploring.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    And then he¡¯s gone, bending his head to my chest. His lips close around my nipple and dear God I did not know that would feel like it does. It¡¯s sensitive and sensual and I make quick work of my other shoulder strap, tugging it down too.


    Rhys takes my cue and switches, tending to them both, and I keep my hand buried in his hair. How did we end up here? How did I get to experience this?


    And how do I make sure it doesn¡¯t stop?Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    Rhys rakes his teeth over the underside of my breast before lightly biting down on a nipple. I gasp, and he chuckles. ¡°Good?¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I agree. ¡°Rhys, I want you.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C41

    He closes his eyes, and even in the near darkness, I can see how his jaw works. ¡°You don¡¯t mean that, not in the way it¡¯s usually said.¡±


    I reach for his shoulders, for the half-unbuttoned shirt still hanging off him. ¡°Yes, I do. And I¡¯ve never meant it before. We could try, can¡¯t we?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sleeping with you in here.¡±


    I make my voice light. ¡°You might have to, unless you n to sleep outside.¡±


    ¡°Ivy.¡±


    ¡°Rhys.¡±


    His hand smooths down my chest, my stomach. ¡°Your skin feels like silk,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Are you really saying you want to try to have sex? With me?¡±


    I don¡¯t trust words, so I go with the tried-and-tested-sounds. ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s not too much to ask.¡±


    Heughs, and it brings out my own. ¡°Too much to ask? No. I¡¯ll help you get your ticket to Sexville, but not in a Jeep, and not tonight.¡± Then he snorts. ¡°Christ, I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m using that stupid expression now.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s catchy. And what¡¯s wrong with this Jeep? It¡¯s sturdy. Has a good hood.¡±


    He settles next to me, his arm still moving over my body. Stroking across my stomach, cupping a breast, down to my exposed legs. I shiver as his fingers trail up my thigh. ¡°Not here,¡± he repeats. ¡°We need to make the proper preparations.¡±


    ¡°Preparations?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Tell me, how high are your expectations, exactly? Conditioned by years of waiting, of hearing others, of reading about sex and watching porn.¡± He kisses me after asking that, which makes it hard to think, but I manage.


    ¡°Are you saying you¡¯re not up to the task?¡± I¡¯m teasing, but my voice turns shaky as his hand returns to stroke my thigh. Moving from outer to inner.


    ¡°Oh, I most certainly am, which is why I know I¡¯m not going to do my best work in this cramped space.¡±


    ¡°Coward,¡± I say, but it¡¯s all bluster. My muscles rx at his words, at the realization that as nice as this is, it¡¯s not going to happen tonight. But there will be other nights with him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never liked being demeaned in bed before, but this is kind of working for me. By all means, go on.¡±


    Iugh, turning my face against his arm. He smooths a hand over my shoulder. ¡°Besides,¡± he murmurs, ¡°there¡¯s no reason to rush. If we¡¯re going to do this, we¡¯ll do it right. Build up to it.¡±


    His hand returns to my breast, a warm, teasing presence. ¡°I like that,¡± I whisper.


    I can¡¯t see his smile, but I can feel it. ¡°I noticed,¡± he says. ¡°You like teeth, too.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°I wonder¡­¡± His hand skims lower, across my abdomen. My poor, beautiful silk dress is bunched around my stomach, but I¡¯m not cold now. His fingers skim thece edge of my underwear and it sends shivers dancing across my skin. ¡°You touch yourself on asion, right?¡±


    ¡°Rhys,¡± I murmur, closing my eyes as his fingers continue stroking thece edge.


    ¡°Too personal?¡± He kisses me again, lips teasing. ¡°I thought we were past that.¡±


    I nod against his shoulder and thank the darkness in this Jeep that he can¡¯t see my furious blush. It feels like crossing a threshold, this, not exactly ufortable¡­ but unfamiliar. Saying the words, performing the actions.


    His hand is so tantalizingly close to the waistband. My body has none of my mental hang-ups and twists toward him without shame, my legs widening.


    Rhys hums low in his throat. He bends to kiss my neck at the same time as his fingers slip under my waistband. ¡°You¡¯ll have to show me how, Ivy.¡±


    But I can¡¯t, because I can¡¯t breathe, not as his fingers inch downwards. Giving me time to back out. But I don¡¯t. The fire he¡¯s stoked is burning at a fever pitch, and I might be nervous, but I¡¯m not scared.


    His fingers reach that spot, right at the apex between my legs. ¡°Here?¡± he murmurs, his fingers gently circling.


    My breath is shaky. ¡°That¡¯s where I usually focus, yes.¡±Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    ¡°I bet.¡± Rhys bends to take one of my nipples in his mouth again, sucking at the same tempo as his fingers move. And he¡¯s doing things with his fingers that I don¡¯t. Circling, pressing, pinching and stroking. My breath grows embarrassingly loud and I reach out to fist a hand in his shirt again, wanting him close.


    ¡°I wish I could see you,¡± he mutters, his fingers delving further down. ¡°Jesus Christ, Ivy.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Is he breathless, too? ¡°You¡¯re wet.¡±


    I bite my lip and wish I could make out the expression on his face. ¡°That¡¯s the desired effect, no?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡± He grabs a hold of thece of my panties. I lift my hips as he tugs, pulling them down my legs and tossing them aside in the darkness. And thank God for the darkness, I think, my heart pounding in my chest.


    He chuckles, as if to some private joke. ¡°What¡¯s funny?¡±


    I feel him shake his head, but he answers anyway. ¡°I¡¯ve fantasized about sliding your panties down your legs before, but I¡¯ve never been able to settle on what they look like. What kind of underwear you wear. And now that I have, I can¡¯t fucking see them.¡±


    Iugh at that, even as desire clutches at my stomach. He¡¯s fantasized about this? About me? I want to ask about that, but he¡¯s stretched out beside me again and his hands are spreading my legs wide.


    ¡°All right,¡± he murmurs. I shiver at the return of his touch, skilled and strong and not my own. And then we both groan as he slides a long finger inside of me, knuckle by knuckle. ¡°Tell me if it¡¯s too much.¡±


    But it¡¯s not. It¡¯s deliciously just enough, and I turn my face toward his chest, my skin against his. The few buttons I¡¯d managed to undoe in handy.


    ¡°Have you used toys?¡± he asks, the heel of his hand pushing down on the aching spot above. He slides his finger out, and just as gingerly back in. It feels better than it ever has when I¡¯ve done that myself, because it¡¯s him.


    ¡°I have, yeah.¡± My sister had gotten me one for my birthday a few years ago, which might have been the most Penny thing ever, and it had¡­ well. It had been well-loved.


    ¡°A vibrator?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    His fingers continue moving. ¡°And you¡¯ve used it inside of you, as well?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but not as often.¡±


    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s good to know.¡± His voice is hoarse, the drawl he so often uses absent. He sounds like he did on the bridge in Paris, when he¡¯d asked me if I wanted to be kissed beneath the moonlight.

 Red Hot Rebel C42

    He rises up on a shoulder and kisses me, his tongue moving in the same tempo as his fingers. Teasing me, moving in and out, shifting back up to circle. When he presses three fingers down and rubs, I have to break apart from the kiss to gasp. Electricity zes down my thighs, up my stomach.


    ¡°Like that?¡±


    I can¡¯t reply, but he gets it, because he gives a low growl of satisfaction and keeps going. And keeps going. Beyond the point where I¡¯d have slowed down myself, pushing me ever closer to the edge. And then I have to turn my face into his chest, because I can¡¯t possibly watch him as this is happening.


    He pushes me over the edge and I¡¯m falling, my legs open, his hand working. His heartbeat is strong under my cheek as I shatter, but it¡¯s got nothing on how mine races.


    I bite my tongue but a moan slips out.


    The pleasure has a hold of me far longer than the orgasm itself, lingering in every limb. Rhys continues touching me, but slows down, softens, strokes my inner thighs.


    ¡°That,¡± he murmurs, ¡°was excellent, Ivy.¡±


    My breath is shaky, but his words and the obvious satisfaction in his voice drives away any embarrassment.


    I¡¯d juste in his arms.


    ¡°I thought so too.¡±


    He continues to touch me, but softly now. ¡°And you¡¯re not cold anymore?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all.¡±


    ¡°Mission aplished, then,¡± he says, and if there was light in here I would have sworn he winked. ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll be able to get some sleep?¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯d better try.¡± But I don¡¯t move from my ce against his chest, and he doesn¡¯t push me away, either. His hand gently pushes my legs closed and settles around my waist. I swallow my fears and shift closer, until my hip is next to his.


    ¡°What about you?¡± I ask, wondering if I dare move my hand south. ¡°You haven¡¯t¡­ you know.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°I¡¯m not the important factor in this equation, nor is my¡­ you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯re pretty vital to this n.¡±


    Rhys chuckles. ¡°Only tangentially, and I¡¯m not in a rush. This was a good first step.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve approached the ticket office?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve approached the ticket office,¡± he agrees. ¡°Sexville is the next stop.¡±


    I settle against him and his right arm returns under my shoulders, holding me close. Sneakily, as if he wouldn¡¯t notice, I slide my hand inside his half-unbuttoned shirt and rest it against the warm skin of his chest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong,¡± he murmurs, ¡°because I have absolutely no problem holding you while you¡¯re practically naked. But won¡¯t you be cold?¡±


    ¡°The silk didn¡¯t cover much to begin with.¡±


    Fabric rustles, and then he drapes his jacket over both of us. ¡°I¡¯ll start the car for a bit if it gets too chilly.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± And though I thought I¡¯d never be able to fall asleep, not in this car, not with him so close, I find that my eyelids have grown weights. It has to be a result of all the excitement, of the pleasure.


    ¡°And thank you for helping me with this, too,¡± I murmur.


    Rhys¡¯s voice is low, somewhere close to my ear. His heart beats underneath my hand. ¡°I¡¯m doing myself a favor too, Ivy.¡±


    The thought brings a smile to my lips, but does nothing to stop sleep from dragging me down. I don¡¯t know if he follows, but he keeps me close for the rest of the night regardless.


    Rhys


    ¡°I thought Kenya was hot,¡± Ivy says, wiping at the back of her neck. A few tendrils of blonde hair are stuck to the damp skin.


    ¡°Kenya¡¯s dry,¡± I say. ¡°Singapore is wet.¡±


    She nods absentmindedly, craning her neck to look for the approaching car. She doesn¡¯t say anything else, but at this point, I think she¡¯s figured me out. She knows I¡¯m not someone to be spoken to around airports, not to mention on flights. But she hasn¡¯tmented on it, either.


    Completely oblivious to the looks she¡¯s getting from other travelers waiting for their cars, she tugs at the buttons on her dress and huffs a sigh. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I pack morefortable clothes?¡±


    ¡°Because you didn¡¯t think this far ahead.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly why.¡±


    ¡°And because you sleep in silk chiffon dresses.¡±


    She levels a stare at me that is supposed to be withering, but it¡¯s anything but. It¡¯s a beautiful mixture of chagrin and embarrassment and something else, something warm. ¡°Only sometimes,¡± she says. ¡°And only when I have to.¡±


    I can¡¯t help it. I step close and wrap an arm around her waist, which I know I shouldn¡¯t in public, but fuck it. ¡°Best night¡¯s sleep I¡¯ve ever had,¡± I tell her.


    Ivy looks up at me. ¡°You could barely fit. We had to open the door halfway through the night because it got too humid inside.¡±


    ¡°Still the best night.¡± I¡¯m telling her that because I love seeing the look in her eyes, the one she¡¯s giving me now. She¡¯s remembering my fingers between her legs, and I¡¯m remembering the way she felt. The sounds of her moaned cries against my shirt.


    Yeah, I¡¯d slept for shit, but it was still a fantastic night.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have a proper bed tonight,¡± she whispers. Her eyes on mine are wide, golden flecks breaking up the beautiful blue. ¡°Your legs won¡¯t hang over the edge.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a good deal taller than the national average here, so I wouldn¡¯t count on it.¡±


    ¡°You think highly of yourself, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, highly being the operative word here.¡±


    She smiles, and I wish I had a camera to capture it. I¡¯ll have to take her advice instead and take a mental picture. Her bad jokes are starting to grow on me.


    This woman is starting to grow on me.


    And the fact that she¡¯d decided to trust me enough to give sex a try?


    Yeah, I¡¯m definitely taller than the average man here, not to mention anywhere, because I feel ten fucking feet tall.


    I catch a group of tourists to our left eyeing us, something I¡¯ve discovered is a normal side effect when you travel with someone like Ivy. She draws looks wherever we are, on nes, waiting at the gate, walking down the street, checking in at hotels.

 Red Hot Rebel C43

    My arm around her waist flexes a tad. It¡¯s juvenile but impossible to stop. They can look, but that¡¯s all.


    We check into a hotel that is as sumptuous as it is elegant. Located in a mid-rise skyscraper, it has capitalized on the gorgeous nature that Singapore¡¯s climate supports. Trumpet trees flower in pinks outside the lobby, and an entire wall d in tropical greens serves as the backdrop to the check-in desk.


    I had to give it to him, Ben had done good. Every location was more beautiful than thest, tied in with signature logos and excellent customer service. A bellboy escorts Ivy and me to our rooms, two massive suites with a single connecting door.


    ¡°It is currently locked,¡± the bellboy informs us with a serviceable smile. ¡°We were not given adequate information about your status as travelers. Would you like us to unlock it so you can easier spend time together?¡±


    It¡¯s an innocent question. Ostensibly, we could just share a ss one evening-no one would bat an eye at that.


    ¡°Yes, please,¡± Ivy says. ¡°That would be very convenient.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll override the lock as soon as I get back downstairs,¡± the man says. ¡°The manual lock on either side does, of course, still work.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t take more than five minutes before the connecting door opens and Ivy peeks her head through. I¡¯m sitting on my gigantic bed, turning my camera over in my hands, checking the gear.


    ¡°This ce is fantastic,¡± she says. ¡°The best rooms we¡¯ve had.¡±


    I lean back on the bed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I was kinda partial to our Jeep.¡±


    Sheughs, wrapping her arms around herself. ¡°An interconnecting door? It¡¯s like they knew we¡¯re up to mischief.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°And are we? Up to mischief?¡±


    Ivy¡¯s face is one of determination as she advances on me. I hold up my hands as she climbs onto the bed with a leg on either side of me. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m feeling mischievous.¡±


    I hold on to her hips, her body a warm weight on mine. Infinitely more interesting than my camera. ¡°So you are,¡± I say. She locks her hands behind my neck, like she¡¯s still unsure if she can touch me like this.


    Which won¡¯t do at all for what we¡¯re nning on exploring.


    ¡°He must have seen it on us,¡± Ivy says. ¡°Written on our faces.¡±


    ¡°Yours, perhaps. I¡¯d never be so transparent.¡±


    She smiles and presses her lips to mine in a kiss that¡¯s softly determined. My fingers tighten around her hips, and beneath her, my body starts to respond.


    This girl has me turnedpletely inside out.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one initiating kissing now?¡±


    She grins, looking like the Cheshire cat. ¡°I¡¯m dedicated to my training.¡±


    ¡°Very studious of you.¡± I kiss her back and deepen it, meeting her tongue with my own. Just lightly, though-I always want to leave her wanting more. ¡°I still haven¡¯t been called sensei. Not even once.¡±


    And damn me, but Ivy giggles, and it doesn¡¯t even annoy me. It sends pleasure through my chest instead, and satisfaction that I¡¯m the one who elicited the soft sound. ¡°Do you want to be called sensei? Is that some sort of kink?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we are far too early to be talking about kinks.¡± My hands slide down and settle around her ass. As much as I don¡¯t want to be one of the assholes who objectify her, there¡¯s no denying she¡¯s fine.


    Or that I¡¯d cursed myself for being so damn stupid that the first time I touched her, the first time I kissed her body, it was in a ce so dark I couldn¡¯t see an inch of her skin.


    I wouldn¡¯t be so stupid again.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    She cocks her head. ¡°So, tonight?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to n this, now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a nner,¡± she says, pushing at my chest. I let her force me down t on the bed, but I pull her with me, until she¡¯s bracing herself with a hand on either side of my head.


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I say. ¡°Sometimes I make ns just so I can purposely not follow them.¡±


    ¡°A rebel without a cause,¡± she teases.


    I smooth my hands up to her hips, her waist. ¡°When there are no revolutions to fight in, you have to give yourself a few.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Exins your constant battle with the itinerary.¡±


    ¡°And your constant adherence to it. But don¡¯t worry, I find you attractive even though you¡¯re so¡­ type-A.¡±


    Her eyes widen and I¡¯m rewarded with an indrawn breath, swiftly followed by a grin. ¡°That¡¯s probably the first andst time I¡¯ve ever been called type-A.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you only half fit the profile,¡± I admit, and I should know. Lord knows I have more type-As in my family than I need.


    She rolls her hips and I groan, because she¡¯s pressing down on the part of my anatomy I¡¯ve tried to ignore for the past twenty-four hours. Because if I let my mind stray to the sweet softness of her around my finger, well¡­ hardness o¡¯clock.


    ¡°Ivy,¡± I warn.


    ¡°You mentioned preparations.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I¡¯ll handle them today.¡± In truth, we don¡¯t need much. I already have condoms and I figured I¡¯d pick up a bottle of lube or some baby oil at a pharmacy somewhere. Not that she hadn¡¯t been gorgeously wet the other day, and damn it, now I¡¯m hard.


    Ivy feels it too, because her face bes stunningly flushed, her eyes excited. ¡°Ah,¡± she says. ¡°This, I¡¯m very intrigued about.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are.¡± I grip my hands around her waist tightly. ¡°But we¡¯re not about to explore that right now.¡±


    She manages to sneak a hand down and run her nails over the bulge, and sweet heaven, even through the fabric of my jeans¡­


    I flip her over and pin her hands to the bed. ¡°Stop that.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because we¡¯re doing this right, and that¡¯s slow and careful. I want you to havee at least twice before I¡¯ll think of being inside you, and your teasing is making it a lot harder to stick to my n.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like sticking to ns,¡± she whispers, her eyes on mine.


    ¡°I¡¯m sticking to this one.¡±


    We stare at each other for a long moment, her mouth open and breathing fast. So is mine, because despite my resolution, I¡¯m on top of her. On a bed. And we¡¯re alone.

 Red Hot Rebel C44

    A faint knock breaks us out of the stand-off. I nce at my door. ¡°It¡¯s not mine.¡±


    Ivy struggles and I let her go, watching as she flies off the bed. ¡°It has to be the hair and makeup artist the agency hired. And I¡¯m supposed to be showered and ready!¡±


    I grin at her from my sprawl on the bed. ¡°Better hurry.¡±


    ¡°Damn it.¡± She pauses with her hand on the interconnected door. ¡°Stop looking so smug.¡±


    ¡°This is just my face.¡±


    She rolls her eyes and closes the door behind her. I tuck an arm under my head and look up at the ceiling, my mind straying back to thoughts that won¡¯t make my hardness disappear anytime soon.


    Yeah, I feel ten feet tall all right.


    Ivy is nervous at my side, despite having her game face on. How do I know that? Because she¡¯s softly tapping her high-heeled shoe against the steel floor of the elevator, currently barreling us more than a hundred stories high.


    ¡°Rx,¡± I murmur.


    She nces at me. ¡°I am rxed.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    The elevator slides to a smooth stop atop Singapore¡¯s most famous building. The rooftop is one easily recognizable from movies, from pictures, and hopefully also by people interested in buying one of Rieler¡¯s travel packages.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    We step out into a tastefully decorated waiting area, following the hostess. ¡°We¡¯ve set up a table for you out here¡­¡± she says, leading us to the very edge of the outdoor bar. Singapore spreads out around us, the giant, sprawling city-state on one side and the turquoise-colored sea on the other. The beautiful water is littered with container ships, ready to make port or depart.


    Ivy sits down on one of the barstools, the tight dress she¡¯s wearing making it difficult for her. What¡¯s up with her agency and always putting her in the most infuriating clothes?


    She pushes a perfectly blown-out lock of hair behind her ear and looks at me with eyes that are rimmed ck. The makeup artist has made her look like¡­ well, like a damn model, that¡¯s what.


    The effect is almost unsettling, like she¡¯s someone else. Not the woman with rosy cheeks and sleepy eyes I¡¯d woken up next to at dawn in a Kenyan desert.


    Ivy epts a ss of water gratefully from the waiter, but I notice how her hand curls around the edge of the table. I step closer. ¡°Ivy, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not a particrly good liar,¡± I say, putting my camera down on the table. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    She looks out at the view before quickly returning her gaze to me. ¡°I¡¯m not a fan of heights,¡± she tells me. ¡°I don¡¯t hate them. I¡¯m just not a fan.¡±


    I nod, ncing past her to the beautiful city beyond. ¡°But you don¡¯t have a problem with views? Through windows?¡±


    ¡°No, not when I¡¯m inside. But I¡¯m not inside, we¡¯re outside.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°I know it doesn¡¯t make much sense.¡±


    Well, if she¡¯s expecting me to judge her, she has another thinging. I¡¯m not in a position to judge anyone, certainly not with my¡­ aversion to flying.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say, reaching out to put a hand on her bare shoulder. Her skin is warm under my hand. ¡°That¡¯s okay. We don¡¯t have to shoot here.¡±


    The look she gives me is exasperated. ¡°Of course we have to. It¡¯s on the list.¡±


    ¡°Not if it¡¯s taxing for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve shot more taxing things than this,¡± she tells me, like she¡¯s gearing herself up. ¡°I¡¯ve had a shoot that was underwater. One that had me lying on a bed of roses, and they were thorny.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a model.¡± She shrugs. ¡°We get all kinds of jobs.¡±


    I frown. ¡°Okay, so we¡¯ll get this shoot done as fast as we can and then we¡¯ll be off.¡±


    She slides off the barstool. ¡°All I have to do is focus.¡±


    ¡°Just look at me,¡± I tell her, taking a few steps back to get her entire form and the view. ¡°Nothing else.¡±


    She nods and slowly, ever so slightly, her face rxes. She slips back into the model mask I¡¯d seen her wear before, the one where it¡¯s impossible to read her eyes.


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°Just look at me.¡±


    She nods imperceptibly and poses by the table, a ss of champagne in her hand. Other guests move behind me, but I ignore them, solely focused on her. And she gives me the same attention.


    I don¡¯t shoot more than fifteen minutes. There might be other angles to try, but none of that matters, not when I see that her foot is constantly tapping away at the ground.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I tell her, pulling her toward the elevators. ¡°We¡¯re done up here.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ don¡¯t you need more shots?¡±


    ¡°Fuck the shots.¡± I press the button for the elevator and find the small of her back. Touching her is bing like a drug, my hands taking any excuse possible to meet her skin. She leans into me in the elevator.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± If I could figure out a way to stop flying, I¡¯d do it too, but my wanderlust is still too powerful.


    People watch us walk through the lobby in a way I¡¯ve be used to by now. Ivy is dressed to the nines, the fabric of the dress she¡¯s in clings to her form, her long legs on disy in a pair of high heels.


    She breathes a sigh of relief when we get in the cab and she closes her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That was unprofessional.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize.¡± I give the cab driver the name of a dumpling restaurant, one of Singapore¡¯s best, and turn to look at her again. Her color is slowly rising.


    ¡°I should work on it.¡±


    ¡°Not while being photographed.¡± My traitorous hand finds another excuse, reaching for hers. Her fingers feel slender inside my hand.


    Whatever spell she¡¯s cast, I¡¯m thoroughly under it.


    ¡°Where are we going now?¡±


    ¡°To eat something before we go back to the hotel.¡±


    Her eyes open a tad, locking with mine. And there¡¯s no need to speak aloud for themunication that passes through us.

 Red Hot Rebel C45

    ¡°Only if you want to,¡± I murmur, my hand squeezing around hers.


    She squeezes back. ¡°I do.¡±


    I swallow at the dryness of my throat. It¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve been this turned on, anticipated the first time with a woman this much. And I need to go slow-to remember the role I have to y. She wants a safe space to explore in.


    Ivy gets looks when we walk into the restaurant too. She ignores them, like she so often does, but leans in to murmur something. ¡°Do you notice how people look at you?¡±


    I put down my menu. ¡°Me? They¡¯re looking at you.¡±


    She smiles down at the list of dumplings. ¡°Some are, but not all. You could be a model too. I know that¡¯s not apliment in your book, but it¡¯s true.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± And then she reaches up with her phone and snaps a picture of me, sitting there in my shirt and cks, a menu in hand. She grins as she lowers it. ¡°Two can y this game.¡±


    I shake my head at her, but the conversation pauses as the waitress arrives. She picks it right up after, though. ¡°I thought about it,¡± she murmurs. ¡°When you were photographing me with Paolo.¡±


    It¡¯s petty, but my mouth sours at the mention of the Italian model. ¡°Thought about what?¡±


    ¡°How the roles could have been reversed. That I could have been sitting and making pretty eyes at you instead.¡±


    All right.


    I¡¯m okay with discussing Paolo if this is what we speak of.


    ¡°I thought about it too,¡± I admit.


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡±


    Ivy¡¯s smile turns crooked, and then I feel a silky leg settle next to mine beneath the table. ¡°You said something elsest night¡­ or was it the night before?¡±


    ¡°Time is irrelevant on this trip,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve changed the time zone on my watch more times than I can count.¡±


    ¡°Well, you said that you¡¯d fantasized about¡­ well.¡± She nces around, but the tables next to us are empty. ¡°Taking off my underwear.¡±


    I grin. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°What else have you fantasized about doing?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°We¡¯re not doing this.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not?¡±


    ¡°No, for two reasons. First,¡± I say, raising my chopsticks at her, ¡°this is about you and not about me. Your fantasy, not mine.¡±


    Her cheeks color, but she doesn¡¯t look away from my gaze. ¡°I want you to enjoy yourself too.¡±


    ¡°Christ, Ivy, there¡¯s no chance I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She nods. ¡°What¡¯s the second reason?¡±


    I lean across the table, watching her long, dark eyshes flutter. The strength in her eyes giving way to unexpected softness. ¡°We need to make it out of here and back to the hotel while remaining decent. And if we start talking about my fantasies¡­¡±


    Her lips fall open, her eyes darting down to mine. Fuck, but she wants me to kiss her. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever wanted to oblige to a woman¡¯s request more than hers.


    ¡°Eat your dumplings,¡± I say, trying to focus on my own. ¡°We¡¯ll leave as soon as we¡¯re done.¡±


    She smiles down at her food, looking up at me every now and then as the both of us clear our tes. Something¡¯s different with her hair-they¡¯ve straightened it, perhaps? It falls long and silky around her face, none of the usual yful curls.


    An imagees to mind. Ivy lying on her stomach in bed, naked with a cheeky grin on her face, d in nothing but her long hair and a smile. I¡¯d make it ck and white in the edit.


    It feels like it takes forever to make it back to the hotel. Ivy¡¯s hand finds mine in the car, and she holds on tightly. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve held hands with a woman like this, but with her¡­ Fuck, but it feels right. Everything about this does.


    Her foot taps against the elevator floor as we race upwards to our rooms. I nudge her with my shoulder, ignoring the other couple in the elevator. ¡°Nervous again?¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± she murmurs, but her tapping stops.


    Either by unspoken agreement or simpleyout, it¡¯s my hotel door we stop outside of. I hold it open for her and she steps past me on high heels and confidence. The city is a sky of lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the air hums with possibility.


    I close the door behind us.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Rhys


    ¡°You know,¡± I tell her, heading toward the minibar, ¡°I don¡¯t know how topliment you.¡±


    She sits down on the edge of the giant bed. ¡°You don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I open the fridge and pull out the bottle of champagne I¡¯d called up earlier while she was getting ready.


    ¡°That seems like a curious problem to have.¡±


    I uncork it in one smooth motion. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve told me that you¡¯re tired of men fawning over you. I¡¯m sure you¡¯replimented every day, all the time, in ways that are¡­ insincere. Is that true?¡±


    Ivy epts the ss I hand her, me standing, her sitting. She nods slowly. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true, yes.¡±


    ¡°And you told me that¡¯s why you haven¡¯t feltfortable doing this with someone.¡±


    She wets her lips. ¡°Part of it, yes. Don¡¯t forget expectations.¡±


    ¡°Expectations, yes.¡± I nod. ¡°I won¡¯t forget that. But you see, I do find you deeply attractive, and I¡¯d enjoy letting you know just how much. But I¡¯ll refrain if it makes you feel¡­ ufortable.¡±


    Ivy shakes her head slowly. ¡°It won¡¯t. Not from you.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± I take a sip to hide the smile that wants to break out. ¡°And regarding expectations, Ivy?¡±


    She nods. Recrosses her legs. ¡°What about them?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C46

    ¡°Forget all of that with me. You tell me what you want, what you don¡¯t want. No stupid questions.¡±


    ¡°No stupid questions,¡± she repeats, scooting further back on the bed. She lies back on her elbows, champagne ss in one hand. ¡°In that case, I want you to tell me just how attractive you find me.¡±


    Now I¡¯m smiling. ¡°Oh yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I set down my ss on the bar. ¡°I¡¯ve thought a lot about the first time I saw you dance,¡± I confess. ¡°On the square in St. Barts.¡±


    Ivy¡¯s full lips open, my eyes tracking the movement. ¡°You have?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Watching you move¡­ well, the idea that you might be a virgin was the furthest thing from my mind.¡± She looks away from me, her cheeks flushing. So I keep going. ¡°Not because you were moving lewdly, but because you hadplete control over your body. Knew every angle, every curve. And you looked sofortable inside your skin that I wanted to be inside yours.¡±


    Her eyes snap back to mine, and then very deliberately, she sets down her ss of champagne on the bedside table. ¡°You were so arrogant,¡± she says. ¡°From the beginning, you were so arrogant, and it annoyed me so much¡­ but I¡¯d never been more intrigued by someone.¡±


    ¡°The sound of your orgasm the other night, Ivy? Best thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±


    She swallows. Looks at me. I look at her.


    Then I reach for the buttons on my shirt and start undoing them one after the other, loving the way her eyes make me feel. It¡¯s heady, this. ¡°We have all night,¡± I say. ¡°Getting used to each other won¡¯t hurt.¡±


    Her eyes trail down my chest, my abs, and every hour I¡¯ve ever spent in the gym is worth it in that moment, just to have her gaze taking me in. Every drop of sweat and every early morning.


    ¡°Good idea,¡± she breathes.


    I let the shirt drop. ¡°We touched each other the other night, but we didn¡¯t see.¡±


    ¡°No, we didn¡¯t.¡± She scoots to the edge of the bed and pulls me closer, tugs me down beside her. Her hands are soft and warm on my body, exploring. I reach out and wrap an arm around her waist, letting her.


    She runs her nails over my chest. It¡¯s perhaps the most innocent touch, and yet it sets my blood racing.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I kiss her then, slow and soft. She¡¯s the one who deepens it and I follow along, because tonight is about her pace-I repeat that in my head, over and over, even as I feel her hike a leg up around my hip.


    ¡°This dress is pretty tight,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°Want me to undo the zipper?¡±


    She nods, pushing her hair out of the way. The zipper goes all the way down to her low back and the dress splits as I pull, revealing soft, tanned skin. She has two dimples on her low back, right above the edge of her panties.


    My nerves feel electrified, like my body is preparing for a fight with itself. Patience, Rhys. Not a wrong move here.


    It has been years since I¡¯d slept with a virginst, and even then I¡¯d been¡­ what, neen? An age ago. I¡¯m a better man now, a better lover.


    And I¡¯ll try to use all of that experience with Ivy.


    She shimmies out of her dress, settling down beside me in her panties and bra. A smile tugs at her lips.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask, bending to run mine across her neck. Soft, fragrant skin.


    ¡°I was just thinking,¡± she murmurs, her hand disappearing in my hair. ¡°That the first shoot we ever did was bikini.¡±


    ¡°Very true.¡± I linger at her corbone, smiling against her skin when I hear her swallow thickly. My hand traces patterns on her hip. ¡°Were you nervous about that?¡±


    ¡°Of course I was. I can¡¯t think of a model, not to mention a woman, who wouldn¡¯t be.¡±


    ¡°You fooled me.¡± I kiss my way down to the soft, swelling curves of her breasts, hidden from me by the ckce of her bra. ¡°You¡¯re so beautiful, Ivy,¡± I tell her. Women are always worried about something being too big or too small, and I¡¯ve never figured out why, when they¡¯re so perfect. But I know it¡¯s not to be ignored. ¡°You take my breath away.¡±


    She bites her lip, but there¡¯s no hiding the smile on her face. ¡°Better than a wildebeest?¡±


    I grin back at her, the joke so unexpected and so Ivy. ¡°Infinitely,¡± I assure her, ¡°but don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    ¡°Ruin your reputation?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it to my grave,¡± she murmurs, and with her eyes locked on mine, she reaches back and undoes her bra. I slide it off her arms and peel it away from her skin, groaning at the revtion.


    Her breasts look exactly like I¡¯d imagined them in the Jeep.


    Soft but firm, rosy nipples, inviting and supple. Ivyughs breathlessly as I kiss away, my mouth racing across the expanse of skin.


    ¡°Nothing new,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t see before,¡± I mutter, closing my mouth around a nipple. It hardens in my mouth, and so would I, if I hadn¡¯t already been rock-hard.


    Ivy¡¯s nails rake softly through my scalp. Again, I think. Do that again.


    She does, and this time she mewls softly when I add my teeth to her nipple, gently worrying it back and forth. ¡°I never knew it could feel like that,¡± she whispers.


    I switch nipples, raising an eyebrow at her. ¡°You don¡¯t touch them while you fuck yourself?¡±


    A breath escapes her. ¡°Wow, Rhys¡­¡±


    ¡°What else should I call it?¡± I ask, grinning as I rise up on my arms. ¡°And don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t imagined how you¡¯d look, working with that vibrator you have.¡±


    She wraps her arms around my neck, her hair spreading out around her. ¡°Why are we discussing my habits?¡±


    ¡°Because they¡¯re important.¡± I kiss her, reveling in her sweetness. ¡°Because they turn me the fuck on.¡±


    Ivy shivers, pulling me down flush against her, her nipples hard against my chest. ¡°I like turning you on.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re very good at it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I want to explore.¡± She spreads her legs, the movement settling me more firmly against her. Intended or not, my aching cock is now resting right between her legs, separated only by a fewyers of fabric.


    Ivy draws in a breath at the contact. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°That¡¯s what I really, really really want to explore.¡±


    Well, I¡¯m not about to argue with that.

 Red Hot Rebel C47

    I flip off her and start unbuckling my belt, pulling it out of the loops. She sits up beside me and her handse to rest on my abdomen.


    Her gaze flickers up to mine, and what I see in her eyes both humbles and excites me. ¡°You can¡¯t do anything wrong here, Ives,¡± I mumble. ¡°Nothing that won¡¯t turn me on. And we can stop at any time.¡±


    She nods once, and then her focus is back on my pants, helping me pull them off. The bulge in my boxers is practically obscene, my whole body taut with excitement.


    It goes against the grain, this. She was the one I¡¯d nned on savoring for a good long while before I¡¯d remove my own clothing. Her orgasms are what¡¯s important.


    But if this makes her feel morefortable, I¡¯ll take one for the team.


    Ivy¡¯s hands settle around the waistband of my boxers. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to show me how you like this,¡± she tells me.


    ¡°I will. But what did I just say?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°That I can¡¯t do anything wrong.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    She tugs my boxers down and my cock springs free, painfully hard. A breath escapes me at the sudden freedom.


    Ivy is staring at it, at me, and it twitches eagerly beneath her gaze. Her hand reaches out and I hiss at the contact. She nces up at me, a smile on her lips. ¡°This is fantastic.¡±


    And fuck me if that isn¡¯t the weirdest and bestpliment I¡¯ve ever gotten. I tuck an arm behind my head and watch as she starts to slowly stroke me. Her fingers pause to dance across the sensitive head and I grind my teeth together.


    This is excruciating.


    It¡¯s also turning me on beyond belief.


    ¡°I never knew it would be this hard. It¡¯s not like a limb, it¡¯s¡­ just really hard.¡± She snorts, her hand picking up speed. ¡°Listen to me being coherent.¡±


    It was more than I can be.


    ¡°Am I doing this right?¡±


    I force myself to focus. She wants to learn. So I reach down and settle my hand around hers, tightening her grip. ¡°Like this,¡± I murmur. ¡°And faster when you stroke.¡±


    She obliges, her hand starting to move on its own. I watch the blonde hair falling over my thigh, her hand moving, her face beautifully rapt¡­


    Hand jobs had been consigned to the past, in my sexual life. They were usually something done quickly before a mouth was applied. At a certain point, you just graduate past them. I hadn¡¯t really missed them.


    But I should have, because this is the most erotic thing I¡¯ve experienced in¡­ oh, I can¡¯t think that far back, not while my body feels like it¡¯s a running current beneath my skin.


    Ivy reaches below to cup my balls, still stroking, and I bark out a breath.


    ¡°Is that okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Better than okay.¡±


    Sheughs, a soft giggle that somehow goes straight to my cock, and it twitches again in her hand. Performing like some damn circus animal and loving every second of it.


    I look up at the ceiling and wonder how much of this beautiful torture I have to endure. That¡¯s when she puts her mouth on me.


    She kisses the head of my cock, looking up at me as she widens her lips and slips it inside. I swallow thickly. ¡°This was not part of the n. The n was you orgasming.¡±


    She can¡¯t smile, but I can see it in her eyes nheless. They¡¯re glittering with determination and sess. She¡¯s enjoying this-more than that, it¡¯s giving her confidence. And perhaps confidence is what she needs for this.


    Her tongue swirls and I curse, looking away from her. It¡¯s the slowest, most tantalizing, most inexperienced blow job I¡¯ve ever had, and fuck if that doesn¡¯t make it better somehow.


    Ivy lets me go with a soft pop. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to try that,¡± she says, breathless. ¡°I want to get really good at it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you will, I¡¯m sure of that.¡± I reach down and run a hand through her hair. ¡°Done exploring?¡±


    She frowns down at my cock, her hand stroking softly. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever be done.¡±


    ¡°Well, it will be, unless you give it a break.¡± That¡¯s not a lie, either. Heat had been growing in my thighs, at the base of my spine, and I need tost a hell of a lot longer tonight. This isn¡¯t about my pleasure.


    Ivy gives a dramatic sigh and releases her grip. ¡°I¡¯ll see youter,¡± she says, and she¡¯s not talking to me.


    ¡°He¡¯s not going anywhere.¡±


    The understatement of the year.


    I roll over, her legs opening instinctively for me. Nothing but the warm fabric of her panties separating us now. Taking my time, I kiss her soundly before my fingers settle around thece edges of her underwear. I sit back on my knees, worrying the fabric in my hands.


    She looks up at me, her breasts rising with every quick breath she¡¯s taking.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take these off,¡± I warn her. Giving her time to protest.


    She gives me a nod. Go ahead.


    Slowly, I peel the panties off her, and this time I get to watch the whole thing. They¡¯re in ck cotton with ace trim. Unbearably sexy.


    But nothing near how sexy she is beneath them.


    Fuck, but she¡¯s perfect in every way, and I want her so much I¡¯m near exploding without any damn stimtion. My hands on her knees, I keep them spread for me. Admiring the view.


    It isn¡¯t until she gives an embarrassed littleugh that I find my words. ¡°You¡¯re perfect, Ivy. So fucking perfect.¡±


    ¡°tterer,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°No. I told you once, I don¡¯t lie.¡± My hand starts stroking up her inner thighs, the soft skin like silk under my fingers. Touching her and finding the swollen center of pleasure at the top. She shudders as I start circling right there.


    ¡°Ivy,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°Mhm?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a fucking crime I couldn¡¯t see this in the Jeep.¡±


    Herughter is breathless. ¡°Didn¡¯t stop you though.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C48

    ¡°Of course it didn¡¯t.¡± I settle between her legs, pressing kisses to her inner thighs. Working my way up. Teasing, warming her up, not moving my lips or my tongue to the spot I know she wants me at. ¡°I¡¯ve fantasized about this too,¡± I tell her, knowing that women can be nervous about this, not that I¡¯ve ever understood why. I just don¡¯t want Ivy to be.


    All I hear is a questioning hmmm?


    I smile against her skin and settle in to work. Nudging her clit with my tongue, my fingers helping. Her heavy breathing is like music, and when she slides her hand into my hair¡­ I devote myself to her pleasure.


    Discovering which spots make her squirm, which areas she needs harder stimtion, and where I need to go deliciously slow. I ease one finger in. She immediately squeezes around my finger, and my cock throbs in response.


    ¡°Rhys¡­¡± she breathes, but there¡¯s only pleasure in her voice, no pain.


    I settle my mouth on her clit and suck gently, worrying it with my lips. Easing another finger inside of her, I curl it in tempo with my mouth.


    It doesn¡¯t take long until she explodes around my finger and against my mouth, arching up on the bed like she¡¯s been pulled on a string. Looking up, she has one of her breasts sped in her hand, her mouth half-open. It¡¯s the sexiest thing I¡¯ve ever fucking seen.


    And she damn near cuts off cirction to my finger with her squeezing.


    I kiss her throughout her orgasm, my eyes never leaving her face. Her skin has flushed a rosy red.


    She breathes heavy as shees down off her high. ¡°Oh my God,¡± she says weakly. ¡°I didn¡¯t think¡­ I really didn¡¯t think that would happen.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow at her. ¡°You doubted me?¡±


    She snorts, but smiles at me. ¡°I doubted myself.¡±


    ¡°Foolish,¡± I say, stroking up her inner thighs. ¡°You can do anything, Ivy.¡±


    I run my hands up her body, down her sides, her taut stomach. There¡¯s not a part of her I don¡¯t want to have seared with my hands, like I can mark her, learn her terrain. Ivy wraps her arms around me and I hold her, feeling more desire than I ever have before. More tenderness, too. The mixture makes my head dangerously light, and it¡¯s not helped by my cock, now pushing against the softness of her stomach.


    We kiss again, breaking off to breathe. ¡°You set the pace,¡± I murmur. ¡°You decide.¡±


    ¡°I want you inside me, Rhys.¡± She nces down, a furrow in her brow. ¡°My vibrator isn¡¯t that big, though.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll go slow,¡± I promise, wondering how the hell I¡¯m going to live up to that. Slow feels out of my reach, out of my vocabry. What does the word even mean?


    There¡¯s only one way to ensure this goes slow.


    I grip her hips and twist us around, pulling her on top of me. Her legs settle on either side as she straddles. ¡°You¡¯ll control the movement,¡± I tell her. ¡°It¡¯s better this way.¡±


    Better because I don¡¯t know if I can manage to ease in inch by inch like she needs. Reaching out to the bedside table, I grab one of the condoms.


    Ivy watches me with avid interest as I undo the packet. ¡°Another thing I want to learn,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I¡¯ve seen instructional videos.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Of course you have.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m probably the most knowledgeable virgin ever.¡± Her voice is breathless as she scoots down to give me ess. I grip my cock in one hand and roll the condom on with the other.


    It twitches in my grip, well-aware that it has a rapt audience.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You¡¯re knowledgeable, huh?¡±


    ¡°Just because I haven¡¯t had sex doesn¡¯t mean I haven¡¯t read a ton about it.¡± Ivy slides back up and settles on my cock, bending it so it touches my stomach.


    ¡°Reading isn¡¯t the same as doing.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m learning.¡± She bites her lip and starts to roll her hips, sliding across my shaft. Fucking hell, but this woman is going to kill me before I¡¯ve even entered her.


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Iment, which puts me in the running for the understatement of the year. I reach down and part her around me, so she¡¯s riding the full length of me. She shivers as she grinds down, using me to hit the spot she needs.


    Good is definitely an understatement.


    I grip her hips, and then further up, weighing her breasts in my hand. A strand of her hair brushes my hand. ¡°Whenever you feel like it,¡± I tell her.


    She bites her lip in the way that I¡¯m learning is unconscious, and beautiful, and makes me want to photograph her. She lifts herself up and I grip my cock, angling it so the head pushes against her entrance. And damn it, but if this wasn¡¯t so strongly about her, I would have bucked my hips and pushed in on instinct alone.


    Her eyes are wide and determined, her hands reaching out to rest on my chest. ¡°Slide down,¡± I instruct her.


    She keeps her eyes on mine as she starts to sink, and she¡¯s more beautiful than I¡¯ve ever seen her before. Wild and unbound, tentative and careful, focusing so strongly on what she¡¯s feeling. She¡¯s turned inwards, and yet the sensation she¡¯s searching for is one of my doing.


    The head eases inside, and both of us exhale in pleasure at that. It¡¯s impossible not to. Her mouth forms a small O, a brief pinch in her eyebrows.


    ¡°Breathe and rx,¡± I tell her. ¡°It¡¯ll fit.¡±


    Her breath is shaky, but she keeps going. And with every inch, pleasure spreads through my body, radiating from where we join. Every part of my body is tense-focused on that spot.


    ¡°You feel fucking unreal,¡± I tell her. ¡°So, so good.¡±


    Sheughs, but it¡¯s breathless, and it chokes off altogether when I press my thumb down on her clit.


    ¡°This helping?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she whispers, ¡°but don¡¯t stop.¡±


    Good thing I¡¯m wearing a condom or I wouldn¡¯tst.


    ¡°I can feel you so deeply,¡± she says, and her voice is wondrous. ¡°I never thought about that.¡±


    I¡¯m not really thinking at all, but I nod, my thumb still working on her clit. ¡°Is it getting easier?¡±


    Ivy nods, sinking down fully. I¡¯m buried to the hilt and it¡¯s the most delicious thing I¡¯ve ever experienced.


    She releases a shaky breath. ¡°Oh God.¡±


    I close my eyes at the exquisite pleasure, the tight heat of her. The pain of not moving.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    My eyes open, but there¡¯s only tentative pleasure on her face.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t. I feel¡­ stretched. But in a good way.¡± And then she starts to move, and the sight of hering earlier is reced by this one as top of my list of sexiest things I¡¯ve ever fucking seen. Because Ivy rolling her hips, carefully taking me in and out, hands on my chest as if I¡¯m the only thing grounding her to earth¡­

 Red Hot Rebel C49

    With her hair a blonde halo above her, her nude, lithe body moving on top of me¡­ Forever. I could do this forever.


    And then shees again with my thumb working her clit, and I marvel at how easy this seems to be for herpared to her earlier fears. Her breathing rises and crests, her movements growing quicker.


    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± I mutter, not able to help myself, arching up beneath her in pleasure as her tight heat contracts around me. It¡¯s a damn near thing to hold myself back.


    She copses on top of me, her heart thundering in her chest. I wrap my arms around her waist and breathe heavily, still buried inside her and still rock hard.


    ¡°Wow,¡± she whispers. ¡°That wasn¡¯t¡­ you¡­ good.¡±


    ¡°Beautifully phrased.¡±


    She chuckles against my chest, reaching up to kiss me. Every time she pulses, I can feel my cock twitch in response. The self-control it¡¯s taking me not to move feels like it¡¯s shaving years off my life.


    Still worth it.


    ¡°Was I too quick?¡± Ivy asks. ¡°You still haven¡¯te.¡±


    I snort. ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a bad thing.¡±


    She flicks her hair to the side, and it drapes over me like a silken nket. ¡°How do we fix that?¡±


    ¡°I can think of a few ways.¡± Moving my hips chief amongst them, but I keep them still. ¡°Ready to try a new position?¡±


    Ivy nods and lifts herself off me. I draw in a breath at the sensation of suddenly leaving the slick, tight heat of her. The world outside is not nearly as hospitable.


    She turns over on her back and I rise up on my arms above her, kissing her deeply. She wraps her arms around my back, kissing me back like she¡¯s never done anything else. Like she never wants to do anything else.


    I push her legs apart with my knees, still kissing her. And then I push in slowly, watching her face the entire time. She¡¯s biting her lip, but true to her word, there isn¡¯t a hint of pain in her eyes.


    My pace is faster than hers, there¡¯s no denying it, but she¡¯s more yielding now, too. So unbelievably tight and hot around my cock that it¡¯s difficult to think.


    I run my hand up the soft skin of her outer thigh, pulling her leg up. Ivy gets the message and wraps them around the small of my back, and fuck yes, this is how I want her.


    Fiery and soft beneath me.


    My hips start moving on their own, quick thrusts that push me deeper and deeper. Ivy¡¯s eyes are on mine, her hands behind my neck.


    Her mouth is a round O of pleasure and I¡¯m not going tost for shit. This has already been the most anticipated, drawn-out sexual experience of my life. Her hand slides down to lock around my bicep as she nces down. Watching where we join.


    ¡°You like seeing it?¡±


    She nods, tilting her hips to meet mine. I bury my head against her neck and groan, because there¡¯s no fucking way it¡¯ll ever be this good again.


    Ivy holds me close. ¡°You feel so good inside me.¡±


    Her words send my already electric body into overdrive. Pleasure starts at the base of my spine and radiates out, shooting through me, everything contracting. My hips move on their own as my orgasm barrels out of me.


    I kept my face rested against her neck, breathing through the intensity of my release. Perhaps I¡¯m crushing her. Perhaps I should move. But I can¡¯t, not while my hips still push into her.


    ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± I mutter.


    Ivy doesn¡¯t let me go. She just holds me tight, and I wonder if I¡¯ll ever muster the strength to leave. I can¡¯t imagine ever wanting to.


    ¡°I could feel you,¡± she says, her tone one of pleasure and wonder. ¡°When you came, I could feel it.¡±


    I give a tired chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. Fuck, I haven¡¯te that hard in forever.¡±


    Lifting myself up on an elbow, her smile is triumphant and shy at the same time. She pushes a lock of hair off my brow. ¡°That¡¯s apliment I like.¡±


    ¡°Greedy.¡±


    ¡°Mhm, with you I am.¡± She lifts her neck and I oblige, pressing my lips to her. The kiss is soft, but I know I need to move. Grab and discard the condom before we have a different kind of problem on our hands.


    She frowns when I leave, but I return soon enough, lifting up the covers so she can slide underneath.


    ¡°So?¡± I ask, stretching out beside her. My entire body feels hot and tired, like I¡¯ve just finished running a marathon. In some ways I think I might¡¯ve. ¡°You have to give me the debrief.¡±


    ¡°The debrief?¡± The dark makeup around her eyes has smudged a bit, but it doesn¡¯t detract the least from her beauty. If anything, it makes her look wilder.


    ¡°You just had sex,¡± I remind her. ¡°You¡¯ll have to tell me how it was.¡±


    Sheughs and reaches out to run a hand through the smattering of hair on my chest. ¡°That¡¯s a very personal question. I¡¯m not sure we¡¯re quite there yet.¡±


    I groan in mock disappointment. ¡°And here I thought we were bing friends.¡±


    ¡°Friends? How presumptuous, Mr. Marchand.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    I close my eyes. ¡°Ugh.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what my dad is called, or my older brother.¡±


    She giggles, walking her fingers down to my abs. ¡°Rhys.¡±


    ¡°Much better. Nowy it on me. How was your first time? And before you respond,¡± I say, reaching out to slide my arm under her neck, ¡°remember that I¡¯m a man. My ego is very fragile.¡±


    ¡°Nothing about you is fragile, and least of all your ego,¡± Ivy says. ¡°And before I do, I want to know what it was like for you.¡±


    ¡°Answering a question with a question is bad form.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°Really fucking good,¡± I say. Ivy, naked and soft against my side. A giant hotel bed to lounge in. A foreign city right on our doorstep. ¡°Really, really fucking good.¡±


    Ivy rests her head on my shoulder. ¡°I was concerned it wouldn¡¯t be, for you. Considering I don¡¯t know what to do.¡±


    ¡°You know what to do, all right.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C50

    Sheughs, the little giggle again, and an entirely different kind of pleasure spreads through my chest. ¡°Did I do my job well?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Very. You kept your word, too.¡± She looks down at my jaw. ¡°I came twice.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you did.¡± Does she hear the satisfaction in my voice? ¡°You orgasm easily,¡± I add. ¡°That¡¯s a great quality.¡±


    She sighs and snuggles against me. ¡°It feels like I¡¯ve just had a workout,¡± she says.


    Seems like we¡¯ll sleep in the same bed tonight. I briefly consider if that¡¯s a good idea-and of course it¡¯s not-before dismissing it. No way am I kicking her out, not after what we¡¯ve just done. Not after she¡¯s just had sex for the first time.


    And, I add to myself, reaching over to turn off the lights, it¡¯s not like I mind.


    Ivy


    I blink my eyes open, but there¡¯s no light. The room I¡¯m in is bathed in a darkness so absolute it has to be artificial. Where am I?


    It takes me a second to remember. Singapore. And the bed isfortable beneath me, theforter cozy, the man beside me warm.


    Rhys is breathing deeply behind me, his arm thrown around my waist. We¡¯d slept together yesterday.


    I¡¯d slept with someone.


    It shouldn¡¯t change things, really, but it still feels like the most momentous event. I¡¯d gone on this trip convinced that I¡¯d never find the right opportunity, the right man, a situation where it would feel effortless to try. But I had.


    The darkness is an easy cloak for my wide smile. I reach down and run careful fingers over the arm resting around me, over the dark hair on his skin. It had been so much better than I¡¯d thought it would be, having heard time and time again how people¡¯s first times were often disappointing.Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    This hadn¡¯t been the least bit disappointing.


    But perhaps that¡¯s understandable, considering I¡¯m not a fumbling teenager, and Rhys probably has more experience than I feelfortable thinking about.


    I nce over at him, but I can¡¯t see a thing. He must have pulled the curtains sometime during the night.


    What happens now?


    The part of me who always thinks ahead, the part that¡¯s saved every penny I¡¯ve ever made and follows itineraries to the letter, is staring at my sudden spontaneous side in outraged anger. Sleep with the photographer?


    What are you thinking, Ivy?


    But it¡¯s very easy to silence her, because the truth is¡­ I would¡¯ve risked a lot more to have that one night with Rhys. To experience pleasure racketing through my body, and to have his hands touch my body like he loved it. Like he couldn¡¯t wait to be inside me, like he needed me.


    My smile grows wider.


    And so what if I haven¡¯t looked at my physical therapy textbooks in days? There¡¯ll be time for that. Rhys goes where he wants, he does what he pleases. Perhaps I can be more like that.


    I nce over at the rm clock on the bedside table and nearly jolt up in rm. We¡¯ve slept for nearly ten hours.


    Beside me, Rhys stirs and gives a low groan. The arm around my waist tightens, his leg against mine, and I smile again. Worth it.


    So worth it.


    He presses a kiss to my shoulder. ¡°Morning,¡± he mumbles.


    ¡°Good morning.¡±


    His hand smooths over my stomach, before sliding up to cup my breast. It¡¯s a casual touch, but it means the intimacy is still here. No morning awkwardness.


    ¡°Sleep well?¡±


    ¡°Like the dead,¡± he says, voice hoarse. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°Same. We must have been tired.¡±


    ¡°Clearly.¡±


    I try to turn, to see what he looks like newly awake, but I can¡¯t make out any clear shapes. ¡°It¡¯ste,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°The time?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Drop the itinerary, Ives.¡±


    I push against his chest. ¡°Not when it¡¯s our job.¡±


    He sighs and stretches to flick a switch by his bedside table. A mechanic motor kicks into gear and then the giant draperies start to slide open. We both wince at the sharp light they reveal.


    ¡°Howte iste?¡± he asks.


    ¡°As in, I¡¯m supposed to be in hair and makeup in twenty minutes.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s easy.¡± He settles back down, pulling me into his arms so I¡¯m draped across his wide chest. ¡°Skip it. You don¡¯t need it, anyway. I like photographing you au natural.¡±


    I run a hand under my eyes. ¡°I never removed my makeup yesterday. You distracted me.¡±


    ¡°Guilty.¡± His smile is crooked.


    ¡°Do I look like a roon?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, but he has an eyebrow raised. ¡°A panda, perhaps. They¡¯re cuddlier.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re very kind.¡±


    He pushes my hair back, off my face. ¡°I do my best.¡±


    We look at each for a long moment. The deep green of his eyes is thoughtful, soft, illuminated by the morning light. I¡¯m the one who looks away, unable to stop myself from smiling.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. I just¡­ I can¡¯t believe we did thatst night.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C51

    Rhys¡¯s smile is crooked. ¡°I can.¡±


    I bury my head against his chest. ¡°I¡¯ll probablye to terms with it soon enough too.¡±


    ¡°Come to terms with it?¡± His hand settles around my bare hip, squeezing. ¡°You wound me.¡±


    ¡°Impossible.¡±


    ¡°Nearly.¡±


    I look up again to see his gaze on my body, eyes focused. I force more bravado into my voice than I feel-it¡¯s vulnerable, being this intimate. ¡°You¡¯d want to photograph me nude, huh?¡±


    But his voice doesn¡¯t match my teasing. ¡°Absolutely, I do.¡±


    I rise up, a hand on his chest. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He runs a thumb over my lower lip. ¡°I¡¯ve already thought of what kind of light I¡¯d want, knowing which poses you prefer.¡±


    There¡¯s nothing to say to that, because my mind is nk. His statement is matter-of-fact, a true appreciation. It¡¯s not lewd or leering. It¡¯s not a photographer taking advantage. It¡¯s one artist to another.


    And it moves me more than I thought it would.


    ¡°So?¡± he asks. ¡°No regrets about yesterday?¡±


    ¡°None at all.¡± I wonder if I can ask the question on my mind. What happens now? We didn¡¯t define any parameters for this. But Rhys raises an eyebrow and barrels on-he probably has no qualms or questions. After all, when did he say hisst kiss was before me? A few weeks ago?


    I doubt that encounter had been limited to kissing.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°How do you feel?¡± he asks, ncing down. And it¡¯s silly, because he¡¯s the one who¡¯s been there, but it makes me blush.


    He gives a quietugh. ¡°So inconsistent, about what makes you embarrassed. It¡¯s difficult to keep track of.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. It¡¯s very interesting.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°So I¡¯ve been upgraded from not uninteresting to actually being interesting? Thank you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a realpliment in my book,¡± he says. ¡°You should take it to heart.¡±


    ¡°Oh, should I?¡±


    He nods, flipping us over. Theforter falls off him, his hair a tumble of dark locks over his brow as he hovers above me. ¡°You¡¯re not too sore, are you?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m not sore at all,¡± I counter.


    Rhys shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m relieved or offended.¡±


    ¡°Decide, and then I¡¯ll tell you the truth.¡±


    His eyes widen. ¡°Ivy, you deceitful-¡±


    His words are cut off by the loud sound of a phone ringing. The ringtone is mine, emanating from wherever in the oversized hotel room I¡¯d tossed my handbagst night.


    Cold suspicion grips a hold of me. ¡°What date is it?¡±


    ¡°Should be the twelfth,¡± Rhys says. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Damn it!¡± I slide out from under him, racing across the room to the bathroom. I slide into one of the giant, fluffy bathrobes. ¡°My dad and sister are calling. They scheduled a FaceTime call for today.¡±


    ¡°Scheduled?¡± Rhys calls from the bed.


    ¡°Yes, scheduled!¡± I run a brush through my hair as the signal dies. I know I¡¯ll have no more than a minute before they call again. ¡°We knew I¡¯d be traveling all the time, so we settled on a ce and a time that would work for us both with the time difference.¡±


    Not to mention Dad is the textbook definition of punctual. Looking in the mirror, I hurry to wipe at the smudged mascara under my eyes. It¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯ll have to do.


    My phone rings again. Rhys leans against the headboard, an eyebrow raised as he watches me search for my phone.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± hements, as I race to the adjoining door.


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he says, waving me away.


    I hit reply and my dad¡¯s chin fills the screen. ¡°Ivy?¡± he asks. ¡°Ivy, can you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Dad, not so close,¡± Penny chides him, and the phone is tugged back. There they are, my dad with his reading sses on and gray hair, Penny sitting next to him.


    She¡¯s grinning, he¡¯s frowning.


    ¡°Where is¡­ oh! Hi sweetheart,¡± Dad says. ¡°Are you in a hotel robe?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have to jump in the shower after this,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m in Singapore.¡±


    ¡°We know.¡± Penny holds up the trip itinerary that I¡¯d forwarded to the both of them by email. They¡¯d printed it, and each stop I¡¯ve already been to has a tidy checkmark next to it. ¡°We¡¯ve been following along!¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s Singapore?¡± Dad asks.


    Iunch into an exnation of the city, focusing on the buildings and new construction. It¡¯s what he¡¯s interested in, but Penny rolls her eyes halfway through. ¡°What about the food? What about the people?¡± she asks.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been here for less than twenty-four hours!¡±


    ¡°But you must have eaten?¡±


    Laughing, I tell her all about the dumplings Rhys and I atest night. ¡°Oh, and have you seen the pictures I¡¯ve sent you both? I¡¯ve tried to take as many as I can.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and they¡¯re much appreciated,¡± Penny says. Behind her, I see the familiar outline of my living-room windows. They¡¯re in my apartment-which means Dad came into the city to visit Penny for this call, rather than vice versa.


    That¡¯s impressive. If he can, he¡¯ll avoid any big city.

 Red Hot Rebel C52

    ¡°I miss you,¡± I say. ¡°I know I¡¯ve only been gone for a week and a half, but we¡¯re flying so much it feels like a month.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be home soon,¡± Penny says.


    Dad nods. ¡°Only two more stops now. Bali, and then Sydney.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be taking a ton of pictures for you.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°How is it going with the photographer you¡¯re traveling with? Has he been behaving himself?¡±


    I nce toward the open door between our rooms. No doubt Rhys can hear this whole interaction. ¡°He has,¡± I say. ¡°Turns out, he¡¯s actually quite nice.¡±


    ¡°What about your studies? Have you been keeping up?¡±


    Penny elbows Dad, but he ignores it, looking straight at me. ¡°It¡¯s been difficult to find the time,¡± I admit, ¡°but I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll take me more than a day or two to catch up when I get back.¡±


    It really hasn¡¯t been long at all, and I¡¯m loving this trip, but my chest is aching with homesickness when we say goodbye, with only a few minutes to spare before the hair stylist shows up.


    Rhys appears in the opening between our two rooms, dressed in nothing but a pair of cks. His hair is a tousled mess, his abs on full disy.


    He leans against the doorway. ¡°The photographer is actually quite nice?¡±


    I groan. ¡°You heard that?¡±


    ¡°I did. I¡¯m not sure which word is more offensive. Actually, quite or nice.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like being called nice?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°The weather can be nice. Having a cup of coffee can be nice. People shouldn¡¯t be described that way, least of all me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, cocking my head. ¡°Would you like to give me a list of pre-approved adjectives that may be applied to you?¡±


    He grins, stretching out beside me on the bed neither of us had slept in. ¡°I¡¯ll email it to you,¡± he says. ¡°Are you ready for Bali?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± I say, stretching out beside him. ¡°I have no idea what to expect.¡±


    His pushes a tendril of hair behind my ear. ¡°You¡¯ll love it,¡± he says. ¡°I might have asked the agency to give us an extra day there.¡±


    ¡°You did what?¡±


    ¡°Good surprise?¡± he asks, eyebrow raised. ¡°I figured we could both use a day¡¯s breather after all the flying and jetg.¡±


    My smile widens. ¡°Excellent surprise. One might even call it nice.¡±


    He groans. ¡°Not that word.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help it, I haven¡¯t been given a list of pre-approved adjectives yet!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re hopeless.¡± But as Rhys tucks an arm under his head, as we grin at each other, I¡¯m feeling more filled with hope than ever before.


    Ivy


    ¡°You know,¡± I tell Rhys as we trail after the Indonesian receptionist, ¡°I keep thinking that Rieler Travels can¡¯t possibly outdo themselves. That the next ce can¡¯t be any better than the one that came before it.¡±


    Rhys snorts beside me. ¡°Are you creating marketing slogans for them now?¡±


    ¡°I should be. But I mean, look at this ce!¡± The hotel looks like it¡¯s nestled into a hillside jungle, thanks to the abundance of greenery around us. The humid air is already curling my hair, but what does that matter when we¡¯re escorted past deep-blue pools?


    ¡°We¡¯ve given you one of the best vis in the hotel,¡± the hotel attendant tells us, opening the front door for us. ¡°On your patio, you¡¯ll find a private pool overlooking parts of the forest. It has been covered in rose petals for your photoshoot.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she says, with a small bow. ¡°Please enjoy your stay, and don¡¯t forget, don¡¯t feed the monkeys.¡±


    ¡°Monkeys?¡±


    She shoots me a smile before she heads back down the path we came from. Rhys and I are left alone in the bright, luxurious vi, this one with two bedrooms.


    As if in a daze, I walk out onto our private patio. ¡°Do you think someone can be too impressed? Have too many new experiences in too short of a time? Can it be fatal?¡±


    By my side, Rhys chuckles. I hear the snapping of his camera, but I don¡¯t turn, knowing better by now. I just close my eyes and breathe in the thick air instead.


    Click click click.


    He wraps an arm around my waist and points at the pool. ¡°See all those rose petals?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± They cover the pool, ced in swirling patterns. It¡¯s an art piece.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to send the drone up and capture a few shots of this without you, and then with you in it.¡±


    ¡°All right, perfect.¡±


    He bends to press a kiss to my temple. As good as it feels, I push him away with a grin.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The hair and makeup artist will be here soon. I don¡¯t want to be seen as that model, you know, the one who sleeps with the photographer.¡±


    He rolls his eyes. ¡°So I¡¯m just the photographer again. Good to know. Once again reduced to my working status.¡±


    Laughing, I grab his hand and pull him back into the vi. ¡°You¡¯re being ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not one of the pre-approved adjectives.¡± He stops by my gigantic suitcase and aims a casual kick to the side. ¡°What asinine outfits has the agency packed for you today?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see.¡± I sit down cross-legged on the floor and open it up, deftly finding the clothing bag titled Bali. I pull out a red bathing suit that¡¯s cut high on the legs and has a low scooped back.


    ¡°Well, I like that one,¡± Rhys says.


    Iugh, clutching it to my chest. ¡°So predictable.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C53

    ¡°Not that word again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, standing. ¡°I should get showered and changed before the makeup artist arrives. Remember, best behavior around the others.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t forget,¡± Rhys vows. And as he starts unpacking his expensive drone equipment, his watch glittering on his wrist in the sunlight, he snorts. ¡°Predictable.¡±


    I¡¯m still smiling an hourter when it¡¯s finally time to slip into our private pool, amidst all the rose petals. I¡¯ve never done a shoot like this, and I do my best to catalogue all of it-the euphoric feeling of being here, the beauty of our surroundings, the soft water on my skin.


    These are memories I¡¯ll cherish for the rest of my life.


    ¡°Ivy,¡± Rhys tells me, ¡°as much as I love your smile, you¡¯re going to have to keep it under control for this shoot.¡±


    I school my features back into the carefully neutral position, the elegantly nonchnt one that I know I¡¯m supposed to project. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m just so excited to be here, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he murmurs. ¡°And it¡¯s charming.¡±


    My smile is back again. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s one of the adjectives on my pre-approved list!¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°And I haven¡¯t even read yours.¡±


    ¡°What does that say about us?¡±


    ¡°That I¡¯m clearly more intuitive. Now stop smiling.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± But it¡¯s difficult to keep it under control, and I¡¯m d when he calls the shoot and I can finally rx. ¡°We have enough of the hotel?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Rhys rolls up the sleeves of his linen button-down. ¡°I have a question, now.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°After our little¡­ incident in Kenya, do you trust me enough to get in another car with me?¡±


    I bite my lip. ¡°Are we driving to any deserts?¡±


    ¡°None.¡±


    ¡°Then yes, I¡¯ll get in another car with you.¡±


    He puts a hand over his heart. ¡°Thank God. My ego couldn¡¯t have handled a no.¡±


    He¡¯s rented another Jeep, this time through the hotel. It has no windows and no roof, a monster of a four-wheel drive. ¡°I thought,¡± Iment, ¡°that you once said you preferred older cars.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s smile is crooked. ¡°There¡¯s more beauty in them,¡± he corrects. ¡°But I don¡¯t mind a bit of horsepower from time to time.¡±


    He takes us around the ind, following the built-in GPS. It doesn¡¯t take long for me to figure out that this, too, is a ce he¡¯s been before-and not just once.


    Rhys Marchand is getting more and more difficult to pin down.


    We shoot all over the ind, both in my bathing suit and in the dress I¡¯ve brought along with us. The Bali swing, the rice fields-we¡¯re everywhere, filming and shooting me seemingly having a st.


    It¡¯s not an act.


    Rhys grins at me when he turns onto a dirt road. ¡°Last stop for today,¡± he tells me. ¡°I have a feeling you¡¯re going to like this.¡±


    I grip the side of the car as it dips perilously into a hollow in the road. ¡°The jungle?¡±


    ¡°We can go exploring tomorrow. But for today¡­¡± Rhys nces at me, ¡°How do you feel about swimming under a waterfall?¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    ¡°I never joke about waterfalls.¡±


    ¡°Of course I want to!¡±


    After a particrly muddy bend in the road, he parks the car next to a trail. ¡°It¡¯s just past those trees,¡± he says.


    And it is, opening up like an emerald hidden amongst the greenery. A beautiful turquoise pool of water with a twenty-foot waterfall roaring into it from an outcrop of rock. A swimming hole.


    And there¡¯s no one else here.


    ¡°Rhys,¡± I whisper, because words have failed me. They could never capture this ce, anyway.


    His words are quiet too. ¡°Stunning, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe this ce is real.¡±


    ¡°Get into the water. You¡¯ll believe it.¡±


    ¡°Good thing I wore my bikini under this.¡± I tug my dress over my head and toss it back into the Jeep, stepping forward to the edge of the water. Itps against smoothly polished stones. Taking a deep breath, I know this can¡¯t be the end of my travels. This trip can¡¯t be a once-in-a-lifetime thing.


    I need this again.


    I¡¯m dimly aware of Rhys shooting, but as I walk into the water, that fades away. He doesn¡¯tment or direct, either, just takes pictures as I stand with the tepid water around my waist, the waterfall directly in front.


    ¡°As soon as you¡¯re done,¡± I call to Rhys, ¡°you¡¯re joining me in here.¡±


    He does, stepping into the water in nothing but his swim trunks. He looks sofortable here, with the jungle around us and the sky reflected in the water below. Like he¡¯s made for adventure, for travel, for the unknown.


    Made to bend the world to his whims.


    ¡°Are we done shooting?¡± I ask. ¡°For today?¡±


    He raises an eyebrow, knowing what I intend. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    I dive under the surface and swim toward him, not caring that my hair gets wet, that the carefully applied no-makeup makeup is washed away. I break the surface right in front of him and his hands find me beneath the surface.


    ¡°How did you know about this ce?¡±


    ¡°I was here a couple of years ago with a few friends,¡± he says. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to wrap my legs around his waist as we stand in the middle of the swimming hole, the sound of the waterfall behind us.

 Red Hot Rebel C54

    ¡°You travel a lot, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much constantly,¡± he says, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Is the lifestyle growing on you?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± I say, knotting my hands behind his neck. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I could sustain it, but it is.¡±


    He cocks his head. ¡°What is it you¡¯re studying?¡±


    I bend backwards in his arms so I¡¯m floating. He keeps his arms around my waist and my legs around his.


    The sky is a deep, beautiful blue above. ¡°Physical therapy,¡± I say. ¡°I need something to do when I¡¯m done modeling. I need¡­ meaning.¡±


    ¡°Meaning?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I look up at him, at his thick hair, at the unusual greenness of his eyes. They¡¯re entuated in this tropical ce. ¡°People need a purpose in life. They need to feel like their days matter. I used to, when I was dancing. As much as I find modeling fun, I don¡¯t feel like that anymore.¡±


    ¡°But you will after you start working as a physical therapist?¡±


    ¡°I hope so,¡± I say. ¡°I worked with plenty of physical therapists after I injured my knee, when I danced. And now I work regrly with personal trainers. There¡¯s a magic, there, in the ability to hone a body¡­ to ensure it works to the best of its ability. Easing pain and strengthening muscle.¡± I look away from him, running my hand through the water. ¡°Exercise has been a gift in my life. I think I¡¯d like helping others experience it as well.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not sure.¡±


    ¡°Is anyone ever?¡±


    He walks us out into deeper water. ¡°You¡¯re incredible,¡± he tells me.


    ¡°For wanting to be a physical therapist?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, but he¡¯s smiling, and it¡¯s clear that¡¯s not all he¡¯s saying. His thumbs smooth down my hips and hook into the edge of my bikini bottoms. ¡°Does your dad want you to get a degree?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s never liked the fact that I model. Was it that obvious when I spoke to him earlier?¡±


    ¡°A bit,¡± Rhys says, with that crooked smile. ¡°I could recognize the tone.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve heard it yourself?¡±


    His smile shifts into something that is more mocking than amused. ¡°Well, I used to. But I haven¡¯t really spoken to my father in ten years.¡±


    I grip his hands on my hips. ¡°Ten years?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°Not one-on-one. At family dinners and events, where there¡¯s a family conversation going? Yeah. But we haven¡¯t had a conversation just the two of us in a little over a decade.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°That must be difficult.¡±


    ¡°You get used to it.¡±


    ¡°What does the rest of the family say?¡±


    His crooked smile is back. ¡°That¡¯s the good thing about always having had a strained rtionship with your father. It¡¯s epted as par for the course.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± I murmur, stretching back into the water. Something about this ce, about his tone¡­ it¡¯s a ce for secrets and for sharing, and for going carefully, lest you wreck something. ¡°Do you miss talking to him?¡±


    Rhys snorts. ¡°Not particrly. We both know that if we did, it would be a shouting match of everything we¡¯ve swept under the rug, so we don¡¯t.¡±


    I slide my hands over his, gripping them even as they grip me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    He blinks. ¡°Don¡¯t be. It¡¯s not painful.¡±


    Sure it¡¯s not.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I murmur. ¡°But I¡¯m sorry anyway.¡±


    Our eyes meet, me looking up at him, him looking down at me. Him standing, me floating. I think I might break if he lets me go.


    ¡°Rhys?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Was the other night a one-time thing?¡±


    Something shes in his eyes. ¡°That depends, Ives.¡±


    ¡°On what?¡±


    ¡°On you. Did you just want to grab your ticket?¡± His fingers curl around my bikini bottoms. ¡°Or do you want to explore more?¡±


    I wet my lips. Pull myself up, so I¡¯m once again wrapped around him, both arms and legs. Droplets cling to his eyshes. ¡°I want to explore more,¡± I whisper.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    His smile is a sh of white. ¡°I might have died if you said you were done.¡±


    ¡°So dramatic.¡± I run a finger along the sharp line of his jaw and his hands tighten around my thighs.


    ¡°It¡¯s what I do best.¡± He kisses me, in a jungle in Bali, standing in a swimming hole next to a waterfall. And I kiss him back, knowing that however this ends, I will never regret him.


    Ivy


    Our vi has a connected living room, two bedrooms, two bathrooms. It¡¯s a miniature pce, one too sumptuous to really get used to. Which is good, because in less than a week I¡¯ll be back in my shoebox of a studio in Manhattan.


    But until then, I¡¯m going to make the most of the water pressure in the shower, a ce so big I can actually stretch out my arms and not touch the walls. I wrap a towel around myself when I¡¯m done, looking myself over in the mirror. Hair, clean. Skin, clean. Mind? Not so clean, not as I emerge into the connected living room in just the towel.


    Rhys is sitting on the couch, his own hair wet from his shower. His camera is in his hands, and he¡¯s flipping through pictures.


    He lowers it when he sees me. ¡°This look,¡± he says, ¡°I like.¡±


    ¡°You do? It¡¯s thetest trend.¡± I turn so he can admire the fluffy towel from every angle.


    ¡°Come here.¡± Setting the camera down, he has an arm out. I settle against his side on the couch.


    ¡°What were you looking at?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C55

    ¡°You, mostly.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Considering that nearly sixty percent of all my shots are of you, yes.¡±


    ¡°Show me.¡±


    With his left hand, he grips the camera and starts flipping through images. They¡¯re of me, standing underneath the waterfall in the swimming hole.


    ¡°It looks like something out of a travel magazine.¡±


    His lips curve. ¡°Good, since that¡¯s what it¡¯s for.¡±


    ¡°Too bad there¡¯s an air-headed model ruining the picture.¡±


    He puts the camera down. ¡°You¡¯re never going to let me live down thatment?¡±


    ¡°How could I?¡± I stroke my fingers over his cheek, over the faint stubble there. ¡°Tell me what your dream photography trip would be like.¡±


    He pushes me back on the couch, bracing himself with an arm on either side of me. A wet lock of hair falls over his tan forehead and I push it back.


    ¡°Documentaries,¡± he says.


    ¡°Documentaries?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± His head dips lower, our breaths mingling. ¡°I¡¯d need a team for that, one I could finance and direct. But that¡¯s the dream project.¡±


    I slide my hands up his arms, reveling in the strength there. ¡°You haven¡¯t shot one already?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°It takes time to build those types of connections.¡±


    My fingers wander inside the sleeves of his T-shirt, smoothing up the skin. Something about his response is so right, and yet I wonder if he¡¯s discussed that with many. If his nonchnce is a facade.


    ¡°What about your publishingpany?¡±


    ¡°It can be expanded. Turned into a multi-mediapany.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking big. I like it.¡±


    He dips his head and kisses me, the touch gentle. Like he¡¯s gauging where I¡¯m at. So I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer.


    He moves down my neck, my chest, to the very edge of the towel. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten tan lines,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°Inevitable in the sun.¡± I slide my hand into the thickness of his hair.


    Tugging at the towel, he inches it downwards, tracing the line across my breast with his lips. ¡°It¡¯s like a map,¡± he says. ¡°Telling me where I need to go.¡±


    ¡°Because you couldn¡¯t find your way otherwise,¡± I tease, and my reward is a sharp tug on the towel. It falls open to him, my breasts on full disy.


    Rhys grins crookedly. ¡°You¡¯re taunting me.¡±


    ¡°Whoops?¡±


    Shaking his head, he kisses down my body, stopping at each nipple tovish them with attention. His other hand slides down my ribs, to the areas that are still covered by the towel.


    And there¡¯s no exining what I do then, not in any rational way. The headiness of the moment is pounding through me, the feeling of being wanted and of finally wanting in return-of my body being an instrument of pleasure that I¡¯m controlling.


    His eyes on me are magic, and I want to preserve that gaze. So I push him back.


    Rhys rises on his knees on the couch. ¡°Ivy?¡±


    I wrap the towel around me and hand him his camera. ¡°Come on,¡± I tell him, heading to our private patio. The jungle is thick around the private pool, the lounge chairs. No one can see us but wayward monkeys in the trees.


    Rhys stops a few feet away from me, camera in hand, eyes on me.


    I let the towel fall.


    He takes a long moment to speak. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    And I love that I don¡¯t have to exin this, that he gets it, that he¡¯s here with me. I¡¯ve been photographed in bikinis and lingerie before-what model hasn¡¯t?-but never like this.


    And this isn¡¯t for a shoot. It¡¯s not for anything else. It¡¯s for me, and him. For us.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    His eyes burn, but the hands on his camera are steady as he pockets the lens. ¡°Whatever you want.¡±


    So I pose, normally at first, like I would if I were clothed. The humidity makes my skin hot, or perhaps it¡¯s his gaze, burning even through the camera. I lean against the railing surrounding our patio. I hold a giant palm frond in front of me, and we bothugh at the silliness. ¡°I¡¯m Eve,¡± I tell him.


    He shakes his head at me, but he lifts up his camera, still smiling.


    And when he moves closer, when he asks me to sit down, to cross one leg over the other¡­ I do it. I rest my head in my hands and close my eyes, surrendering to the experience.


    Clothed in nothing but his gaze.


    It¡¯s an ageter when he reaches out and grabs my hand. ¡°Come,¡± he murmurs, pulling me inside. Stretching out on the bed, I lie down on my stomach and look at him. Because even though I¡¯m looking at a lens, I know it¡¯s him on the other end.


    Twisting, pulling the cover half over me, I ask, ¡°Will you be joining me on here soon?¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    His finger goes still on the shutter. ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask,¡± he says, and the voice he uses isn¡¯t mocking or dry or amused. It¡¯s hoarse with emotion.


    I open my arms and he rises above me, tugging off his T-shirt. ¡°So beautiful,¡± he whispers against my skin as he kisses his way down, as he worships me with his touch just as he¡¯d just done with his camera. ¡°Stunning.¡±


    And just like the first time with him, thepliments warm me. They fill me up, expanding until I think I might burst from the heat. ¡°Come here,¡± I tell him, pulling his face to mine. ¡°I need you.¡±


    He reaches down to circle that aching spot right at the apex of my thighs, and it feels so unbelievably good, but it¡¯s not what I want right now.


    ¡°You,¡± I tell him, and Rhys doesn¡¯t need to be told twice, because he curses into my neck. Pulls off his pants, the length of him free and resting against my stomach. My hands and mouth ache to explore that part of him further, to learn just how best to please him, but they¡¯ll have to wait.

 Red Hot Rebel C56

    I need another ache stilled first.


    Rhys puts on the condom with practiced moves, and then he nudges my legs wide, eyes on mine. His thumb circles as he pushes inside of me slowly, inch by torturous inch.


    His darkened eyes meet mine, and I nod, even though he hasn¡¯t spoken. My body is lightly sore from the other night, but it¡¯s not painful. It¡¯s a dull ache, evidence of him. Of what we¡¯d done.


    Rhys pushes himself in to the hilt. Eyes rake down my face, my chest, my hips, to the ce where we¡¯re joined. I watch, too. Transfixed.


    Amazed at how easy this is with him,pared to how difficult I¡¯d always imagined it would be. Once the fears melt away, the exploration itself is nothing but an adventure.


    The heat inside of me grows with every second he stays still. Stretching me, and I take a deep breath, rxing into the sensation.


    ¡°Rhys,¡± I beg, raising my hips.


    He reaches down to grip my thighs, pulling my legs up to rest on either side of his chest. And then he starts to move.


    My hands fist in theforter beneath me. ¡°Oh God,¡± I murmur, over and over again, because it¡¯s so deep this way, like he¡¯s moving somewhere in my center.


    Rhys rolls his hips, over and over again, turning his head to press a kiss to my ankle. ¡°You feel so good,¡± he tells me. ¡°Fucking unbelievable how good you feel.¡±


    There¡¯s no real response to that, or if there is, it¡¯s beyond me. My entire body is focused on where we join, and on the sheer intensity of it. I never knew it would be this intense-to have someone inside you.


    But of course I should have, because how couldn¡¯t it be?


    I reach up to grip the headboard when he speeds up. Faster and deeper he goes, like this is a race we¡¯re running, and maybe it is because my own pleasure grows in turn.


    ¡°Touch yourself,¡± he tells me, hands gripped around my thighs. My legs are still braced against his body.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    A fleeting moment of embarrassment, but it doesn¡¯t linger. I circle the throbbing spot between my legs, right above where he¡¯s working, and the pleasure grows.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Rhys growls, ¡°just like that, Ivy. Just like that.¡± He shifts forward, bending me double, bracing his hands on either side of me.


    The depths he¡¯s reaching make me gasp.


    ¡°Too much?¡±


    ¡°No, no, no.¡± I shake my head too, for added emphasis. ¡°Good.¡±


    A smile ghosts across his lips. ¡°Good,¡± he echoes, and then he surrenders to the job and I surrender to him. The height of my pleasure is a mountain easily climbed with him so deep inside, and I break and shatter, moaning. Surrender any semnce of control.


    ¡°Fucking hell, Ivy,¡± Rhys growls, and then hees too, and I watch his face as his eyes shut, as he groans, as the thrusting bes erratic.


    It¡¯s the most erotic thing I¡¯ve ever seen.


    I reach up to pull him down, to have him stay with me after, but Rhys rolls off right away. ¡°Condom,¡± he tells me by way of exnation, throwing it out. But then he returns, stretching out nude on the bed next to me.


    We¡¯re both breathing hard.


    ¡°That was faster than I¡¯d intended,¡± he says.


    ¡°Was it?¡±


    He runs a hand over his face. ¡°There are still a ton of things you haven¡¯t explored. Things I was looking forward to showing you. Turns out I couldn¡¯t wait.¡±


    ¡°Neither could I,¡± I say. ¡°And we still have time to explore, don¡¯t we?¡±


    He nces over at me, an eyebrow raised. ¡°You might regret saying that.¡±


    ¡°Will I?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Because there¡¯s no role I enjoy more than that of tutor.¡±


    I roll over on my stomach and slide my arms beneath a fluffy pillow. ¡°It lets you be suitably pretentious and snide.¡±


    ¡°Finally someone who understands me.¡±


    Iugh, reaching over to trace the length of his arm with my finger. ¡°Is this something you do often?¡±


    ¡°Define ¡®this,''¡± Rhys asks, reaching up to tuck an arm behind his head. In profile, with his straight nose, full lips, strong chin¡­ he should be the model.


    ¡°Tutoring impressionable young virgins.¡±


    He barks augh, and I join. My finger doesn¡¯t stop tracing the length of his bicep. He has a few freckles here, from sun and saltwater.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve slept with a virgin.¡±


    ¡°Two days ago,¡± I correct.


    He raises an eyebrow at me. ¡°Smart-ass.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve learned from you.¡± I turn my finger up, trace the other direction. Across the width of his shoulder. ¡°But what about sex in general?¡±


    He closes his eyes, a smile ying on his lips. ¡°Men are usually the ones to ask about that.¡±


    ¡°They are?¡±


    ¡°Demanding lists of former sexual partners, plotting a strategy to best every single one of them in performance.¡±


    ¡°Would you have done that to me? If I had a list?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°I don¡¯t know. As it is, I¡¯m just d you didn¡¯t have one.¡±


    Questions swirl around in my head, questions that don¡¯t have an answer. Things had changed thesest few days, but had they changed more than the two of us bing friends who¡¯ve slept together?


    Do I want them to?


    ¡°I¡¯m allowed to ask any sex-rted questions I want.¡±


    ¡°Did I ever agree to that? I can¡¯t remember.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C57

    ¡°Oh, you did.¡±


    Rhys turns his head to mine. ¡°What was the question exactly? Do I have sex often?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I can specify, if I must.¡± I duck my head down, looking at him. ¡°When was thest time you had sex before me?¡±


    ¡°Two weeks ago, I think? Well, three and a half now, I guess.¡±


    ¡°The person you kissed?¡±


    ¡°The very one.¡±


    The response isn¡¯t the one I wanted, and perhaps he notices that, because Rhys¡¯s smile is crooked. He runs a hand down my bare back and my eyes flutter in pleasure at the simple touch. ¡°Not a rtionship, just a casual friend.¡±


    ¡°You have a lot of casual friends?¡±


    ¡°I only have casual friends,¡± he says, smoothing up my spine.


    ¡°Howe?¡± I ask. ¡°You know why I haven¡¯t had serious rtionships, but what¡¯s your excuse?¡±


    ¡°Lack of interest in one,¡± Rhys says, his hand continuing its movement over my back. His fingers are lightly callused, reminding me in yet another way how different he is than the man I¡¯d thought he was.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that.¡±


    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°You can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No. I think everyone wants deeper human connection. It¡¯s a need, like thirst or hunger.¡±


    He reaches over to rest his forehead against mine, and my eyes flutter closed. ¡°You,¡± he says, ¡°are starting to overthink this.¡±


    I release a breath. ¡°Is it that obvious?¡±


    ¡°A little, which is fine. Only natural.¡± His hand settles around my hip. ¡°I did let you ask any questions you want, and these are no different.¡±


    ¡°I guess I¡¯m just curious about what happens when we get back to New York.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯ll keep exploring, you mean?¡±


    ¡°I suppose, yes. Or if we¡¯ll even continue being friends.¡± A thought strikes me. ¡°Because we truly are friends now, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    Rhys¡¯s lips curve into a smile. ¡°We¡¯re friends. And to answer your question, I don¡¯t know, Ives. Let¡¯s live in the moment and see where the days take us.¡±


    Live in the moment. The one thing an inveterate nner is not good at. But I rx into his touch and close my eyes, determined to try. After all, we have a lot of exploring left to do, and I don¡¯t want to waste a minute of it.


    Ivy


    Rhys has his eyes closed in the first-ss seat next to mine, but he¡¯s breathing through clenched teeth. I¡¯d noticed his dislike of flying on our first flight, and the subsequent bad mood, but I couldn¡¯t think of a way to help him then. I still can¡¯t, but we¡¯re not strangers anymore.


    So I put a tentative hand over his on the armrest between us. ¡°Is there anything I can do?¡±


    He looks over at me, eyes nk and expression harsh. But then something like embarrassment flickers over his expression and his clenched jaw softens. ¡°No,¡± he says.


    ¡°I wish there was.¡± I keep my hand on his, my thumb moving in small circles. ¡°My sister doesn¡¯t like flying either.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± His hand is still clenched beneath mine, but he¡¯s looking at me.


    ¡°She¡¯s two years younger than me.¡±


    ¡°Mine is four.¡±


    ¡°Your sister is four years younger?¡±


    ¡°Just about.¡± Beneath my hand, his rxes on the death grip. ¡°Tell me about yours.¡±


    ¡°Her name is Penny,¡± I murmur. ¡°She¡¯spletely fearless, not at all like me. She¡¯ll rush into any situation, convinced she¡¯ll be able to manage. She most often does, too, but I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s a consequence of her attitude or skill.¡±


    Rhys snorts softly. ¡°Sounds like my sister too.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I settle back into my seat and run careful fingers up his arm, back down to his hand again. ¡°We¡¯re really close. Always have been, but I think our mother leaving helped with that. With us turning to one another, I mean.¡±


    He nods, eyes on mine. ¡°Mhm.¡±


    I turn in my chair, tucking my legs up beneath me, and thread our fingers together. ¡°What do your siblings think of your father?¡± I ask. ¡°Considering you don¡¯t speak to him, they must have thoughts on him too.¡±


    Rhys gives a single shake of his head. ¡°We¡¯re not making this flight any worse than it already is by adding a discussion of my dad on top of it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. My bad.¡± My thumb rubs a circle on the back of hisrge hand. ¡°But should I keep distracting you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I nod, thinking, and let my gaze travel down his form. His legs are stretched out fully in front of him. ¡°You¡¯re very tall,¡± Iment. ¡°How do you manage when flying coach?¡±


    The familiar smirk ghosts across his face. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    I snort. ¡°Right. I forgot you were richer than the federal government.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re not that rich.¡± He waves a dismissive hand before returning it to the armrest. ¡°People always like to inte fortunes.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°After a certain amount of money, rich just bes rich to the rest of us,¡± I tease. ¡°The nuances are only important for the wealthy themselves.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s most definitely true.¡± Rhys tugs at the top button of his shirt, but doesn¡¯t move his hand locked in mine.


    ¡°Thank you for the extra day you got us in Bali.¡±


    His gazends on mine. ¡°I was perhaps a tad selfish in requesting it.¡±


    ¡°I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the jungle¡­¡± I bend to press a kiss to his hand. ¡°I enjoyed the beach¡­¡± I press a kiss to his cheek. ¡°And I enjoyed your lessons.¡±


    He turns his head for my third. It¡¯s a slow, soft kiss, one that makes my insides melt. ¡°This,¡± he murmurs, ¡°is an excellent way to distract me.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C58

    I grin. ¡°I figured it might be.¡±


    His hand clenches around mine. ¡°Tell me what other lessons you want us to explore in Sydney.¡±


    And so, thirty-five thousand feet in the air and above the roar of the engines, I murmur my fantasy of the two of us and arge shower into his ear, until Rhys curses against my lips and requests a distraction from the distraction.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re in Australia and we only have two and a half days here. It feels criminal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be back one day.¡± Rhys keeps a hand on my back as we walk down the hotel corridor.


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. Come on,¡± he says, leaning down to brush his lips against my ear, ¡°can you honestly tell me you¡¯re ready to return to New York and settle down for good? To never travel again?¡±


    A shiver runs down my spine that has little to do with his words and lots to do with his warm breath on my earlobe. ¡°No,¡± I whisper. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    He presses the button to the elevator. After a full day of traveling, the two of us are ready to explore Sydney by evening and find a ce to eat. The Rieler hotels might have terrific dining, but we¡¯ve both agreed we¡¯re done with that. The streets of the city beckon instead.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about our discussion on social media,¡± I tell him, leaning into his side in the elevator.


    ¡°You have?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And I¡¯m going to start being more real. More behind-the-scenes, talking about things that matter to me. Post less pictures of me that are staged or posed.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Rhys¡¯s hand curves around my hip. ¡°And your agency?¡±


    Looking him straight in the eye, I smile. ¡°Fuck my agency.¡±


    He grins wide at that. ¡°Ivy, have I been a bad influence?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, but I¡¯m starting to like it.¡±


    He tips my head back and presses a kiss to my lips. I¡¯m dimly aware of the elevator doors sliding open, but they¡¯re secondary to the feel of his mouth on mine.


    ¡°Good thinking,¡± he says finally, pulling me with him out of the elevator. But there¡¯s someone standing there waiting for us, someone in a suit.


    Ben Rieler, to be exact.


    And he¡¯s grinning.


    ¡°Hello you two,¡± he says. ¡°Care for dinner, or am I interrupting your ns?¡±


    I step out of Rhys¡¯s arms. He just inclines his head. ¡°Ben.¡±


    ¡°I came to join the two of you for the final leg of your trip.¡± His eyes sparkle as he looks between the two of us. ¡°I¡¯m d to see you¡¯re getting along.¡±


    I feel nauseous.


    This man is the one hiring my agency, and by extension me. And he just saw me getting chummy with the photographer. It¡¯s nothing new, nothing that doesn¡¯t happen over and over and over again in the modeling world, but it has never been me. I have never been cast in this role before.


    I¡¯ve been so careful to never be this kind of model.


    Ben pulls Rhys in for a half-hug. It¡¯s a familiar motion, the one men do when they know one another well.


    ¡°You flew out to Sydney just for us?¡± Rhys asks. There¡¯s tension in his voice. He can¡¯t be happy that our employer saw us, either.


    Ben snorts. ¡°No, I have more faith in you than that. We¡¯re expanding out of Sydney, so I came here for meetings and to view the properties up in Queennd. Figured I¡¯d catch up with my favorite photographer-model duo while I¡¯m here.¡± He smiles at me. ¡°How have you been, Ivy?¡±


    I knot my hands together. ¡°Great. Your hotels and staff have been wonderful.¡±


    It¡¯s ttery. It¡¯s the truth. And I¡¯m just d I¡¯ve managed to speak around the lump of horror in my stomach that he saw us, Rhys and me.


    ¡°Good,¡± Ben says, ¡°because I gave the entirepany strict instructions to provide you the best experience possible.¡±


    ¡°Well, you seeded.¡± Rhys¡¯s tone of voice is impossible to decipher.


    We walk to a nearby restaurant, apparently one of Sydney¡¯s best, if Ben¡¯s to be believed. My running shoes still have the red y of Kenya stuck to the sides, and the jeans I¡¯m wearing aren¡¯t fit for linen-clothed tables. The n to walk down to the Opera House has been abandoned entirely.


    Rhys might befortable around Ben, but I¡¯m not.


    I smile at the waiter who pulls back my chair. The men follow suit, and it¡¯s not long until Ben has ordered us a bottle of Australian white wine.


    ¡°They have some good ones down here,¡± he tells us, and Rhys gives a small hum.


    ¡°Yes, well, I know you don¡¯t agree,¡± Ben says. ¡°Sometimes you really do have the French mindset.¡±


    ¡°Something was bound to rub off,¡± Rhysments, looking through his menu.


    I look at mine unseeing, my fingers toying with the edge of the paper. My eyes fixate on the prices. It¡¯s more than the per diem Rieler allowed for the trip, but it¡¯s a small worry in what feels like an ocean of mistakes.


    We order. Ben leans back in his chair, draping his arm over the one next to him, and looks at me with a smile. ¡°Ivy, how have you enjoyed traveling with Rhys here? Has he been behaving himself?¡±


    Rhys shakes his head, muttering something that sounds like, ¡°Christ, Ben.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been good,¡± I say, the most nomittal answer I can think of. ¡°He¡¯s really knowledgeable about the ces we¡¯ve visited, which I think has led to some great shots. In Bali, for example, he knew the location of a waterfall without any other tourists.¡±


    Ben looks over at Rhys. ¡°All your traveling hase in handy.¡±


    ¡°So has my shooting. We¡¯ve gotten some excellent footage.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to seeing it.¡±


    I take a sip of my wine. ¡°You two know each other well?¡±


    Rhys opens his mouth to speak, but Ben is the one who responds. ¡°Oh, we do. We went to college together.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡± I nce over at Rhys. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Yale,¡± Ben replies, thanking the waiter when our food is delivered. ¡°Although we only got the first two years together.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C59

    Rhys¡¯s hand is knuckled around his fork. ¡°Circumstances changed.¡±


    ¡°They did, yes. But to answer your question, Ivy, we stayed in touch.¡± He raises an eyebrow to Rhys. ¡°And he critiqued my travel ads and promotional material one time too many, saying that they were soulless¡­ so I hired him.¡±


    ¡°That does sound like him,¡± I say. Benughs and Rhys shoots me a look, one that¡¯s equal parts amused and annoyed. But not at me, I think.


    No, neither of us had nned on having dinner with someone else tonight.


    Rhys¡¯s phone rings, and he scoots back to turn it off. But then he sees the name on the screen-I catch a glimpse, too. Lily. ¡°I should take this,¡± he says, looking at me and Ben. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Ben says, waving a hand good-naturedly.


    He nods to my te ofmb when we¡¯re alone. ¡°Enjoying the food?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°It¡¯s delicious. A good choice of restaurant.¡±


    He nods, reaching for his wine. ¡°I¡¯m d we got this chance to have dinner together. Your face might be the one I¡¯ll see for years, you know, whenever we put together new brochures or video ads. I¡¯m happy to know a bit more about the person behind the image.¡±


    ¡°And after having seen your hotels, I¡¯m happy to be part of it,¡± I say. ¡°You have some terrific staff. They¡¯ve really made this whole trip a joy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re good,¡± Ben says, nodding at me. ¡°Very good.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°That would make an excellent testimonial.¡±


    Iugh politely. ¡°Well, it¡¯s the truth.¡±


    ¡°Even so, I¡¯m happy to hear it. Truthfully, I¡¯m impressed by what the two of you are doing. Traveling this much in such a short period of time is taxing.¡± He raises his fork, chewing. ¡°Trust me, I know. I do it often.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± I admit. ¡°But it¡¯s been an adventure.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not ainer,¡± he notes, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I admire that. And, judging by what I saw earlier, it seems like the two of you get along famously now.¡±


    My cheeks scald, but I don¡¯t turn away from his gaze. ¡°We¡¯ve gotten to know one another, yes.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be embarrassed about that. He¡¯s charming,¡± Ben says, slicing through hismb. ¡°It happens.¡±


    ¡°Right, yes. I¡¯m sure it does.¡±


    ¡°He never could resist a model, either.¡± Ben chuckles.


    I reach for my ss of wine, at a loss for what to say. My fingers are tense on the stem. Time has flowed irregrly on this trip. With only one another forpany in the face of so much travel, it feels like I¡¯ve known Rhys for months. But that familiarity is false. It¡¯s only been two weeks, and with Ben here, that knowledge sharpens into a de.


    The owner and CEO of Rieler Travels doesn¡¯t look at me to see how his wordsnded. I wonder if he, too, can¡¯t resist a model. Like we¡¯re a species and not a profession.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that.¡± Rhys¡¯s voice is deep, a hand on the back of my chair as he sits down.


    ¡°Not to worry,¡± Ben says. ¡°Gave me the perfect opportunity to get to know Ivy a bit better.¡±


    He raises his ss and I raise mine. Rhys joins, but sends me a questioning look. He doesn¡¯t seem fooled by my returning smile.


    The sun has long since set when Rhys and I walk back to the Rieler hotel in Sydney in silence. With half the interiors still under construction, we¡¯re two of the first guests to stay there.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you two knew each other like that,¡± I say. Ites out like an usation, my arms wrapping around my torso.


    Rhys¡¯s handnds on my lower back, his other unlocking the door to his hotel suite. The mirror image to my own, it looks just like all the other Rieler suites we¡¯ve stayed in these weeks. Same color scheme. Same furniture.


    ¡°We¡¯re friendly,¡± he acknowledges, leaning against the wall. ¡°Ivy, he¡¯s not going to make a big deal about seeing us kiss. I promise you that.¡±


    My shoes dig into the plush carpet as I pace. ¡°You can¡¯t promise that. No one can. Rhys, this is what gives models in my business a reputation. Sleeping with photographers.¡±


    His jaw tenses. ¡°I¡¯m aware. Trust me, I am. If I¡¯d had a clue he would be here¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just so embarrassing.¡± I sink down onto the edge of his giant hotel bed, kicking off my sneakers. ¡°He¡¯s the head of apany that¡¯s hired me. He hired my agency.¡±


    Rhys tugs off his jacket. Runs a hand through his hair, and sits down next to me, close enough that our bodies are touching shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh.


    ¡°Ben¡¯s knowledge doesn¡¯t change anything,¡± he says.


    I reach for his hand. He lets me take it, holding it in both of mine on myp. ¡°I¡¯m not the first model you¡¯ve slept with, right?¡±


    His hand closes around my fingers. ¡°Where did thate from?¡±


    ¡°Ben mentioned something to that effect.¡±


    Rhys groans. ¡°He has never known how to be tactful.¡±


    A sinking feeling in my stomach. It¡¯s true, then. It shouldn¡¯t matter. We¡¯re not anything, not really. And yet it feels like it does.


    ¡°Ivy,¡± Rhys says, turning to face me. His free hand curves around my cheek. ¡°You know I wasn¡¯t a virgin before I met you.¡±


    My cheeks flush again, this time in mortification. ¡°I know that. I never expected you to be. But considering you made your low opinions of models so clear¡­¡±


    He¡¯s shaking his head before I finish my sentence, a furrow between his dark brows. ¡°I have dated women who worked in modeling, yes. And I¡¯ll readily admit that what I¡¯ve seen of the industry, or the concerns of those women, didn¡¯t¡­ well. I didn¡¯t have a high opinion about all of it before I met you.¡±


    ¡°So you slept with models, but you didn¡¯t respect them?¡±


    ¡°Christ, Ivy.¡± He pulls his hand back from mine and rises, walking in front of me where I sit on the bed. Tension radiates from his form. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve had a fair share of casual sex. Most sex I¡¯ve ever had, truthfully, has been casual. But I¡¯ve never deceived anyone. It¡¯s never been anything but honest. The models you¡¯re referring to? They gained things from me, too.¡±


    I track his familiar features. The thick, dark fall of his hair. The tanned skin and broad shoulders. Hands that have long fingers and broad backs, made to pitch tents and take photographs and drink wine.


    ¡°I understand,¡± I murmur. ¡°I do, Rhys.¡±


    He pauses in front of me, dark green eyes swimming. ¡°My past has no bearing on what happened between us.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say, reaching for him. He steps closer almost reluctantly, not relenting until I tug him down beside me on the bed. We stretch out next to one another like we¡¯ve done so often in the past week.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather you ask me,¡± he says. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re thinking. Even if it¡¯s ludicrous. Especially if it¡¯s ludicrous.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C60

    ¡°Brutal honesty,¡± I murmur.


    He nods, lifting himself up on one arm. Watching me with those inscrutable eyes, the ones that had intrigued me in the beginning. Infuriated me in their unreadability.


    They¡¯re my favorite feature now.


    ¡°Your sister called during dinner?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°She¡¯s being a nag.¡±


    It¡¯s so unexpected in the context of our conversation that I chuckle. His lips curve into a fond smile. ¡°What is she nagging you about?¡±


    ¡°My father¡¯s birthday is the day after we return to New York. It¡¯ll be a grand affair,¡± he says, using the words mockingly.


    ¡°You¡¯re not nning on going,¡± I guess.


    ¡°No.¡±


    I reach out and run my fingers through his hair. The fear of these casual touches had disappeared days ago, shifted intofortable intimacy. ¡°You went to Yale.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± he confirms. ¡°For two years.¡±


    We look at each other, the tension from Ben¡¯s sudden arrival leaking out of me. Rhys is right, in the end. Him knowing changes nothing between the two of us.


    He crosses the distance between us and kisses me, the touch of his lips setting off an ache in my chest. My arms twine around him in response.


    ¡°We still have two days, right?¡±


    He nods, his hand slipping under my shirt to find the curve of my waist.


    I grip him tighter. ¡°We¡¯re going to use them well, then.¡±


    ¡°Ivy,¡± he murmurs against my neck, his lips sending shivers across my skin. I stretch my neck to give him full ess to the sensitive skin. But he pauses, rising on an arm as if a thought has just struck him. ¡°I respect you,¡± he tells me. ¡°And I don¡¯t think any less of you for working as a model.¡±


    I pull him back down to my lips, his words setting off the same ache in my chest again. The one that warns me I¡¯ve already fallen too deep.


    Ivy


    Wend in New York after more hours of flying than I like to count, the both of us quiet and tired. It¡¯s mid-afternoon here, but it¡¯s the Wild West inside of me time-wise. I¡¯ll need a week or two to fully recover from the jetg.


    ¡°Wee home,¡± the passport controller tells me. It¡¯s a professional tone, but the words are beautiful. I can¡¯t wait to copse into my own bed.


    Rhys rolls my giant suitcase as well as his own. The agency hadn¡¯t arranged transport back home for us from the airport, but I¡¯ve decided to splurge on a cab.


    ¡°Solid ground,¡± he mutters.


    ¡°Feels good, huh?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯m never flying again.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you are,¡± I tell him. ¡°But not anytime soon.¡±


    ¡°Did you know I sail?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s how I¡¯ll travel from here on.¡±


    We turn the corner and emerge into the arrivals hall, walking past lines of people waiting for their loved ones. Seeing it makes me smile.


    But Rhys stops in his tracks. ¡°Fucking hell.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I follow his gaze to a man. A man who¡¯s staring at Rhys, and who Rhys is staring right back at. ¡°Oh. A friend of yours?¡±


    His voice is short. ¡°My brother.¡±


    The man approaches us. Nearly as tall as Rhys, with the same hair, simr features, the two of them almost the same age. Their expressions are perfect replicas of one another. They look like mirror opposites, carved from the same stone but by different sculptors.


    ¡°You sent Lily your itinerary,¡± his brother says by way of greeting. ¡°I¡¯m heading up to Paradise and you¡¯re joining me.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s eyebrow is lifted, but it¡¯s not mischievous. ¡°Am I?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The temperature between them is cial. It¡¯s the kind of conversation I shouldn¡¯t be here for, shouldn¡¯t be overhearing.


    But then his brother blows out a tired breath. ¡°Your sister has missed you. Mom¡¯s missed you. Just stay for the night, man. The cottage is yours.¡±


    I can tell Rhys is gearing up to refuse. It¡¯s in his tense form beside me. I grip his arm and look at his brother. ¡°Will you give us a moment?¡±


    He turns to me for the first time, as if only now realizing I¡¯m there. ¡°Yes, of course. I¡¯m parked right outside.¡±


    And then he disappears through the sliding doors, shoulders back and bearing straight.


    Looking so much like Rhys.


    Was that Henry? The older brother who¡¯s designing the New York Opera House?


    I turn to Rhys. He¡¯s running a hand through his hair, looking at me. Waiting for me to speak.


    So I nudge his shoulder with mine, forcing my voice to be light. ¡°Feel like going on another adventure? I¡¯m up for it, if you are.¡±


    His eyes widen. ¡°You¡¯de with me? To Paradise Shores?¡±


    ¡°Why not? I¡¯ve already yed buffer once for your family. I can do it again.¡±


    ¡°You were excellent at itst time.¡±


    ¡°All I had to do then was flutter my eyshes. This crowd might be tougher, but as long as there are no Jeeps and deserts, I¡¯m in.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C61

    ¡°None.¡± Rhys looks at me for a long time, eyes dark. But then his lips curve into a crooked smile. ¡°I¡¯ll take you sailing while we¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love that.¡±


    ¡°And it won¡¯t be for more than a night or two.¡±


    ¡°Sounds great. I¡¯m not working this weekend, anyway.¡±


    Rhys grabs one of my suitcases along with his. ¡°Paradise Shores is north of New York. A two-hour drive.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll go with your brother, then?¡±


    He nods again, and we head toward the sliding doors. ¡°We¡¯ll go,¡± he says.


    And just like that, I¡¯m whisked away into arge car, seated in the backseat while Henry and Rhys Marchand converse quietly in the front. Like slipping onto a different path, epting an offer, and life shifts. The weekend unfurls in front of me with the promise of new experiences, instead of the one filled withundry and studying I¡¯d been expecting.


    Excitement drums through my veins like a second heartbeat, and I wonder if that¡¯s what life is always like around Rhys, if he regrly bends the rules of normalcy.


    And I wonder how far I¡¯m willing to bend with him.


    ¡°We¡¯re staying here?¡±


    Rhys pushes the door closed behind him and rolls my giant suitcase against the wall. The living room is tastefully decorated, the windows opening up to a view of the ocean.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says. ¡°The cottage is for guests.¡±


    ¡°You guys call this a cottage?¡±


    He grins. ¡°You¡¯re wee to re-name it. Now,e on.¡±


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± But his hand is already on mine, and he¡¯s pulling me toward one of the bedrooms. A giant master bed opens up before us. ¡°Rhys¡­¡±


    But he heads to the bathroom instead, nodding to the giant walk-in shower. ¡°We¡¯ve been traveling,¡± he says. ¡°I need a shower. Care to join?¡±


    I put my hand on the giant bed, pressing down into the soft mattress. It¡¯s impossible to tear my eyes away from the cloudy pillows, the down in theforter. With every passing second, my eyelids grow heavier. ¡°This looks like heaven,¡± I tell him.


    There¡¯s a smile in Rhys¡¯s voice. ¡°It¡¯ste enough,¡± he says. ¡°Sleep off the jetg. We have the whole day tomorrow.¡±


    It¡¯s a difficult choice, watching the tall frame of him silhouetted against the bathroom. But tiredness is fighting with me every step of the way, and the few hours of sleep I¡¯d managed to snag on the ne were not enough. ¡°Over twenty hours,¡± I tell him. ¡°We¡¯ve been traveling for twenty hours.¡±


    He rests a hand on the doorframe. ¡°Sleep, Ivy.¡±


    ¡°When¡¯s your dad¡¯s party?¡± But I¡¯m already sitting down on the bed, pulling off my socks.


    ¡°Tomorrow evening.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± I lie back, fully intending to take off my yoga pants, but first I have to test this bed out, like Goldilocks and her bears. Is this one just right?


    It¡¯s more than just right, and I close my eyes, just to get the full effect.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    The next thing I notice is a room in darkness and someonerge shifting in bed next to me.


    ¡°Rhys?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± his deep voicees out of the darkness, from my left side. I rx against the sheets.


    ¡°We¡¯re sharing a bed,¡± I mumble.


    There¡¯s a pause in the darkness, a questioning silence. ¡°There¡¯s a guest bedroom. Do you want me to go?¡±


    My yawn makes my reply near unintelligible, so I have to repeat myself, struggling to pull off my sweater at the same time. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    I finally get my sweater off and climb back under the sheets in nothing but yoga pants and a camisole.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to marry this bed,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°Not if I propose to it first.¡±


    ¡°Dibs,¡± I mumble, reaching out to find warm skin, shifting beneath my fingers as he moves closer.


    His voice is thest thing I hear. ¡°Thank you foring with me.¡±


    I don¡¯t reply, drawn down through theyers of sleep to where unconsciousness beckons.


    Rhys


    The ocean is a calm presence outside the cottage¡¯s windows, and the sky a tentative blue above it. For every photograph I edit, I have to look up to the vast expanse of blue beyond, as if to make sure I¡¯m not dreaming.


    I¡¯m really in Paradise Shores, and Ivy is here.


    Such a thing had felt unimaginable, just a week ago, but here we are. Her and me in my sister¡¯s old house, with her living right next door. No doubt Henry told herst night that I¡¯d brought someone. No doubt she¡¯ll be here as soon as she can, knocking on the door with curiosity burning like candlelight in her gaze.


    I step away from myptop, the motor in the external hard drive humming, to peer into the still-dark bedroom. Ivy isn¡¯t sprawled where I¡¯d left her, and I hear the shower running.


    I pour her a cup of coffee and return to myptop, to the image I¡¯m editing. She¡¯s standing on the beach in St. Barts, her face upturned to the rays of sunshine and her feet buried in the turquoise water.


    The surroundings are gorgeous, and I reluctantly up the saturation, the glossiness, until it looks like a travel photograph. I¡¯ll have to meet Ben halfway here if I¡¯m to have a shot at winning this bet.


    Ivy emerges into the living room in a fluffy robe, hair wet down her back. ¡°I can¡¯t remember thest time I slept this long.¡±


    ¡°Jetg knockout.¡±


    ¡°Completely.¡±


    I pull her onto myp and she settles there gracefully, leaning back against my chest. ¡°Are you editing?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I flick through some of the photos, all from St. Barts, and nearly all of her. Walking past beautifully colored houses, dancing on a square. They showcase the best the ce has to offer, all with her as the protagonist.

 Red Hot Rebel C62

    ¡°Wow,¡± she breathes. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you got me dancing.¡±


    ¡°Of course I did.¡±


    ¡°Is this what you¡¯ll submit to Mr. Rieler?¡±


    ¡°Most likely, yes. It¡¯ll take a while to sort through and edit, though.¡± I shake my head, muttering, ¡°Mr. Rieler.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t call him Ben just because he¡¯s your friend,¡± Ivy says, nudging me. I tighten my arm and she leans her head back against my shoulder. I press my lips to her neck.


    ¡°What happens today?¡± she asks.


    ¡°We have the whole day.¡± Her robe has fallen open to reveal the length of a tan thigh, and I settle my hand there, smoothing over the skin. ¡°It¡¯s very early still, you know. The town isn¡¯t awake yet. We¡¯re the ones who are on a different schedule.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°Let me take you sailing this morning.¡± The ocean always drew me when I was here, a siren¡¯s call. Not to mention my sister couldn¡¯t question the two of us if we were at sea.


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure you know what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    I snort. ¡°Yes. This won¡¯t be like the Jeep-in-the-sand incident.¡±


    She slides off myp and turns with a wide smile. ¡°I¡¯ve never been sailing before.¡±


    And just like that, she sweeps my legs out from beneath me, like she has so many times during this trip. Her honesty and enthusiasm is so genuine it disarms me.


    ¡°You¡¯ll love it,¡± I tell her, smiling back.


    Paradise Shores is quiet and empty as we head down Ocean Drive, parking by the marina. This ce that is as familiar to me as the lines in my palms, a ce I¡¯ve both run to and run from.


    The Frida is lying calm and steady in the water, and seeing her proud mast is the truest homing of all.


    Ivy has never sailed before, but she follows orders like she was made for it, her hands tidy as she ties the most basic of knots. We cruise out of the marina on engine power, the docks and shore devoid of people. There¡¯s one good thing about jetg, at least. It reminds you that life can start early in the morning, if you only have the discipline to let it.


    ¡°You¡¯re good at this!¡± I call to her, sitting in the bow. ¡°Sure you haven¡¯t sailed before?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she calls back, grinning widely at me. ¡°But I¡¯m used to following orders from my dad, when we went camping. This isn¡¯t that different.¡±


    I shake my head at her, keeping our course steady. ¡°Comparing a boat to a tent! You should walk the nk for that.¡±


    ¡°Do you have one?¡± Tendrils of blonde hair have escaped her braid and curl around her face in the wind.


    ¡°It¡¯s somewhere around here,¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere while I get it rigged up.¡±


    The sound of herughter on the wind mingles with the birds above and the waves below, and I close my eyes, drawing in the scent of it all. Of salt and sea and life.


    We anchor off an abandoned bay and Ivy pulls out the sandwiches we¡¯d bought at the gas station. The early morning sunlight is bright but not strong, letting me lie back on the deck and close my eyes without shades.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had adventure on your doorstep your entire life,¡± she tells me, a smile in her voice. ¡°No wonder you seek it in adulthood too.¡±


    I put an arm beneath my head. ¡°Never thought of it like that before.¡±


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s why you dove in after us? Jordan and me, in the Hamptons, I mean. You grew up on the water.¡±


    ¡°I dove in after you because you needed help.¡±


    ¡°Well, that too.¡±


    We eat infortable silence for a while, the sea rocking the boat gently. It¡¯s a motion I¡¯ve missed.


    ¡°What are you going to introduce me as to your family?¡±


    Iugh. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking of right now?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s important.¡± A pause as she takes another bite. ¡°Just so I know how to better y my role as a buffer.¡±


    ¡°What do you want to be introduced as?¡± I ask, smiling up at the sky. Waiting for her answer, for whatever she says to shock me.


    She¡¯s so good at that.


    ¡°Whatever will make my role as buffer most efficient.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Somitted to your job.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± she says. ¡°I take things seriously.¡±


    ¡°As opposed to me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m itinerary-girl,¡± she says, a shrug in her voice. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ chaos-boy.¡±


    ¡°Those are terrible superhero names,¡± I protest. ¡°I refuse to let either of those two stick. Sexville I ept, but not these two.¡±


    Ivy¡¯s voice is teasing. ¡°You haven¡¯t answered my question, though.¡±


    ¡°My friend,¡± I suggest. ¡°My colleague. Aren¡¯t both of those correct?¡±


    ¡°They are, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°But I think I¡¯ll go with date.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in her voice. ¡°I like that one the best.¡±


    I nce over to watch her reach her arms to the sky, stretching. She¡¯s graceful even seated, as if the curves of her body always carry the memory of dance.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to photograph you dancing one day,¡± I tell her. ¡°In a studio, just the two of us.¡±


    Her eyes lock on mine, surprise and warm joy filling them. ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± she says.


    ¡°Good, because you¡¯re not getting rid of me yet.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C63

    ¡°Not trying to.¡±


    Something warms in my chest, and it¡¯s not just the sunlight or the waves beneath us, even though it¡¯s a rocking I¡¯ve missed. Give me a good boat rather than an airne any day of the week. If I have to die, let it be by ocean rather than sky.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Will I ever find out what¡¯s between your rift with your dad?¡±


    I close my eyes. ¡°Get me drunk enough tonight and you might.¡±


    She groans. ¡°Rhys.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be serious for more than a second,¡± I say. ¡°Not my fault. It¡¯s probably programmed into my genes.¡±


    ¡°Why is the boat called the Frida?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re full of questions today.¡± I open my eyes to see her sitting by the edge of the railing, folding herself down so her legs can rest over the edge.


    She grins at me. ¡°I¡¯ve always been full of questions,¡± she tells me. ¡°I¡¯m just not afraid of asking them anymore.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°While you¡¯re on a boat alone with me? Unwise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never imed to be wise in rtion to you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why the boat is named Frida. My father named her decades ago, and none of us have ever figured out why.¡±


    ¡°Your grandma?¡±


    ¡°Her name isn¡¯t Frida.¡±


    Ivy looks back out at the sea, her legs dangling over the edge of the sailboat, her hair loose. It falls in golden waves down her back, tousled in the wind.


    My hand aches with the absence of a camera. Capturing her here, on the ocean, on this boat, feels like a necessity. I need it like I need air.


    But there¡¯s no camera, so I¡¯ll just have to bring her out here again.


    ¡°Ivy,¡± I say, lifting the hem of my shirt.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Feel like swimming?¡±


    She turns to look at me, eyes widening as she sees my hands resting on the zipper of my pants. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s skip the swimsuits.¡±


    Her eyebrows rise. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± I spread my arms out. ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful summer day. There is no one here.¡±


    She bites her lip, but doesn¡¯t look away from me as I kick off my shoes. The decision is being made, I can see it in the lightness of her eyes, the way she surrenders to adventure.


    Ivy reaches for her own shirt. ¡°I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re a bad influence,¡± she says, ¡°or if you¡¯re the best influence.¡±


    ¡°The best,¡± I say, watching as she undoes the sp of her bra. She¡¯s magnificent, and my body responds on instinct.


    She notices when I kick off my boxers. Her cheeks are the flush of a pale rose, her smile that of the dawn. ¡°I thought you said we were just skinny-dipping.¡±


    I nod to her body, glorious in the sunlight. The sea suits her. ¡°Can¡¯t help it,¡± I say. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, the water will get rid of it.¡±


    She looks over at the edge of the boat, her thumbs hooked into the edge of her panties. ¡°Is it cold?¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Changing your mind?¡±


    She meets my gaze squarely as she pulls off thest stitch of fabric, as she backs toward the edge. Onest triumphant nce and then she dives clean off the boat, a nude streak against the deep blue of the ocean.


    And as I dive off the boat after her, her wordse back to me-that I¡¯d always had adventure on my doorstep. Maybe, with her, it can always be one in the future.


    After our swim, we lie on the deck of the Frida under the warm summer sun. There¡¯s no need to talk, but words rise to the surface regardless.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a n in a very long time,¡± I murmur, smoothing my hand over her back. ¡°For a long time it was just to do whatever my family didn¡¯t want me to do.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a general direction at least,¡± she says, her hand smoothing over my chest. Her voice is drowsy. ¡°You know, a pre-nned rebellion feels like an oxymoron.¡±


    I snort. ¡°You¡¯re too smart for your own good.¡±


    ¡°You love it when you¡¯re challenged.¡±


    ¡°Of course I don¡¯t. Can¡¯t you be a bit more obsequious?¡±


    ¡°Obsequious?¡±


    ¡°Just because I dropped out of college doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not well-read.¡± I press a kiss to her forehead. ¡°That¡¯s a very elitist sentiment of you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never said anything of the sort.¡±


    ¡°It was in your tone,¡± I tease.


    Ivy res at me, but there¡¯sughter hiding in those eyes. I stroke down her back, wanting us to stay like this forever. On an adventure with no beginning and no end, with her the biggest mystery of all.


    ¡°I think I would have hated you in school,¡± she says.


    It¡¯s so unexpected that I burst outughing, until I have to sit up, until I can barely look at her or risk breaking out into guffaws again. ¡°Ives, that might be the truest thing you¡¯ve ever said.¡±


    She has the widest smile on her face. ¡°Imagine how much we would have argued.¡±


    Still chuckling, I tuck her against my side again, right where my body is getting used to her living. ¡°I¡¯d have teased you for all your nning. You would have hated me for myck of it.¡±


    She curls up against me. ¡°Good thing we met as adults, then.¡±


    ¡°A very good thing indeed,¡± I say, gripping her close.

 Red Hot Rebel C64

    Ivy


    Rhys¡¯s hand rests on my low back like a talisman. ¡°Don¡¯t be nervous,¡± he murmurs in my ear.


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± I shoot him my winning smile, practiced from years of modeling. It¡¯s not enough to convince him, judging by the raised eyebrow. ¡°At least I¡¯m allowed to talk at this party.¡±


    He gives a crooked smile, but the tension around his eyes doesn¡¯t fade. ¡°A big improvement from thest party we attended together.¡±


    ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll end up in a pool at this one too?¡±


    ¡°It would be a shame to,¡± he says, his hand curving around my hip. ¡°You look stunning.¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    So does he, tall and poured into a tailored gray suit, no tie, the expensive watch glittering at his wrist. He¡¯s a different man from the one I¡¯ve travelled with, the teasing glint in his eyes elevated.


    ¡°Good thing my agency packed all those unpractical clothes, you mean.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit that they do look beautiful.¡±


    ¡°And as for unpractical¡­¡± I smooth a hand over the red silk of my dress, the same I¡¯d worn walking through St. Barts. It¡¯s a risk, wearing it tonight, when it has to be returned. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t expect having to run from any lions tonight.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on that,¡± Rhys mutters.


    We pause in front of arge three-story house, white with shutters and a wrap-around porch. It¡¯s perched right by the sea, close enough that I can just make out a private shoreline.


    The sound of a live band reaches us, soft notes and guitar strings. Laughter rises up from thewn.


    ¡°This is where you grew up?¡±


    Rhys nods. ¡°I¡¯m surprised he agreed to host the party here.¡±


    ¡°You are?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯ll pretend to be reluctant about all the attention he¡¯s getting, but he¡¯s going to be counting all the congrattory cards he¡¯s received tonight.¡±


    I grip his hand and pull us toward the music that beckons. To think he grew up here, by the ocean and the old wealth of this town¡­ ¡°But your siblings will be here?¡±


    ¡°They will. Not to mention there¡¯ll be tons of good food and an open bar.¡±


    ¡°There will?¡±


    ¡°My mother only uses the best caterer.¡±


    He weaves us around a throng of people without bothering to say hello, ignoring the curious looks they cast him. I give them all a polite, sheepish smile. Inside, my heart is pounding. Of all the adventures Rhys and I have gone on the past two weeks, this might be the scariest.


    A beautiful woman with auburn hair spots us, a smile breaking like the dawn across her freckled face. She heads our way, a faint limp to her walk. Rhys¡¯s own steps quicken.


    ¡°You ghost!¡± she scolds him. ¡°I hear you arrive at the cottage, but you don¡¯t say hi. Ie over in the morning, and you¡¯re already out!¡±


    Rhys¡¯s grin is unapologetic. ¡°Whoops.¡±


    ¡°Was it punishment?¡± she asks. ¡°Because I sent Henry your itinerary?¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of that, but if you want to see it that way, by all means.¡±


    She rolls her eyes before turning to me. ¡°And I heard you brought a friend. Hi!¡±


    ¡°Hi.¡± I shake her extended hand. ¡°I¡¯m Ivy.¡±


    Her smile grows wider. ¡°And I¡¯m Lily. We¡¯re both named after nts.¡±


    ¡°Although only one of you is poisonous,¡± Rhys points out.


    His sister shoots him a look. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not kind of you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I say, liking her already. ¡°I¡¯m used to it by now.¡±


    At my side, Rhys snorts. ¡°She¡¯s exaggerating.¡±


    ¡°Only a little.¡±


    Lily nces from me to her brother and back again. ¡°So the two of you have been on a trip around the world, from what I¡¯ve heard. I want to hear all about it. Rhys hasn¡¯t sent me a single picture.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s taken a thousand,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Rhys tells me. ¡°Whose side are you on here?¡±


    Iugh, and so does his sister, shooting another spective look at him. Our little group is interrupted by the brother who¡¯d driven us here.


    ¡°Save me,¡± Henry says, wearing a suit and a pained expression.


    ¡°Investors?¡± Rhys asks.


    His brother grimaces, the expression minute. ¡°Legions of them. Is this a birthday party or a conference?¡±


    ¡°Both,¡± Lily says. ¡°Always both.¡±


    ¡°We should form a sub-party,¡± Rhys says. ¡°Like the old days.¡±


    Henry groans at the same time as Lily gives an excited whoop. I nce between them. ¡°A sub-party?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s when you steal a few bottles from the open bar and find an abandoned room,¡± Rhys says. ¡°Very useful in a pinch.¡±


    ¡°And very adolescent,¡± Henry says. ¡°Ivy, it¡¯s nice to see you again. Did you enjoy sailing?¡±


    ¡°Smooth,¡± Rhys says. ¡°Not obvious you changed the subject at all.¡±


    His brother gives him a level look. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I bite my lip to keep from chuckling. ¡°I did, yes. This town is beautiful. And I want to thank you for letting me stay in your cottage, Lily, and the hospitality. I know I¡¯m an unexpected plus one.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C65

    Rhys shakes his head, reaching for a ss from one of the circting trays. ¡°I invited you,¡± he says.


    ¡°Yes, well this is still a family event.¡±


    Both of Rhys¡¯s siblings look at me like I¡¯ve misunderstood something, Henry with a raised eyebrow just like his younger brother, and Lily with a wide smile.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she tells me, ¡°this isn¡¯t just a family event. We don¡¯t have this much family.¡±


    ¡°Not on this side of the sea, at least,¡± Rhys mutters.


    ¡°This is a conference masquerading as a cocktail party.¡± She raises her champagne ss. ¡°Wee to Paradise, Ivy. We¡¯re happy to have you here.¡±


    I let my ss clink against hers. ¡°I¡¯m happy to be here.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Hayden?¡± Rhys asks. ¡°Not to mention Faye?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s charming the old man,¡± Henry says, nodding his head at the throng of people on the other side of thewn.


    Rhys smirks. ¡°How does it feel to be reced as the favorite by your own fianc¨¦e?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Henry rolls his eyes, the gesture familiar. The two of them carry themselves in the same way, with their brightly shining sister in between them. ¡°It feels great,¡± he says. ¡°My shoulders were sore from the burden.¡±


    Rhys snorts. ¡°Not untrue.¡±


    ¡°Hayden¡¯s with Parker, around somewhere. That¡¯s my husband,¡± she tells me, threading her arm under mine. ¡°Parker¡¯s our third brother. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s all very confusing, and you don¡¯t have tomit it to memory in one night.¡±


    ¡°You should,¡± Rhys tells me. ¡°I might give you a Marchand pop quizter.¡±


    ¡°Marchand Jeopardy, perhaps,¡± Henry suggests. ¡°More dignified.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s dignified we¡¯re after, we should break out the Marchand Pursuit.¡±


    Lily blows out a breath. ¡°You¡¯re both incredibly witty, but you can dazzle us with itter. Rhys needs to pay his respects.¡±


    He takes a deep sip of his drink. ¡°I hate genuflecting,¡± he mutters. But the smile he gives me is true. ¡°Ready to meet the lions?¡±


    ¡°Never been readier.¡± The butterflies are back again, spreading their colorful wings in my stomach.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he says, still looking at me. ¡°Henry, my man, start working on that sub-party.¡±


    ¡°You know I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Lazy,¡± Rhys throws over his shoulder, his hand finding my lower back again. ¡°I expect more from you!¡±


    There¡¯sughter behind us, but we¡¯re already gone, weaving through throngs of people on thewn. The sound of music intensifies as we pass by the small band, a group of musicians ying old-school ssics.


    ¡°Crab cake?¡± a waiter asks me. I shake my head and smile, already pulled in the opposite direction by the force of Rhys¡¯s momentum.


    I put my hand around his forearm. ¡°How do you talk to him?¡± I ask. ¡°If you don¡¯t, you know, talk to him?¡±


    ¡°Watch me work,¡± he murmurs back, stopping in front of a woman with neat, coiffed hair. She turns from the women she¡¯d been speaking to, and a smile erupts across her face. ¡°Rhys, darling.¡±


    He bends to kiss her on the cheek. ¡°Good to see you, Maman.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so happy you came.¡± The sincerity in her voice is obvious, her hand curling around Rhys¡¯s arm. ¡°Henri told me you¡­. oh, hello.¡±


    ¡°Hi,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s hand returns to my low back. ¡°This is Ivy. We worked together on a campaign recently.¡±


    My smile widens. The word recently feels like a bit of an understatement.


    ¡°I¡¯m Eloise, Rhys¡¯s mother. You¡¯re very wee here,¡± she says, but the look she tosses Rhys is heavy, with something like motherly chastisement in it. ¡°Your dad is with Faye. They went to fetch a bottle of whiskey in the cer.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s opening one of the vintage bottles?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s his birthday,¡± she says. ¡°If not now, when?¡±


    Rhys takes another sip of his drink. ¡°What a shame,¡± he says. ¡°Tell him I said happy birthday.¡±


    His mother sighs. ¡°He¡¯d really appreciate it if you said it in person.¡±


    ¡°Sure he would.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not infallible.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know that.¡±


    His mother shakes her head, manicured nails closing around a champagne flute. ¡°I¡¯ve given up mediating,¡± she says. ¡°Have you said hello to your sister?¡±


    ¡°Of course I have.¡±


    Her gaze returns to me. ¡°Enjoy yourself, Ivy. I¡¯d particrly rmend trying the oysters on ice, over by the bar.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, I will.¡±


    Her free handnds on Rhys¡¯s arm, giving her tall son a pat. ¡°d you came, son.¡±


    Rhys takes a sip of his drink and watches as she drifts toward another group of people. They wee her into their circle with wide smiles.


    ¡°Just what you¡¯d expect,¡± Rhysments.


    ¡°Did she not approve of me being here?¡±


    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°She knows what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    ¡°That I¡¯m a buffer?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C66

    ¡°Hmm,¡± I say. ¡°Do you bring dates to these parties often?¡±


    There¡¯s not a trace of his usual arrogance or smirk. ¡°No. It¡¯s happened once or twice, that¡¯s true. More often than not I¡¯m not here, not when it¡¯s something for my dad or hispany. Haven¡¯t been for years.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°But,¡± he murmurs, bending to press his lips to my cheek, ¡°I¡¯m finding it¡¯s very nice to have you by my side here.¡±


    I shiver at the light touch of his lips, my gaze returning to his. And I can¡¯t imagine ever looking away, the fierce aching in my chest returning. My lips curve into a smile. ¡°I¡¯m d to be here,¡± I tell him. ¡°And if-¡±


    ¡°Rhys!¡± a man calls. ¡°Give us a hand!¡±


    I turn to see two men walking from a nearby beach cottage, carrying a crate between them.


    ¡°My brothers,¡± Rhys murmurs. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    He jogs toward them with ease and helps carry the heavy thing. Reinforcement. They carry it to the back of thewn, disappearing behind guests. Setting up awn game.


    I take a sip of my champagne and turn my face up to the evening sunlight. The smell of salt and sea hangs heavy in the air. We¡¯d lived miles and miles from the ocean growing up, and the closest ce to swim had been a muddyke. What would it have been like to grow up here?


    I blink my eyes open to voices near me, as a man and a woman walk down the back porch steps. She¡¯s dark-haired and stunning, the silk of her dress flowing gracefully around a rounded stomach. The gray-haired man by her side is carrying a whiskey bottle. ¡°A shame you can¡¯t drink it,¡± he tells her.


    ¡°Just you wait until I can,¡± she responds. ¡°I know where the cer is now.¡±


    ¡°Am I going to have to put a lock on it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯d get a fingerprint scanner if I were you.¡± She smiles, putting a hand on his arm. ¡°I¡¯ll tell one of the waiters to bring out the whiskey sses.¡±


    He makes a nomittal sound in response as she heads off, inspecting the bottle in his hands. There¡¯s no doubt in my mind who he is. The resemnce, despite the difference in age, is too great.


    Michael Marchand looks over, noting my gaze. He lifts an eyebrow in an achingly familiar way, this man whomands a real estate empire. ¡°Yes? Can I help you?¡±


    It¡¯s the same thing Rhys had once asked me, at that fateful party in the Hamptons.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve been introduced.¡±


    ¡°No, we haven¡¯t. I would have remembered.¡±


    ¡°Ivy Hart,¡± I say, extending my hand. He shakes it with the firmness of a man used to the grip. ¡°I¡¯m here with Rhys.¡±


    An amused glint in his deep green eyes. ¡°Ah. Of course. I¡¯m Michael, his father.¡±


    ¡°I suspected as much. The family resemnce is obvious.¡±


    His mouth quirks. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°We recently worked on a campaign together, actually. Got back just yesterday.¡± No idea if that¡¯s the right thing to say or not. I¡¯m acutely aware of the fact that he hasn¡¯t had a direct conversation with his son in a decade, but here I am, my words spilling forth.


    ¡°A campaign,¡± he repeats. ¡°Yes, well, I¡¯d rather he focused on growing that publishingpany of his. Nothing personal against you, of course.¡±


    My throat goes dry. ¡°Yes. Well, his photography is impressive.¡±


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Michael looks past me to the guests beyond, but his silence is heavy with expectation. He wants more.


    So I give it to him. ¡°We¡¯ve justpleted a campaign shot in eight different countries, and he captured each of the locations perfectly. Understanding the camera equipment, the light, the locations¡­ it¡¯s an art and a science, and he¡¯s talented at it.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Michael gives a curt nod. ¡°And I suppose you were the star?¡±


    ¡°I was just there to make the scenery rtable,¡± I say. ¡°The locations were the true stars.¡±


    ¡°And he flew to all of these ces?¡±


    I wet my lips, nerves dancing down my spine. ¡°Yes, he did.¡±


    Another nomittal sound, another nce over my shoulder. But I have him. So I take a step closer and wonder if I¡¯m wildly overstepping the mark, or if I¡¯m doing my job as a buffer, whatever that truly means. I¡¯m not sure Rhys knows either.


    ¡°He¡¯s brilliant. He took me sailing this morning, actually, for the first time.¡±


    ¡°And he docked all right?¡±


    ¡°He did, yes.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s father rolls his shoulders back, giving me a nod. The tense press of his lips has softened somewhat. ¡°Good of you toe with him,¡± he tells me.


    I don¡¯t think he¡¯s referring to sailing.


    ¡°It¡¯s a wonderful party,¡± I say. ¡°Happy birthday.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He steps past me, shaking his head. ¡°Although after forty, one should really stop counting. Enjoy yourself.¡±


    I release a shaky breath after he¡¯s gone. Rhys finds me not long after, raising an eyebrow at me, so like his father. But the concern in his voice is all his.


    ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. Absolutely.¡±


    He puts a hand on my low back and kisses my forehead. ¡°Come,¡± he tells me. ¡°The oysters really are amazing.¡±


    It¡¯ste when we finally make it to his sister¡¯s house, located right next door to the cottage we¡¯re staying in, to y cards with his siblings.


    They¡¯re all there, the ones I know and the ones I don¡¯t. Rhys¡¯s youngest brother Parker endures a few good-natured jabs about having bought the town¡¯s yacht club. Internally, I marvel at that, how casually it¡¯s mentioned. Like an ice tray of oysters in the middle of the summer heat, their wealth is obvious and understated.


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to get out of the town you grew up in,¡± Rhys tells him. ¡°Not find more reasons to stay.¡±


    Parker grumbles good-naturedly at that, but Henry¡¯s the one who raises his ss to salute his youngest brother. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to Rhys,¡± he says. ¡°If you never try at anything, you can never fail, but that¡¯s not a way to live.¡±


    Rhys gives a hoarseugh at the jab, but I don¡¯t join in, gazing between the brothers instead.


    Lily and Faye return from upstairs, where they¡¯ve checked on Lily¡¯s son. Jamie, he¡¯s called, though I¡¯ve yet to meet him. He¡¯d been asleep when we¡¯d returned to the house.

 Red Hot Rebel C67

    ¡°All good,¡± she tells her husband and perches on the armrest of his chair. ¡°Now, if you¡¯re all ready, I¡¯m nning to crush you in cards.¡±


    Her brothers groan at that, but Faye and Haydenugh. ¡°It is her turn,¡± her husband adds.


    ¡°And I¡¯m in a crushing mood,¡± Lily deres.


    She wins two of the four rounds, in the end, so she is dered the winner. Rhys wins the other and Faye the final, raising her non-alcoholic mojito high.


    They wave us goodbye and toss see youters over their shoulders when Rhys and I leave, the night sky dark above us. They¡¯d given me more than a few curious nces, but no one had asked about our rtionship outright. I wonder if they¡¯d not dared to, or if he¡¯d instructed them not to.


    My eyelids feel heavy with sleep and my bones loose with the drink, but I¡¯m not ready to go to sleep yet. No, not when the waves crashing against the beach beckon.


    Rhysughs when I tell him. ¡°You¡¯ve had too much champagne.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ve had too much whiskey. See? We can all make pointless usations.¡± I pull him across the street and onto the beach, pulling off my shoes and sinking my feet into the cool sand. The wavesp against the shore like a lover¡¯s touch, the summer air warm against my skin.


    This town is aptly named.


    Yet another ce I¡¯ve now seen, even if it isn¡¯t as far away as Kenya or Australia. But watching the full moon above us and listening to the ocean close by, I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s any less impressive because it¡¯s close to home.


    I sink down into the sand cross-legged. ¡°Come on,¡± I tell him. ¡°Sit with me.¡±


    He sinks down without protest, long legs stretched out in front of him and his feet in a pair of worn boat shoes. ¡°Not a desert in Kenya,¡± hements.


    ¡°Close enough,¡± I say and let a handful of sand trickle down my fingers. ¡°Your entire family is great. I get how you can be adventurous and travel, when you have this toe back to.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve recentlye to that realization as well.¡± He lies back on the sand, looking up at the sky. ¡°The stars are out. Remember the ones we saw in Kenya?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I settle down beside him. ¡°All the constetions I¡¯d never seen before.¡±


    He hums. ¡°I¡¯ve always loved watching the stars.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever really done it enough.¡± The sand is soft beneath me and I bury my feet in it, rearranging my head to fit better. I¡¯ll have to wash my hairter, but not for all in the world would I let it stop me.


    ¡°You¡¯ve surprised me, you know.¡±


    ¡°I have?¡±


    Rhys¡¯s voice deepens. ¡°Yes. Coming here with me. Spending time with my family. And through it all, you haven¡¯tined once.¡±


    ¡°Of course I haven¡¯t. What kind of friend would I be if I did?¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in his voice. ¡°You¡¯d be a normal person, Ivy, in the normal world. Very few are willing to give something up for others.¡±


    I frown up at the night sky. ¡°That¡¯s not the kind of normal world I want to be a part of.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve learnt.¡± He reaches up and in a move that¡¯s so him it makes my heart ache, he tucks an arm underneath his head. ¡°Thank you for talking me intoing this weekend.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°I spoke to your father tonight.¡±


    ¡°Did you?¡± He doesn¡¯t sound surprised.


    ¡°Yes. When you were off with your brothers.¡±


    ¡°And what was your impression?¡±


    ¡°He seemed to enjoy hearing news about you,¡± I tell him. ¡°Everything I said, about our trip, your photography, even sailing, he wanted to hear.¡±


    There¡¯s skepticism in his silence, so I ask him. The drinks have loosened all kinds of inhibitions. ¡°What is it between you?¡±


    Rhys is quiet for a long while, stretched out beside me to watch the stars. But then he speaks. ¡°I learned early on that most people are only looking out for themselves, and my father was always the prime example. He cared for status and prestige when it benefitted him, seeing money as a token of worth and his children as prize ponies. Our aplishments mattered a great deal to him, as did how they reflected on him.¡±


    I¡¯m afraid to turn my head to look at him, lest these words stop. So I give a nod. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°As soon as I got that, I also realized that the opposite was true. He took every misstep, every rumor, every failed test as an insult. He believed it made him look worse,¡± Rhys says, shaking his head. ¡°I abused that knowledge for years. I¡¯d receive an F on a paper and feel nothing but vindictive delight. Teachers would ask a question I¡¯d know the answer to and I¡¯d give them the wrong one, just because. The more outrageous the better.¡±


    ¡°To shock them?¡±


    ¡°I suppose, yes. Every expectation, I¡¯ve hated. Tried to subvert.¡± Rhys is quiet for a beat. ¡°Until college.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Yale?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You didn¡¯t see it, but there are four diplomas hanging in their house. One for each of my siblings from Yale. And above it, my dad¡¯s diploma.¡±


    ¡°But none for you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says.


    The silence stretches again, but it¡¯s not heavy. I rest my hands on my stomach and close my eyes. ¡°Seems like it would be the ce for you. I can see you in sweater vests, sitting on a windowsill reading Faulkner amongst ivy-covered brick.¡±


    The joke releases tension, and he chuckles beside me. ¡°I would never wear a sweater vest.¡±


    ¡°A checkered zer?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± He sighs, soft as the waves that assail the shore. ¡°During my second year, my little sister was in a car ident.¡±


    ¡°Lily?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s why she has that faint limp, now. She was in the hospital for¡­ well.¡± Rhys clears his throat. ¡°It changed things for all of us, in different ways. Her husband was the one who drove the car.¡±


    ¡°Oh, God.¡±


    ¡°He left and broke my sister¡¯s heart. I hated him for years, for that, even though I know my parents had pushed him toward the decision. My father, more specifically.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Shey in bed for months healing, in pain in more ways than one over Hayden¡¯s sudden disappearance. And all my father said was how happy he was that the boy was out of our lives and that she¡¯d be returning to Yale.


    ¡°It all copsed for me then. Why should I y to his rules, his vanity? When it drove my siblings to tears, to frustration, to pain? If I could, I¡¯d be theplete opposite. Stop doing it in half-measures andmit. So I dropped out.¡± He gives a self-deprecatingugh. ¡°Imitted myself thoroughly to debauchery for a while, Ivy. Traveling as far away from Paradise Shores and my brothers¡¯ ambition as I could. Far from the reach of my father. Went months without touching my trust fund, seeing how long I could do without his money.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C68

    I switch onto my side, propping up my head. ¡°How long could youst?¡±


    He runs a hand over his face. ¡°I didn¡¯t make it to my sister¡¯s college graduation,¡± he says, voice half-muffled. ¡°Stuck on a godforsaken ind in the Pacific, with an old camera in hand and my resolution not to touch my inheritance in the other.¡±


    The shame of that decision is clear in his voice. Pride had won that day, but it had cost him, too.


    ¡°Why photography?¡±


    He looks over at me, hands dropping to his chest. ¡°It¡¯s one of the few arenas where money doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m either good enough or I¡¯m not. And if I want to shoot the things I want to, if I want to create photography books and tell stories, I have to have credentials. Money or status can¡¯t buy those.¡±


    ¡°And your father dislikes it?¡± I hedge.


    Rhys snorts. ¡°He sure does.¡±


    I wet my lips and wonder if I¡¯m making a terrible mistake in speaking the next words. But something about Rhys makes me think that¡¯s a difficult thing to do. ¡°You once said you prefer brutal honesty.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± he says, an eyebrow raised. ¡°Tell me whatever you¡¯re thinking, Ivy.¡±


    ¡°Well, only that defining your life by what will make someone else unhappy strikes me as a terrible way of making yourself happy.¡±


    Rhys shakes his head, but it doesn¡¯t seem to be at me. He looks back up at the sky, so I turn my head and do the same thing, the stars expanding above us. I wonder if this is the most honest conversation I¡¯ve ever had.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ivy. That I ever called you air-headed and vain.¡±


    I smile. ¡°Yes, well, I¡¯ve forgiven you for that.¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯re wiser than me in that way, too. I¡¯ve seen how willing you are to change directions in life. To go after your dreams, or to re-evaluate them. How your father¡¯s dislike of modeling didn¡¯t seem to derail you.¡±


    ¡°At the end of the day, it¡¯s my life,¡± I murmur. ¡°My dad doesn¡¯t always understand, but his opinions just mean he cares. They don¡¯t drive us apart.¡±


    ¡°An absolute revtion to me,¡± Rhys says, but there¡¯s a note of teasing in his voice. ¡°The idea that one could have an uplicated rtionship with your parents.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Revolutionary.¡±


    ¡°You helped me in other ways too.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    His voice deepens, and something about it sends shivers over my skin. ¡°You were so open with me. Hid nothing at all, not even the one thing you imed you were most insecure about.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Well, I never intended on sharing that.¡±


    ¡°And yet you did,¡± Rhys murmurs. ¡°I¡¯m happy you did, by the way. The effects were very pleasurable.¡±


    My heart is dancing in my chest, words unspoken twirling on the tip of my tongue. I open my mouth to let them out when Rhys gets there first.


    ¡°I¡¯m d I met you,¡± he says.


    ¡°I¡¯m d I met you too,¡± I murmur.


    He reaches out, tucking me against his side on the damp sand. I should care about the dampness on my borrowed dress, or the sand getting in my hair, about thete hour. But those things all seem trivialpared to the importance of living.


    ¡°You already have your ticket,¡± he says, his hand smoothing over my arm and raising goose bumps in its wake.


    ¡°My expression has really stuck, huh?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°Are you asking me if I still want to explore?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d never say anything so crude.¡± He turns over and rises above me, blotting out the stars above. ¡°Remember when you blushed, ordering that drink in Australia?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Rhys¡­¡±


    ¡°What was it called?¡±


    ¡°Sex on the Beach,¡± I admit, my leg hitching up to his hip. ¡°But that would be crazy.¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Would it? It¡¯s dark out here, and there¡¯s absolutely no one around.¡± He bends so his mouth fits over mine, kissing away fears, objections, thoughts, until my senses are ribbons in the wind. ¡°I want to be a part of your every first.¡±


    ¡°You already are,¡± I murmur, my hands sliding up to his shoulders.


    His mouth trails my neck, slipping down my body. I nce around us, but the narrow stretch of beach is deserted, the boardwalk empty, and the night covers all in a nket of darkness. I barely make out his shape under the full moon.


    So I guide his hand to my thigh and up the hem of my dress, because there are times in life when all you can do is focus on living.


    Ivy


    I wake up to an ocean of pillows,forters and soft mattress. It¡¯s warm and cozy and leaving is out of the question. So I quest across the sea for Rhys, but he¡¯s not in bed, his side cold and empty.


    Yawning, I sit up. Judging by the light streaming in through the windows, I¡¯ve slept a lot longer today than yesterday, slowly adjusting back to Eastern Standard Time.


    Pulling a bathrobe around me, I head to the kitchen. A faint headache is hovering around the crown of my head and I drain an entire ss of cold water. But it had been worth it, forst night, for getting to know his siblings.


    I smile at the memories of what had happened after. The whisper of his voice in my ear on the beach. I¡¯m d I met you, before we¡¯d made love under the stars. Because that¡¯s what it had felt like, just the two of us and the waves and the slow, building certainty that I¡¯m falling in love with him.


    I trace my lips with my finger, wondering at the heat that arises between us with so little effort. The desire is obvious, evident, despite it being absent with so many men before him. Effortless, even, built on foundations that seem rock-solid. Trust and friendship and shared adventure.


    My gaze snags on a piece of paper on the dining room table, right next to his closedptop.


    Ivy,


    I¡¯m out for a run, will grab us some breakfast on the way back. While you wait¡­ open myptop and look at the first picture.


    I do as he¡¯s instructed. Hisptopes to life, opening a picture that makes my heart stop.


    It¡¯s me, and yet it¡¯s not.


    I¡¯m sitting on the patio to our vi in Bali. The jungle opens up behind me, a sprawling expanse of green. I¡¯m nude, one leg crossed over the other, half-reclining back on my arms. My eyes are closed and I¡¯m looking up at the sky, a smile on my lips. The rose petals drifting in the pool beside me add to the magic, the illusion that I¡¯m surrounded entirely by nature. Of it, and from it.

 Red Hot Rebel C69

    It might be the best picture ever taken of me.


    It barely looks like me, this ethereal, otherworldly creature of nature.


    I¡¯d thought I¡¯d be mortified seeing these pictures, but looking at it now, it¡¯s art. Without Rhys I would never have dared be a part of its creation.


    A notification pings on hisptop, the texting up on the top right corner. My eyes skim over it on instinct.


    Ben Rieler: Just looked at the preliminary photos. I don¡¯t want to lose the bet, but they look great.


    The bet? A second text follows right after the first, this one, too, appearing in the notification bar.


    Ben Rieler: Still waiting on my thanks for finding the model from the Hamptons party for you, by the way. You sure didn¡¯t seem upset about it in Sydney, but then, you love blondes!


    The world tips slightly, falls off-keel, the words slicing through me like a sharp knife through butter. The first question spawns a thousand others, my mind fracturing like a kaleidoscope. I sit frozen in front of theputer as the notifications slide off screen and leave me alone with the portrait of me, naked and happy in Bali.


    The model from the Hamptons party.


    Had Rhys been the one to ask for me?


    I dismiss the idea as soon as I think it. His shock at seeing me in the office room in Rieler Travels had been too real to be anything but. Which means¡­


    The Hamptons party.


    I hadn¡¯t been paying attention to the other men, the ones sitting around Rhys, caught in his spell¡­ but Ben must have been one of them. Hadn¡¯t they discussed something about Sydney? He chose me. He chose me from my agency, not because of my skill, or my portfolio, or because I was the right fit for Rieler. He chose me as some borate prank yed on his old friend, then, because of our argument and our tumble in the pool. An amusement of rich men, this sport.


    I put my finger to the keyboard and start flicking through the images, away from the beautiful one he¡¯d wanted me to see. And it¡¯s all images of me, all naked, all edited with the lighting. My own face taunts me in all my happy, rxed ignorance.


    Each image makes my cheeks flush darker, the shame deepening. Ben had chosen me as a prank, and Rhys had known, and hadn¡¯t told me. You love blondes.


    Until Ie across an image that isn¡¯t me at all. It¡¯s another woman, posing suggestively on a bed, sheets wrapped around herself. She¡¯s looking at the camera like it¡¯s all she¡¯s ever wanted.


    Like she¡¯s seeing the man behind the lens.


    Exactly like I¡¯d done.


    The sick feeling rising up doesn¡¯t stop me from scrolling quicker and quicker through images of a few other models. Other ces. No clothing. Nothing is lurid, I¡¯ll admit, and perhaps I could appreciate the beauty of these nude portraits if I wasn¡¯t being choked by my own furious humiliation.


    I¡¯ve never felt cheaper than I do right then.


    He never could resist a model.


    I highlight all of the pictures of me sans clothing, every stupid one, and hit the delete button on hisputer. Then I empty the trash for good measure. All my old fearsbine with this new evidence, the images of other models swimming in front of me. His honest response to thest time he¡¯d slept with someone. The way he¡¯d described his casual entanglements.


    It¡¯s like a house of cards toppling, the image I¡¯d built in my mind of who I could be around him, the carefree, effortless woman who took what she wanted. Who slept with a man without expecting to catch feelings. Who just wanted to explore.


    Because I¡¯m still the girl who would have hated Rhys in school. Who ns and plots and writes to-do-lists. Who wants a man who loves her, who wants a rtionship, who wants to be more than just a sexual partner.


    And the worst part of it all is that he¡¯s never promised me anything, never been anything but honest about the whole thing, and I still feel like he¡¯s lied.


    Like he¡¯s made me feel more special than I am.


    But I¡¯m the one who¡¯s inferred that-it¡¯s myself I¡¯ve been lying to.


    I¡¯m still sitting by the table with a pounding heart and a constricted throat when Rhyses home. He¡¯s carrying a paper bag and coffee, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. A damp curl of his dark hair hangs over his forehead.


    He stills when he sees me. ¡°Ivy?¡±


    ¡°Ben was at the Hamptons party, where you and I¡­ where we met. Was that why he chose me for Rieler¡¯s travel campaign?¡±


    Rhys sets down the food on the coffee table with an exaggerated stillness that sets off hairline fractures along my heart. ¡°He did, yes.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t recognize him in the meeting. I didn¡¯t¡­ I thought¡­¡± I push away from the table and tie the bathrobe tighter around my waist. ¡°So what was I, to the two of you? A joke? A prank? Something to prove a point to the other?¡±


    His eyes look miserable. That, if anything, makes my chest ache. ¡°It started out that way, Ivy, at least from his part. I¡¯m sorry you were dragged into it.¡±


    ¡°How could you not tell me about it?¡± I step back in response to his step forward, his throat bobbing as he swallows. ¡°In his text, he mentions a bet. What bet?¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair.


    ¡°Tell me, Rhys.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Iined about his traveling campaigns one time too many. The cheesiness of it. How staged they were. He made me a bet, then. To see if I could shoot a campaign that was better than one he paid a professional marketing firm to do. He¡¯llpare the two of them when they¡¯re finished and choose one.¡±


    Iugh. It sounds shrill. ¡°Right. So this entire trip has been some weird, masculine contest? Who has the money to do something like that?¡±


    ¡°It started out that way. It started out silly, and wasteful, a bet between us to see whose word was true. You were never meant to be caught in the middle of it.¡±


    ¡°But I was,¡± I reply. ¡°Which means you knew, the whole time, why we were traveling without a single designated stylist or assistant?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± His admission is simple, in. It¡¯s there in his face, too,pletely devoid of a smirk or his raised eyebrow.


    ¡°How could you not tell me, Rhys? How?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no excuse for it,¡± he replies, voice hoarse. ¡°I know there isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So much for brutal honesty.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be brutal with you, Ivy. It¡¯s the one thing I can¡¯t be.¡±


    ¡°But you can lie to me.¡± I gesture to hisptop, now closed again on the dining-room table. Tears of anger threaten to overflow. ¡°I saw a ton of other pictures there, by the way. And as Ben so charmingly put it, you can¡¯t resist a model and you love blondes. What was I? A prize? A trophy? A way to settle the bet more effectively?¡±


    ¡°It was none of those things, Ivy. What happened between us had nothing to do with him, or with the campaign, or with any other women.¡±


    I wrap my arms around my chest. ¡°Are you sure? Because if that was the truth, you would have told me about it.¡±


    There are a lot of feelings in this world that are unpleasant, but I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s one worse than the feeling of foolishness. Of knowing you had suspicions and those suspicions were correct, that you let your heart do the thinking and not your mind. I turn away from his dark gaze, unable to hold it. The agency hadn¡¯t believed in me. They hadn¡¯t chosen me for my work.


    I¡¯d been chosen because I¡¯d identally argued with a rich guest at a Hamptons party. I¡¯m immune to beautiful women, he¡¯d said then. Judging by the pictures on hisputer, it seemed rather to be the opposite way around.

 Red Hot Rebel C70

    ¡°Ivy, everything I¡¯ve told you has been the truth. What happened between us, what I want in the future¡­ I haven¡¯t lied.¡±


    I shake my head, unable to see through the sudden film of tears. ¡°No. I can¡¯t hear it.¡±


    ¡°Thest person I wanted to hurt was you. Thest person. Do you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Your actions say somethingpletely different. God, I¡¯m such an idiot. Just another beautiful woman for you, right? Another casual entanglement, something to amuse yourself with. And I never asked for more.¡± My chest feels like it¡¯s breaking. ¡°I can¡¯t talk to you right now.¡±


    ¡°Ivy, please, let me-¡±


    I retreat again. ¡°Please, Rhys. Give me some space.¡±


    He stops by the door to the cottage, looking like he has more to say and no idea how to say it. The weight of his gaze feels heavy, but I don¡¯t look away, not even through my haze of tears. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in an hour,¡± he says quietly. ¡°Please, Ivy. Let me try to exin then.¡±


    I don¡¯t nod. After another beat of silence, he disappears out the door, closing it behind him.


    I let myself fall apart then, as I rush through the house, tears gathering in my eyes and rolling silently down my cheeks. There¡¯s only one thought in my head, and that is escape. My hands don¡¯t tremble as I pack the few things I¡¯d removed from my two giant suitcases. The agency¡¯s red silk dress looks ruined. I¡¯ll have to take it to the dry cleaner¡¯s in New York before I can return it.


    It¡¯s depressing that that¡¯s the thought that breaks me, but it does, as I sink to the floor of the bedroom. I won¡¯t be able to look at that dress without thinking about him and me on the beach.


    And that¡¯s not a thought I can afford to revisit right now.


    It takes me a few minutes, but I manage to control myself, storing the hurt at his lies of omission somewhere deep inside. I¡¯ve worked under stressful conditions; this shouldn¡¯t be much different. I carry one of the suitcases to the curb, returning for the second. Does Paradise Shores have a taxi service? As long as I can get to a train station, I¡¯ll be able to figure my way back to New York. I¡¯ve never longed more for my tiny Manhattan apartment than I do right now, not even with the ocean a stone¡¯s throw away and the bright summer sunshine.


    ¡°Ivy?¡±


    My heart leaps out of my chest before I realize it¡¯s not him. ¡°Hi, Lily.¡±


    She smiles at me from herwn, holding the hands of a tiny toddler. He¡¯s standing, albeit with a considerable dose of help from his mother.


    ¡°No sleeping in when you have a one-year-old,¡± she says, smiling down at Jamie¡¯s thick brown hair, the same as his father. ¡°Are you heading somewhere?¡±


    Perhaps it¡¯s in the silence of my response. Perhaps it¡¯s the look on my face. But she scoops Jamie up onto her hip and steps out on the curb. ¡°Ivy, is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°I need to get back to New York.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she says. ¡°Do you have a train ticket booked?¡±


    ¡°No, not yet.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she echoes. ¡°I¡¯m sure Rhys can drive you to-¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I need to leave now.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well,¡± she says, bouncing little Jamie on her hip, ¡°how about I drive you to Bridgeport? We can grab a drive-through coffee on the way, and-no, no ying with Mommy¡¯s hair-then you can board one of the Amtrak trains back to Grand Central.¡±


    My throat feels thick with sudden emotion. ¡°I can¡¯t ask you to do that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not asking, I¡¯m offering,¡± she says. ¡°Let me just drop off this rascal with his father, and I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Thank you.¡±


    Five minutester I¡¯m in the passenger seat of Lily¡¯s car, leaving the glittering ocean behind me in the rearview mirror. She turns on the radio, keeping the music down, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel.


    ¡°Sorry for this, truly,¡± I say again.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t apologize. It¡¯s not a problem at all. And even if it was a problem, I¡¯d still do it.¡±


    I swallow before speaking his name, but it still grates on my tongue. ¡°You and Rhys¡­ you¡¯re close?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say so, yes,¡± she says, face softening. ¡°We¡¯re both the rebels of the family, in a way. I run an art gallery, he has a publishingpany. It¡¯s not construction or real estate and it¡¯s not going tond us in Forbes.¡±


    ¡°And those two things are important to your father,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°They were,¡± she says. ¡°They¡¯ve be less so now, but they still hover above our heads, in a way. How about you? Did you always want to be a model?¡±


    ¡°No. I wanted to dance when I was younger, but I injured my knee, and had to stop. I worked with a lot of physical therapists afterwards. I¡¯m studying to be one, now, part-time. Modeling is how I pay for college.¡±


    Lily nods. ¡°What kind of injury?¡±


    ¡°Tore a ligament in my knee, and the recovery was pretty rough. It can handle a lot now, but it can¡¯t handle hours of dancing every single day.¡±


    ¡°A shame,¡± she says softly. ¡°Did Rhys tell you about my injury?¡±


    ¡°A little, yes.¡±


    ¡°Well, one of my legs is pretty bad too. Not terrible, but dancing is pretty much ruled out for me as well.¡± She shoots me a grin. ¡°It probably was before the ident too, to be honest.¡±


    I smile back, even if my heart feels like it¡¯s shattering. They¡¯re all being so nice to me, and here I am, running away.


    ¡°So,¡± she says. ¡°If you want to tell me what my brother has done to piss you off, I¡¯ll listen. Lord knows he¡¯s pissed me off too many times to count.¡±


    I look down at my hands. ¡°This might be a bit different.¡±


    She snorts, sounding so like Rhys. ¡°Probably. But I¡¯m a good listener, and I don¡¯t gossip.¡±


    I stare out at the passingndscape and think of what to say. What will be true, without going into all the gory details. My throat still feels tight with tears. ¡°Well¡­ I think we¡¯re on different pages, in regards to us. How serious we were, or where we¡¯re heading.¡±


    Lily is quiet for a long moment, and when I look back at her, a frown is tugging at her lips. ¡°Was that too much info?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s just, I¡¯ve never known Rhys to be anything but honest. I don¡¯t like thinking he¡¯s misled you.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s your brother,¡± I say quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t want toe in between that, somehow.¡±


    She shakes her head with a kind smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you won¡¯t. And Ipletely understand if you don¡¯t want to say more. I¡¯ll still give him an earfulter.¡±


    I chuckle at that, despite myself.


    ¡°He¡¯s often difficult,¡± she says. ¡°He goes his own way. He makes his own path. He ims to love debate, and truth, but that doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s always good at putting himself in other people¡¯s shoes. But if there¡¯s one thing he is, it¡¯s loyal, right down to the bone.¡± She¡¯s quiet for a long moment, even as we pull up to the Bridgeport train station, turning the car off in the parking lot.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.

 Red Hot Rebel C71

    But then she turns to me. ¡°I¡¯ve just met you, Ivy, but on ount of us both being named for nts¡­,¡± a smile curves her lips, ¡°let me tell you that I¡¯ve never seen my brotherughing with a woman the way he did with youst night. And I don¡¯t think he would havee to our father¡¯s party if he didn¡¯t have you there by his side.¡±


    My mouth feels dry, my heart heavy. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Yesterday, when we were ying cards, you said that life just keeps getting better. Do you remember that?¡±


    I search my memories, the alcohol and the games. ¡°Faintly.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t contradict you.¡± Lily smiles at me. ¡°He¡¯s been a cynic since he was eight years old, and he didn¡¯t even blink, just raised his ss to cheer.¡±


    I look down at my handbag. In my pocket, I can feel my phone buzzing with a call, but I ignore it. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve said too much,¡± Lily says. ¡°You do whatever you want to do, and feel free to curse him out if he needs it. All I¡¯m saying is¡­ he¡¯splicated.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve noticed,¡± I say, and we bothugh dryly at that. ¡°Thank you for the ride.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wee,¡± she says. ¡°I hope I¡¯ll see you again, Ivy.¡±


    I pause with a hand on the passenger door, and this one is easy to answer, with or without her brother in the picture. ¡°I hope so too.¡±


    Rhys


    My little sister is the one who tells me where Ivy¡¯s gone, knocking on the door to her own cottage. It swings open to her touch and she looks at me, pacing in the living room.


    ¡°I drove her to Bridgeport,¡± Lily announces.


    ¡°You did what?¡±


    ¡°She asked me to, Rhys. And trust me, she needed to get out of here, judging by her mood.¡±


    I run a hand through my still-sweaty hair, guilt and anger pulsing through me in waves. She¡¯d seen the ill-timed text from Ben fucking Rieler, and the chance to tell her myself was lost.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming you know why she left?¡± Lily asks. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t tell me.¡±


    I mutter something, heading to the kitchen to pack up my stuff.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I said, I know why she left.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not going to tell me.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, opening my suitcase with jerky movements. ¡°I don¡¯t like myself very much at the moment, and I don¡¯t need you to join in.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Lily uncrosses her arms and walks to the table, where the breakfast I¡¯d bought lies untouched. She sifts through and finds a ham and cheese sandwich. ¡°She did say something of interest, though.¡±


    She takes a bite of the lukewarm sandwich and I focus on not blowing my lid while she chews slowly. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she says finally, ¡°she said that she¡¯d started to believe that what the two of you had was more serious than you thought. I said that I¡¯ve never known Rhys to be anything other than honest,¡± Lily continues, and the trust in her voice, in me, is a gut punch of guilt. ¡°But, I also know you. And you¡¯re not really known for being affectionate.¡±


    I sink down onto one of the kitchen chairs, stretching my legs out in front of me. Burying my head in my hands.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t honest with her.¡±


    Lily¡¯s chewing stops. ¡°Oh.¡±


    I tell her everything, pulling no punches. The bet with Ben, the way Ivy and I met. How she found out. The finer points of our rtionship I omit, but every mistake of mine is there for her judgement.


    She sits down opposite me. ¡°Well,¡± she murmurs finally. ¡°That doesn¡¯t look good.¡±


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You should have told her.¡±


    ¡°I should have,¡± I agree, looking up to see her gaze serenely back at me. There¡¯s no judgement in her eyes, though, and I¡¯d expected a considerable share of it.


    ¡°Rhys, you like her. It¡¯s obvious in the way you spoke to her yesterday, the way the two of you looked at each other.¡±


    ¡°I think I do, yes,¡± I murmur. It feels like a confession.


    ¡°She likes you too. Liked, perhaps, before all of this. You¡¯re going to have to grovel.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m prepared to.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re going to have to do it properly,¡± Lily says, picking up her sandwich. ¡°Because there is a reason why you didn¡¯t tell her those things, and if you want to win her back, nothing but the truth will work.¡±


    I push away from the table and head to the bedroom. Rummage around for my clothes, shoving them down.


    How had she not thought this was serious? It felt like the most serious connection with a woman I¡¯d ever had. My sister¡¯s voice drifts from the other room. ¡°She might need a few days before she¡¯ll consider talking to you.¡±


    ¡°I have to try.¡±


    ¡°Good, just don¡¯t give up.¡± She steps into the room, eyes wide and earnest. The same way she¡¯d looked at me when she was little, when it was us against the world. When I supported her art and she supported me. She¡¯d moved back to Paradise Shores, to face our father and start her own life here, rooted in the past but not controlled by it.


    But she always was braver than me.


    ¡°Rhys?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since you really tried at something,¡± she says. ¡°I remember what it looks like, and it¡¯s glorious.¡±


    Henry¡¯s words fromst night sh through my mind. ¡°If you try at something, you might fail,¡± I say.


    She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. ¡°But you might seed, and if I were a betting woman, I¡¯d bet on you.¡±


    Two texts and three calls, but no response from Ivy theing days. Not a sign of life, either, on her social media ounts. I¡¯d downloaded the apps just to be able to see.


    It¡¯s like she¡¯s tossed her cell phone in the Hudson.

 Red Hot Rebel C72

    My eyes stray to the giant pile of paperbacks stacked along the wall of my New York apartment. Books I haven¡¯t read. Books I¡¯ve yet to read. Books I¡¯ve started and stopped. And manuscripts, endless manuscripts I¡¯m sorting through to sign to thepany.


    It¡¯s been a long time since you¡¯ve really tried at something.


    I dial the number to Ivy¡¯s modeling agency, going for broke.


    ¡°Star Models, this is Maria.¡±


    ¡°Rhys Marchand,¡± I say. ¡°I recently worked with Ivy Hart, one of your models. I need to drop off some material.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± the voice returns. ¡°Ivy.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Do you have her address on file?¡±


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s no longer with the agency.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°She¡¯s no longer with the agency,¡± the woman repeats.


    ¡°Do you have any-¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t give out information on former employees,¡± she continues. ¡°Sorry. Have a good day, Mr. Marchand.¡±


    I stare at the phone in my hand for longer than I like to admit. Had they dropped her? What happened? Rieler Travels hasn¡¯t determined which marketing campaign will be used yet, not with theunch party weeks away.


    I try to lose myself in work, but even that is fruitless, because there¡¯s only one person in those pictures.


    Silhouetted by a waterfall in Bali.


    Smiling under the Eiffel Tower.


    Twirling on a street in St. Barts.


    I get it now, seeing all these pictures. There¡¯s not an ounce of distaste left in me about the marketing concept, because I get it. Ivy is the gateway to all these ces. She¡¯s enjoying them all, a wide smile on her lips and wonder in her eyes, and through her, theye to life.


    I pause at the pictures from the trattoria in Rome. Ivy¡¯s looking at Paolo like she¡¯s in love with him. My hand grows tight around the edge of myptop. The irrational envy is still present, watching that expression on her face directed at someone who¡¯s not me.


    Because I want it to be at me. Always, at me.


    The pictures I¡¯d taken of Ivy in Bali are gone. The ones we¡¯d taken for our own pleasure, where the air had been humid and time had stood still. Only her and me and the light dancing across her naked skin.


    They¡¯re all gone.


    I flick through and see the images she¡¯d seen, looking at them from her perspective. The models or women who¡¯d requested I shoot them nude. For their portfolios, or simply for the pleasure of having portraits. For immortalizing a moment in time.


    From Ivy¡¯s point of view¡­


    I think of the look in her eyes when we were in Kenya, where she¡¯d first told me she¡¯d never been with a man before. The tentative trust that had burned like embers, and how I¡¯d watched it grow into a me.


    Had it been blown out entirely?


    I push myputer away in disgust. To think those images, the ones from a different time, might have made Ivy feel less in any way makes me sick.


    She¡¯d always been the one who was painfully authentic.


    I dip my head in my hands and sit, aching and furious at myself, on my couch. Furious for not being more honest. For not saying the things I¡¯d felt.


    The itinerary. She¡¯d always wanted to follow it. I¡¯d barely looked at it, but wasn¡¯t there¡­? My hands tremble with adrenaline as I pull out the crumpled sheet of paper from my bag. Her address is there, listed at the top, for when the car picked her up to the airport.


    I¡¯m out the door and calling for a cab within minutes. There¡¯s an overwhelming chance that she won¡¯t answer. Won¡¯t want to talk to me. But perhaps it¡¯s time I start taking real risks in life.


    The midtown apartment building is nothing special, but as I stop outside the door to the lobby, it feels like everything. We know so little of each other¡¯s real lives.


    I send her another text. I¡¯m outside your apartment. Please talk to me.


    And then I wait. Ten minutes. Twenty. Leaning against the cold brick, my eyes closed, arms crossed over my chest. Peoplee and go, but it¡¯s never her. Not until I¡¯ve nearly given up hope, not until my legs ache from standing still.


    She steps out of the front door to her building. Her hair is a golden braid down her back, her skin free from makeup. She wraps her arms around her body.


    ¡°Hi.¡±


    I push off from the wall, taking a step closer. ¡°Hi, Ives. Thanks foring out.¡±


    She nods, looking past me to the busy street beyond. My whole body feels taut, like a drawn violin string. If only I knew the notes to y. ¡°Still jetgged?¡±


    ¡°A bit,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s getting better.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been quiet, not being around you for thest week.¡±


    ¡°I thought I spoke too much,¡± she says, but without any real conviction. ¡°Grated on your cynicism.¡±


    ¡°It could use being grated on,¡± I admit. ¡°You¡¯re not with the agency anymore?¡±


    She looks down at her hands, twisting them in her grasp. Like the rest of her skin, they¡¯re tan from our days in Bali. A real tan, this time.


    ¡°I quit.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    Her lips twist into a sardonic smile. ¡°It wasn¡¯t because I¡¯ve suddenly started hating modeling.¡±


    ¡°Of course not.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ They never liked that I triedbining work and my studies, and I don¡¯t want to work for an agency that holds dropping me over my head like that.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention the pressure to grow your social media.¡±


    She nods, her gaze flicking past me to the street again. The air is ufortable between us.

 Red Hot Rebel C73

    Things unspoken.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you for quitting.¡±


    Her gaze returns to mine. Surprise burns there, together with a deep-seated mistrust that shames me.


    ¡°Ivy, I-¡±


    She shakes her head, cutting me off. ¡°Please thank your sister for driving me to the train station. I didn¡¯t mean to take up part of her Sunday.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t mind.¡± The cold hand of fear grips my insides, that she won¡¯t want to hear me out. That the open, trusting look in her eyes is lost forever to me.


    ¡°She¡¯s nice. Your entire family is, Rhys.¡±


    ¡°They are. Thank you.¡±


    She nods, looking past me. ¡°I told your father that your photography is amazing. Perhaps it¡¯ll help.¡±


    She¡¯d stood up for me. The knowledge sharpens the pain in my chest at her distance. I don¡¯t want to say the words.


    I don¡¯t want to hear her say them.


    But I start the conversation anyway. ¡°Let me exin what you saw on myputer, Ivy.¡±


    ¡°Do we have to?¡± she whispers. ¡°It won¡¯t change what they proved.¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t prove anything. Only that I¡¯ve worked on and off as a photographer for a decade, and that has included professional models, some of whom asked me to photograph them nude. But there is no other meaning to them, Ivy.¡±


    Something breaks inside me when her eyes line with silver, as she refuses to look at me.


    ¡°Ivy, trust me on that.¡±


    ¡°I feel so foolish,¡± she whispers. ¡°About the whole thing. Like I¡¯ve been ying out an alternate reality in my mind, and all of a sudden it broke.¡±


    Pain grips its ws in my chest. ¡°You haven¡¯t been foolish, Ives. Not the least.¡±


    But she just nods. ¡°The things we¡¯ve done¡­ I¡¯d never done them before. And to realize they meant so little to you? I was part of a bet. Thrown in for good measure as a joke between two guys.¡±Property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°The things we did meant a lot to me.¡±


    She runs fingers underneath her eyes, turning them heavenward. Her shoulders curve inwards. ¡°Perhaps not nothing, then. But not the same as to me. The women I saw¡­ have you slept with them?¡±


    I won¡¯t lie to her, not ever again. ¡°A couple, yes.¡±


    Her breath turns shaky. ¡°Right. And you never promised me anything, either. I¡¯m the one who was stupid enough to expect them anyway.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± I tell her, ¡°expect things from me. I want the chance to live up to them.¡±


    She looks down at her feet, her throat swallowing. ¡°We had fun, at least.¡±


    ¡°Being with you was never just about having fun. It was never something I took lightly. And it wasn¡¯t nned by Ben.¡±


    ¡°He said he chose me because I¡¯m your type.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t know my fucking type. We see each other every now and then, and I once had a blonde girlfriend. He extrapted. Incorrectly, too.¡±


    ¡°So what is your type?¡±


    ¡°You,¡± I say. ¡°Just you.¡±


    Her mouth curls into a self-deprecating smile. ¡°He chose me because I annoyed you at a party in the Hamptons.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s an idiot.¡±


    She closes her eyes, like she can¡¯t face me. Like it¡¯s easier to pull away.


    I understand the impulse. For so long, I¡¯ve thrown myself into what¡¯s new and risky and easy, instead of what¡¯s challenging. Running into new battles instead of staying and fighting the ones I¡¯m in.


    But not again.


    ¡°Ivy, do you know the real reason why I didn¡¯t tell you about the bet right away? Why I couldn¡¯t bring myself to it?¡± I take a deep breath, and then I tell her the truth, no bullshit. ¡°Because it shamed me. It only took me a couple of days to realize you were nothing like what I¡¯d described you as at that party. I made those remarks to shut the other men up, but I didn¡¯t think twice about how they¡¯d sound to you. And then you dove in after your friend¡­ right away, no hesitation.¡±


    Summer days spent in Paradise Shores flit through my mind, the days my brothers and I had been taught how to rescue people from the water. ¡°And you were so honest, Ivy, in all of your reactions to the ces we saw. So earnest and excited and you trusted me.¡±


    She looks down at her hands, but I keep going. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m saying that as a good thing. I haven¡¯t had people be that open with me, you might say, for longer than I can remember. There¡¯s always a motive or an end goal.¡±


    Ivy worries her lower lip, her eyes narrowed. ¡°Perhaps you surround yourself with the wrong people.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m starting to realize that too. And when I thought of how I¡¯d behaved at that party, and the inane fucking bet with Ben¡­ it looked small and petty inparison to you, to your goodness and humor. I didn¡¯t tell you because I was scared.¡±


    Her eyes sh on mine. ¡°You were scared? That¡¯s the big reveal?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I reach out to steady myself against the brick wall. ¡°You told my sister that you didn¡¯t think we were on the same page, regarding us. You and me. But Ivy, this feels like the most serious thing I¡¯ve experienced. I don¡¯t want to stop being around you. Not now, and not ever.¡±


    She shakes her head, uncertainty sketched on her features. The features that had so often been open and honest and determined and curious.


    ¡°Rhys¡­ I don¡¯t know how to do this,¡± she says. ¡°How to trust, how to be together with someone. I¡¯ve never done any of it before. Even if I forgive you, how would we do it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not an expert, either,¡± I admit. But nothing has ever felt like being with her. No one has made me question everything I know and still made me feel more certain than ever before.


    ¡°What would we do, then?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll make it up as we go along,¡± I suggest, crooking my smile the way I know she likes. ¡°Isn¡¯t that how life works? It¡¯ll be an adventure, at least, traveling that road with you.¡±


    Ivy takes another deep breath, stepping back toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ll need time, Rhys. I need to think.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Take as long as you want. But if you¡¯re wondering something, please ask me. Let me exin it. I promise you¡¯ll hear nothing but truth from me from here on out.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she breathes.

 Red Hot Rebel C74

    ¡°Okay?¡±


    She wipes at her eyes. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll think about it. It¡¯s the best I can do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Regardless, I suppose I¡¯ll see you at theunch party, to discover which of your campaigns ended up being chosen.¡± She shakes her head, a wry smile on her lips. ¡°I swear, Rhys, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m hoping you lose or win.¡±


    Theunch party is weeks from now. But I don¡¯t let the disappointment I feel show. ¡°I¡¯ll see you then,¡± I tell her. ¡°Just promise me you¡¯ll call me if you get caught in your own thoughts. I don¡¯t live far away.¡±


    ¡°I promise,¡± she says, the door shutting behind her.


    Ivy


    The doorbell rings just as I¡¯m applying lipstick, sending a line of dark red skittering down my chin.


    Penny chuckles behind me and bounces up off the couch. ¡°Do you need me to get that?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please.¡±


    Wiping at my face, I follow her to the front door. I¡¯m not expecting anyone, nor any deliveries, and we only have half an hour left until we need to leave for theunch of Rieler Travels¡¯ new marketing campaign.


    Whichever one it might be.


    ¡°For Ivy Hart,¡± a delivery guy says, yellow cap pulled low on his head.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t order anything.¡±


    That doesn¡¯t stop him from lifting arge, bubble-wrapped square into my hallway.


    ¡°No need to sign. Have a good day.¡±


    He disappears down the hallway with brisk steps, a man on a mission, and doesn¡¯t respond to my shouted thanks!


    Penny shuts the door behind him. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea.¡±


    We start tearing at the packaging, peeling off the coverings like we¡¯re unmasking a treasure. ¡°Frames?¡± Penny asks. ¡°These are frames. What¡­ Oh.¡±


    My hand stills when I see who stares back.


    It¡¯s me.


    A framed, ck-and-white portrait of me, one I hadn¡¯t seen before. I¡¯m dancing on the square in St. Barts, the red dress dark now, but billowing around my legs as I spin. My hair is a curtain around me, but the smile on my face is visible.


    It¡¯s grainy, not so much as to throw off the image, but enough to give it character.


    ¡°Ivy¡­,¡± my sister whispers. ¡°This is gorgeous.¡±


    I swallow. ¡°Help me get the packaging off the rest of them.¡±


    Four framed photographs in total, all ck and white andrge. And all of me.


    Penny runs her hand over an etched que at the bottom of one. ¡°They¡¯re named,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Ivy, they all have names!¡±


    I drop to my knees in the hallway to see that she¡¯s right. The portrait of me dancing in St. Barts is called Joy.


    The one of me in Rome, putting on dark lipstick with the eternal city as a backdrop, the Tiber flowing behind me, is called Strength. And I suppose the challenging look in my eyes as I stare directly into the camera is exactly that. Strong.


    The third has me in Paris. Standing in my zer and skirt, talking to one of the sellers of books that line the Seine. A wide smile is on my face as I listen to the man. The photograph is called Kindness.


    ¡°Sartre,¡± I murmur. ¡°He was exining who Jean-Paul Sartre was.¡±


    ¡°These are so cool. Did the agency send them to you?¡±


    My gaze travels to the fourth and final one. Me, waist-deep in the swimming hole in Bali. In ck and white, the shapes stand out in stark contrast. The waterfall a stilled roar behind me. My eyes are closed and my arms outstretched, a smile on my lips.


    Curiosity, this one is titled.


    ¡°No,¡± I say quietly. ¡°The agency didn¡¯t send these.¡±


    ¡°Then who? The travelpany? Oh, look, Ivy. There¡¯s a card.¡± She hands me an envelope, three letters scrawled in sharp, capital letters on the front. Ivy.


    I pull out the card inside.


    Ivy,


    You took my breath away in every single one of these shots. This is how I see you. Strong and kind, curious and joyful. Traveling with you was the best adventure I¡¯ve ever had. If I lose this bet today, I will still feel like I¡¯ve won, for having experienced it. If you¡¯ll have me, I¡¯ll by your side for future adventures too.


    Looking forward to seeing you today,


    Rhys


    ¡°You¡¯re smiling,¡± Penny murmurs. ¡°Is it from him? The photographer?¡±


    I hand her the note in silence, my smile growing as she squeals. ¡°Oh my God. This is¡­ wow. Now we know, then. He will definitely be there today.¡±


    I nod, sinking down into my couch. Nerves flutter through my stomach at the mention. ¡°He will, yes.¡±


    I look back at the photographs. No one had ever captured me that well. Captured me, not who I was posing as. Penny knows everything. I told her all of it, from St. Barts to Paradise Shores.


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± she asks, sitting down beside me.


    My throat feels dry. ¡°I¡¯ve never been in a proper rtionship before. As much as I want to try, I¡¯m not sure how it¡¯ll turn out. And I don¡¯t know if¡­ What if I get hurt again?¡±


    Her gaze softens. ¡°You¡¯ll never know how a rtionship will turn out before you have it.¡±


    ¡°How did you do it? With Jason? You¡¯ve been together for years.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C75

    Her smile widens, even if it remains soft. My little sister, who¡¯s bravery personified. ¡°It¡¯s scary. Opening yourself up that way. You¡¯ll have arguments, disagreements, things that annoy one another. But instead of that ending the rtionship, they make it grow stronger. It¡¯s¡­¡± She shakes her head and moves closer, reaching out to sp my hand in hers. ¡°Ivy, I know you¡¯ve never been in a rtionship before. And you¡¯re hardworking and proper and have a ton of integrity. I get why letting someone in goes against the grain, but it¡¯s so, so worth it when you do.¡±


    I wrap my fingers around hers. ¡°That was a great answer.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Her smile widens. ¡°Have you decided if you¡¯re going to give him another chance or not?¡±


    We¡¯ve discussed this at length for the past weeks, every angle, every possibility. Pouring out my heart to her and hearing her rail about Rhys had been cathartic, just as her quiet musings about his clear interest had been.


    In the end, there¡¯s only one answer, and it had been Rhys who¡¯d prompted me to it. Who¡¯d given me permission to be spontaneous and brave.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Her smile widens. ¡°I¡¯m d. And if he does something to hurt you again¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll have to reckon with you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she says. ¡°But rtionships really are an adventure, like he said. Do you feel ready to travel some new terrain?¡±


    I squeeze her hand. ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re fidgeting,¡± Penny tells me.


    ¡°I am not,¡± I murmur back, my hand sliding down the beads in my dress to rest at my side, the elevator slow in rising to the top.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°What kind of travel agency rents a rooftop bar for theunch of a marketing campaign?¡±


    ¡°One with too much money,¡± I say. ¡°One that caters to a luxury clientele.¡± And one that doesn¡¯t care for guests who dislike heights.


    We step out onto a terrace, thete summer air warm and the night just beginning to darken. The skyscrapers surrounding us make for a backdrop of glittering lights and towering giants. Reminding me we¡¯re far from the ground. But as long as I stay away from the edge, I should be fine.


    ¡°Look,¡± Penny says, nodding to a giant projector screen in the corner. Images and videos roll over it, of locations worldwide. I recognize the turquoise waters of St. Barts, the savannah in Kenya.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe they¡¯re leaving it sote to announce which campaign was chosen,¡± I tell her, smoothing a tendril of hair back. The wind immediately whips it out again, and I give up, because it¡¯s a losing battle.


    ¡°Suspense,¡± Penny says. ¡°Oh! Let¡¯s grab something to drink¡­¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s grab something to eat first.¡±


    She rolls her eyes at me but reaches for a tiny sandwich, resting on a cocktail napkin. ¡°You¡¯re a bore,¡± she tells me.


    I grip her arm and give her a light push, not letting go. She wavers on her borrowed heels. ¡°I know your weaknesses,¡± I tell her, smiling. ¡°Don¡¯t get tough.¡±


    ¡°Traveling changed you. My sister used to be nice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still nice,¡± I say, scanning the crowd. Looking for people I recognize, one in particr, and he¡¯s usually a head above others¡­ No sight of him. The nerves drum beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. Nerves make for the most potent of all drinks.


    I take a sip of my drink and watch as more and more guests filter in, more than a few giving me lingering looks. It¡¯s so second nature by now that it barely fazes me, nor Penny, but it¡¯s always more frequent when I¡¯m in heels and makeup. It¡¯ll fade, I want to tell them.


    Ben Rieler steps up on stage, a mic in hand and in a tailored suit, smiling at the milling guests. I half-listen as he wees guests, craning my neck to look around the crowd.


    Ben¡¯s voice filters back in. ¡°The result has been two campaigns of astonishing quality. They¡¯re differing perspectives, capturing each of our locations with unique eyes¡­ They reflect the differences in travelers that Rieler seeks to attract.¡±


    Was that a dark head? A man, simr in color¡­ Turn around, turn around¡­ and he does and my heart leaps, but it¡¯s not Rhys. It¡¯s Henry, with Faye radiant and pregnant at his side. So he¡¯d invited his family to this, too.


    A deep voice speaks at my side, familiar and aching. ¡°Hello, Ivy.¡±


    I keep my eyes on Ben and the images being projected, too scared to turn my head. ¡°Rhys.¡±


    His words are amused. ¡°Ben had a difficult decision to make.¡±


    ¡°Seems like it.¡±


    ¡°So he avoided making one at all.¡±


    I open my mouth to ask, but just then, Ben steps aside on the stage and the crowd¡¯s hush turns into an expectant murmur. The screen shifts into the logo of Rieler Travel, and as it dissolves, a drone video of the hotel in Bali ys. Music, slow and hypnotic, sounds over the images.


    It switches to me on the Jeep in Kenya,ughing at the camera, at one of Rhys¡¯s jokes. Another smooth transition to a glossy image of a dark-haired woman posing on a lounge chair by a pool. Interspliced with me, lying on the sand in St. Barts with the setting sun.


    ¡°They used both?¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Rhys murmurs. ¡°To show how they cater to two different kinds of travelers. I think ours is meant to represent the more adventure-seeking one.¡±


    My lips curve as I see the same thing he does. The footage from our trip is colored differently. It¡¯s me swimming toward the waterfall in Bali, it¡¯s me walking along the edge of a dock in Sydney.


    The other? It¡¯s the dark-haired model on hotel beds, in pools, sampling elegant desserts and enjoying the spa facilities.


    As angry as I¡¯d been at the idea of them making a bet over this, two men with too much money and pride for their own good, there¡¯s no denying this video is brilliant.


    ¡°It¡¯s amazing.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in his voice. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, it turned out well.¡±


    My sister turns to me and Rhys with wide eyes when the campaign ends.


    ¡°You truly went to all those ces? That was beautiful.¡±


    ¡°We did, yeah. This is Rhys Marchand, who traveled with me.¡±


    Penny grins, reaching out a hand. ¡°Oh, I know. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Likewise,¡± he says. ¡°The simrity is obvious, so I don¡¯t have to ask who you are. Penny, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she confirms. ¡°And I¡¯d love to stay and chat, but there is a waiter with tiny sliders somewhere around here that I have to chase.¡±


    She disappears through the crowd and I roll my eyes, smiling. ¡°Subtle.¡±


    ¡°Very.¡± Rhys¡¯s gaze snags with mine, mine with his, and it¡¯s like the other guests fade away, just us and New York around us. There are questions in his eyes, mixed with tentative hope.


    The air feels thick with possibility.

 Red Hot Rebel C76

    ¡°Thank you for the photographs. They were delivered this morning.¡±


    His lips curve. ¡°My pleasure. They¡¯re my favorites, those four.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re beautiful,¡± I murmur. ¡°Your portion of the video was, too.¡±


    ¡°Of course it was,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I had you.¡±


    My breath catches in my throat, and I can¡¯t look away from the strength of his gaze. He had lied, yes. But I¡¯d allowed myself to hang on to that as an excuse, an opportunity to flee from the unknown.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about us.¡±


    He inclines his head, a dark curl falling over his forehead. ¡°So have I, Ives. And before you say anything, I want to give you something.¡± He pulls something out of his coat pocket, my eyes snagging on his hand, remembering the touch of it on my skin.


    ¡°Here you are!¡± a voice calls out. ¡°My two stars!¡±


    I clear my throat, refocusing on Ben¡¯s grinning face. He has a champagne ss in one hand, smiling at the both of us.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look like that,¡± he says to Rhys, whose face is impassive. Annoyed at being interrupted, I¡¯m guessing. ¡°You won.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Co-won,¡± Rhys corrects.


    ¡°Yes, well, yours is the more artistic of the two, even if I hate to admit it.¡± He gives me a smirk. ¡°It¡¯ll be a pleasure, Ivy, to watch you in all the travel catalogues toe.¡±


    My smile feels brittle, aimed at the man who gave me the campaign of a lifetime as a prank. ¡°I¡¯m d.¡±


    ¡°She was-¡±


    But Rhys is interrupted by the arrival of a few other people. A photographer, here to immortalize the event, and the dark-haired model I¡¯d seen in the pictures. My opponent, I suppose. ¡°One final picture?¡± Ben asks. ¡°To celebrate theunch.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say, extending my hand to the other model. ¡°I¡¯m Ivy.¡±


    ¡°Sarah.¡±


    ¡°Your pictures look beautiful.¡±


    She gives me a shy smile. ¡°Thank you. I thought yours, though¡­ they were art.¡±


    ¡°I had a great photographer.¡±


    Ben motions for us to join him by the edge of the terrace, where the sprawl of New York beckons thirty-five floors below. Each step is an act of willpower, forcing myself closer and closer to the edge.


    Is that railing really high enough?


    ¡°Come,¡± Ben repeats, Sarah to his right. I take my spot on his left side and look straight at the camera. The death drop behind me feels like a monster, creeping up to attack.


    I pose, but my hand is mmy around the champagne flute. The seconds feel like years.


    Rhys is standing beside the photographer with a scowl on his face. His hands are buried in his pockets, the top button of his shirt unbuttoned. I focus on the tan skin there.


    ¡°There,¡± the photographer says, lowering the camera. Ben thanks Sarah and me, but I can¡¯t hear them above the beating of my heart.


    And then Rhys is there, his arm closing around my waist as he pulls me away from the edge. I follow him across the roof and into the stairwell, where walls keep the abyss at bay.


    ¡°A rooftop,¡± I mutter. ¡°It had to be another rooftop.¡±


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± His fingers tip my chin back, my face lifting to his.


    ¡°Yes. Just¡­¡± I shake my head. ¡°I have to keep away from the edge.¡±


    ¡°I remember.¡±


    My palmsnd on his chest, hard beneath his shirt. ¡°Nobody has confused me like you have,¡± I use him. ¡°Nobody has made me as angry, or as irritated. Nobody has made meugh as much, either.¡±


    His thumb slides along my jaw. ¡°You¡¯ve confused me too. Every box I wanted to put you in, you¡¯ve defied.¡±


    ¡°Rhys, I know you consider life an adventure and people something to savor, but I can¡¯t handle it if we are like that. It¡¯s not in me to be casual.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want anything casual with you,¡± he replies. ¡°And for the record, you made it difficult to stay cool and casual.¡±


    ¡°So did you. Impossible, even.¡±


    His hand closes over my wrist, fitting with my palm t to his chest. Right over his heart, where I can feel the pounding beneath his skin. ¡°You¡¯re trusting and earnest and innocent. Sarcastic and smart. An optimist to your core, Ivy. You take your coffee with too much sugar and your tea with too much milk, but I couldn¡¯t care less.¡± He rests his forehead against mine, the inky ckness of his hair spilling over mine. ¡°And I always care about that.¡±


    My hands creep up to his neck, to the warm skin waiting for me. ¡°I liked you even when I didn¡¯t like you very much.¡±


    He¡¯s so close that I can¡¯t see his smile, but I can feel it, as if it¡¯s an extension of me. ¡°I know,¡± he says. ¡°The feeling was mutual. Seeing that Italian model kiss your neck in Rome damn near killed me.¡±


    ¡°I hoped you¡¯d be jealous of that.¡±


    A wicked spark in his eyes. ¡°You surprise me, too, at every turn. I hope you never stop doing that.¡±


    I wet my lips. ¡°Are we really going to try this?¡±


    ¡°Being something, you and me?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I think we should. We¡¯ll probably argue half the time, about what movie to watch, what book to read, about whether or not peanuts should be salted¡­ but I¡¯m okay with that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay with that too.¡± My hand slides into his hair, it¡¯s silky thickness caressing my skin. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯d want it any other way.¡±


    His lips close over mine, and I respond in kind, the two of us reuniting like we¡¯re closing a deal-agreeing on our future, on us, on this.


    What he is and what I am fits together so well, in so many ways, that even the areas where we don¡¯t match up feel right. I surrender to the delicious simplicity of his touch and wonder if love will always feel like this, like falling, scary and exhrating in equal measure.


    Because love means you have to trust. You have to open up. And you have to allow someone else in, with the power to hurt you, and have faith they don¡¯t.


    Rhys¡¯s eyes are open when he lifts his head. ¡°Why are we still at this party?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C77

    Iugh, feeling light, like a balloon ready to float up to the ceiling. ¡°Because we earned it. We won.¡±


    ¡°Co-won.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say,cing my fingers through his. ¡°We won.¡±


    He¡¯s wearing that nted smile that¡¯s so uniquely his. ¡°This is how it starts, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m forced to change my attitude, one peppyment at a time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to stop challenging you.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a USB stick. ¡°And to think I had an entire speech prepared. I¡¯ve never begged in my life, Ivy, but I was prepared to beg for your forgiveness.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°The pictures you deleted from myputer? The ones from Bali?¡±


    The nude pictures. ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯d already been backed up to my hard drive. Automatic save and all that. I transferred them all to this USB. I didn¡¯t peek, and there are no other copies.¡± He puts the memory stick in my hand, closing my fingers around them. ¡°Yours to do exactly what you want with.¡±


    My hand tightens around the memory stick, a flood of emotions threatening to drown me. Perhaps Rhys sees that, because he presses a kiss to my temple, his hand curving around my waist. ¡°I¡¯m on your side, Ives. No one else¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll never lie to you again. I want to be so honest it tears me apart.¡±


    I can¡¯t help butugh at that, looking up at him. ¡°We¡¯re back to violent metaphors?¡±


    ¡°Seems like it,¡± he murmurs, bending his lips to my ear. ¡°As much as I want to get out of here, I think we¡¯ve misced our siblings somewhere.¡±


    Grinning, I slide the memory stick into my handbag and take his hand in mine. He grips mine back firmly, pushing the door open with his free hand. ¡°After you.¡±


    Rhys


    ¡°Did you grab this from my apartment?¡± I ask, holding up the old paperback.


    Ivy untangles her legs from the nket, reaching for the pre-loved book. ¡°Yes, and I¡¯m enjoying it so far.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll hate it when you get to-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she says, holding up a finger to my lips. ¡°Not again.¡±


    I grin beneath her finger. ¡°I really thought you¡¯d read the other one before.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I hadn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be quiet this time,¡± I promise, sinking down on the couch beside her. She tucks a leg over mine and opens the book again, finding her spot easily. She dog-ears books, and I don¡¯t. One of the many things we¡¯d discussed over thest two months. One of a hundred debates, many started just for the heck of it. More than one had ended passionately.


    I reach for my own manuscript, a novel one of my editors had sent along to me. Think this one could be big, she¡¯d written. And so far I¡¯m inclined to agree.


    My hand traceszy circles on Ivy¡¯s leg as we read. Spending weekends like this has be increasinglymon, something of a ritual. Wake upte andnguorously in bed. Argue about which piece of the morning newspaper we read. Argue over how we take our coffee.


    And then read until the sun is high in the sky.


    This weekend is different, being back in Paradise Shores, but our routine still holds true.


    ¡°I got my first new shoot,¡± Ivy says, flipping over a page. ¡°Did I tell you?¡±


    I put the manuscript down. ¡°No, you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Checked my email earlier, and it was there, waiting for me. I¡¯m booked for a toothpaste ad.¡± To punctuate her words, she shoots me a wide, white-toothed smile.


    ¡°Ivy, that¡¯s awesome.¡± The new agency she¡¯s recently signed with is far smaller than Star Models, but they respect her studies and let her have a say in what she works on.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to lie,¡± she teases. ¡°I know it¡¯smercial.¡±


    ¡°Hey, toothpaste needs to be sold. It¡¯s a public good. In fact, the more people you can encourage to buy it, the better.¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m doing people a favor.¡±


    I fit my hand to the crook of her waist, my favorite ce to grip. ¡°Congrats, Ivy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I want to shoot you one of these days, by the way.¡±


    Her grin shes again. ¡°Don¡¯t say that when we¡¯re in public.¡±


    ¡°Funny.¡±


    ¡°You shoot me all the time?¡±


    ¡°Not enough. Can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this either, but I¡¯d love to shoot you for a big campaign again. Something of our choosing, this time.¡±


    ¡°We can shootter today, if you want.¡± The light filtering in through the curtains of Lily¡¯s seaside cottage gilds her blonde hair, natural and tousled, and dances across the freckles on her nose.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to photograph you on the sailing boat.¡± I slide my hand higher, running fingers over her cheek. ¡°The pictures from a few days ago came out really well.¡±


    I¡¯d used my old Canon, with natural grainy texture and a higher contrast ratio. She¡¯d sat in my apartment, on the windowsill, and I¡¯d caught her and New York beyond. Her eyes drift closed as my fingers move to tangle through her hair, loose and wild. ¡°I haven¡¯t told you what I¡¯ve done with the pictures you took of me in Bali.¡±


    ¡°No, you haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t delete them.¡±


    My fingers still. ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°The USB is in the safety deposit box in my apartment. I looked through all the pictures the other day, after you dropped me off at home.¡±


    ¡°What did you think?¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C78

    She tosses the book on the sofa table and swings her legs off myp. The nket slips from her body as she dances into the space between the two armchairs. The silken fabric of the slip she¡¯d slept in flows like water over her lithe form.


    ¡°And we¡¯re going to do it again, one day.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    A few clicks on her phone and soft music fills the space. She spins slowly, in front of me, her eyes closing. Every line of her body swaying in tune to the music.


    Still watching her, I reach for my old Canon, lying on the sofa table.


    A soft smile settles on Ivy¡¯s face as she dances, arms stretched wide and above her head, twirling on the linen rug. It¡¯s easy to see the dancer she could have been.


    The model she is.


    And the woman she¡¯s bing.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    I take a few pictures of her moving, the calm settling through my body. There¡¯s something about capturing the world on film that has always made sense to me.


    ¡°What are we doing today?¡± she asks, hips flowing from side to side in tune with the music. The easy smile on her face doesn¡¯t falter. ¡°Besides dinner with Parker, Lily and Hayden?¡±


    ¡°Anything we like.¡± I put my camera down, motioning for her toe closer. She does, hips still swaying, andughs when I catch her around the waist. Her legs settle on either side of me. ¡°Have I told you recently how much I like you?¡±


    Her eyes glitter. ¡°Yes, but you¡¯re wee to tell me again.¡±


    I press my lips to the smooth skin of her neck. Dressed in nothing but the silk slip, there¡¯s plenty of it on disy. ¡°I like you,¡± I murmur, moving down her corbone. Teasing the spaghetti strap down her smooth shoulder.


    ¡°I like you too,¡± she breathes, her fingers settling in my hair.


    ¡°A great deal, actually.¡± My hands tighten on her hips, keeping her in ce. Meeting her earnest, beautiful gaze with my own. ¡°I might even be in love with you.¡±


    A soft smile breaks across her dear face. ¡°You love me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so,¡± I admit, catching her lips with mine. The kisses we exchange go on forever, soft and slow and so sweet they make my chest ache.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± Ivy whispers. And I know I¡¯ll never see a more beautiful sight than that, her eyes shining with emotion. Emotion she¡¯s not afraid of me seeing, a trust that I¡¯ve managed to rebuild. It¡¯s the greatest gift I¡¯ve ever been given.


    Sheughs when I stand with her in my arms, all the way to the bedroom, where the sound turns breathless and hot.


    It¡¯s a long time until we speak again, and when we do, the silk slip she wore is discarded on the floor. She¡¯s draped across my chest, my fingers trailing her spine.


    ¡°Ivy,¡± I murmur.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I was thinking of speaking to my father today.¡±


    She looks up at me. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Howe?¡±


    I consider that. It¡¯s a good question. ¡°Somewhere over the past months, my anger has¡­ I don¡¯t know. Not disappeared, perhaps, but shifted. It doesn¡¯t do me any good. He is what he is. I am what I am. Talking to him doesn¡¯t mean I give in, or that his pride is bigger than mine.¡± I shrug, running a hand through her hair again. ¡°You were the one who said a nned rebellion was an oxymoron.¡±


    She smiles, slightly abashed. ¡°I did say that.¡±


    ¡°And you were right.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to be there? I will, if you want me to.¡±


    I press a kiss to her temple. ¡°Yes. Thank you.¡±


    This time, I can¡¯t see her smile, but I feel it against my skin. It¡¯s a wondrous thing, to be in love with your best friend, and to have her love you back.


    We drive to my parents¡¯ house in the old Mustang I¡¯d bought over a decade earlier, when I¡¯d still been a teenager with my head deep in Bukowski and parties and entitlement. It feels aged now, but appropriately so.


    The giant house is as it¡¯s always been, and yet subtly different. Autumn leaves litter thewn, a sign that the gardener hasn¡¯t been there for a few days. There¡¯s no As running out to meet us, and though it¡¯s been more than a decade since the dog died, I still expect it. Memories interpose on one another to form a kaleidoscope, a mirage, years past and hence blending.


    ¡°You okay?¡± she murmurs, her fingers gripping mine tightly.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    My mother is delighted with our visit. It¡¯s the first time we¡¯re back since my father¡¯s party, and she takes the opportunity to show Ivy around. More than anything, I think she¡¯s happy I¡¯m in a rtionship. She¡¯s mentioned myck of one more than once before.


    ¡°Your father¡¯s on the back porch,¡± she tells me.


    I wonder if she knows, somehow, what I¡¯m here for. If she suspects, or if she¡¯s just letting me know so I can better avoid him. No matter. ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell her.


    As she retreats with Ivy, I hear her voice as it trails off. ¡°Of all my children, Rhys is most simr to his father. Now, my youngest, she has¡­¡±


    I carry the offhandment with me as I walk through the kitchen and out to the back porch. For so long, I¡¯d wanted to be nothing like him. Determined to make my own path.


    Like he had, once. His arguments with my grandfather are the stuff of family legend.


    Dad¡¯s reading his newspapers in the same chair he¡¯s imed for near on two decades with the ocean as his onlypanion. The button-down is rumpled, boat shoes on his feet. Face settled into a familiar scowl.


    I lean across the porch railing beside his seat, eyes focused on the ocean beyond. ¡°Hey, Dad.¡±


    It takes him a few moments. The sound of a newspaper behind neatly folded and set down on the table.


    ¡°Rhys,¡± he says.


    I nod toward the waves. ¡°It¡¯s calm out.¡±


    ¡°It is, yes.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll take the boat outter.¡±

 Red Hot Rebel C79

    A cleared throat. ¡°You should. Take that girl of yours with you, too.¡±


    ¡°I n on it.¡±


    He rises from his seat andes to stand beside me on the porch. A few inches shorter than me, but wider across the chest. We¡¯re silent as we both watch the waves beat against the shoreline.


    ¡°Remember when I taught you to sail?¡± he asks. His voice is low, cautious. An echo of mine.


    ¡°Henry taught me to sail.¡±


    Hisughter is genuine. ¡°Ah, but who taught Henry?¡±


    My lips curve despite myself. He might always have been an asshole, but then, he¡¯s always owned it.


    ¡°Your mother bought yourtest book. The one with all the photographs, that your publishingpany released.¡±


    It¡¯s an unexpectedment. I nod, ncing over at him. He¡¯s still looking at the ocean. ¡°What did you think?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good. I don¡¯t have an eye for that sort of thing, but¡­¡± He nods. ¡°It was good.¡±


    It¡¯s more than I expected. Reluctant, faint praise, but praise nheless, and there¡¯s not a sneer in sight. Perhaps he had been anxious for this conversation, too. For us to talk without intermediaries.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking of making Lily an offer for the beach cottage.¡±


    He turns to me fully then, and there¡¯s true surprise in his dark eyes. ¡°You are?¡±


    ¡°Figured I should have a ce out here of my own.¡±


    Dad nods, deep in thought. ¡°Well, she¡¯ll give you a good deal for it.¡±


    ¡°She better.¡±


    We share augh, short and perfunctory, and the first in more years than I can count. He gives me onest, long look, appraising. Then he shrugs, a reluctant smile on his face. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°Perhaps I should meet this girl of yours again, Rhys. Seems like she¡¯s had a bit of an influence on you.¡±


    Epilogue Ivy A yearter


    ¡°They looked happy.¡±


    ¡°They looked like they needed a solid week of sleep.¡± Rhys shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it on the peg in the hallway.


    I make a beeline past him for the kitchen. ¡°Do you want tea?¡±


    ¡°Not tonight, thanks.¡±


    I turn on the electric kettle and reach for my box of herbal teas. ¡°Let¡¯s just say they looked good and like they needed a week of sleep,¡± Ipromise. ¡°I feel bad for all of them, Cece included. It must be tough not to be able to sleep through the night.¡±


    Rhyses up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. ¡°Poor thing,¡± he says of his niece. ¡°But judging from the glow in their eyes, she has them wrapped thoroughly around her little finger.¡±


    I lean back into his warmth. ¡°She is the most adorable little baby.¡±


    ¡°Almost makes you want one yourself.¡±


    ¡°Almost?¡±


    Rhys gives an affirmative hum, pressing his lips to my neck. ¡°Almost,¡± he confirms.


    I smile as I pour my cup of tea. Having children is a topic we¡¯ve been speaking a lot abouttely, just as we do about everything. Debating andpromising and discussing. Meeting Henry and Faye¡¯s little daughter never fails to reignite the debate, although truth is, neither of us want children yet. But the idea is fun to y around with.


    Rhys presses ast kiss to my neck, his hands smoothing over my hips as he releases me. ¡°Did you pack your fitness bands?¡±


    ¡°No, shoot. Thanks for reminding me.¡±


    I head into the living room and past our open suitcases. The one thing I needed and I¡¯d of course forgotten¡­ Rhys sinks down on the couch and watches as I fold the three fitness bands, all in varying strengths.


    ¡°So neat,¡± he teases.


    ¡°A cluttered suitcase, a cluttered mind.¡±


    He grins. ¡°You know it won¡¯t stay that way.¡±


    ¡°No, but I¡¯ll never give up trying.¡± I run my hand over the workout clothes I¡¯ve packed for the trip. All there, and now so are my fitness bands. My yoga mat is already rolled up tight and stowed at the bottom.


    ¡°Thanks for helping me with this, by the way,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°You know I love shooting your workout videos.¡±


    I give him a withering look. ¡°Yes, so you can try to make me lose focus.¡± I¡¯d lost track of the things he did behind the camera to make me break.


    Heughs, stretching out long legs on the coffee table. ¡°It¡¯s my favorite sport.¡±


    ¡°I thought that was sailing.¡± But I¡¯m smiling as I stand, inspecting my suitcase. ¡°And you got all your camera equipment?¡±


    ¡°All packed,¡± he confirms. ¡°Nowe here.¡±


    I sit down beside him and he pulls me close, an arm around my shoulders. He¡¯s warm through the fabric of his linen shirt and I put my palm t on his chest, the familiar strength beneath itforting. ¡°I¡¯m so excited.¡±


    There¡¯s a smile in Rhys¡¯s voice. ¡°I¡¯m d.¡±


    ¡°An entire month.¡±


    ¡°An entire month,¡± he repeats. ¡°The hike will be the best part.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait.¡± We¡¯re set for a four day trek to Machu Phu, hitting the Peruvian trail with two of his friends. It¡¯s just one of all the amazing things nned for our South American adventure, but it¡¯s the one I¡¯m the most excited for. Well, the fact that Penny and Jason are joining us for the final week is pretty awesome, too.


    Both of us can work while we¡¯re there. Rhys will be shooting for a prestigious new photography exhibition he¡¯s been asked to contribute to, one of only twelve photographers chosen. And while we travel, I can shoot more workout videos for my social media channels with the mountains as the backdrop.


    It¡¯s a project that makes me excited to my core. The past couple of months, I¡¯ve started using my social media presence as a resource to share information on health, nutrition and exercise. Using my physical therapy degree to inform and exin, focusing on wellness rather than beauty. Rhys has been my biggest supporter, and not once has he snorted orughed when I¡¯ve asked him to help me.


    He wraps his other arm around me and I lift a leg over his, settling in at his side. ¡°Is it possible to have wanderlust and travel nerves at the same time?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yes. Are you feeling both?¡±


    ¡°Most definitely.¡±


    His hand trails down my back. ¡°I might admit to feeling some of that myself.¡±


    I press a kiss to his shoulder. Flying still isn¡¯t his thing and I doubt it ever will be. And yet, he gets on a ne time and time again, knowing that the reward outweighs the difort. He¡¯dughed when I¡¯d told him he was incredible for that. Inspiring, even. But it was true.


    ¡°Do you remember our first trip together?¡±


    He smiles. ¡°Of course I do. I¡¯m still grateful you forgave me for the whole thing.¡±All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°The trip itself was amazing. The waterfall?¡±


    His hand slips under my shirt to curve around my hip. ¡°We¡¯ll go back there one day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love that,¡± I murmur, closing my eyes.


    ¡°We could go back to all the ces we visited. Spend a week in each, at least. Explore them thoroughly.¡± His hand tightens over my skin. ¡°Revisit the memories.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a dream.¡±


    ¡°Making dreams into reality is what I do best,¡± he teases.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking, but I think that¡¯s definitely one of your talents,¡± I tell him. Not only does he pursue his own without fear, but he keeps encouraging me to do the same.


    To say no to modeling gigs I don¡¯t approve of, or to carve out my own unique career path. There¡¯s still much to be decided in our life. Where we¡¯ll live, instead of our current shuffle back and forth between our two apartments. What kind of life we¡¯ll lead. A quiet family life in Paradise Shores or a life on the road, seeing the world.


    But I know that every step of the way I¡¯ll have Rhys, and he¡¯ll have me. Keeping me honest. Loving me and allowing me to love in return. A person to grow and evolve with, to challenge and support me. Breathing in theforting scent of him, I know now that¡¯s the greatest adventure of them all.

 Small Town Hero C1

    JAMIE


    Paradise Shores looks the same way it always has. I don¡¯t know if that makes me feel better or worse, that the town I grew up in is unchanged, when I so clearly am not. On some days it feels like a relief. On others a personal attack. Today? It¡¯s nerve-wracking.


    I¡¯ve been standing outside the Paradise Shores Yacht Club for ten minutes. My bike is locked. I have my bag. And I can¡¯t make my feet move.


    The yacht club is an emblem for the town, an institution. My friends and I used to buy their famous lobster rolls and eat them on the docks in the marina, beneath the hot summer sun. The building looks unchanged from the outside. The smooth wooden ts of its roof are the same. So are the steps up to the front door. The giant anchor resting in the flowerbed.


    One day of working here and the news will be out. Jamie¡¯s back in town after a decade away.


    I desperately hope no one will care.


    But I already know that¡¯s not true. My best friend moved back to Paradise a few years ago, and I haven¡¯t told her I¡¯ve followed suit. Only my mom knows I¡¯m back, and that¡¯s because I¡¯m staying with her.


    Showing up at her doorstep had been mildly embarrassing. But not, perhaps, as embarrassing as this. I have a job.


    As a waitress at the yacht club.


    I take a deep breath. And then another one. I¡¯d been lucky to see the posting, to get this job. So I swallow my pride and walk up the steps. The yacht club has a new coat of paint, navy, and it sits overlooking the Paradise Shores marina. Row after row of sailboats and yachts lie anchored at the docks. The ocean rocks them all gently.


    For years, I saw this view every day.


    And for years, I didn¡¯t see it at all.


    The yacht club is empty when I step inside. It¡¯s early, and the first round of sailing sses should already be out at sea. So I head toward the back office and see Neil, sitting at his desk. He¡¯s still in charge of the marina.


    He sees me and gives a wave. ¡°Hello, there.¡±


    ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Jamie Moraine? The new waitress?¡±


    He runs a hand over his balding head. Well, that¡¯s new. ¡°Of course! Wee, wee. We spoke on the phone. Thanks foring in on such short notice.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for having me,¡± I say.


    ¡°Come, let me introduce you to Stephen. He¡¯s head of the waitstaff. He should have arrived by now¡­¡± Neil closes the door to the office and walks me through the lobby, past tasteful nautical decor. There are gold-framed paintings of boats at sea on the walls and in a corner is a giant statue made out of boating rope.


    The ce looks much better than I remember. Fresh coat of cream paint on the wainscoting and a deep blue on the walls.


    ¡°All settled in to Paradise?¡± Neil asks.


    He had been a sailing instructor when I was young, and then head of the marina. Not surprised he doesn¡¯t remember me. I was never one for sailing.


    ¡°Yes, thanks.¡±


    The man named Stephen is wiping down a set of menus, syed out on a wooden table. ¡°You¡¯re Jamie?¡± he asks without looking up. He might be in his forties, tall and gangly, with a mustache.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, feeling underdressed. His pristine waiter¡¯s uniform doesn¡¯t fit with my sundress.


    ¡°Good, you¡¯re right on time.¡± He hands me the rag. ¡°Continue wiping these down while I get you your uniform.¡±


    He disappears through the staff door.


    Neil snorts by my side. ¡°He¡¯s good folk, once you get to know him.¡±


    I start wiping down theminated menus. ¡°I¡¯m sure he is.¡±


    ¡°The ce looks good, doesn¡¯t it? What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it does,¡± I say.


    ¡°The new boss renovated it in the off-season. The kitchen has all brand-new appliances, looks like a damn spaceship in there. These are new hardwood floors, too.¡±


    ¡°It looks good,¡± I say, and I mean it. Gone is the old wallpaper, yellowed after previous decades with indoor smoking allowed.


    Spending the summers waitressing at the yacht club had been a rite of passage when I was a teenager. The cool girls from Paradise High did it, while the cool guys would teach sailing lessons down on the docks.


    My best friend and I had stayed far away from the marina those summers.


    ¡°Well, Stephen¡¯ll take good care of you,¡± Neil says.


    And I have to give it to them, Stephen does. He tells me to tuck my shirt into my pencil skirt and makes me recite the specials on the board. It wouldn¡¯t be rocket science to a new waitress, and I¡¯ve done this on and off for years.


    But I understand just why he gave me such a thorough introduction during lunch. I¡¯ve just served a family of six, the youngest child in that wonderful babbling age, when he stops me.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be here at four,¡± he says in sotto voce.


    ¡°They?¡±


    ¡°The owner and the new chefs he¡¯s interviewing.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Now it makes sense. ¡°Is he here a lot?¡±


    Stephen nods. ¡°And he always has opinions.¡±


    I bet he does, I think. The world would be a lot nicer if people stopped having so many.


    The rest of the lunch service is calm. I do what I¡¯ve always done, take orders and deliver food. Some ask me if I¡¯m new, and I answer yes. I don¡¯t make much small talk.


    I need the tips, but I don¡¯t have the energy.


    Two young waitresses work beside me. It¡¯s clearly their summer job, and they like to whisper amongst themselves by the window, close to the heatmp. They look like my best friend and I did at the age. Bright and happy and sharing everyst thing that happens, like they¡¯re living one shared life instead of two.


    It¡¯s a miracle that I don¡¯t run into anyone I know. Not an old elementary school teacher or an old ssmate, and not the girl I¡¯d once shared everyst thing with. Lily Marchand and I haven¡¯t spoken in years, and it¡¯s entirely my fault.


    It¡¯s a reunion I dread.


    As the lunch service draws to a close, I watch Stephen set up a table in the corner with extra care. It doesn¡¯t take a genius to figure out it¡¯s where the owner will interview new chefs¡­ and they¡¯ll be able to oversee the waitstaff at the same time. Isn¡¯t that just lovely?


    I have one table left to wait before my shift ends. Three middle-aged men on their second round of beer, all talking louder than necessary. I¡¯ve just cleared away their tes-club sandwiches, extra mayo-when Stephen stops me.

 Small Town Hero C2

    ¡°They¡¯re here,¡± he says with a subtle nod to the corner.


    ¡°The owner?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s interviewing the first potential new chef now.¡±


    I peer around the corner at the two men shaking hands. I can¡¯t make out either of them at this distance.


    So I take anotherp around the room, eyes shifting over the few guests that remain. Lunch has always been the yacht club¡¯s most popr time. People across Paradise Shorese by, often to eat before heading out on their boats. We¡¯re in May still, bute June and July, this ce will be packed.


    ¡°Sweetheart!¡± someone calls. ¡°Get us another round of beers, will you?¡±


    Me?T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    I turn to the table with the extra mayo men. The guy who¡¯s spoken has gray at the temples, a crooked grin on his face. His eyes travel over my uniform and pause at my chest, right where the white shirt fits a bit too snug.


    Anger rolls over me, tempered by a fear I hate. A fear I can¡¯t shake. So I zero in on the empty sses at the table, speaking to them rather than the men. ¡°Coming right up,¡± I say, leaning past him to grab them.


    A mmy hand curves around my bare thigh and slides up, under my skirt.


    ¡°Good girl,¡± the man says. ¡°You new around here?¡±


    I take two steps back and away from the grip.


    My heart pounds in my ears.


    ¡°Wee to town,¡± he says, like he didn¡¯t just touch me, and his smile widens.


    I¡¯m frozen to the spot, shame heating up my skin.


    A man steps past me and puts a firm hand on the creep¡¯s shoulder. ¡°John,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m going to insist that you settle your bill and leave. Right away.¡±


    The voice is familiar. I stare at the short, dark blond hair that curls over the tan neck, the broad back beneath a linen shirt. If I¡¯d been frozen before, I¡¯m boiling now. Embarrassment crawls its way up my cheeks.


    ¡°Marchand,¡± the creep says. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡±


    ¡°Now, John.¡±


    He sighs and gets to his feet. ¡°Sorry, fes,¡± he says. ¡°I guess someone¡¯s in the mood to y bad cop.¡±


    ¡°Settle your bill with Stephen,¡± Parker says, because it has to be him. ¡°And John? I don¡¯t want to see you here again.¡±


    John¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Dead serious,¡± Parker says. I can¡¯t stop looking at him. It¡¯s Lily¡¯s older brother.


    He has to be the new owner.


    The other two men mumble something and rise from their seats, eyes downcast. The three make their way over to where Stephen is waiting.


    John gives Parker onest re. It¡¯s the sort of look that promises a strongly worded email in a few hours. Coming to an inbox near you¡­


    Parker stares back at him without the grin I¡¯d always associated with him. He¡¯d been Paradise Shores¡¯ greatest sailor, Lily¡¯s older brother, one of the shining Marchand siblings.


    I haven¡¯t seen him since I¡¯d been twenty-two. He¡¯d been a college athlete, with sun-bleached hair that fell over his forehead and a sorority girlfriend.


    Now he must be thirty-four.


    Parker doesn¡¯t turn to me until John is out of the restaurant. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That should never have happened, but I can promise you that he won¡¯t bother you again.¡±


    He looks at me, eyes steady. Voice sincere. Tanned from the sun and grown, hardened, in a way he wasn¡¯t thest time I¡¯d seen him.


    He doesn¡¯t recognize me.


    I don¡¯t know if the crushing feeling in my chest is relief or regret.


    ¡°If you¡¯d like to file a report I will help you every step of the way.¡± Parker ducks his head slightly and gives me a smile. It¡¯s polite and conspiratorial and something thumps painfully in my chest. ¡°How does that sound? Let me give you the rest of the day off, too.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°No, I¡¯m okay.¡±


    He pauses. Eyes pass over my face and down to where my namete rests. Stephen had made it with a littleminating machine and presented it to me with a flourish. Jamie.


    Deep blue eyes return to me. He has new wrinkles at the corners from sun and sea. ¡°Jamie? As in, Jamie Moraine?¡±


    I nod. ¡°Yes. Hi, Parker.¡±


    ¡°Hell, it¡¯s been years! I didn¡¯t know you were back in town?¡±


    My hands shake at my sides. He¡¯s going to tell Lily, I think. And Jesus, I work for him. Mortification makes my voice thin. ¡°I just got here. Sorry, I shouldn¡¯t keep you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all right,¡± he says, his smile turning into a frown when I start to back away. ¡°So you work here?¡±


    I give a few nods. ¡°Yes, and I should get back to work. Good luck with your interviews.¡±


    He looks after me, a frown between his eyebrows. ¡°Jamie,¡± he says. But I¡¯m already hurrying toward the kitchen.


    I knew I wouldn¡¯t be able to escape the questions in Paradise Shores. Wouldn¡¯t be able to escape the past, the confrontations. If Parker knows, it¡¯s only a matter of time before Lily will too.


    I avoid the table in the corner for the rest of my shift, but I can feel the weight of his gaze more than once. I finish up thest tasks. I fill up salt in the shakers on the table and wipe down the menus again.


    And by the time my shift is done, the table in the corner is empty. Parker is gone.


    ¡°Thanks for today!¡± I tell Stephen and change in the staff room. Biking home in a skirt won¡¯t be possible. I sling my bag over my shoulder and step out through the back entrance, into thete-afternoon sun.


    I can¡¯t wait to get home, to close my eyes and breathe. To count down the days until the paycheck arrives.


    But there¡¯s someone waiting for me in the parking lot. There, leaning against his dusty Jeep, is Parker Marchand. And he¡¯s looking right at me.


    JAMIE

 Small Town Hero C3

    ¡°Hi,¡± he says.


    I look down at the key to my bike lock. Spin it around my finger. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about earlier. About that guy.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Not your fault.¡±


    ¡°My restaurant,¡± he says, ¡°my responsibility.¡±


    My embarrassment bubbles over. ¡°Gosh, Parker, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know the yacht club was your ce now. I would never have applied if I did!¡±


    He frowns. ¡°Why not? I¡¯m d you¡¯re back. Looked like you were doing a great job in there. Was it your first day today?¡±


    I nod. ¡°Yes, I haven¡¯t been back in town long.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were back at all,¡± he says. ¡°Have you spoken to-¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°We haven¡¯t spoken in a while.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Parker says. He must know about Lily and me. They¡¯ve always been close. All the Marchand siblings had been, a tribe of their own. I¡¯d been fiercely jealous of that once.


    ¡°Congrats on buying this ce. It looks great. I heard you¡¯ve renovated?¡± I say, inching toward my bike. Attack withpliments, and he might not ask me about myself. Where I¡¯ve been, what I¡¯ve done¡­ why I¡¯m back.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d applied for a job here.¡±


    ¡°Again, sorry about that. If you want me to, I can¡­?¡± I trail off. It¡¯s not like I can quit, not really. I desperately need this job.


    Parker¡¯s frown deepens. ¡°I¡¯m d you¡¯re back,¡± he says. ¡°Jamie, we¡¯re friends. I¡¯d have introduced you to the ce myself if I knew.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thanks. But Stephen did a good job.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a good manager,¡± he says. ¡°Where are you staying?¡±


    My hands curve around the handles of my bike. ¡°On Greene Street.¡±


    ¡°Your mom¡¯s house?¡±


    He remembers? ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I can drive you. There¡¯s space in the back for your bike.¡± He puts his hands in his pockets, a gesture I remember from our teenage years. But the Parker in front of me is a man grown. Some of the golden Abercrombie handsomeness has matured, settled into a face that¡¯s familiar, and warm, and a bit weathered.


    He¡¯ll tell Lily, I think. Right after this. ¡°Thank you, but I¡¯d rather bike.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± He smiles crookedly, like he¡¯s trying to draw my own smile out. We¡¯d argued a lot once. About everything, but actually nothing. Mostly over the remote. He¡¯d watch games and I¡¯d argue with him over how stupid organized sports was. Lily would roll her eyes.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been back very long. It feels¡­ kinda strange.¡±


    ¡°I get that,¡± he says. ¡°Has the ce changed?¡±


    ¡°Not particrly.¡±


    Heughs a little. ¡°No, I suppose Paradise never really does. How have you been, Jamie?¡±


    How do you sum up a decade? ¡°Good, but busy.¡±


    That makes himugh again. ¡°You always were,¡± he says. ¡°Have you managed to set the world to rights?¡±


    God, that must be how he remembers me. Idealistic and argumentative and naive. I feel a million miles away from that person.


    I¡¯m still trying to set my own world to rights.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± I say. ¡°How have you been? How¡¯s the family?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re good, all of them. I¡¯m an uncle now, but I¡¯m sure you know that?¡±


    ¡°To little Jamie,¡± I say. The word almost gets lodged in my throat. Lily¡¯s son is named after me. It had been a stupid pact we¡¯d made, years ago. That our kids would be named after one another. Middle names, we¡¯d said. She¡¯d gone one step further.


    Parker nods. ¡°Yes, and Hazel.¡±


    ¡°Hazel?¡±


    ¡°Henry¡¯s daughter.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°She was born a year ago now.¡± He runs a hand over the scruff along his jaw. ¡°Maybe a year and a half. It¡¯s hard to keep track.¡±


    ¡°Your parents must be overjoyed.¡±


    ¡°They are,¡± he says dryly. ¡°Takes the pressure off the rest of us childless bastards.¡±


    I swing a leg over my bike. It¡¯s unsettling to talk to him again. It¡¯s nice, and deceptive, because we¡¯re not who we once were. So he doesn¡¯t have kids. My eyes drop down to his hands, resting tanned and rxed at his sides. No rings on either one.


    ¡°Thanks for today,¡± I say.


    He shakes his head, something ticking in his jaw. ¡°Thanks for taking the job. You¡¯re a great waitress. I¡¯m just sorry about that asshole touching you.¡±


    ¡°Was he a regr?¡±


    Parker shrugs. ¡°I¡¯ve seen him around town a few times, yeah. He has his boat in the marina. Doesn¡¯t mean he has a right to eat in my restaurant, though.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He smiles again. ¡°No need to thank me, James.¡±


    I pause, a foot on the pedal. He¡¯d called me James when we were kids, and then continued as teenagers. Back when he¡¯d been my best friend¡¯s older brother and one of the most popr guys in our school. My name is not James. It¡¯s Jamie. He¡¯d known, and he¡¯d teased me about it, and I¡¯d pretended to be more annoyed than I actually was.


    Parker¡¯s eyes hold a question. Will I remember?N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.

 Small Town Hero C4

    It tugs at my lips, the memory of old arguments, of jokes, of times when my heart would speed up when he walked by me in the high school hallway. How I¡¯d sleep over at Lily¡¯s and see him in only a pair of boxers and sleep-mussed hair.


    But then I remember who I am and where I am and what really matters, and the old me dies as quickly as it had ignited.


    ¡°Well, have a good evening,¡± I say. ¡°See you around?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yeah. Drive safe.¡±


    I leave him and the yacht club behind, cycling down familiar streets. They turn from seaside to curbside quickly, withrge trees nking the streets like quiet sentinels, watching over this suburban paradise. There are barely any cars on the roads. The season is too early for the parade of vacationers to arrive.


    I stop outside my mother¡¯s house. It¡¯s nestled in between tworger ones, like the runt of the litter, and is the only one on the street that isn¡¯t white or gray. Her house is bright blue with white shutters. Macrame wind catchers hang from the porch, their sea shells in constant, audible motion. Beside it is Emma¡¯s pink bike that had once been mine.


    ¡°Mom?¡± I call. ¡°Emma?¡±


    The door is unlocked. It sends a shiver of fear up my spine. ¡°Emma!¡±


    Mom¡¯s voice reaches me. ¡°Backyard!¡±


    They¡¯re sitting on the grass, with a bucket in between them. Blowing soap bubbles.


    A knot inside me rxes at the sight. Emma is in her favorite purple dress, with grass stains on her knobby knees and a concentrated look on her face. Mom has her hair up in a bun. Her arms are streaked with dry y from an earlier session with the pottery wheel.


    A group of bubbles fly past me and one explodes, fragile and thin, right by my ear.


    ¡°Mommy!¡± Emma says. She shines up in a grin and rushes to dip her utensil again. ¡°Look! We¡¯re blowing bubbles.¡±


    ¡°I can see that, honey. Having fun?¡±


    She doesn¡¯t answer me, face concentrated again. My mother gets to her feet and shakes out her left knee. ¡°Hi, sweetheart.¡±


    ¡°Hey. Did everything go okay today?¡±


    ¡°It went splendidly. We started with some sculpting and Emma made a snowman. A very inspired choice for the season. Oh, and we had pancakes for lunch.¡± She takes a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯d forgotten how much effort it takes to watch a small child.¡±


    I feel a pinch of guilt. It¡¯s for more than I can list. For being away from my mom for so many years¡­ and now for being back so suddenly, forcing both her and Emma into a situation they might not be ready for.


    ¡°Thanks, Mom.¡±


    She gives me a warm smile. ¡°I¡¯m just happy you¡¯re home. Both of you.¡±


    And cue even more guilt.


    ¡°How was your first day?¡± she asks.


    I watch as my daughter blows more bubbles. Her brows are knitted together in concentration. Too hard an exhale and they break. Too soft and they won¡¯t form. ¡°It was good,¡± I say. ¡°Waitressing is pretty simr everywhere.¡±


    And then, before I can stop myself, I add the rest.


    ¡°Parker Marchand is the new owner.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. He bought the ce pretty recently, I think,¡± Mom says. ¡°I remember hearing about the renovations. It seemed like they went on forever.¡±


    ¡°You knew he owned it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Oh, sorry sweetheart, should I have told you? You¡¯re friends with his cousin, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Bless my mother¡¯s heart, but she¡¯s always lived with her head halfway in the clouds.


    ¡°His sister,¡± I say. ¡°Lily has three older brothers. Parker, Rhys and Henry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right, right.¡±


    She must be the only one in this town who can¡¯t keep track of the Marchands. The family is as well known as the yacht club itself. The famous builder and his beautiful wife, now stewards of themunity.


    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that nice?¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯ll be working with friends.¡±


    I look down at my daughter¡¯s fine hair. She has my light brown color, and none of the dark curls her father has. Mine, I think. Mine through and through.


    ¡°For friends,¡± I correct quietly. ¡°Not with friends.¡±


    The distinction feels a gulf wide and just as important. Parker and I aren¡¯t on the same level anymore. Nor am I and Lily. She has a husband, a family, a ce here. A career she¡¯s worked over a decade for-a career she always dreamed about.


    I can¡¯t imagine telling her about myst few years. I can¡¯t imagine what she¡¯ll think of me.


    Emma blows a huge,plete bubble that floats gently up in the summer air. She grins up at me. ¡°See?¡± she asks.


    Determination squeezes hard inside my chest. Mine, I think again. And I¡¯ll do anything now to get us back on our feet.


    ¡°I saw it,¡± I tell her. ¡°Beautiful.¡±


    PARKER


    Jamie catapults across my sister¡¯s living room as fast as his short legs allow him. ¡°Watch!¡± he screams. ¡°Waaaatch!¡±


    Behind him, the nket he¡¯s tied around his neck flies out like a cape. He¡¯s in his Spider-Man pajamas. I once tried to exin to the guy that Spider-Man doesn¡¯t wear capes, but considering he¡¯s still too young to watch all the movies, he¡¯s allowed some artistic license.


    ¡°Did you see?¡± He¡¯s panting, having stopped abruptly in front of the firece with inches to spare. ¡°I was flying!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did. Very impressive,¡± I say.


    Jamie doesn¡¯t wait for me to finish before he takes off again, this time climbing onto one of the couches. His face is determined as he bends his knees, facing the armchair I¡¯m in.


    ¡°Catch me,¡± he says.


    I have just enough time to get my arms up and stop him from careening headfirst into my chest. Heughs like a loon and wriggles like an eel, and as soon as I put him back down, he¡¯s off again. The roses on his cheeks are bright red.


    ¡°Jesus,¡± I say to Hayden. ¡°Is he always like this before bed?¡±


    My sister¡¯s husband rolls his eyes. ¡°You know he¡¯s not, but you¡¯re here. He likes to perform when you¡¯re around.¡±

 Small Town Hero C5

    I grin. ¡°I¡¯m his favorite uncle.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that when Henry or Rhys are around,¡± Hayden says.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m right?¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°Yes, because you¡¯re right.¡±


    In truth, my brothers don¡¯t live permanently in Paradise Shores, and that might contribute somewhat to my higher status in little Jamie¡¯s pecking order. But Marchands arepetitive to the core, and I won¡¯t give them an inch.


    ¡°Come here, you rascal,¡± Hayden says. He catches his son around the waist. The boy has dark hair like his father. ¡°It¡¯s almost time for bed.¡±


    My nephew wails like he¡¯s been told it¡¯s time for the gallows.


    ¡°Yes, it is,¡± Hayden says firmly. He spent years in the Navy. They had been dark years with him away and the rest of us none the wiser, particrly my sister. But the discipline drilled into him became a part of his very core. ¡°No ifs or buts.¡±


    ¡°Yes ifs!¡± Jamie cries, with the expertise of someone who¡¯s countered this argument many times before. ¡°Yes butts! All the butts!¡±


    Hayden gives me a withering look. ¡°He has no idea what he¡¯s saying.¡±


    I smile at both of them. Hayden is holding Jamie upside down, the boy¡¯s cape dragging on the floor, and walks calmly toward the stairs. ¡°Let¡¯s read a book,¡± he says.


    ¡°Parker!¡± Jamie calls. ¡°Help!¡±


    ¡°Your uncle can¡¯t help you,¡± Hayden says, all ruthlessness.


    ¡°Sorry, kiddo!¡± I call. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid of your father too!¡±


    I hear Hayden snort, and then they disappear up the staircase. Jamie¡¯s cry of disapproval disappears a few secondster. He¡¯s loud, and he¡¯s determined, but he¡¯s got a one-track mind. Tempt him with his favorite bedtime story and he¡¯ll fold like a house of cards.


    I lean back in the armchair and listen to the bustle my sister is making in the kitchen. Their house is close to mine, and now that we all live here again, I spend almost as much time here as I do at home. Little Jamie changed things for all of us.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± I say out loud. It has been a long time since I¡¯d reflected on my nephew¡¯s name.


    Lily sticks her head in half a minuteter. ¡°Are you talking to yourself again?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, again?¡±All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    She smiles and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. ¡°Everything okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I stretch my legs out and look at the expensive ss sculpture on the coffee table. Lily likes it, and Hayden is not-so-secretly hoping their son would break it. I think it looks like a blob. ¡°I was thinking about Jamie.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°Not him,¡± I say. ¡°About his namesake.¡±


    Lily disappears into the kitchen, puts the towel away, and joins me a minuteter in the armchair opposite me. She absently fluffs the pillow behind her. ¡°What about her?¡±


    ¡°Tell me about the promise again. With the names.¡±


    Sheughs a bit. ¡°We were so young when we made that pact.¡±


    ¡°But you kept it.¡±


    ¡°I did. Well, partly.¡± She looks fondly toward the stairs where her husband and son went. ¡°His real name is James. But yeah. I kept it.¡±


    ¡°Howe?¡± I¡¯m genuinely curious. It must have been years since the two of them saw one another¡­ and I haven¡¯t thought much about that. Not until she appeared in my restaurant.


    Lily sighs. ¡°What are these questions?¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± I say.


    She draws her legs up beneath her in the armchair. ¡°I hadn¡¯t intended to keep it, actually. Hayden and I had a bunch of names we looked at. None really felt right. And then we came upon James. It was his grandfather¡¯s name too, did you know that?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°He was someone Hayden had fond memories of, and you know that¡¯s rare, with his family history. And I, well¡­¡± She picks at the edge of a neatly folded nket. ¡°I remembered the old pact. The name just fit. Jamie used to know everything about me, you know? And we hadn¡¯t spoken in years when I had the baby. It felt right, like honoring people who mattered to both Hayden and me, but who were no longer with us¡­ for different reasons, of course.¡± She shrugs, and gives me an un-Lily-like smile. It looks forced. ¡°If she everes back, it¡¯ll beplicated with the names, but I don¡¯t think the odds are high anymore.¡±


    I scratch along my jaw. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Parker.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    Her gaze sharpens. ¡°Why did you ask me about it? What do you know?¡±


    I sigh. ¡°How do you do that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been reading you since I was born,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯re only a year older than me. I had to learn to if I wanted to catch up. Now spill.¡± She leans forward, hands on her thighs. ¡°Did you hear something?¡±


    ¡°You need to promise me something first.¡±


    ¡°No way. Tell me now.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Parker Michael Marchand, I swear-¡±


    ¡°You have to promise me you won¡¯t do anything rash. I don¡¯t know where Jamie¡¯s been, but she¡¯s not the same person you remember.¡±


    Lily¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°You¡¯ve seen her?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s back in Paradise,¡± I say, and hold up my hands. ¡°Don¡¯t overreact.¡±


    My sister has gonepletely still. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s just taken a job at the yacht club.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding, and it¡¯s mean, Parker.¡±

 Small Town Hero C6

    ¡°I¡¯m dead serious. She started work on Monday.¡±


    ¡°And you waited five days to tell me? What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± She reaches for a pillow, my thirty-three-year-old sister reverting back into the feral animal she¡¯d been as a kid.


    ¡°Because you¡¯d react like this and I didn¡¯t want you to scare my nephew.¡±


    ¡°Excuses!¡±


    I raise my hands again. ¡°Look. She¡¯s back. She¡¯s been back for about two weeks. But something¡¯s changed.¡±


    ¡°Of course it has! I haven¡¯t seen her in years!¡±


    ¡°No, damn it, I don¡¯t mean that. I mean¡­¡± I trail off and run a hand through my hair. How do you put it into words? The Jamie I remembered had dyed her hair pitch-ck. She¡¯d had fire in her eyes and confidence radiating from every pore. Once, she¡¯d relished every opportunity to argue with me. She¡¯d been on the debate team. She¡¯d written for the school newspaper.


    Timid would have been thest word I¡¯d use to describe her. But now she seemed a shadow of herself. Docile and quiet.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Lily prompts.


    ¡°She¡¯s changed,¡± I saymely. ¡°Look, all I¡¯m saying is, don¡¯te in guns zing. Okay? Wait for her toe to you.¡±


    A fire burns in Lily¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve waited for years. She never answered myst text!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Not making excuses. But I don¡¯t think thest few years have been kind to her, that¡¯s all I¡¯m saying.¡±


    Lily puts her head in her hands. ¡°She¡¯s back in Paradise,¡± she says. ¡°Jesus.¡±


    ¡°Living with her mom.¡±


    ¡°And working at the yacht club?¡± She looks up from her hands and gives me an inscrutable nce. ¡°I suppose we really do have to start calling my son little Jamie.¡±


    ¡°Or James,¡± I say.


    ¡°Bah, he¡¯s no James yet. Maybe when he stops wetting the bed.¡±


    Iugh at that. Haydenes downstairs and joins us, midugh. He looks between us with a crooked smile and tosses the nket Jamie had used as a cape over the back of the couch. Lily runs a hand over her husband¡¯s back and starts to fold the cloth. Judging from her quiet expression, she¡¯s already devising a strategy.


    It¡¯s her best friend that¡¯s back, and yet, I don¡¯t know if she¡¯ll approach this the right way.


    I picture the Jamie I¡¯d seen, standing in the yacht club uniform. The leashed anger in her gaze after that creep had dared to put his hands on her. No dark makeup around her eyes, her hair light brown instead of ck. The nose ring she¡¯d once had was gone. And then I¡¯d watched the anger die, and sputter, and turn into embarrassment.


    ¡°Just be careful,¡± I warn Lily again.


    She gives me an angelic smile.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Right. As if.


    I sit at the corner table in the restaurant. It¡¯s be mine, morefortable than the back office, with the view of the ocean outside the windows. Seagulls trail a sailing boat motoring swiftly out of the marina and toward open water.


    I watch as the sailor unfurls the main sail. The winds are good today.


    My mind draws me out there, like it always has.


    The yacht club is like home in the same way Paradise Shores is. I¡¯d sailed here since I could walk. It¡¯s where I had lessons. It¡¯s where Iter helped give lessons to others. It¡¯s where I trained for the regattas.


    I¡¯ve sailed in better waters. Bluer, calmer, warmer. But none of it beats the deep blue of the Antic right here, along the coast of New Ennd.


    The figures on my screen confirm just that. The yacht club is doing as well today as it did ten years ago. Paradise hasn¡¯t seen the outflow of people like so many other small towns. It¡¯s kept steady instead. Housing prices are expensive, and zoning regtions are tightly controlled. None of us want the coastline to be overbuilt.


    My father had considered my current job a downgrade. I¡¯m buying it, I¡¯d said. I¡¯m not working there as a busboy.


    He¡¯d shook his head and turned his back to me, focusing on the lobsters he¡¯d been grilling on the family porch. You had a job in Boston. A career.


    This again. But after thirty-four years as his son, and as the younger sibling of Henry Marchand, I¡¯d finally realized I¡¯d never be able to make the man proud. When your oldest brother is the head architect of the newly constructed New York Opera House, well, you might as well give up the attempt.


    Studying for myw degree had been interesting. Rewarding. But even then, I¡¯d known as I sat with the thick books spread out around me, that my heart was out at sea.


    So giving up my practice and renovating the yacht club instead was, for the first time in years, a project I was actually excited about. I know this ce like I know my own bones. My sister and her husband, one of my best friends, live in the town. I have the ocean and the boats here, and they¡¯re better than any prestige gained professionally.


    I look up from my screen again. The restaurant is slowing down after a busy lunch. With May inching toward June, the out-of-towners are increasing. Things are looking good. The new chef starts next week, and with her, I hope the menu gets a much-needed makeover.


    One of the waitresses walks through the space, dishrag in hand, and sets to wiping down the tables. It¡¯s not Jamie. She¡¯s stayed mostly out of the dining room today, instead working front of the house.


    I wonder if it¡¯s because I¡¯m here.


    She still hasn¡¯t said more than a curt hi or goodbye to me. There¡¯s been no repeat of the conversation we¡¯d had in the parking lot the other week.


    I watch her colleague wipe down the tables. They have no problem saying hello to me, and none of them avoid my eyes.


    Sighing, I look back at my screen. The yacht club¡¯s website needs an overhaul. It¡¯s still using the old booking system for sailing sses, which is the incredibly high-tech honor system with Neil-you make a call, you promise to pay-and it slows us all down. I¡¯ll have to hire someone to create a new website. Re-do everything.


    I¡¯m halfway through searching for web designers online when someone calls my name. The voice is familiar. Please don¡¯t.


    I slowly close myptop. ¡°Lily¡­¡±


    My sister gives me her brightest, I¡¯m-not-up-to-anything smile. I know better than to trust it. ¡°Hi. What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Working.¡± I look over her shoulder, but I don¡¯t see Jamie. ¡°You just happened to be in the mood for a lobster roll?¡±


    ¡°Not quite.¡± She puts her bag down on the chair opposite me and looks around. ¡°I like what you¡¯ve done with the ce.¡±


    ¡°Lily,¡± I warn. She¡¯s been here many times since the renovations ended.


    But she¡¯s not having my admonitions. ¡°Let me,¡± she says, fast and heated. ¡°I¡¯ve waited a long time for this.¡±


    ¡°I know that, but perhaps right here isn¡¯t the best ce-¡±


    ¡°Then where? She won¡¯t answer my texts.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t make a scene, Lily.¡±

 Small Town Hero C7

    ¡°I would never.¡±


    She turns around, a hand on the table. Waiting. My teeth grind together. Something¡¯s off about Jamie, and I know that Lily will notice it. If she had a moment to consider, she¡¯d know what to say. But I fear she¡¯s too hurt by Jamie¡¯s silence to see past her own pain.


    And right on cue, Jamie enters the dining room. Her hair is in a ponytail today. It falls soft and curved down her back, and her eyes are downcast. She¡¯s the same age as my sister, only a year younger than me, and yet there¡¯s something young and hesitant in her movements that was never there before.


    I hate it. It¡¯s not her.


    ¡°Lily¡­¡± I murmur, but my sister is already moving toward her best friend. The two of them had been inseparable. Their heads always bowed together in school, the auburn and the brown, or when Jamie started dying it, the pitch-ck.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Jamie¡¯s back goes ramrod straight. Her mouth doesn¡¯t move, not as Lily approaches.


    I can¡¯t hear what they say, but I don¡¯t have to. Lily is the one doing most of the talking. I watch her run a hand under her eyes at one point, and at another, her voice rises. Jamie listens to all of it. She¡¯s gripping the menu in front of her tight enough that theminated stic curves. She nods, twice, and once shakes her head so quickly the ponytail flies.


    It¡¯s too much for her, I think. I don¡¯t know why. But it is, and I can see it in the pinched set of her mouth and her cautious eyes.


    I get up from the table and make my way to the two women. They¡¯re off center in the restaurant, but they¡¯re by no means hidden. And it¡¯s only Jamie¡¯s second week at work.


    ¡°Ladies,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry to interrupt, but there are tables to wait.¡±


    Lily looks at me like she¡¯s plotting my slow and painful death. ¡°You run your employees ragged, do you?¡±


    ¡°Your brother¡¯s right,¡± Jamie says quickly. ¡°I¡¯m on the clock. Sorry, Lily. It was nice to see you.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± Lily says. She doesn¡¯t sound quite like my sister either. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around?¡±


    Jamie nods, and Lily gives a half-hearted smile. ¡°Bye then,¡± she says to Jamie.


    She doesn¡¯t say goodbye to me, and I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get an earful about interruptingter, watching as my sister disappears toward the exit without looking back.


    Beside me, her former best friend sighs deeply.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± I say.


    Jamie shakes her head. ¡°I knew you¡¯d tell her.¡±


    ¡°I waited a week,¡± I say, and give her a half-smile. ¡°It took her less than three days toe here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised she waited that long,¡± Jamie says.


    I chuckle. ¡°She was always a bit impulsive.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Jamie looks down at the menu in her hand, the stic slowly straightening. ¡°Thanks, Parker.¡±


    ¡°For interrupting? No worries. You don¡¯t actually have many tables to wait, you know. Feel free to take a break.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll keep working.¡± She looks up at me, and there¡¯s a tiny, crooked smile on her lips. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to disappoint you, Boss.¡±


    I open my mouth-what do I say to that?-but Jamie turns and disappears back toward the kitchen. I watch her go.


    She¡¯d been my little sister¡¯s friend. Off-limits in more ways than one, not least because of the giant stay away stamped across her face with every nce. There had been fire in her eyes. I¡¯d seen it when she walked into school in res when ripped jeans were trendy. In short, dark hair when the popr girls sported long, highlighted locks. In the dark eyeshadow around her eyes that, even smudged, emphasized the warm brown of her eyes.


    That¡¯s gone now. The unexpected clothing. The dark makeup. But not the fire. Even with her hair braided down her back and a clean face dotted with freckles, the fire is there. Hidden and subdued, but present.


    And I can¡¯t wait to stoke it back into a me.


    JAMIE


    ¡°You can stay for as long as you want,¡± Mom says. ¡°Maybe a year, or two¡­¡±


    She¡¯s sitting in the reading nook in the living room, surrounded by pillows in a rainbow of colors. On herp is her oldptop. A sticker for the local dive shop sits on the back, not that I think she¡¯s ever gone diving.


    ¡°I can¡¯t stay for a year,¡± I say.


    ¡°Why not? This is your home, and it has great schools. Put Emma in line to start first grade at Paradise Elementary.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°There are opportunities here,¡± she continues. ¡°You got a job on your first week.¡±


    ¡°That was sheer dumb luck. The yacht club needed waitresses, and I¡¯ve done a lot of waitressing.¡±


    Mom shakes her head. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as dumb luck. You fit in here.¡±


    I draw my legs up beneath me on the couch. My head is pounding, and there¡¯s no way to make her see why I can¡¯t stay.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind watching Emma,¡± she says, voice softer this time. ¡°We¡¯re getting along even better now, I think. She¡¯s not so shy around me anymore.¡±


    ¡°She likes you,¡± I say. My daughter is cautious around strangers, but she¡¯d taken to her grandmother immediately. The creative streak and habit of making fluffy pancakes for breakfast had eased the way. There are few things six-year-olds like more than crafting and copious amounts of maple syrup.


    At least my six-year-old.


    ¡°The school here is good,¡± Mom says again. ¡°One of the best in the county.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Please consider it, sweetheart. I just got you back.¡±


    I rest my head against my updrawn knees. Yes, we¡¯d just gotten back. And I¡¯m forcing myself onto my mom and her hospitality after years of too-sporadic phone calls and far too few visits. She¡¯d only seen Emma a few times before we¡¯d shown up at her doorstep with all of two suitcases to our name.


    It¡¯s embarrassing, and not the kind that fades after a fewughs. It¡¯s the deep kind of mortification that makes me feel two feet tall, and in this town, I¡¯m dwarfed by the wealth and sess of people who hadn¡¯t let life beat them down.


    I¡¯d waited too long to take the reins of my life again, and I never thought I¡¯d be that person. Never thought I¡¯d lose myself. But I had. And now we¡¯re all paying the price for it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I say again, and my voice sounds broken. I hate hearing it. ¡°You¡¯ve already given me so much, Mom. I can¡¯t live here that long without paying rent.¡±


    ¡°Oh, rent,¡± she says with a wave of her hand. ¡°If that¡¯s the stickler, we¡¯ll figure something out, if that would make you feel better. We¡¯ll talk about it. But don¡¯t you dare pick up and move on somewhere else, Jamie Elizabeth Moraine. My granddaughter deserves pancakes every day.¡±


    That makes meugh. Emma sure does, that and so much more that I can¡¯t give her. It¡¯s all hand-me-down bikes and a mother who keeps looking over her shoulder. Right now it all feels too much. Too many decisions and too much guilt.

 Small Town Hero C8

    ¡°She does,¡± I say. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll think about calling the school. But Mom, don¡¯t get your hopes up, okay? I don¡¯t know what will happen with my job at the yacht club after high season. Business slows down.¡±


    ¡°People eat there year round,¡± she says.


    ¡°Yes, but less often.¡±


    She smiles and looks back down at her oldptop. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out.¡±


    My beautiful, beautiful mother. Now it¡¯s hard to imagine how I lived without her for so many years. The times we¡¯d fought like cat and dog when I was a teenager, over curfews, my nose piercing, my first boyfriend, the time I re-painted my room ck without asking her; it all feels so far ago. And such a waste. I hope Emma and I never fight like that.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°For everything, you know. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve said it yet.¡±


    Mom looks up at me, and she blinks twice, her eyes getting a bit ssy. ¡°Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.¡±


    There¡¯s still a lot we haven¡¯t spoken about. But there¡¯s time. I rest my head against my knees again and take a deep breath. It fills my lungs uppletely, my chest expanding without constraint, and it¡¯s enough. For now.


    ¡°Mommy?¡± a small voice asks. It¡¯s thick with sleep.


    Emma is standing at the top of the stairs. Her hand is sped around her stuffed rabbit, one of his ears draping to the floor. Her feet are bare beneath the hem of her pajamas.


    I¡¯m already moving toward her. ¡°Yes, sweetie?¡±


    ¡°I had a bad dream,¡± she mumbles, hands reaching toward me. I lift her up. She¡¯s getting heavy, and my back hurts from spending the day on my feet, but I carry her up to the second floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. But it was just a dream.¡±


    She nods against my shoulder, eyes already drifting closed again. Her eyshes are long against the pale cheeks. My beautiful, beautiful daughter. I have so much in this house, beneath this roof, and thepleteness of it takes my breath away. ¡°I love you,¡± I tell her.


    She doesn¡¯t answer, just nestles closer. I put her back in my bed and climb in after her. We¡¯re both sleeping in Mom¡¯s guest room at the moment. The queen bed is more than big enough, and with all the changes, I feel best having Emma close.


    She mumbles something incoherent and turns over toward me, a hand settling on my chest. I tuck Mr. Rabbit away from where he¡¯d been attacking my cheek and look at the rm clock. It¡¯s only nine p. m., but my eyelids are heavy.


    I¡¯d seen Lily today. Looking up at the ceiling, I stroke my hand over Emma¡¯s fine hair. Lily had kept her part of the pact and named her son Jamie. I¡¯d cried when she¡¯d sent me the message. Don¡¯t know if you¡¯ll read this, but¡­ and added a picture of little Jamie. He¡¯d been a baby then, swaddled, with a dark mop of hair.


    I¡¯d kept my part of the old pact too. Two years before, when Emma was born. Emma Lily Moraine.


    Lee had wanted her to have hisst name.


    But we weren¡¯t married, and I¡¯d resisted. I don¡¯t know why, because back then I thought I was happy. But maybe some part of me had known we¡¯d end up here.


    Emma and I, together. And Lee miles away.


    I hope he stays there.


    Lily had asked questions I didn¡¯t have an answer to. I¡¯d seen it in her eyes, today. I hadn¡¯t been able to give her any. She¡¯s hurt. And I¡¯m too embarrassed to exin it to her.


    Emma¡¯s breathing evens out, and the hand on my chest grows limp and heavy. I listen to the soft breathing and let my hand rest on her head.


    Parker had stopped our conversation. He¡¯d seen, somehow, and rescued me from it. That sends another pang of embarrassment through me.


    As a friend of Lily¡¯s, I¡¯d been invited everywhere with them. Asked to join family sailing trips (I¡¯d always said no) and to hang at her house after school (I¡¯d always said yes). Her older brothers were often away, and eventually the oldest went to college, but Parker was often around.


    He¡¯d had his annoying group of guy friends, of course. They were loud jocks and too cocky for my liking. Parker had always been annoying. Sometimes on purpose. Most often by ident.


    That¡¯s the thing, really. So much of what he did and was seemed idental and always, always effortless. The wide smile that charmed teachers. The wind-tousled hair as he leapt onto the dock or won the Paradise Shore Junior Regatta without breaking a sweat. Even falling down on the football field he looked self-assured, rising with a grin and a shrug that announced to the world that I¡¯m here, and I¡¯m myself, and I know who I am. Take me or leave me on my terms.


    He couldn¡¯t be that perfect-the Marchands couldn¡¯t be that perfect, and I knew they weren¡¯t, of course. Lily never faked perfection, and we¡¯d spent too many nightsparing our families, our upbringings, sharing stories and heartaches, for me to think her parents were idols.


    But it didn¡¯t matter how close to Parker I got through her. He never became less of the golden boy, his shine never dimmed, even sprawled out on the Marchands¡¯ couch with a root beer in hand, watching the NFL.


    Too golden to touch. Too popr. Too put-together.


    It had made me want to needle him. To see where the limits of the fa?ade went. He rarely cracked, even when we¡¯d argued incessantly. About the remote, the weather, politics. He rarely showed anything but the golden boy.


    Now he¡¯s a man, but he¡¯s still golden¡­ and I still want to needle him.


    PARKER


    The sun peeks out behind the clouds, shining down on Paradise, and the air outside my car window is calm. We¡¯d caught thest of the winds this morning before the weather turned.


    I tap my fingers against the steering wheel in tune to the radio. Every part of me feels light, despite the tiredness in my arms and my strained eyes. I always do after we¡¯ve been at sea. Hayden and I had started early aboard the Frida, casting off from the marina as the day¡¯s first rays crested.


    I drive past the familiar little shops on Main Street. Some have their front doors open and wares disyed outside on the sidewalk. One shop sells giant, intable pool mattresses. Another has sculptures made out of driftwood and wind chimes with seashells made by a local.


    My siblings couldn¡¯t wait to leave this ce, and I couldn¡¯t wait to return.


    Henry had seen sailing as a game to win, and he¡¯d excelled. He always did.


    Rhys had seen the boat as a poetic escape. More than once in our teenage years I¡¯d seen him read dog-eared Hemingway paperbacks on the boat, sunsses on his face while he ignored the rest of us.


    Hayden had sailed with us a lot too, perhaps as a way to fit in. After he left Paradise it became a career move. He hadn¡¯t sailed in the Navy so much as he¡¯d been a sailor, following orders and executing them precisely.


    My little sister had always loved to ride along, the wind in her hair and new freckles appearing on her cheeks from the sun. She still loves a good day on the water¡­ If the weather is nice.


    But me? I love sailing for its own sake.


    I love it in good weather and I thrive off it in bad. I¡¯dpeted because it gave me more hours at sea, not more trophies. To feel the lines run in my hands and the boat speaking to me. The thrum of silent power as the wind catches ahold of the sail and the boat flies across the water without making a sound. Harnessing nature. The danger, too. The elemental nature of it.


    I need the ocean like I need air.


    I drum my fingers faster on the steering wheel. People are walking along the boardwalk, sundresses and shorts as far as the eye can see. The season is picking up.


    The willowy shape of a familiar woman steps out of the gto shop ahead. Her hair¡¯s not braided this time. It¡¯s loose, falling in brown waves down her back in a way I¡¯ve never seen it before. She has an ice-cream cone in one hand.


    And in the other, she¡¯s holding the hand of a little girl.


    There¡¯s no mistaking the closeness as they walk side by side.


    Stopping is an impulse decision. I find a spot and reverse park, a hand on the wheel and my eyes on Jamie. The girl is standing close, totally absorbed in her rapidly melting ice cream. She has the same color hair as Jamie.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.

 Small Town Hero C9

    Light brown, now that it¡¯s no longer dyed dark.


    She has a daughter.


    I tuck my keys in my back pocket and reach them in a couple of strides. The girl sees me first. She looks at me with unbothered eyes and takes a long lick of her chocte ice cream. She tugs on Jamie¡¯s dress with a sticky hand.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Jamie says, turning. Then she sees me. ¡°Oh. Hello.¡±


    ¡°Hi.¡± My gaze falls on the little girl again. She¡¯s edged closer to her mother. ¡°You guys in town for some ice cream?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jamie says. She has her own modest cone in her left hand, and ces her right on the little girl¡¯s head. ¡°I haven¡¯t had Paradise ice cream in years.¡±


    ¡°Best ice cream on the East Coast,¡± I say with a smile. ¡°Look, I want to apologize for Lily again.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t nned to.


    But here I am, saying just that, and looking back down at the little girl. Jamie is a mother. Where is her husband? Her boyfriend?


    And why had Lily not told me about it?


    ¡°Please don¡¯t. It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Jamie says. She looks down at the girl industriously devouring her ice cream and hesitates. Like she doesn¡¯t know what to say.


    Silence stretches out between us.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m referring to, but I hate that look on her face. I shouldn¡¯t have stopped. Shouldn¡¯t have bothered her.


    ¡°This is Emma,¡± Jamie says. ¡°My daughter. Sweetie, this is one of Mom¡¯s childhood friends. His name is Parker.¡±


    I crouch down. ¡°Hello,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    The girl gives a half-swallowed mmhmm, her lips covered in ice cream.


    ¡°Chocte is my favorite vor too,¡± I say. ¡°Next time, you have to try the toppings.¡±


    Her eyes light up and she looks up at her mother. ¡°Yes,¡± Jamie says. ¡°We can try them next time.¡±


    Emma lowers her ice cream. ¡°What kind?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what kinds there are. We¡¯ll have to ask Parker.¡±


    Emma turns back to me. Her eyes are shy, and the question is in them. She doesn¡¯t voice it.


    I run a hand along my jaw. ¡°Let¡¯s see here. There¡¯s coconut, chocte, tiny Oreos, M&M¡¯s, marshmallows, cereal, rainbow. But I think I¡¯ve missed some.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Oooh,¡± she says.


    I grin at her. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s pretty cool. But you¡¯ll have to get your mom to agree.¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be difficult,¡± Jamie says dryly. ¡°I¡¯m a pushover when she gives me those eyes.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°I have a very hard time seeing you as a pushover, James.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, times change.¡± She looks down at her ice cream. ¡°Are you getting some too?¡±


    ¡°I might, yeah. Are you gonna have a seat on the boardwalk?¡± I say, knowing all too well that I¡¯m inviting myself.


    ¡°We should, yeah. I¡¯ll need a few napkins to clean this off,¡± she says, looking down at the chocte ice cream dripping down Emma¡¯s arm. But there¡¯s a fond smile on her face. It¡¯s one I haven¡¯t seen in the two weeks since she started working at the yacht club.


    ¡°I¡¯ll join you,¡± I say. ¡°If that¡¯s okay?¡±


    Jamie nods. It¡¯s not an enthusiastic yes, but it is a yes, and I¡¯ll take what I can get. A few minutester I grab a seat next to them on the boardwalk, a cone of chocte ice cream in hand.


    ¡°Look what I got,¡± I say to Emma and hold out a cup with rainbow sprinkles in it. ¡°If you want some? Otherwise I¡¯ll have them all.¡±


    She gives a happy little squeal and then looks up at her mom again. ¡°Yes,¡± Jamie says. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    My sprinkles are quickly devoured, just as I¡¯d hoped. I hand Jamie the extra stack of napkins I¡¯d snagged.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she says. And then, quietly, ¡°I haven¡¯t told Lily about her.¡±


    ¡°No, I figured. Do you want me to avoid mentioning it?¡±


    Jamie looks out at the waves, hiding her expression from view. ¡°Maybe, yeah. But I don¡¯t want to put you in an awkward position.¡±


    ¡°Not possible,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m never awkward.¡±


    She snorts. ¡°Of course not.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s adorable,¡± I say, looking past Jamie at the girl swinging her legs and munching on sprinkles. ¡°How old is she?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s just turned six.¡±


    ¡°Does your mom take care of her when you go to work?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I lean back against the bench and stretch out my legs. There¡¯s no need to rush things. ¡°What vor did you get?¡±


    ¡°Strawberry,¡± she says, and looks down at her almost finished cone. She¡¯s silent for a long moment. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t care, you know. With Lily. It was that I¡­ cared too much.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to exin it to me if you don¡¯t want to,¡± I say. ¡°The rtionship between you two is yours. But for what it¡¯s worth, I know she¡¯s missed you. And she¡¯d love to be friends again.¡±


    Jamie¡¯s voice is dry. ¡°She was upset,st week. At work.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°But you know Lily. She can never stay angry at the people she loves. I¡¯m walking proof of that.¡±


    Jamie gives another one of those halfughs. ¡°You two argued all the time.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± I say, and take another bite of my ice cream. ¡°About very important things.¡±

 Small Town Hero C10

    ¡°Who would walk As, who had or hadn¡¯tpleted their chores, who ate thest Coco Pops¡­¡± She trails off. ¡°I used to think you two were so stupid. You were lucky enough to have siblings, and all you did was fight.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve gotten over that stage now,¡± I say, and nudge her carefully with my shoulder. It feels like one wrong move and she might retreat back into herself. ¡°Besides, nobody fought like you and me. Remember?¡±


    ¡°We did, didn¡¯t we?¡± Jamie says, and she sounds almost proud.


    It makes me grin. ¡°Yeah. I haven¡¯t forgotten all of our bouts, James.¡±


    ¡°James,¡± she says. ¡°Gosh. High school was rough.¡±


    ¡°You were tough, though. Lily was always lucky to have a friend like you.¡±


    It¡¯s the wrong thing to say. She turns to her daughter and carefully wipes her bare arms clean. Emma obediently stretches out one arm after the other, her cone devoured, munching on sprinkles. Her legs swing softly off the bench.


    I wait for Jamie to find her words.


    ¡°The yacht club is doing well,¡± she says finally. ¡°I never knew you wanted to buy it.¡±


    ¡°Neither did I, to tell you the truth. I was working in Boston up until a few years ago. Rhys sent me the link to the yacht club listing, when it went on sale, and I¡­ well. It felt right in a way that nothing had for a very long time.¡±


    ¡°It suits you,¡± she says.


    ¡°Yeah, you think?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She looks at me, an eyebrow raised. It makes her look like the teenager I remember. ¡°The golden son, the ultimate sailor, the pride of Paradise. It¡¯s like you¡¯vee full circle.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°The pride of Paradise, Jesus. You used to call me a lot worse names than that.¡±


    ¡°I hoped you¡¯d forgotten that.¡± She reaches up to run a hand over the back of her neck. Her ice cream is finished, too, and Emma is digging at the bottom of the cup for thest sprinkles. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since we were teenagers.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but time stands still in Paradise Shores. You know that.¡±


    She snorts. ¡°It sure seems like it. Except some things, I guess. You¡¯re hiring a new chef at the restaurant. You¡¯re not scared of inciting a rebellion by changing the menu?¡±


    That¡¯s the Jamie I remember. ¡°I think this town needs to be shaken up a little bit,¡± I say. ¡°You know, go from one sauce with the fish and chips to two.¡±


    She halfughs again. It¡¯s tantalizingly close to an actualugh, but I haven¡¯t heard one of those yet.


    ¡°So you¡¯re modernizing?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Trying to, at least,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m actually looking for a web designer and a graphic artist right now. The website needs aplete overhaul. It might actually be better to build a new one base up, with a booking system for sses as well as the restaurant.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± She scrunches the napkins into a ball. ¡°I¡¯ve done some of that in the past.¡±


    ¡°You have?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I worked remotely for a while, and that was something I could do.¡±


    ¡°Do you enjoy it?¡±


    Jamie nods and reaches for Emma¡¯s empty sprinkles cup. The little girl is swinging her legs violently now, bored and all sugared up. ¡°Yes, I did.¡±


    ¡°Well, are you in the market for an extra job?¡±


    She looks up at me. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Do you want to design a new website for the yacht club? I¡¯d pay you, of course. And we could reduce the hours you work as a waitress to make sure you don¡¯t work overtime.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I don¡¯t know¡­ Parker, I only did it for a few clients.¡±


    ¡°But it turned out well?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they seemed happy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good enough for me. Think about it, okay?¡± I ask. The hesitation in her doesn¡¯t make sense to me, but I know better than to barrel on. ¡°I¡¯ll ask you again at work in a few days. If you don¡¯t want to, no worries. If you start to work on it and can¡¯t finish, that¡¯s fine, too. But it would be very appreciated.¡±


    Jamie nods. A faint tan ys across her skin from her bike rides to and from the yacht club. She looks feminine, and soft, and has a smattering of freckles on her right shoulder. I look away from the bare skin. ¡°Okay. That sounds good. Thanks, Parker.¡±


    ¡°Anytime.¡±


    She rises from the bench and brushes off her sundress. Emma steels herself and jumps off the bench,nding with her feet together and a smile on her face. Her wispy ponytail bounces with the impact.


    ¡°Ready to go, sweetie? Grandma will have started lunch.¡±


    Emma nods and takes her mother¡¯s hand. With the other, she hands me the cup that had once contained rainbow sprinkles. ¡°Thank you,¡± she murmurs.


    I take the empty cup with a smile. ¡°You¡¯re very wee, Emma. And wee back to Paradise.¡±


    Jamie gives me a half-smile. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Does it feel good? To be back?¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Her voice turns thoughtful. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I say. ¡°It feels good to have you back, at least.¡±


    JAMIE


    ¡°This is where you work?¡± I stop at the threshold of the back office. It¡¯s a small room, crowded with two desks and arge map of the coastline put up on the wall with tacks. Beside it is a framed picture of a wooden sailboat, someone¡¯s autograph scrawled across it.


    Parker leans back in the chair. ¡°When I have no other choice, yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ busy.¡±


    ¡°And tiny,¡± he says. ¡°I prefer to work from home or out in the dining room, but it has its perks.¡± He nods to a board with lists on it, rows and rows of the summer¡¯s sailing lessons. ¡°Neil has a good overview of things.¡±


    ¡°Everything¡¯s still analog?¡±


    ¡°It sure is,¡± Parker says with a grin. ¡°That¡¯s where youe in.¡±

 Small Town Hero C11

    I nod. This whole thing still feels a bit crazy. It¡¯s been a year since Ist did any website work. It had always been online and I didn¡¯t actually meet the clients. A side gig I¡¯d started when Emma was a toddler.


    ¡°So you want apletely new website?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I think that would be best, yeah.¡± He gestures to the empty chair beside him. ¡°Neil left earlier.¡±


    I take a seat and look at the half-open door. Stephen and the other waitresses are still out there, finishing up the few evening orders. One of the younger waitresses had given me a curious look when I went into Parker¡¯s office at the end of my shift.


    ¡°Probably best with the door open,¡± Parker says. ¡°Is that okay?¡±


    ¡°Mhm, yeah. Absolutely. So¡­ let me just find my notebook.¡± I dig through my bag. ¡°Right. So you want apletely new website. Do you want to keep the same graphic profile as the yacht club has now?¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair. It¡¯s less sandy now than it once had been, darkened into a rich blond. I wonder if he went sailing this morning. ¡°The old logo is good. I don¡¯t mind it. But do you think it needs updating?¡±


    I hesitate. But he¡¯s never punished me for honesty, so I say it. ¡°It could be updated, yeah.¡±


    ¡°All right. Why don¡¯t you y around with it and show me some options?¡±


    ¡°Sure. What other features do you need?¡±


    Parker lists them one by one, even going so far as to open the old website and show the parts he likes and dislikes. It looks like it was designed by a twelfth grader. Basic HTML. Perhaps that¡¯s part of the charm, but it¡¯s hampering growth.


    I nce at the lists of sailing sses again. Maybe I could create an internal scheduling system for them, too. If he doesn¡¯t think the website I create sucks, that is.


    ¡°Well, Jamie¡­¡± He runs a hand along his thigh, across the fabric of his cks. ¡°I¡¯m wondering if I should apologize for the other day.¡±


    I dig my teeth into my lower lip and look away from his hand. It¡¯s broad and tanned. ¡°You were going to run into us one of these days.¡±


    ¡°It is a pretty small town.¡±


    ¡°It is. Really, thank you for being so nice to her. She loved the sprinkles.¡±


    He grins. ¡°I¡¯ve pulled that trick with little Jamie too. Makes me an instant favorite.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She¡¯s lovely, James.¡±


    That¡¯s one thing I can agree on. ¡°She¡¯s fantastic.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know about her.¡±


    ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t tell a lot of people.¡± About most things. I look back at the floor, at my tennis shoes. They don¡¯t fit in with my smart uniform, with the navy skirt and the too-snug white blouse. Maybe the uniform can be changed, along with a new logo.


    ¡°You know what I¡¯m curious about,¡± Parker says quietly. ¡°But I get the feeling you don¡¯t want any questions about him?¡±


    I take a deep breath. ¡°Not particrly.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re here in Paradise alone, then?¡±


    ¡°With Emma, but yes.¡±


    Parker nods, and there¡¯s no pity in his eyes. Just friendly curiosity, and the same steadiness that he¡¯s always had. It¡¯sforting, like he could put out a fire, excel at any sport. In a Hollywood movie he¡¯d be the first to enlist against an alien invasion. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s ever painted a house-the Marchands are too well off for that-but I can see him doing that, helping a friend out with his strong arms.


    Maybe that¡¯s why I keep talking. ¡°We¡¯re staying with my mom. I think I already told you that, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s weird, being back at home, especially when you have a child yourself.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine,¡± he says, voice steady. Not judging, and it hits me like a lode weight across the chest just how much I¡¯ve missed him, and Lily, and his whole family. They¡¯d always felt likefort to me, even when I was a rebellious teenager. ¡°But I¡¯m guessing your mom is loving it. Do she and Emma get along?¡±


    ¡°Famously,¡± I say. ¡°Emma has Mom wrapped around her little finger. She¡¯s shy, but she¡¯s clever. She gets her way.¡±


    Parkerughs. ¡°Well, she¡¯s your daughter.¡±


    ¡°She is. Although it¡¯s funny, in some ways she¡¯s very different than me. And not like¡­ her father, either. She¡¯s her own little human entirely.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard simr things,¡± he says. ¡°Seen it, too, with my niece and nephew.¡±


    ¡°Right, you have a niece too, now. How¡¯s Henry as a father? He always struck me as a family man.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Parker runs a hand over his jaw. His arm flexes with the movement, strong beneath the linen shirt he¡¯s wearing. None of his old athleticism is gone, but it¡¯s sturdier now, like y that¡¯s been baked and hardened. ¡°I suppose he has. He took care of us when we were younger.¡±


    ¡°I remember. Didn¡¯t he teach you how to ride a bike?¡±


    ¡°Taught both me and Lily, yeah. He was a kid himself.¡± Parker chuckles. ¡°Well, now he has an actual kid.¡±


    ¡°Hazel, right? That¡¯s a beautiful name.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s a sweetheart. They¡¯re not here much, though. Henry and Faye finally bought a house in Paradise, but they¡¯re both too busy in New York to live here permanently.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, I¡¯ve heard.¡± The Marchand name is one I¡¯ve googled periodically over thest couple of years, to follow their journeys.


    ¡°Would be hard not to,¡± Parker says dryly, but he looks pleased, too.


    ¡°What¡¯s Rhys doing?¡±


    ¡°What Rhys always does, which is whatever the hell he wants.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°That sounds about right.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s travelling the world with his girlfriend. They¡¯re shooting some kind of documentary, I think, while he finishes thest touches on a photography book.¡±All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Oh. Wow.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s the opposite of a settled life.¡± Parker shakes his head. ¡°But that¡¯s Rhys.¡±


    ¡°Who is his girlfriend?¡±

 Small Town Hero C12

    ¡°Her name¡¯s Ivy. She¡¯s awesome, actually. They argue a lot but I think they both enjoy that. She works as a model.¡±


    I nod woodenly. Once, the Marchands spent school vacations travelling to exotic locations. Now they date models and build opera houses and own yacht clubs. I think of my tennis shoes with the hole in the front and my pitiful savings ount.


    ¡°I know how it sounds,¡± Parker says, voice almost apologetic. ¡°My siblings are off the rails.¡±


    Not really, I think. They seem like they have it all together.


    ¡°I¡¯m d they¡¯re doing well.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, they are,¡± he says. ¡°Lily has an art gallery in town.¡±


    ¡°Does she?¡± I ask, but in truth, I already know. I¡¯ve followed her career online too.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s doing surprisingly well, for an art gallery, you know. She works with artists from New York and disys them here. It¡¯s a few blocks away from the gto shop, actually.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t tell her about this either.¡± Parker gives me a crooked smile. ¡°It feels fun, being secretive.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯te naturally to you, does it?¡±


    ¡°She strikes again,¡± he says, grinning. ¡°No, I can¡¯t say that it does. And it¡¯s not like you and I used to work together.¡±


    I look at his hands, now resting on an open ledger. I make out the names of boats. ¡°No, we didn¡¯t. Do you remember that party? At Turner¡¯s?¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡±


    ¡°When Lily and I came. You were so angry at her.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Of course I was. She was a minor. You both were.¡±


    ¡°So were you,¡± I point out, raising an eyebrow.


    His smile turns crooked. ¡°Yes, but you two were more minory.¡±


    ¡°Lily left halfway through the party.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I remember that night. After graduation.¡±


    I shouldn¡¯t say anything. It¡¯s stupid, bringing up the past, and maybe I¡¯m just wasting his time. But something about his gaze draws the words out. I haven¡¯t thought about those years in a very long time. ¡°She had a fight with Hayden.¡±


    ¡°I suspected they did,¡± he says, ¡°because he was pissed off the rest of the night and left soon after her.¡±


    ¡°I stayed, though.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Parker says. ¡°You did.¡±


    The memories are hazy, like childhood memories often are. I¡¯d been dressed up to the nines, which for me was a tight skirt and a ck T-shirt with an ironic print of a pop band I didn¡¯t listen to. My short hair had been spiky and lips coated with far too much gloss. I¡¯d been Lily¡¯s friend, who in turn was Parker¡¯s little sister. That was my im to fame at the party held by seniors.


    And of the seniors, Parker had been the coolest.


    He had the friends, the girls, the trophies. He was the one jock I couldn¡¯t hate, because while he was often annoying, he was never mean. Not once.


    ¡°You were drunk,¡± I say. ¡°All of you were.¡±


    ¡°It was a sport back then. I remember trying to keep you from drinking, though.¡±


    ¡°A valiant, but failed, effort.¡±


    He chuckles and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His skin is golden from the sun. ¡°Yeah, you never liked doing what I told you to.¡±


    ¡°I had a problem with authority back then.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s solved now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve just be more circumspect,¡± I say.


    He gives me another smile, and just like that, I¡¯m sitting next to him on Turner¡¯s porch at two in the morning again. He¡¯s drunk and pretending not to be, his hair a mess, and giving me his best I¡¯m-superior look. I¡¯d been needling him about all the girls he¡¯d meet in college. Lame, and retroactively transparent, but I¡¯d been young and had a crush I couldn¡¯t even admit to myself.


    I¡¯m not adies¡¯ man, he¡¯d said, as if there was any doubt that he might be. He was popr, sure, but we were in high school. When I find a girl I want to be my girlfriend, I¡¯ll just¡­ know.


    Oh? I¡¯d asked. And what will she look like? Tall, and blonde, with big boobs?


    Drunk, teenage Parker had scoffed. No. I like girls with attitude.


    Who argue with you?


    He¡¯d looked at me, then. Yes. I like them dark-haired, too.


    ¡°I walked you home that night,¡± Parker says. In his gaze I see the same memory. We¡¯d never spoken about the temporary truce we struck up that night. The next time I saw him, visiting Lily¡¯s ceter that summer, we¡¯d argued over what to watch on TV with a ferocity that rivaled professional athletes.


    ¡°You did,¡± I say. ¡°We took the long route.¡±


    Heughs, a little self-consciously. ¡°Yeah. Down by the boardwalk.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you remembered that night,¡± I say, and tug at the hem of my skirt. It feels too short, riding up when I¡¯m sitting.


    ¡°I remember,¡± he says. ¡°I think it was the only time we were actually nice to one another. You gave me apliment.¡±


    ¡°I did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You said I was a good running back.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Heughs, and the sound is warm and deep. It fills the room. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯d watched a single one of our games, James. It was an obvious lie, but I appreciated it regardless.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I fudged the truth a bit.¡±N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.

 Small Town Hero C13

    ¡°You did,¡± he says, grinning. ¡°It was a good night.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it was.¡± My mind travels back to what happened when we stopped outside my house. When he¡¯d brushed a hand over my cheek, and I¡¯d wet my lips, wondering if it was happening. If he was going to do this, cross the boundary between us, the one made up of so manyyers. Best friend¡¯s older brother. A grade above me in high school. Jock and misfit.


    But he didn¡¯t.


    He told me I was beautiful, and that it waste, and I should go inside.


    ¡°You gave me apliment too that night.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Parker says. ¡°I remember that, too. But mine wasn¡¯t an obvious lie.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I breathe. My throat feels dry and I search for his previous words. ¡°Well, I appreciated it regardless?¡±


    He smiles. ¡°I¡¯d say it still stands, but seeing as how I¡¯m hiring you to overhaul my website, that wouldn¡¯t be appropriate.¡±


    ¡°Probably not,¡± I say and reach for my notebook. I regret the words an instantter. Stupid, stupid.


    ¡°You know where to find me,¡± he says. ¡°Whenever, wherever, if you want to discuss the website. Or,¡± he says with a wink, ¡°which type of sprinkles are the best. I have strong opinions on that, and I suspect Emma does too.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she does now. Thank you.¡± I extend a hand. ¡°Looking forward to working with you.¡±


    Parker grins and takes my hand in his. Long fingers curl around mine, calluses on the insides of his palm chafing gently. ¡°So do I, James.¡±


    JAMIE


    I drink my cup of coffee and look out at dawn¡¯s first rays on Greene Street. It gets light early these days, earlier than when we usually wake up. The clock in the kitchen reads just past five thirty. Emma won¡¯t be up for another hour at least, nor will my mother.


    The coffee helps with my own tiredness, but actual sleep would have helped more. But it had been little and far in-betweenst night after Lee¡¯s calls.


    I hadn¡¯t nned to pick up, even as he called a second time. And called again, and again. Thest time we¡¯d spoken he said he didn¡¯t care either way if we stayed or left. But he¡¯s changed his mind more than once before. And so I¡¯d picked up the call.


    Outside the window, a soft breeze catches the trees that line the street. Leaves stir softly. It¡¯s a beautiful morning for a run. I change into a pair of stretchy shorts and an old T-shirt. It has paint stains from the time I re-did Emma¡¯s old bedroom. Lee had hated the color I chose, so I¡¯d re-painted it a weekter.


    Fuck him, I think, and his call with polite apologies and measured speech. And immediately after, I think fuck me, because the truth is that it would have worked on me two years ago. One year ago. I would have believed him, every maniptive word out of his mouth.


    I hit the sidewalk outside the house in a run that sets my heart racing. I¡¯m free now, at least. And I¡¯m back here, with my daughter, with a job. With a future.


    I reach the top of the street, right by the cul-de-sac, before my lungs start to burn. Freedom turns to torture.


    I¡¯m so out of shape.


    Once, I¡¯d been able to do this route before school. Now my lower back aches and there¡¯s a burning sensation in my chest. It¡¯s yet another thing I¡¯ve let falter.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    But I keep going, up the next street, and the one after that, beneath the trees and past the hedges. Birds sing happily above me, unaware of how close I am to expiring.


    The streets are empty. People haven¡¯t started their days yet, and I¡¯m grateful for it. Thest thing I need is to run into anyone from high school, or my mom¡¯s friends. Or Lily. We haven¡¯t spoken since that awkward conversation in the yacht club.


    But the universe isn¡¯t so kind.


    I round the next street ande to face-to-face with another runner. He¡¯s heading toward me, ck shorts and a white T-shirt. Strong, tanned arms move at his sides.


    Because of course those are my odds.


    Parker slows down when he sees me and Ie to a grateful halt. My lungs pull in a few quick gulps of breath before he reaches me.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he says. ¡°Out for a run?¡±


    I nod. It¡¯s safer than speaking just yet.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you ran.¡±


    ¡°Not for years, now. But I just realized-¡± I take a deep breath-¡°that I have no muscle or stamina left.¡±


    Parker¡¯s eyes narrow, and I want to take back my words. ¡°Well, you¡¯re on your feet all day as a waitress. That¡¯ll build your stamina. What you need is probably strength training.¡±


    ¡°Strength training?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Have you ever lifted weights?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Not really, no.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he says, and then he gives a crooked smile. His face is flushed with color, sweaty and glorious, and he¡¯s not panting at all. ¡°I¡¯m wondering if you¡¯ll get mad at me for what I¡¯ll say next.¡±


    ¡°Me? Mad?¡±


    Heughs. ¡°Yes, you, James. You always took me to task for my jock ways.¡±


    ¡°Well, you were very jock-y,¡± I say.


    He doesn¡¯t react like Lee would. There¡¯s no snark or mocking, no feigned hurt. He just keeps grinning. ¡°I was. And you were very artsy.¡±


    ¡°I had to keep up with Lily.¡±


    ¡°Jesus, yes. Didn¡¯t the two of you try spoken word poetry one time, too?¡±


    That makes me smile too. ¡°We were awful.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone is good at spoken word poetry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, some are wonderful, but two high schoolers from Paradise Shores with absolutely no life experience aren¡¯t.¡±


    Parkerughs and reaches for the hem of his white T-shirt. He pulls it up and wipes his face, exposing a b of strong, tanned stomach. With each deep breath he takes the muscles shift beneath, showing the hint of a six-pack.


    I quickly look away.


    ¡°Why are you out so early?¡± he asks. ¡°Most people aren¡¯t up yet.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep. Besides, I like avoiding people.¡±

 Small Town Hero C14

    ¡°Like me?¡±


    I roll my eyes, even as nerves sh through my stomach. ¡°Sure, Marchand.¡±


    Heughs again and my nerves tten. He¡¯s not offended. ¡°Lily, then,¡± he says. ¡°She lives further down Ocean Drive. You won¡¯t bump into her on the street like this.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Me, though, you¡¯ll probably see all the time,¡± he says. ¡°I live on Meadow.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    He turns and points further up the street, toward a white wooden house with a wrap-around porch. An American g hangs off one of the pirs.


    ¡°Close to the yacht club,¡± I say, ¡°and halfway between your parents¡¯ and Lily¡¯s?¡±


    Parker runs a hand over his jaw. He can¡¯t have shaved yet today, and the stubble is thicker than usual. ¡°Yes. You know too much about me.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve known you for a great many years.¡± I kick at a pebble on the sidewalk. ¡°So we live close.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we do,¡± he says, and there¡¯s a curious note of satisfaction in his voice. I look up to catch him smiling. ¡°The thing I was going to say earlier, that¡¯ll make you mad?¡±


    ¡°I think it would take a great deal to make me mad at you,¡± I say, and I mean it. Maybe we¡¯d argued constantly as teenagers, but he¡¯s given me a job here. Two jobs, even.


    Parkerughs, like I¡¯m joking. ¡°Remember that. Well, I have a gym in my garage. Lots and lots of free weights. You¡¯re wee to use it any day. Mornings, before work, perhaps? I can show you how to lift.¡±


    I stare at him.


    ¡°Right now,¡± he says, ¡°is when you get mad at me, James, for suggesting you need to work out. You don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°But I do,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m weak.¡±


    He stretches from side to side, chest rippling beneath his T-shirt. ¡°Not how I¡¯d phrase it. But if you want to tone, you know where to find the resources, okay?¡±


    ¡°Right. Thank you,¡± I say, and the mental image of me in my paint-stained T-shirts, lifting tiny dumbbells while he looks on in all his glory, shes through my mind.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Don¡¯t overthink it,¡± he says, still smiling.


    I kick his sneaker with my own. ¡°Idiot.¡±


    Heughs. ¡°That¡¯s the Jamie I remember.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s still around sometimes,¡± I say, and find to my surprise that it¡¯s true. She¡¯s just been buried deep down. ¡°I have a few drafts for website designs ready for you.¡±


    Parker¡¯s eyebrows rise. ¡°Already?¡±


    ¡°I have a lot of time after Emma goes to bed,¡± I say.


    ¡°That¡¯s amazing. Anything you need me to look at?¡±


    ¡°Yes, just so I know which option you like before I head too far in one direction. I¡¯ve been working on an updated logo, too, for you to look at.¡±


    ¡°Terrific.¡±


    ¡°And something struck me¡­ well, maybe it¡¯s a stupid idea, but the yacht club is such a focal point in Paradise Shores. You know, you organize all the sailing sses, you have the restaurant, the lobster roll shack, organize the marina¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Parker says dryly. ¡°Which is why I need to hire another Neil.¡±


    I give a halfugh. ¡°Right. Well, it¡¯s such an institution that I wonder if it would be a good idea to sell some merchandise?¡±


    His eyebrows draw together. ¡°Merchandise?¡±


    Nerves surge up in my stomach. This is when Lee would have rolled his eyes or called it a stupid idea. Worthless, I hear in my mind. But Parker¡¯s not Lee, he¡¯s himself, and I¡¯ve never known him to be cruel.


    ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s say the logo ends up going on the new linen napkins, or on T-shirts for the marina staff, or on sailing caps for the instructors. I think people might want to buy that for themselves.¡±


    ¡°A Paradise Shores Yacht Club cap,¡± he repeats slowly. ¡°It¡¯s a great idea.¡±


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. The waitresses could wear them when we serve on the terrace in the summer. The sailing instructors, definitely. Shoot, now I want all of this ready in time for the regatta.¡± He grins and crosses his arms over his chest. They lookrger than usual against his white T-shirt. ¡°You came up with all of this in a week?¡±


    ¡°A lot of free evenings,¡± I say.


    He grins. ¡°Good to know. Let¡¯s meet tomorrow night, then, at the yacht club and you can show me all of the designs. Does that sound good?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure.¡±


    ¡°Great. And next week you¡¯reing by to see my gym,¡± he says with a wink. His voice is the one that had always needled me in the past. Strong and so sure of itself, no hesitation in it.


    ¡°So you can boss me around?¡±


    ¡°The day you let me boss you around,¡± Parker says, ¡°is the day hell freezes over.¡± He smiles at me in goodbye and moves past me, legs breaking effortlessly into a run again. I watch him disappear down Meadow Lane and turn onto Ocean Drive. I bet he¡¯s going to run along the boardwalk, in full view of anyone who might see him.


    His smile wasn¡¯t annoying. It wasn¡¯t taunting or gloating. It was warm, and looking at it, I¡¯d felt warm too. And I wonder how different things might have been, if he wasn¡¯t who he was, if I didn¡¯t have an uncertain future and a broken past, and the memory of another man branded into my skin.


    PARKER


    We don¡¯t do dinner service on Thursdays. It¡¯s the one day of the week when the ce is quiet, and the dining room is empty around me. I¡¯m at the table I prefer, right by the windows and the ocean, when I hear Jamie¡¯s voice.


    ¡°No touching. Those are the chef¡¯s tools. They¡¯re very sharp¡­ yes, that¡¯s it.¡±


    The door from the kitchen opens and she¡¯s there, with aptop bag under one arm and her daughter¡¯s hand in the other. Emma looks around the room with big eyes. She steps closer to her mom when she sees me.


    A slow smile spreads across my face. ¡°Hi, you two.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± Jamie says, ncing down at her daughter. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind that I brought Emma? My mother had other ns tonight. I didn¡¯t have your number to text you about it beforehand.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the more the merrier. Hi, Emma. How are you?¡±

 Small Town Hero C15

    She hesitates a moment before answering. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°This is the restaurant your mom and I work at.¡±


    Jamie leads her daughter to the table next to ours and lifts her up on a chair. ¡°Sit here, sweetheart. Now, I brought you some paper¡­ want to color while Mom works?¡±


    Emma nods and epts the notepad she¡¯s handed with a serious expression, like she¡¯s buckling down for a job, too. It makes me smile. ¡°I have something for you,¡± I say. ¡°Wait a minute¡­¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    I rummage through the back office for the giant bucket of crayons. It¡¯s been in the corner for as long as I remember, a remnant from the previous owners, given to unruly children.


    Emma¡¯s eyes shine at the sight. ¡°I can use them?¡±


    ¡°Knock yourself out.¡±


    She smiles a brilliant little smile,plete with crooked front teeth, and reaches for the purple crayon.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Jamie says. Her hair is in a braid today, but a few tendrils have escaped, framing her face. She pulls out an oldptop with colorful stickers on the back. Flower power, one says, and another Paradise Dive Shop.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she says as theputer loads up. ¡°It¡¯s not the quickest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your mother¡¯s?¡±


    Jamie nods. ¡°But she rarely uses it.¡±


    I run a hand over my jaw and focus on the screen, not on her. A daughter, no husband, staying at her mom¡¯s. Waitressing and riding a bike. Sympathy squeezes painfully tight in my chest, along with shame at my words from the other day. Henry, architect, opera house, models, photographer, art gallery¡­ Not to mention Lily with her house on Ocean Drive and me, just the other morning, pointing at the house I¡¯d bought.


    There areyers to the hesitancy in Jamie, with more secrets than I can imagine, thorns that seem stuck beneath the surface.


    But I wonder if money isn¡¯t one of them.


    ¡°Parker?¡± Jamie says, a small smile on her face. ¡°Are you with me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Sure. What am I looking at?¡±


    ¡°This is the interface I use to build websites. Here¡¯s the first potentialyout¡­ let me know what you think.¡±


    The website looks nothing like the old one. And that¡¯s a good thing. A sleek wee page greets me with the logo, now navy blue, a circle with a sailing boat and the yacht club¡¯s name.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say.


    Jamie¡¯s voice speeds up. ¡°Everything can be changed. Just tell me if you don¡¯t like something.¡±


    ¡°No, no, I do. I like it a lot.¡±


    She leans closer, her arm reaching for the trackpad. Her hair smells of flowery shampoo. ¡°I was thinking this could have a slideshow with inviting pictures, of the restaurant, the food and the marina.¡±


    ¡°Paradise Shores,¡± I read out loud. ¡°Your slice of heaven.¡±


    ¡°Too much?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡± Maybe I can get Rhys to shoot the ce. He¡¯d think it beneath him, but he owes me. And he knows this ce as well as I do.


    ¡°The menu on the side pops out when you move the cursor over it. Look, here are the different functions. Sailing sses, menu, an about section, and¡­¡±


    ¡°A shop?¡±


    She nods. ¡°We¡¯ll keep that page internal until we actually have something to sell. What do you think?¡±


    We spend the next thirty minutes sorting through the website options. She¡¯s thorough and soft-spoken beside me, but her voice grows in confidence as she navigates the system.


    ¡°We could have a password protected section here,¡± she says, ¡°for bookings or information about the sailing sses.¡±


    ¡°God, that would save Neil so much time.¡±


    She nods. ¡°We could start a newsletter, too, down the line.¡±


    ¡°A newsletter?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. One for the sailing sses, and one for the restaurant. You know, to keep people in themunity aware of new menu specials, live music events, that sort of thing. This ce is such a big part of town. ¡±


    ¡°You did all of this in a week?¡±


    She pushes a tendril of hair back. ¡°I created a dummy website and a logo,¡± she says. ¡°The rest are just ideas.¡±


    ¡°Not ideas. This is amazing.¡±


    Jamie looks down at her hands. ¡°I think it¡¯s fun.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and you¡¯re clearly good at it. When did you learn to do this?¡±


    ¡°When Emma was born.¡± She looks at her daughter, industriously drawing colorful shapes in her notepad. ¡°I had a lot of time at home and I wanted an ie.¡±


    ¡°Understandable. Did you have many clients?¡±


    ¡°Only a few.¡± Jamie leans back in her chair, eyes far away as she looks at theputer. ¡°But I haven¡¯t done it for a year or two.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re a natural. I want to hire you to do all of it.¡±


    ¡°All of it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The website, the booking system, the menu, the merchandise, the newsletter.¡±


    ¡°Parker,¡± she says and there¡¯s admonition in her voice. ¡°I¡¯m not a professional.¡±


    ¡°This looks very professional to me. Besides, my only other option is to give this job to someone outside of town. And I think this job is better suited for someone from Paradise. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    She closes the lid to theptop, with its fan working overdrive. She can¡¯t work on that old thing. ¡°Thank you, Parker.¡±


    ¡°No thanks necessary. It¡¯s a job.¡± I nod at theputer. ¡°You let me know if there¡¯s anything you need toplete it.¡±

 Small Town Hero C16

    She gives me a smile that¡¯s textbook old Jamie. A bit cocky, a lot confident. ¡°Less waitressing hours.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Already done. You¡¯ll have the same amount of hours scheduled for next week, but only half will actually be waitressing. The rest is this.¡±


    Her eyes widen, like she hadn¡¯t anticipated an actual response. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I want one of those caps.¡± Driven by impulse, I give the end of her braid a soft tug. ¡°You¡¯d look good in one, too,¡± I say.


    Jamie smiles. She¡¯s close, and I realize I¡¯ve never gotten as many of her smiles as I have this past week. Even if they¡¯re still rare. ¡°I would?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, letting the braid slip through my fingers. I think about the memory she brought up the other day¡­ the night I walked her home, all those years ago. I think about her strength and her softness and her mysteries. She swallows, the movement tiny, and the noise resonates down to my very bones.


    ¡°Mommy?¡± Emma asks. She¡¯s standing between us, and in her hand is a drawing.


    Jamie turns away from me. ¡°You made this?¡±


    Her daughter nods. The drawing is a child¡¯s masterpiece, in the way only theirs can be. ¡°I copied the painting.¡±


    ¡°The painting?¡± Jamie asks. The drawing has two purple boat-like figures on a thin bed of blue.


    ¡°In the crayons.¡±


    I reach across to Emma¡¯s table and grab the flyer. It must have been wedged amongst the crayons. It¡¯s a poster for the Paradise Shores Junior Regatta from six years ago. There¡¯s a picture of two sailing boats on it.


    ¡°This?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But I put you and me in the boats,¡± Emma tells her mom. Her voice is tinged with excitement now, sounding more like my nephew. ¡°Look.¡±


    Jamie obediently locates the tiny blobs. ¡°Oh, look at that. Do we like to sail?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But the other ship has pirates.¡±


    ¡°Pirates?¡± I ask, grinning. ¡°Here in Paradise? I never knew.¡±


    Emma nods, and gives me a tiny smile. ¡°But they won¡¯t catch me and Mommy.¡±


    ¡°No, I hope not,¡± Jamie says. She has a hand on Emma¡¯s head. ¡°Is there a treasure?¡±


    Emma hasn¡¯t thought that far, so much is clear from her thoughtful expression. But she points at the thin sliver of ocean she¡¯s drawn. ¡°There.¡±


    ¡°In the deep,¡± I say. ¡°Of course, treasure is always buried. Have you ever been on a boat?¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    She leans closer to her mom and answers me, but keeps her eyes averted. Still shy. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Never ever?¡±


    She shakes her head so quick her hair flies.


    ¡°There are plenty of boats here,¡± I say. ¡°I have one right here, in the marina.¡±


    Emma looks toward the window and the forest of masts gently bobbing. Behind them, the sun has begun its slow descent. ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± It¡¯s technically my father¡¯s, and the whole family uses it, but that information doesn¡¯t feel relevant right now. ¡°If your mom says it¡¯s okay, we can look at it after this. You can stand on board and check it for pirates.¡±


    Her eyes go round. ¡°On board?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I look over at Jamie. ¡°But only if your mom doesn¡¯t have other ns.¡±


    ¡°Mommy, let¡¯s,¡± Emma says, hands gripping Jamie¡¯s arm. Excitement makes her little face shine.


    Jamie looks at me with eyes that are exasperated, andughing, and I wonder again about Emma¡¯s father. Where is he? A brief pulse of anger burns below my breastbone. ¡°If Parker is sure it¡¯s safe, then yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s safe as can be,¡± I say. ¡°James, the boat is anchored.¡±


    She grins. ¡°Never stopped you from falling in before.¡±


    ¡°That was once,¡± I say, a slow smile spreading across my face, ¡°and I can¡¯t believe you remember that.¡±


    ¡°The drunken party you threw with Turner on the boat was legendary. No one could speak of anything else at school for weeks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you enjoyed that.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°I did not.¡±


    ¡°I was grounded for a month after,¡± I say, ¡°and it was reckless as hell.¡±


    ¡°And yet, I don¡¯t think you regret it.¡± She shakes her head, but Jamie looks amused. It feels like another small victory. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Emma skips ahead of us outside, her drawing forgotten on the table. I¡¯ll grab it in the morning. Jamie walks beside me down to the marina, Emma in front of us. She puts one sandalled shoe in front of the other on the wooden dock.


    ¡°Stay close,¡± Jamie calls. ¡°And you have to stay away from the edge.¡± Emma nods, but she peers into the blue water with every step.


    I look over at Jamie. Her shoulders look slim beneath her white jean jacket, her skin clear from any makeup. Different from the person I remember¡­ and a mother.


    ¡°You¡¯re watching me,¡± she says.


    ¡°I¡¯m just thinking of you, being a mom now and all.¡±


    She snorts. ¡°Oh, great. How much I¡¯m failing, you mean?¡±


    ¡°Do you feel like you are?¡±


    ¡°Every day.¡±


    ¡°In my vast experience as an uncle,¡± I say, ¡°I think that¡¯s just parenthood.¡±


    ¡°When did you get so wise, huh?¡±


    ¡°I was hit by the boom one too many times,¡± I say. ¡°It finally knocked some sense into me.¡±

 Small Town Hero C17

    She shakes her head, but she¡¯s smiling. ¡°Took one too many tackles, too?¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°Hah,¡± she says. And then, voice sharpening, ¡°Emma, wait there!¡±


    Her daughter slows down. She¡¯s raced past a dozen of the training dinghies.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Mine is right over here!¡± I call, and point to the adjoining dock. ¡°Bute closer to us. This dock wobbles when you walk.¡±


    Shees to take her mother¡¯s hand and we walk toward the Frida. She lies high in the water, unloaded, her mast tall and sails rigged right.


    ¡°She looks exactly the same,¡± Jamie says.


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s very well taken care of.¡± I reach for her railing and tug. Frida inches reluctantly closer to the dock, aided by the water beneath her.


    Emma¡¯s eyes are round with excitement, and a little bit of fear. ¡°Can I?¡±


    I wait for Jamie to say yes before I climb on board Frida. She¡¯s steady in the water, and too big for us to rock. ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± I say, and extend my arms. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to take one big step¡­¡±


    Emma jumps instead. Shends with both feet on the deck and crashes into my left arm. ¡°Oooh!¡± she says.


    ¡°You made it on board!¡±


    She looks down at her feet, firmly nted on the deck, and keeps one hand on my upper arm. ¡°It¡¯s not moving.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s anchored right now. Tied to the dock here. See that giant rope?¡± I shift my hand to her arm, gripping firmly, and extend the other to Jamie. ¡°Think your mom is brave enough to join us?¡±


    Jamie rolls her eyes and puts her hand in mine, trusting me to pull her on board.


    ¡°Mommy, we¡¯re on a boat,¡± Emma says and starts to move down the deck. She stops and frowns at my grip on her arm.


    ¡°Just one second, kiddo. There are a few simple rules when you¡¯re on a boat.¡±


    ¡°There are?¡±


    ¡°Yep. You always hold on to something when you¡¯re walking. See this thin railing? I want one of your hands on it at all times.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Okay.¡±


    ¡°Second rule. Children have to wear a life vest.¡±


    She sighs. ¡°Not on a pirate ship.¡±


    ¡°Luckily for all of us, Frida¡¯s days of piracy are long behind her,¡± I say. ¡°Come on, just slip this over your head¡­¡±


    Emma stands still and lets me put on the child-size life vest we always keep on board for little Jamie. He¡¯s two years younger than her and it shows, but I adjust the straps best I can. It¡¯ll work for now.


    ¡°Third rule,¡± I say, and this time I¡¯m grinning. ¡°There¡¯s a very clear chain ofmand on board a boat.¡±


    ¡°Jesus,¡± Jamie mutters.


    ¡°There is?¡± Emma asks.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m the captain, and your mom here is the first mate. You,¡± I say, tugging on one of the lines of her life vest, ¡°are a deckhand.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Deckhands are very important. But when they¡¯re on board a ship, deckhands always have to do what the captain says.¡±


    Emma looks at her mother. ¡°First mates, too?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jamie says, eyes dancing. ¡°First mates too¡­ even if they can¡¯t believe they¡¯re doing it.¡± She raises her hand and salutes me.


    ¡°Why, look at that, James. Some obedience.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think it¡¯llst,¡± she says.


    My grin widens. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡±


    ¡°Parker,¡± Emma says.


    I look down at her, my eyebrows rising. Didn¡¯t know she¡¯d remembered my name. ¡°Yes?¡±


    Then she salutes me as well, her pigtails resting over her life jacket and a smile on her face.


    Christ, she¡¯s cute.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say, and have to clear my throat. ¡°Very good. Now you can explore the boat, but only if you remember to always have one hand on the railing, and no running. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says.


    ¡°Aye aye, Captain,¡± Jamie adds.


    Emma walks around, and we follow at a slower pace. She touches the sails softly, and then hurries to the very edge of the boat.


    ¡°Be careful!¡± Jamie calls.


    But Emma is. She has both hands on the railing and looks down at the water so intently that I have to ask.


    ¡°What are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°Fish!¡±


    ¡°Are there any?¡±


    But there¡¯s no response.


    ¡°She¡¯s ridiculously patient,¡± Jamie says by my side. ¡°I don¡¯t know where she got it from. Once I saw her sit quietly and look up at the sky for ten minutes, and I asked her what she was looking for, and she said a shooting star. We¡¯d read about them the night before.¡±

 Small Town Hero C18

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I could sit still for five minutes at her age,¡± I say.


    ¡°Oh, I know I couldn¡¯t.¡± Jamie sits down on deck and tucks her hands beneath her legs. ¡°Thanks for letting use on board. This will make Emma¡¯s week.¡±


    ¡°Anytime.¡± I hesitate only for a second before I sit down next to her. The spot is narrow, and her thigh is resting next to mine. We look at Emma¡¯s small form in silence. She¡¯s lying down now, stomach to the deck, and has her head over the edge to look at the water. One of her sandals taps rhythmically against the deck.N?velDrama.Org owns ? this.


    ¡°Captain, huh?¡±


    Iugh. ¡°On a much bigger boat that would be the chain of hierarchy.¡±


    ¡°But not on a sailing boat this size.¡±


    ¡°You remember some from your Paradise days?¡± I say and nudge her shoulder with mine.


    She snorts. ¡°Some.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯d be a skipper. But I didn¡¯t think a six-year-old would know what that meant.¡±


    A smile spreads across Jamie¡¯s face. ¡°She¡¯d think it meant someone who likes skipping a lot. Like her.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say, smiling, ¡°you¡¯ll let me take the both of you out to sea one day.¡±


    Jamie nudges my leg with hers. ¡°And risk getting caught by the boom?¡±


    ¡°Hey, it made me a genius,¡± I say.


    Sheughs, full and free, and it sounds like her old self. Behind us the sun dips behind the horizon, painting the marina in gold, but I watch the woman beside me instead. Herughter feels more rare.


    JAMIE


    I feel ridiculous, and judging by Parker¡¯s smile, I must look it too.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know where to start,¡± I say. The rack of weights in front of me is wide enough to stretch wall-to-wall in his garage. Parker has every weight, and with different handles, too. Some are shaped like a heavy ball with one on top. I think they¡¯re called kettlebells, but it¡¯s been years since I went to a gym.


    ¡°Start with the lightest,¡± he says, and grabs a heavy pair himself. ¡°You can copy what I do, or modify it to fit you. No rights or wrongs.¡±


    I look at the bench in the corner with its te-stacked bar. ¡°Looks like a lot of things could go wrong.¡±


    Parkerughs. It¡¯s tinged with hoarseness. He must have just woken up, like me. The speaker in the corner ys soft music from his phone. He¡¯s in the same workout clothes asst week, ck shorts and a white T-shirt, and looks pristine. At least I¡¯ve managed to find a T-shirt without paint stains.


    ¡°Just give it a go,¡± he says, ¡°and see what happens.¡±


    So I do. It¡¯s miserable, and I realize halfway through that I have no strength at all in my upper body. It¡¯s all rubber, and as I stand there panting in the corner, I wonder how the hell I became this person. Living at my mother¡¯s, working as a waitress, running from Lee and unable to do ten straight shoulder presses with the lightest of weights.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Parker says. He puts down the giant weight he¡¯s been using and wipes sweat from his forehead. ¡°That was great.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me.¡±


    ¡°It was, though. It¡¯s your first time. You¡¯ll have to go slow.¡± He shrugs, irreverent, casual, and as unbreakable as always. ¡°Come on, James. Do your squats next.¡±


    I drag myself from exercise to exercise. With a tact I never saw teenage Parker disy, he doesn¡¯t look at me. Only twice does he offer pointers. I could probably use a hundred more, but I appreciate the restraint.


    And watching him makes the pain in my body easier to bear.


    He moves through the gym like it¡¯s his personal space, an extension of his body, a tool and a sanctuary. He lifts strong and silent, and takes the time to stretch in between muscle groups.


    It makes my pathetic bicep curls a tiny bit more enjoyable, to watch his muscles flex beneath his shirt.


    It¡¯s also intimate in a way I hadn¡¯t anticipated. To breathe and lift and sweat in the same space as someone else, and slowly, I surrender to that, too. He¡¯s already seen more of me in the few weeks I¡¯ve been back than I had ever nned for.


    And it feels good to have a true friend again. The easy conversation, theck of poisonous subtext, the jokes that are genuine, without any mocking in them. It¡¯s like a balm to the soul after years with Lee.


    I finish thest of my sit-ups with a huff and lie back on the floor. My T-shirt sticks to my skin.


    Parker steps into view, using the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his face.


    Man, is he in shape.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost seven,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m going to run down to the boardwalk and take a swim. Want to join?¡±


    I look away from the faint line of brown hair on his stomach, disappearing into his shorts. ¡°Thanks, but I should get home. Emma usually wakes up around now.¡±


    ¡°Another time, then.¡± He pulls me up to my feet. ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°Tired. I¡¯m not looking forward to the sorenesster.¡±


    He grins. ¡°Means it¡¯s working. You did great, James.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, and look him up and down, like I¡¯m evaluating him. ¡°So did you. I don¡¯t know if anyone¡¯s told you this, but you could y sports. Football, maybe. Or sailing.¡±


    Parkerughs. ¡°Such ttery.¡±


    ¡°I can be nice, on asion.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m learning that these days.¡± He shuts the garage door behind him and runs a hand through his hair. The morning is beautiful, the air crisp. ¡°You¡¯re wee toe back any morning, all right?¡±


    ¡°When I can walk again, I might.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be that bad,¡± he says, and gives me a wink. ¡°Not after the first time.¡±


    My mouth falls open. In all the jokes and arguments Parker and I exchanged back in the day, they were never sexual. It was a barrier we never crossed.


    But here he is, doing just that.


    Parker¡¯s smile widens as he watches me process his words. ¡°Speechless? That¡¯s a first.¡±


    ¡°Just figuring out my response,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know what kind of answer you¡¯ll survive.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡± He jogs backwards, heels sharp on the sidewalk. ¡°Tell meter at work, James. I can¡¯t wait to hear it.¡±

 Small Town Hero C19

    Then he disappears down the street, his tall form heading toward the band of blue that glitters in the far distance. I watch him for a few extra seconds.


    Emma is awake when I get home, but she¡¯s still in bed, rubbing her eyes. ¡°Mommy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± I say. ¡°Come down when you¡¯re ready, okay? I¡¯ll get breakfast started.¡±


    ¡°Pancakes?¡±


    ¡°Not today, sweetheart.¡±


    She makes a disapproving sound and turns over in bed. Other parents talk about children who bounce out of bed, but Emma has always been a mini-teenager in that regard. She loves sleeping.


    I don¡¯t start my shift at the yacht club until after lunch, so I spend the morning working on the designs for the website in the backyard. Mom¡¯sputer dies on me twice, but it gets the job done. Slowly.


    Mom sits next to me and watches Emma y with the bubbles again. ¡°She needs friends,¡± she says. ¡°Do any of your old high school friends have kids?¡±


    I take a sip of my ice tea. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That would be great, you know. A ydate or something. Or I could take her along to the yground over by the mall some day?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a good idea, actually. We could all go. Maybe on Saturday.¡±


    Mom makes a humming sound and looks back down at the book she¡¯s reading. But she¡¯s not quiet for long. ¡°Emma said something interesting. Yesterday.¡±


    My hand stills on the trackpad. ¡°Did she?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was about her dad.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Honey¡­ what happened there?¡±


    I stare at the screen. I want to sink into it, to be one with the pixels. To never hear or see again. ¡°What did Emma say?¡±


    ¡°Nothing much. I opened a new pack of ying dough, you know the one I bought at the dor storest week?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And she hesitated before ying with it.¡± Mom shakes her head, her eyes on Emma in the distance. ¡°She said her dad hated it¡­ and she wanted to ask you first if it was okay.¡±


    I close my eyes. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t feel right, honey. A six-year-old isn¡¯t supposed to think like that.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s allowed to think any way she wants.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course, but¡­ you never asked for permission.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m me, and Emma¡¯s Emma.¡±


    ¡°I asked if she missed her father.¡±


    ¡°Mom!¡±


    She shrugs, unrepentant. ¡°It¡¯s not a weird question. She hasn¡¯t spoken about him once since you two got here, and neither have you. Honey¡­ I don¡¯t mean to pry¡­ But I¡¯ll be here to listen if you want to talk about it. You know that.¡±


    I run a hand over my face. It feels damp from my post-workout shower, and I know I should get ready for my shift. Close down this monster of aputer and flee from the questions.


    ¡°Did he hurt you?¡± Mom asks. There¡¯s hesitation in her voice. ¡°Hurt¡­ Emma?¡±


    ¡°No. Never,¡± I say.


    ¡°To the first? Or the second?¡±


    ¡°Lee never raised a hand to either of us. That wasn¡¯t his way.¡±


    She exhales. ¡°All right. Well, that¡¯s something, I suppose. Does he know where you are?¡±


    ¡°He might suspect, but he doesn¡¯t know.¡± I push back from the chair and stay for another moment, watching the sun glint off Emma¡¯s hair. She¡¯sughing, now, as burst of bubbles rises to the sky. Last night she¡¯d insisted on drawing another boat, and it had three barely discernible people on it this time. One of them had a funny-looking head. It¡¯s a captain¡¯s hat, Emma had informed me grandly.


    ¡°Well,¡± Mom says. ¡°You two belong with me, and if he ever questions that, he¡¯ll have another thinging.¡±


    I put a hand on her shoulder and feel a million years old. That isn¡¯t Lee¡¯s way either. His is insidious, maniptive words and sweetpliments that turn sour in a matter of seconds. ¡°I love you, Mom.¡±


    ¡°I love you too, sweetie.¡±


    PARKER


    The Junior Sailing Regatta is one of Paradise Shores¡¯ biggest summer events.


    My mother, bless her heart, has been on the organizingmittee for the past decade. They¡¯re a group of fearsome Paradise locals who oversee the whole thing likemanders rallying their troops.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    And they¡¯ve chosen my restaurant as their war room.


    Stephen stops by my side, a pinched look on his face. ¡°I just heard them mention ast-minute addition of bouncy castles.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°To be here, in the yacht club¡¯s parking lot.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thank you,¡± I say, and head over to stave off this disaster. Mom is at the head of the table, her hair up in a French twist-she had informed me it was called that just a few hours earlier. Neil is also at the table, by necessity, as he manages the regatta itself. He¡¯s wearing the old sailing club jacket, logo faded on his chest.


    Bouncy castles.


    I clear my throat and inform them in no uncertain terms to nix that idea.


    ¡°None at all?¡± John McIntyre says. He¡¯s staring at me across the table with all the ferocity of a general.


    I shake my head. ¡°My head chef needs our entire parking lot for the unloading and loading of supplies. We¡¯re manning all the food stalls out front.¡±

 Small Town Hero C20

    He sighs, but the suggestion is dropped, thank God. Thest thing we need is an unsupervised giant intable.


    By the time they¡¯ve nailed down thest details, the dinner service is almost through, and outside the rain is pouring down. It turns the ocean from a deep blue into a hazy grayness andshes against our sea-facing windows. The group files out of the restaurant, my mom lingering just long enough to kiss me on the cheek.


    ¡°It looks great in here,¡± she says. ¡°I heard about the new chef.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s just started, and she¡¯s working on revamping the menu.¡±


    Mom pats me on the shoulder. ¡°Can¡¯t wait to see it, ch¨¦ri. Your father sends his love.¡±


    ¡°Let him know I said hi.¡±


    She nods and walks with measured movements toward the exit. She¡¯s still a beautiful woman, and she knows it, carrying herself with the knowledge in every fingertip. On her way she passes Jamie. I see her, stopping and smoothing her hands over her uniform. But Mom doesn¡¯t recognize her and disappears out the door without a second nce.


    Jamie looks at me, relief on her face.


    I grin at her. ¡°A narrow escape.¡±


    She pretends to wipe her forehead. ¡°I can¡¯t believe she didn¡¯t recognize me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve changed a bit since she saw youst,¡± I say. ¡°The hair¡­ the clothes.¡± I tap the side of my nose. ¡°Your ring.¡±


    ¡°God, the nose ring. I was edgy.¡±


    ¡°The edgiest,¡± I agree.


    ¡°I had to express my frustrations with the world somehow, you know?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I say seriously. ¡°What better way to make a political stand than a piercing?¡±


    Jamie pretends to aim a kick my way. ¡°Watch it,¡± she says. ¡°Your big brothers aren¡¯t here to defend you.¡±


    My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline. ¡°Defend me? Oh, the insult.¡±


    Her eyes are alight with life. ¡°Whoops.¡±


    ¡°Come here, you-¡± I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m nning to do, advancing with my arms out. Sheughs and backs away.


    Then she freezes, her eyes on something behind me. I straighten and she does the same. Back to professionalism.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she says.


    ¡°It¡¯s my bad.¡± I nce behind me, but all I see is Kylie, one of the waitresses hired for the summer. She looks away from us as soon as she sees me watching.


    Jamie shrugs. ¡°I should get going.¡±


    ¡°Your shift¡¯s over?¡±


    ¡°Just ended.¡±


    I nce at the windows. The rain doesn¡¯t think in shifts, it seems, and it¡¯s pouring down like the sky¡¯s cracked itself wide open. ¡°On your bike?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, and runs a hand over her thigh. ¡°Even if I can barely move my legs.¡±


    ¡°That sore?¡±


    ¡°I feel like I was just run over by a truck,¡± she says dryly, and looks at me like I¡¯m entirely to me.


    Iugh. ¡°You¡¯ll feel worse tomorrow, but the day after? You¡¯ll feel better than you did before the workout. Nowe on.¡±


    ¡°Come where?¡± she asks behind me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll drive you home.¡± I¡¯m already heading for the exit.


    ¡°Parker, you don¡¯t have to do that.¡±


    ¡°I know. But we¡¯re going in the same direction anyway,¡± I say. As if I¡¯d let her bike in the pouring rain.


    Jamie¡¯s face is unreadable for a moment, but then she nods. ¡°Okay. Let me get my bag.¡±


    I grab one of the yacht club¡¯s old umbres and put her bike in the trunk of the Jeep. By the time we make it into the car, my shoulders are wet and her hair lies damp around her face.


    ¡°Shit, it¡¯s pouring out there.¡±


    ¡°Monsoon style.¡± I put the car in drive and look over at her, sitting there in my passenger seat. I don¡¯t know if this has ever happened before. If old me would have believed it if it had. Her legs are bare beneath the pencil skirt of her uniform, stretched out in the Jeep¡¯s ample leg room. ¡°How¡¯s Emma doing?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s probably begging my mother to let her run around in the backyard right now,¡± Jamie says dryly, but there¡¯s warmth in her tone.


    ¡°She loves rain?¡±


    ¡°Adores it,¡± Jamie says. ¡°Parker¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Thank you so much for your idea with the boat the other day. She had a st.¡±


    I focus on the windshield wipers. ¡°She did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She drew another shipst night, and she put all of us on the boat.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say. It hits me right beneath the breastbone, and my hands tighten on the steering wheel.


    ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t worry,¡± Jamie says, amusement in her voice, ¡°she gave you a huge captain¡¯s hat.¡±


    ¡°A captain¡¯s hat?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Like Captain Hook.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Give it to me straight,¡± I say. ¡°Did I also get the hand?¡±

 Small Town Hero C21

    Jamieughs. I savor the sound, to how it warms the entire car. ¡°I didn¡¯t see one, but I can¡¯t actually be sure.¡±


    I don¡¯t know that I¡¯m doing it until I turn to the right, choosing a route I rarely drive these days. Off Ocean Drive and past the gas station, through the roundabout¡­


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been back here in years,¡± Jamie says.


    I slow the car down to a crawl. ¡°Does it look the same?¡±


    She leans across the center console to get a better look. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°But also smaller, somehow.¡±


    Paradise High sits right across the street. The two houses, the north and south building, the quad, the benches underneath therge maple. It all feels like an eon ago.


    And also like yesterday, with her beside me, someone so strongly associated with this ce.


    When I turn the wheel this time it¡¯s entirely deliberate. I pull onto the parking lot. Beside it, the quad stretches out in an endless field of green, soaking up the rain.


    ¡°Remember that spot?¡± I say, pointing toward the bleachers.


    Jamie groans. ¡°Oh my God, I haven¡¯t thought about the Smoke Corner in forever.¡±


    ¡°I saw you there a lot,¡± I say, ¡°myst year.¡±


    ¡°Not a lot,e on. I was only there sometimes.¡±


    ¡°You were one of the edgy kids.¡±


    ¡°Paradise Shores didn¡¯t have edgy kids,¡± she counters. ¡°My nose piercing and Jonah¡¯s shaved head were about as grunge as it got.¡±


    That makes me grin. ¡°Still, you never cared about fitting in.¡±


    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t fit in,¡± she says. ¡°You had the sailing club, and football, and the Marchand name¡­e on, you were the school¡¯s favorite senior.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡±


    She raises an eyebrow. ¡°Isn¡¯t it? I remember standing right there,¡± she says, pointing at the Smoke Corner, ¡°during one of the games and hearing the entire bleacher chant your name.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so I had a few good games. We were a terrible high school football team, if you look nationally,¡± I say. It¡¯s the truth. Paradise High is in the business of producing academically inclined kids, not athletes, and fills their extracurricrs up with activities that¡¯ll look good on college applications. The school has every sport under the sun, including a partnership with the Sherman Riding School outside of town.


    Football just happened to draw crowds.


    ¡°That might be true,¡± Jamie says, ¡°but that doesn¡¯t change the fact that you were a star in school.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°James.¡±


    ¡°You, Turner and the others all had your pick of who to bring to prom,¡± she says, eyes meeting mine. ¡°The entire body of girls, from juniors to seniors, basically.¡±


    ¡°Come on.¡± I run a hand over my jaw, ufortable with her words. They weren¡¯t true, not really, but they had clearly felt true to her at the time.


    She raises an eyebrow, and in that single second, I can almost see the nose piercing and the short, ck hair, interposed on the grown woman in front of me. ¡°Wow. Are you¡­ blushing, Marchand?¡±


    I snort. ¡°No. Remind me, howe you didn¡¯t go? Neither you nor Lily went that year.¡± I remembered, because I¡¯d looked for her at prom, wondering what asshole she¡¯d gone with.Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I was boycotting it,¡± she says. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me why. It made sense to me at the time.¡±


    ¡°A political statement?¡±


    ¡°Most likely.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me Lily¡¯s had to do with Hayden?¡±


    ¡°Of course it did,¡± Jamie says, effortlessly. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you never saw that. Saw them.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to,¡± I say. My windshield wipers are still going, a hypnotizing movement outside my front window. ¡°My little sister and my best friend? No.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re okay with it now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s different now.¡±


    Jamie looks down at her hands, at long fingers and bare nails. ¡°She texted me this morning.¡±


    ¡°Lily?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. ¡°What did she say?¡±


    ¡°Nothing I didn¡¯t expect,¡± Jamie says, ¡°and nothing I didn¡¯t deserve.¡±


    ¡°Why are you worried about seeing her? You don¡¯t seem to be concerned about me, and we didn¡¯t talk for years either.¡±


    It makes her roll her eyes, just as I¡¯d hoped. ¡°But you and I weren¡¯t best friends. We didn¡¯t have a pact to name our kids after one another.¡±


    ¡°So I guess you didn¡¯t keep the friendship bracelet I gave you?¡± I put a hand to my chest. ¡°Ouch.¡±


    ¡°God, I can¡¯t imagine you ever wearing one of those.¡±


    ¡°Me neither. But tell me, if you want to.¡±


    Jamie runs a finger along the hem of her skirt. ¡°You¡¯ve already seen the worst of me,¡± she says. ¡°I guess with Lily, I¡¯m just¡­ embarrassed. And I feel guilty, and I don¡¯t know where to start.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll understand,¡± I say, and hope to God it¡¯s true, because I don¡¯t. The worst of her? I don¡¯t know what she means.


    ¡°She might.¡± She shakes her head, and the tone of her voice isn¡¯t one I recognize. ¡°I¡¯ve missed her a lot.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s missed you too, I know that much.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll be at the regatta,¡± Jamie says. It¡¯s not a question, but I answer anyway.


    ¡°Yes, she will. Hayden should be too. Jamie¡­¡±

 Small Town Hero C22

    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    Something feels hard in my throat. I think of her oldputer, of her daughter without a father, and the years of her life I know nothing about. My mind fills them with the worst of the worst. ¡°I want to know about where you¡¯ve been, too, but I won¡¯t ask, and you don¡¯t have to tell me. But I want you to know you can. Okay?¡±


    Jamie¡¯s eyes meet mine. They¡¯re hesitant, and a bit soft, and a bit guarded, all at the same time. The enigma that has always been her.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she says quietly. And it sounds like she¡¯s thanking me for a lot more than just that.


    Maybe that¡¯s why I say the next words, after pulling back out on the street. Continuing the drive toward her house and her waiting daughter. Or maybe it¡¯s just the longing inside me, stronger now than it had ever been as a teenager.


    ¡°I should have asked you to prom,¡± I say. ¡°Even if you would¡¯ve turned me down out of principle.¡±


    Jamie¡¯s breath catches next to me. It¡¯s tiny, but I hear it. Then her voice turns smooth and teasing. ¡°I would have said yes,¡± she says, ¡°even if none of your friends would have understood it.¡±All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°They never had to,¡± I say, ¡°as long as the two of us did.¡±


    JAMIE


    ¡°More?¡± I ask Kylie.


    She nods, ponytail bobbing. ¡°A lot more.¡±


    I leave the stall she¡¯s manning and head back to the yacht club, ignoring the protest in my legs. Yesterday¡¯s workout had been brutal. Parker had decided to take a more personal approach to my workout, by exchanging my light dumbbells for heavier ones.


    It¡¯s your third time, he¡¯d said. You can handle these.


    So here I am the next day, thighs on fire, racing up to grab another box with snack-sized bags of chips. The lobster rolls are selling exactly like one would imagine in Paradise Shores at the Junior Sailing Regatta.


    Which is to say, like hotcakes.


    The docks are filled with activity. Boat owners have docked elsewhere for the weekend, leaving the marina free for the try-your-hand-at-sailing sses. People of all ages are enjoying the sun, waiting for the big race to begin¡­ and eating lobster rolls with a side of chips.


    I almost collide with Kristen in the kitchen. The new head chef is female, and tall, and brilliant, and she steps neatly out of my way. ¡°Good looking out, Jamie,¡± she tells me. It had only taken her a day to learn everybody¡¯s names.


    The restaurant is just as busy. Families fleeing the busy marina fill up the dining room. This event always draws crowds from outside of town.


    I make it back down to the docks with the two giant crates of chip bags. Kylie and Sarah are working the stall, one epting payment and the other making lobster rolls. I don¡¯t envy them.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Kylie throws over her shoulder.


    I nod and reach for my water bottle, tucked behind the stall. Pull my beautiful new cap low on my head and look out at the crowd.


    There will be people here that I know, walking through the crowd, minding their own business¡­ a small part of my past and a potential part of my future. And I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m ready toe face-to-face with it yet. But life rarely gives you things when you¡¯re ready. It gives them to you when you need to learn them.


    But why couldn¡¯t the learning part be a little less hard?


    The dock closest to me has a life-vest station. All kids participating in the free try-sailing sessions have to be vested up. A man is helping out, tall and broad-shouldered. He¡¯s wearing a faded Paradise High Sailing Club T-shirt and his dark blond hair is hidden beneath a navy cap.


    It¡¯s the same one I¡¯m wearing.


    His hands move confidently over the life vest, tightening the straps, securing them on kid after kid. I can see him talking to each and every one, a steady smile on his face. The kind that lets you know everything will be all right.


    If only I could be eight years old and in need of a life vest.


    Parker tightens the vest on thest boy in line, who can¡¯t be more than twelve, and gives him a high five. The kids follow the younger instructors down the dock to the waiting array of dinghies. A trail of parents walk behind them, phones in their hands, ready to take pictures.


    I watch as Parker walks back up the dock. He¡¯s been a moving target the whole day. Doing anything and everything that needs be done for the regatta to run smoothly.


    With his old sailing shoes, the beige shorts, the navy cap¡­ in a second I see the teenage jock and the grown man interposed on one another. The golden boy and the golden man, the safety and the smugness. All of it blends together.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re hiding out?¡±


    I nod toward the stall. ¡°The lobster rolls are a huge hit.¡±


    ¡°I should grab er. Have you had lunch?¡±


    ¡°No, there hasn¡¯t been time.¡±


    He grins and grips the brim of my cap, tugging it down. ¡°Are you telling me your boss doesn¡¯t give you lunch breaks?¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s an absolute terror.¡±


    ¡°Making you work in this heat, too. I hate him for you.¡±


    I smile. It¡¯s so easy, being with him. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Well, your boss is d to hear it,¡± he says. Blue eyes dip to my lips. ¡°You don¡¯t smile enough these days. I¡¯ve noticed.¡±


    Oh. I don¡¯t know what to say to that. But his eyes don¡¯t linger on my lips and he doesn¡¯t borate. No, he just taps his fingers against his cap. ¡°Brilliant job with these.¡±


    ¡°They came out pretty good, right?¡± I take mine off, sliding my ponytail out the back. It¡¯s a deep navy color with white lettering on the front, together with the logo. Paradise Shores Yacht Club. ¡°I¡¯m just worried the font is a little too small.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± he says. ¡°We¡¯re sticking with this design. No alterations.¡±


    ¡°None?¡±


    Parker takes my cap and puts it back on my head. Careful hands pull my ponytail through the hole in the back. ¡°None,¡± he says. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you got the prototypes delivered on time for this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a miracle worker,¡± I whisper. He¡¯s standing very close.


    ¡°After seeing the new website go live yesterday, I co-sign on that.¡± Parker¡¯s hand falls to my shoulder, curving over my skin. ¡°How are you feeling about being here today?¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I say, but I can hear what he¡¯s really asking, and I hate that I¡¯m someone he thinks needs it. But I hate that he¡¯s right to do so even more.


    ¡°You can leave, you know, if you change your mind,¡± he says. ¡°If you want to avoid¡­¡±


    His sister. Knowing how much he loves Lily, and still he would say that¡­


    ¡°I won¡¯t. I want to be here,¡± I say. ¡°Besides, my mother is joining with Emma soon. She wanted to have a lobster roll and watch the race.¡±

 Small Town Hero C23

    He grins and drops his hand. ¡°She¡¯ll love it.¡±


    ¡°She wanted to take a sailing ss, too, but-¡±


    ¡°The minimum age is eight. She¡¯ll have to wait two years.¡±


    He remembered when her birthday was. I¡¯d only mentioned that in passing, weeks ago. ¡°Yes,¡± I say, a bit stunned. ¡°She will, if we¡¯re still here then.¡±


    Parker¡¯s eyes grow serious. ¡°Of course you¡¯ll be here then. My new newsletter won¡¯t run itself.¡±


    I run a hand over my arm. ¡°No, I suppose it won¡¯t.¡±


    Someone calls from the docks. It¡¯s Neil, I think, and Parker turns. ¡°Gotta go,¡± he says. ¡°Sorry about that. I¡¯ll see youter?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. Go,¡± I tell him, and watch as he bounds across the dock, cutting through the mass of people. The marina is his home and these docks his streets, and it isn¡¯t long until I lose him amidst the crown. So I turn back to the food stand and the waiting line of people.


    ¡°Everything okay?¡± I call inside.


    ¡°We¡¯re out of rolls,¡± Sarah says. ¡°Can you get another box?¡±


    And so it continues. My mother and Emma arrive an hourter, walking down the dock. Emma is holding my mom¡¯s hand, her eyes round as she looks around. Everyone is here. Craftsmen sell jewelry, the gto shop has a stand, there¡¯s face painting and live music. It¡¯s more than a regatta-it¡¯s Paradise¡¯s summer festival.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    Emma spots me first and breaks into a run, her hair whirling around her. She bounces on her stic sandals. ¡°Mommy, they have face painting!¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say. Her hand is warm in mine. ¡°Want to try itter?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, please, can I?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely, but we should eat first. Hi, Mom.¡±


    Mom smiles. ¡°Huge turnout this year.¡±


    ¡°Bigger than usual?¡±


    ¡°It feels like it, yes. Must have something to do with the new leadership.¡±


    We grab three rolls and a snack-sized bag of chips to share, sitting down on the dock. Emma has a thousand questions and Mom and I do our best to answer all of them. Between the two of us, we know embarrassingly little about sailing for two people who live in Paradise.


    But Emma doesn¡¯t seem to mind.


    ¡°Look!¡± she exims. It¡¯s the third look in five minutes.


    ¡°At what?¡±


    She points in the distance. ¡°It¡¯s the captain,¡± she says and reaches for another chip. They¡¯re more interesting than her roll.


    So it is. Parker is standing on one of the training dinghies, his arms moving as he rigs the sail. It must have tipped, because clinging to a dinghy next to it is a teenager in a life vest.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the captain?¡± Mom asks.


    ¡°Parker. He showed Emma his boat the other night,¡± I say.


    ¡°Oh. Interesting. Lily¡¯s¡­ brother, right? Did I get it right this time?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and he was kind enough to give me a job at the yacht club.¡± I emphasize the word kind.


    Mom¡¯s eyes glitter. ¡°That¡¯s right. And seeing his boat, Jamie?¡±


    She¡¯s always been talented at writing her own narratives. Maybe that¡¯s always the case with creative types, an extra sensibility right at their fingertips. Her mind is great at putting two and two together and getting six.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I warn her. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t say a word,¡± she says, in a tone that makes it clear she¡¯s thinking all of it anyway.


    After we¡¯ve eaten, I take Emma to get her face painted as Mom chats with a few of her neighbors. Half of the charm of the regatta is the socializing.


    Maybe that¡¯s why I always avoided it.


    ¡°There she is!¡± Emma says, spotting thedy with the paint. But there¡¯s something familiar in the set of her shoulders, the auburn hair up in a bun.


    ¡°Wait-¡±


    But Emma has already raced forwards. All her shyness suddenly forgotten, she stops in front of Lily, hands knotted in front. She rocks back on her feet.


    I watch, in slow-motion, like I¡¯m observing a car crash, how Lily leans forward. ¡°Hi there,¡± I hear her say. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Emma,¡± my daughter says. She sucks in her bottom lip, suddenly remembering her personality. The girl is always shy around strangers. She looks over at me. Come here, the look says. Now.


    ¡°Hi Emma,¡± Lily says. ¡°My name¡¯s Lily. How are you?¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Her bravery forgotten, Emma takes a small step toward me. I reach her in time to put a hand on her shoulder.


    Lily looks up at me. Her familiar face freezes, eyes widening. ¡°Jamie?¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say.


    She swallows, and looks back down at Emma. Lily blinks and blinks again, her eyes suddenly glossy. ¡°Hello,¡± she says quietly.


    Emma curves her body into mine and looks at the paint in front of Lily. ¡°Do you paint?¡± She whispers the question.


    ¡°Yes. Yes, I do,¡± Lily says. She takes a deep breath and blinks again. ¡°Do you want a face painting?¡±


    ¡°M-hm.¡±


    ¡°Well,e and have a seat here.¡± Lily pads the stool in front of her. ¡°What are you in the mood for? I can make you into a butterfly or I can paint flowers, stars.¡±


    ¡°A butterfly?¡±


    ¡°Yes, like this.¡± She points at a picture on aminated sheet. ¡°But I can also paint you as Spider-Man or as a tiger.¡± Lily looks up at me, half-smiling. ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll choose one of those, but I have to say it.¡±

 Small Town Hero C24

    I meet her half-smile with one of my own. ¡°Emma loves butterflies. Don¡¯t you, sweetie?¡±


    Emma nods. ¡°I have a butterfly bed,¡± she says shyly.


    ¡°A butterfly bed? Wow.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bed cover with butterflies,¡± I rify. Over the past week Mom and I had repurposed the office she never used into a child¡¯s room again. It¡¯s a work in progress, but it means Emma has a space that¡¯s hers and hers alone. And she¡¯d picked out her bed cover herself.


    Lily smiles and reaches over to steady Emma¡¯s chin. ¡°I see. What color is it?¡±


    ¡°Purple,¡± Emma whispers, trying very hard to stay still, ¡°and a little pink.¡±


    I watch as my old best friend, the girl I¡¯ve known since I was Emma¡¯s age, and my daughter talk to one another. Watching the careful strokes of Lily¡¯s brush over Emma¡¯s forehead, drawing swirling lines of a butterfly¡¯s wings.


    ¡°How old are you?¡± Lily asks.


    Emma takes a moment to answer. ¡°Six. And a bit.¡±


    ¡°I have a son that¡¯s almost your age. Well, he¡¯s four,¡± Lily says, ¡°and I promised to paint him as Spider-Manter.¡± She focuses on Emma¡¯s cheek, on the pink swirl being revealed. ¡°His name is Jamie.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my mom¡¯s name!¡±


    Lily nods, and slowly looks up at me. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°It is.¡±


    It takes me a long moment to breathe. To find the movement, the words. I crouch beside Emma and put an arm around her waist. Steadying her, but really steadying me. ¡°I saw your messagest week,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry for not answering.¡±


    Lily shakes her head. Her eyes are trained on my daughter¡¯s face, on the butterfly that¡¯s spreading its wings beneath her talented hands. Her expression is one I know well. She¡¯s trying her hardest not to show emotion, but that¡¯s nevere easy to her.


    I¡¯ve missed her so much, and the weight of it suddenly feels like a boulder on my shoulders, crushing me down to the dock. We¡¯d been sisters at one point.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not answering in the past, too. For being away so long. I¡¯m sorry for all of it.¡±


    Lily shakes her head again. It¡¯s a tiny movement, and I don¡¯t know if it means not here or no need. The brush in her hand trembles, and on her ring finger is a beautiful sapphire, the color of the ocean, resting next to a wedding band. She got Hayden in the end and I wasn¡¯t there to see it.


    ¡°Do you want to meet next week? Maybe¡­ go for a walk along the boardwalk?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lily says. ¡°I¡¯d love that.¡±


    There¡¯s so much to say. To apologize for, to exin. But it¡¯s a start, and something inside my chest loosens, like a rubber band expanding. Allowing me to breathe.


    Emma is doing her best to sit perfectly still, but her eyes are flicking between us. I smile at her. ¡°Sweetie, thisdy is one of Mom¡¯s friends. We¡¯ve known each other since we were your age.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    Lily nods, a teasing smile spreading across her face. ¡°Oh, yes. Your mom was a naughty one.¡±


    Emma¡¯s eyes go round. ¡°Naughty?¡±


    ¡°Only sometimes,¡± I say, and shoot Lily a look.


    Sheughs. ¡°Only sometimes,¡± she agrees, ¡°but it was more often than me!¡±


    When Emma is done, she bounces off the chair like she¡¯s been chained to it for days. Lily holds up the mirror and Emma lets out an oooh of joy. She¡¯s a pink and purple butterfly with glitter on her cheeks. Getting her to wash her face tonight will be impossible.


    ¡°So pretty,¡± she breathes.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell Lily and dig through my pocket for money. There¡¯s a donation box next to the paints, the name of a charity on the front. ¡°You¡¯ve made her day.¡±


    ¡°She made mine,¡± Lily says. ¡°Jamie¡­ I¡¯d love for you to meet my son, too.¡±


    Something feels tight in my throat. I think of all the years I wasted, and all the weeks I¡¯ve been here without making this right. ¡°I¡¯d like that. A lot.¡±


    She smiles again and I leave her to the few children who are waiting for their turn. I¡¯d forgotten, somehow, that this was something she did during the junior regattas. Something she used to do for years.


    Emma skips with joy the entire way back to my mother, who¡¯ll stay with her during the race while I work.


    The crowds don¡¯t let up, only settle into a hush as the race begins. Mom and Emmae to stand next to me when it starts. No one wants lobster rolls, or face paint, or gto. Not right now.


    There¡¯s fierce concentration on the faces of the junior sailers in the marina, lining up their dinghies. The race is at sea, and out in the bay, there are motorboats stationed in case of emergencies. But these sailors are in their teens, and they¡¯ve been doing this since the age of eight, all across New Ennd.


    Parker had won his year.


    I put my hands on Emma¡¯s shoulders when the race starts. Together we watch the boats glide out, each one quicker than thest. The boats cut through the water like butter,pletely at odds with the frantic skills and hard work put in by the sailors.


    Emma watches with bated breath. She¡¯s strung taut, like one of her bubbles, and I know I¡¯ve lost her to the magic of Paradise Shores. We haven¡¯t lived anywhere that¡¯s had this much life and excitement.


    ¡°Look,¡± Mom whispers by my side. She nods toward the other side of the marina. ¡°Lily¡¯s over there.¡±


    My eyes track the group of people standing close together. Even in the distance, I can make them out.


    Lily, standing tall on the dock. Hayden is beside her, his hand firm on a small boy intent on leaning over the side of the dock. Beside them is a tall man I haven¡¯t seen since he left for college, not in person, anyway. It has to be Henry. There¡¯s a dark-haired woman by his side and a small girl on his shoulders.


    Henry and his wife are here, and Lily and Hayden, and Parker,ing down the dock to join them. Lily¡¯s son bolts toward him and Parker catches the boy around the waist, turning him upside down.


    The sun is hiding, now, behind thick clouds that rolled in from the ocean. But I keep my cap pulled low and watch them, instead of the race. I watch Lily¡¯s son. I watch the siblings¡¯ easy conversation and familiarity.


    And I let the emotion swell over me, the familiar wistfulness. I knew them all once and they¡¯re still here, still beautiful and golden, with idiosyncrasies and conflicts and love and warmth. I¡¯d been jealous once. Now I just feel grateful.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Mommy?¡± Emma asks. ¡°Can I go sailing one day? Please?¡±


    I bend over and kiss her cheek, once, twice, three times. She squirms with annoyedughter and pushes me away. ¡°Can I?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Of course you can.¡±


    And perhaps I should try too.


    JAMIE


    The house on Greene Street is quiet. It¡¯s the gentle kind, a soft silence rather than the uneasy ones that precede a storm. No one is holding their breath. No one is preparing their apologies in advance.

 Small Town Hero C25

    I¡¯m sitting on the couch, legs pulled up beneath a nket, and I¡¯m reading a book. It¡¯s been years since Ist finished one. Somewhere over the years, of Lee and motherhood and trying to make ends meet, hobbies had fallen by the wayside. Other priorities had asserted themselves, and they¡¯d never left. Not until now.


    I put the book down and look at the candles I¡¯ve lit on the coffee table. Two years into our rtionship, Lee had thrown my splurge of a scented candle into the trash. Never waste my money on things like that again, he¡¯d said. Are you truly that stupid?


    It hadn¡¯t been a question that invited an answer, and for years, I¡¯d been great at not giving him one.


    I shouldn¡¯t think of him, or the past. I don¡¯t want to. But with the house empty, Mom away at her book-and-wine club and Emma asleep upstairs, the thoughts find me atst. They always do.


    He hasn¡¯t called or texted again, but I know it¡¯sing. With him, something¡¯s alwaysing.


    There¡¯s a knock on the front door.


    I startle, the book falling from myp. Has he found us? My eyes flick to the candles. I should blow them out.


    In the next instant I hate myself for the thought. It can¡¯t be him, and I¡¯ll buy however many candles I want with my own money. Familiar guilt follows, at ever allowing him to control me.


    There¡¯s another knock on the door. They bounce in a pattern, insistent, but not threatening. I inch toward the living room window and peer out.


    Parker is standing on my mother¡¯s porch with a brown paper bag in hand.


    My muscles rx immediately, the fight or flight response de-activated.


    ¡°Jamie!¡± Parker calls. ¡°I¡¯m leaving a special delivery for you outside!¡±


    I hurry toward the front door. Toote I remember I¡¯m in my pajama shorts with tiny boats on them, a cast-off from my mom, with unwashed hair. ¡°Wait, wait¡­¡±


    He turns on the steps, and a smile spreads across his tanned face. He got more color yesterday during the regatta. ¡°Hello, James.¡±


    ¡°Hi.¡±


    His gaze drops to my T-shirt, with the logo of a small brewery on it from out of state. I¡¯d designed their website. ¡°Nice outfit.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expectingpany,¡± I say, and nod toward the bag on the porch. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°That,¡± he says, climbing the steps again, ¡°is a feast for your pte, my friend.¡±


    ¡°You brought us food?¡±


    ¡°Not just any food. Look inside.¡±


    I open the bag and take a deep whiff. The scent of spices and something else, something that smells like cooked lobster and fried fish, fills my nostrils. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Kristen cooked her suggestion for the new menu tonight. I brought you a sample of everything to try.¡±


    ¡°A sample of everything?¡±


    ¡°There was enough left over,¡± he says, and his eyes drop down to the bag. ¡°And I want your opinion. Think you can bring yourself to eat delicious food?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a struggle, but anything for you, Marchand,¡± I say. My hand pauses on the doorframe. ¡°Do you¡­ want toe in?¡±


    Parker pauses on the steps. There¡¯s no grin on his face now, no teasing glint to his eyes. I wish I could inhale my words, unsay them, because I must have crossed a line. He¡¯ll say no in the nicest way possible and I¡¯ll have to move towns again.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to,¡± Parker says. ¡°If that¡¯s okay with you and Emma?¡±


    And instead I float, like one of her bubbles. ¡°Yeah, it is. Absolutely. I mean, she¡¯s asleep.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°Well, I suppose it is okay with her, then. Sure I won¡¯t wake her up?¡±


    ¡°Her bedroom is upstairs, and that girl could sleep through an earthquake. Come on,e inside.¡±


    It feels intimate, and unexpected, to have Parker in the entryway. To watch him shrug out of the thin jacket and throw it over one of Mom¡¯s chairs. He¡¯d worn a simr jacket all through high school, I remember. You¡¯d see the sailing club written over his back as he walked through the hallways with his friends, his hair sun-bleached and longer than it is now.


    ¡°Sure it¡¯s okay?¡± he asks, hands curling over the back of the chair. ¡°I can leave if you had a quiet evening nned.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m sure. Of course. It just struck me that you¡¯ve never been here before. Right?¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± he says, and then he smiles. ¡°Except the night I walked you home from Turner¡¯s party. But I dropped you off outside.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you were very respectable.¡±


    ¡°I had to be,¡± Parker says. His easy voice follows me toward the kitchen ind. ¡°You were Lily¡¯s best friend, you know.¡±


    I focus on unpacking the food onto the counter. ¡°So if I wasn¡¯t, you¡¯d havee inside? I¡¯m shocked, Marchand.¡± My tone is teasing, but there¡¯s nothing calm about my insides. I feel unmoored, adrift.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Had he really thought that?


    ¡°I might have tried to, yeah,¡± Parker says, casting me further at sea. ¡°This is a lovely house.¡±


    ¡°My mom¡¯s not here to hear you,¡± I say, looking at him over my shoulder. He¡¯s inspecting some of the drawings on the fridge.


    ¡°More boats?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yes. After that day in the restaurant, she draws them all the time.¡±


    A satisfied look settles over his features. ¡°Of course she does. She¡¯s a clever girl, like her mom.¡±


    The praise sinks into my bones, softens my movements. I survey the spread on the kitchen ind. Tupperware boxesrge and small.


    Everything looks good.


    ¡°She really cooked the entire menu, straight through?¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Parker bends by one of the windowsills, inspecting an old framed picture. It¡¯s my mother and I in Antelope Canyon, one of thest trips we¡¯d taken with my grandparents. I¡¯d worn Doc Martens into the desert and a long-sleeved ck tee.


    ¡°Did you eat all of it?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Some of each, yes,¡± he says absent-mindedly. ¡°But I wasn¡¯t alone.¡±


    ¡°Who tasted it?¡±

 Small Town Hero C26

    ¡°The family,¡± he says.


    I nod and lift the lid off a pasta dish. Of course. ¡°I saw Henry at the regatta yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Yes, he¡¯s in town with his family. I¡¯m sorry he didn¡¯t see you. He would have wanted to say hi.¡±


    I doubt that, but I don¡¯tment. ¡°Is it rare that three out of you four are in the same ce?¡±


    ¡°Not so much anymore, but it has been for a while, yeah.¡± He rolls his eyes. ¡°Rhys is impossible to pin down.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s always been his MO, though.¡±


    ¡°A rebel without a cause,¡± Parker says. ¡°Oh, that pasta basically split the table down the middle. I want to hear what you think.¡±


    I pop it into the microwave and grab a beer for him. He settles into the same chair Emma had sat in just that morning and watches me move around the space. Long legs stretched out in front, blue eyes calm. He has the same ease here as he does in the restaurant. His hand curls around the beer bottle, and in my mind I see it tightening the straps of life vests.


    ¡°I heard about you and Lily,¡± he says.


    I look down at my te of pasta. ¡°We spoke at the regatta.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. She saw Emma, too.¡±


    ¡°Emma called her the paintdy,¡± I say softly.


    Parkerughs. ¡°Like I said, she¡¯s a clever girl.¡±


    I swirl tagliatelle around my fork. There¡¯s ms in here, and crab, and a tomato sauce that smells spicy. ¡°It was a quick conversation, though,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re meeting up next week.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Parker nods to my fork. ¡°Tell me what you think.¡±


    I eat, and it¡¯s delicious, the sauce an explosion of tomato and seafood. And then the spice hits. It¡¯s deceptively subtle at first but soon rises in strength. I reach for my ss of water.


    ¡°Yeah, that was our reaction too,¡± Parker says. ¡°Dad only took one bite and said it was inedible. Faye cleared her te and called us all pathetic.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Faye? Henry¡¯s wife?¡±


    ¡°Yes, she¡¯s a badass. Her dad¡¯s Mexican and raised her up with a lot of spicy food. But it¡¯s good, right?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s delicious. You should definitely have it on the menu, but¡­ maybe two versions?¡±


    ¡°Two versions?¡±


    ¡°One less spicy and one more. Or maybe one with this tomato sauce and another with a non-spicy cream version.¡± I shrug. ¡°I¡¯m not a chef, though.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an option.¡± He pushes a bowl of hot chowder my way. ¡°How do you feel about meeting up with Lily next week?¡±


    I swirl my spoon around in the creamy liquid. ¡°What is this? Therapy hour?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m curious.¡±


    ¡°Too curious,¡± I say, and make my voice teasing. ¡°Not to mention I don¡¯t know where your loyalties lie. What if you report it all to Lily?¡±


    His eyebrows rise. ¡°I¡¯ve barely told her anything about you, you know. She asked me about you every day for a while.¡±


    ¡°Did she?¡±


    He nods. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell her about Emma.¡±


    I taste a spoonful of chowder and think of the conversations they must have had. ¡°Thank you, Parker.¡±


    His gaze softens. ¡°Grateful you is a new version, too. Compared to the past.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I was a brat back then.¡±


    ¡°You were spirited,¡± he says. ¡°There¡¯s a difference.¡±


    I snort. ¡°You¡¯re being generous, and this soup is delicious.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. It¡¯s a clear winner.¡± He pushes a piece of fried fish across the table. ¡°What about this?¡±


    It¡¯s half an hourter when I finally have to give up. I lean back, hands up in surrender. ¡°I¡¯m full,¡± I say. ¡°Can¡¯t stomach another bite. But it¡¯s delicious, Parker. A great new direction for the restaurant.¡±


    ¡°The ssics, but updated,¡± he says.


    ¡°Yes. Oh, that reminds me¡­ I added some new things to the website. Let me show you.¡±


    That¡¯s how we end up on the couch in my living room, side by side, my mom¡¯sptop propped up across my knees. The sun has long since set outside the windows.


    Parker takes up a lot of space. He always had, back in the day, too. When I¡¯d been at Lily¡¯s and her big brother had upied the entire couch, the loud sound of sports from the TV. Lily had always preferred their grandmother¡¯s old armchair, so I¡¯d sat on the couch next to him.


    We¡¯re sitting closer now than we ever did back then.


    ¡°So they¡¯d be able to book through here¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°All restaurant bookings here, and all sailing bookings¡­ right here, if you click back to lessons.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll take so much work off Neil and Stephen.¡±


    ¡°It should, shouldn¡¯t it? I mean, some people will still call, but now there¡¯s a ce to direct them toward.¡± I return to the home page. Mom¡¯s oldputer takes a full minute to make the simple shift. ¡°But I think it¡¯ll look even better when we have new images here, for the slideshow. We should photograph the food, too, when the menu is set. A lobster roll, a bowl of m chowder. Were you going to ask Rhys?¡±


    ¡°Already done,¡± Parker says. ¡°He¡¯ll do it when he finally shows back up in town. Shouldn¡¯t be long, but knowing him, it could be.¡±


    I smile. ¡°Well, then. I think most things are done.¡±


    ¡°Not the store,¡± he says. ¡°Have you ordered the other prototypes? With the new logo?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And you put it all on thepany card, using the details I gave you?¡±

 Small Town Hero C27

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, though that had made me uneasy. ¡°They¡¯ll all arrive at the club the week after next.¡±


    Parker leans back into the couch. ¡°Fantastic. You¡¯re a godsend, Jamie. Now shut off thatputer before it kills itself from the pressure.¡±


    I close the oldptop. It doesn¡¯t like running any programs heavier than MS Paint, and the fan slows down in gratitude. ¡°Hey, this is an octogenarian. Show some respect.¡±


    ¡°I have absolutely none,¡± he says. ¡°You know, this feels oddly familiar.¡±


    I lean back against the couch beside him. Our thighs touch. There¡¯s no reason for them to, in this three-seater, but here we are. Touching. ¡°It does,¡± I say. ¡°But we¡¯re not arguing over the remote.¡±


    Parker raises an eyebrow and grabs it off the coffee table. ¡°Come and get it.¡±


    Iugh at that. ¡°Do you think I have a death wish? I remember seeing you tackle guys on the football field!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d never tackle you,¡± he says, eyes oddly serious. ¡°You shouldugh more, Jamie.¡±


    ¡°Laugh more?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You have a beautifulugh.¡±


    The air feels sucked out of the room. I take a useless breath regardless. ¡°I¡¯ll try, Boss.¡±


    That makes him smile. ¡°Not outside the yacht club, I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Or off a boat,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re the captain there, and everyone follows orders given by the captain.¡±


    Parker¡¯s lips tip up. ¡°Except you,¡± he says. ¡°You never have to obey the captain.¡±


    ¡°Never?¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± he says quietly. ¡°Unless you really want to.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Something warm blooms in my chest, and he shifts from the grown version of a boy I¡¯ve known most of my life into a stranger. Someone I don¡¯t entirely know, a new and foreignndscape to explore. A man with actions and words I can¡¯t predict.


    ¡°We could, um¡­ put on the TV.¡±


    ¡°Give us something to fight over, you mean?¡± His smile shifts, turning intimate. ¡°Okay, James.¡±


    I nod. It¡¯s all I can do. The tension inside of me is rising, and I don¡¯t know what it¡¯ll do when it snaps.


    ¡°We could see if there¡¯s-what¡¯s that sound? It¡¯s raining?¡±


    Parker looks over my shoulder at the bay windows. ¡°It¡¯s pouring.¡±


    I fly off the couch. ¡°Oh God. No, no, I have to take in Emma¡¯s bike. Oh my god¡­¡±


    He follows me to the front door. ¡°Isn¡¯t it waterproof?¡±


    ¡°Not the basket. Mom got her this beautiful wicker thing, and she stuffed it with a teddy¡­¡± I shove my feet into a pair of sneakers and open the front door. The rain is pounding outside.


    I take a deep breath and rush out. She left it in the front yard, but where? I should have done it earlier, but there had been dinner, andundry, and-


    ¡°Is this it?¡± Parker is standing beneath the oak tree to the side of the house. In his hands is the bike, pink embellishments dangling wetly from the handle. There¡¯s a sad-looking teddy bear stuffed in the basket.


    ¡°Yes, yes¡­¡±


    He carries it to the porch and I follow, cold water sluicing down my hair. I have to wipe some away from my forehead to stop it clouding my vision.


    Parker rests the bike gently against the railing, right underneath the porch. His hair is damp and looks almost brown in the darkness. Tendrils have fallen over his forehead, the way he once wore it. ¡°It should dry,¡± he says.


    ¡°Thank you so much.¡± I run a hand over the teddy¡¯s fur. Soaked through. ¡°I should bring him in.¡±


    ¡°A few days inside will cheer him right up.¡± Parker looks down at the small pink bike. ¡°A new purchase?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°It¡¯s my old bike, actually. Mom gave it a new coat of paint recently, and Emma is in love with it.¡±


    A smile spreads across his face. He looks back out at the pouring rain. ¡°You told me she likes rain, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. If she¡¯d been awake now she would be begging me to let her outside. My daughter is crazy.¡± I tug at the hem of my T-shirt. ¡°Why?¡±


    He takes a few deliberate steps down the porch, back into the rain.


    ¡°What are you doing? Come back!¡±


    Parker grins. ¡°I¡¯m testing her theory.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get soaked!¡± His T-shirt is quickly bing the color of ink, clinging to his shoulders, arms and torso. The previously damp hair is slick against his scalp.


    ¡°I can see what she likes about it,¡± he calls. The pouring is so loud it ricochets from the porch roof, a deafening sound.


    I run down the steps to him. ¡°You¡¯re insane. Move, Parker!¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I think I¡¯ll stay out here all night.¡±


    The water is cold, and wet, and I can¡¯t stop grinning. I wrap both of my hands around his forearm and tug. ¡°Come on.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t move an inch, grinning down at me. Water runs down his jaw and gets diverted along the stubble. ¡°Make me, James.¡±


    I¡¯mughing and tugging at the same time, pulling him toward the porch. But he resists, standing strong like the oak beside us.


    ¡°You¡¯ve officially lost your mind,¡± I say. ¡°Are you still seventeen?¡±


    Heughs. ¡°Maybe!¡±


    I use a shoulder to push against his back, but it doesn¡¯t make him move. So I change tactics and wrap my arms around his waist.


    ¡°You¡¯re making me wet too!¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says calmly, like we¡¯re not heading toward hypothermia with every second. ¡°And don¡¯t you love it?¡±

 Small Town Hero C28

    I stop tugging and look up at him. ¡°Mad man,¡± I say, and my hands rest against his back. The fabric of his T-shirt is soaked, molding my hands to his skin. It¡¯s hot beneath my palms.


    A slow smile spreads across his face. ¡°I get why Emma likes it so much,¡± he murmurs.


    Instinct and desire floods my system like a wave breaking, and without making the decision, I rise onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his.


    They¡¯re wet from the rain and unmoving beneath mine. I pull my head back. ¡°Sorry, I-¡±


    Parker bends his head and kisses me, and it¡¯s wet, but it¡¯s warm, and soft, and thorough. The arms that had been solid as stone at his sides wrap around me, a handnding between my shoulder des.


    It¡¯s a stranger¡¯s mouth I¡¯m kissing, a stranger¡¯s hands on me. Not the Parker I¡¯d always known, not Lily¡¯s brother. The excitement of that sends my heart into overdrive.


    He deepens the kiss and runs the hot end of a tongue over my lower lip. It¡¯s been so long since anyone kissed me like that, and Ie apart beneath it.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he murmurs, and rests his lips at the corner of my mouth. His chest rises rapidly against my own.


    I keep my eyes closed and turn my fingers into ws in his shirt. If I move from this, I¡¯ll have to think about what I¡¯ve done, and the wetness will go from exciting to cold.


    It¡¯s safest to never move.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he says again, and presses a kiss to my wet cheek.


    I blink my eyes open to Parker¡¯s dark blue. He¡¯s not smiling now, his lips parted, breathing quickly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says.


    I blink again. ¡°No¡­ I was¡­¡±


    He shakes his head and his hands, the strong, warm hands that can secure life vests on children and raise sails high, slide off my body. I let go of his T-shirt. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says again. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±


    It was me, I think. I started it.


    I wrap my arms around myself, and I can feel my nipples, taut from the rain-soaked T-shirt and his closeness. Embarrassment sends heat to my cheeks. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s okay,¡± I say. ¡°I think I like the rain too.¡±


    A half-smile from him, and the old ease is back. He¡¯s himself again, Parker Marchand, Lily¡¯s older brother. The guy I¡¯ve known forever. ¡°And you called both Emma and me crazy.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a bit wild,¡± I say.


    His smile widens and he takes a few steps backwards, away from the house, away from me. ¡°You were always the wildest one,¡± he says.


    I swallow hard. ¡°Thanks for the food!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. His clothes stick to him, the rainshing on the sidewalk, and it doesn¡¯t look like it bothers him in the least. ¡°Thank you for tonight, Jamie!¡±


    PARKER


    I take the corner too fast, tires whining against the gravel, and the Jeep protests. Henry shoots me a look from the passenger seat. I ignore it.


    I¡¯ve been on edge all day.


    From the backseat, Hayden clears his throat. I know he¡¯s noticed it too. ¡°So, he gave you a week to decide?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good boat,¡± Henry says, ¡°but it will take a lot of work.¡±


    ¡°Hours of work,¡± Hayden agrees. ¡°That¡¯s not a hobby, that¡¯s a second job.¡±


    My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I know that. Had known it since I saw the beautiful sailing boat in the ad, the wooden decks and the sleek hull. She was a boat to be honored and cared for, but she was not an easy one. And she was gorgeous.


    ¡°She¡¯s worth it,¡± I say.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Henry runs a hand over his jaw in thought. ¡°I don¡¯t know that I agree. It would lock you even more firmly in ce in Paradise. Dad doesn¡¯t use the Frida that much. Why don¡¯t you stay the course?¡±


    ¡°Because Frida is all of ours,¡± I say, and then frown at the way that sounds. ¡°Frida is beautiful. Andst year Rhys and Ivy took her out for two weeks along the coast, Hay and Lily want to use her for day trips from April to October, and whenever you and Faye are in town you have first dibs.¡±


    My words sound sour in the car, and my brothers don¡¯tment. I sigh. ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t mean it to sound begrudging. It¡¯s the family¡¯s boat, so that¡¯s only fair. But I want a challenge, a boat of my own. Dad makes all final decisions on the Frida. Not us.¡±


    ¡°I get it,¡± Hayden says from the back, and I know he means that. He has a motorboat in the marina for the days he wants to take Lily out for a day of swimming and lunch, without having to ask his father-inw first.


    Henry shifts in his seat. My oldest brother is, like always, unable to be anything but the voice of reason. ¡°Why wood, Parker? It¡¯s hopeless.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s impractical.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s challenging.¡±


    ¡°Not everything has to be a challenge,¡± Henry says. And then, into the stunned silence, ¡°I can¡¯t believe I said that.¡±


    That makes me chuckle. ¡°You okay over there, New York¡¯s youngest architect? You¡¯ve never met a challenge you didn¡¯t love.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not that young anymore,¡± Henry says, ¡°and you¡¯re avoiding the subject.¡±


    I think about the boat we¡¯d just seen. The sleek lines, the weathered wood, the very boat screaming out for a loving touch. For careful improvements until she could sing along with the waves again. She was expensive, and neglected, and it would be a project to take care of. To nurture. To honor.


    Like Jamie.


    I force my hands to rx on the wheel. To not think of her lips on mine, the sharp grip of her hands on my T-shirt. Like she didn¡¯t know if she wanted to push me away or pull me closer.


    ¡°What are you leaning toward?¡± Hayden asks.


    They¡¯de with me to inspect it. Two sets of eyes are better than one, and three better still. Both of them know boats. Both of them have given me their opinion.


    And yet it would be my project entirely. Evenings. Afternoons. Weekends.


    I see Emma lying on the edge of the boat, Jamie sitting cross-legged behind her. But I blink the impossible image away. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s a stunner. She¡¯s built for speed and I want to buy her. But Henry¡¯s right, too. She¡¯s a damn inconvenient boat.¡±


    ¡°I hate to say it,¡± Henry says, ¡°but you could get a newly built one. Speed, excellence, the first five years with barely any upkeep.¡±


    Both Hayden and I groan.

 Small Town Hero C29

    Henry raises his hands. ¡°You both know I¡¯m right.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say. Ocean Drive is ahead, and I turn onto the road. It¡¯s a short distance to Lily and Hayden¡¯s house. Her oceanside cottage is next to it, where Henry and Faye are staying while they¡¯re renovating their new Paradise house.


    ¡°Do you want to sail long distances again?¡± Hayden asks. His hand is on the side of my seat as he leans forward. ¡°Try the Antic? The world?¡±


    Henry scoffs from the passenger seat. ¡°No. He has a business now. Right, Parker?¡±


    I drum my fingers against the wheel. The old dream is still there, burning inside my chest from time to time. Of a crew and a ship and the open oceans. The boat we¡¯d just looked at could do much, but not that. Open ocean is a different beast entirely.


    ¡°I might,¡± I say. ¡°Haven¡¯t decided yet.¡±


    Haven¡¯t decided on a lot of things. The only thing I know, right in this moment, is that I might have fucked it up with Jamie that night in the rain. By pushing her further than she was ready for.


    You never have to obey me, I¡¯d told her, and I¡¯d meant it. Whatever had happened to put those shadows in her eyes, the jumpiness when she first arrived here, is something I can never contribute to.


    I don¡¯t know a single thing about Jamie¡¯s ex. Not even his name. But I know that a man who leaves his clever, brilliant six-year-old daughter behind and her fierce, beautiful mother afraid is a man I despise.


    ¡°I need to think,¡± I tell them. About the boat. About whether or not I pushed Jamie too far.


    She¡¯d kissed me, but I¡¯d devoured her in return.


    ¡°All right,¡± Henry says. He opens the door, but pauses with a leg out. ¡°Are you joining for family dinner tonight?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Little Jamie had asked me this morning if I woulde and see the fort he¡¯d built. I¡¯d promised him I would, and I couldn¡¯t break a promise like that.


    My brothers, one by marriage and one by birth, walk side by side toward therge house. I watch them disappear through the front door. Faye and Lily had eaten ate brunch, and while Hazel was still too young to y with little Jamie, he still adored his cousin.


    I could invite myself in. But today I feel like an imposter, a puzzle piece that doesn¡¯t quite fit. They¡¯re settled, and married, and so deep in their blissful twosomes that it sometimes grates. And always, I¡¯m the happy brother. The fun uncle. The supportive one.


    The role chafes today.


    My drive back takes me along the boardwalk, on Ocean Drive. Past the marina and the yacht club. I consider eating lunch there, but discard the idea with my next thought. I don¡¯t want to y the role of boss either.


    There¡¯s only one person I want to impress, and until I figure out a way of apologizing for the intensity of my kiss, for crossing the line¡­ until I know what to say to make it right, that door is closed.


    That opportunity doesn¡¯te the next day. It¡¯s a Sunday, and I¡¯m not at the yacht club. I don¡¯t know if she¡¯s scheduled to work either.


    No emails are exchanged. No texts.


    On Monday, no one makes use of my garage, either. I leave the door open as I work out, just in case, but there¡¯s only me and my own thoughts in the gym.


    All she¡¯d wanted was a brief, impulsive kiss, and I had made it clear it wasn¡¯t impulsive at all on my part, but a slow, lingering make-out session that I¡¯d clearly thought about for far too long.


    How could she not be spooked?


    I focus on my arms this morning, even if I know I¡¯ll regret it the next day when Hayden and I take Frida out. But the burn is good. It rivals the frustration of not having said the right thing, that night, after the kiss in the rain. Of not having found the words.


    I shower longer and hotter than usual and drive to the yacht club with my cap on over the wet hair. The cap she designed, the cap we¡¯ll start selling in a few weeks.


    I¡¯d checked the shifts online. She¡¯s working today.


    Stephen and Neil could manage without me. So could the staff and the new chef. But I can¡¯t stay at home, can¡¯t rx, can¡¯t wait to see her.


    The club is calm when I arrive, and beyond the windows, the ocean is deep blue and calm. Last week¡¯s summer rain passed as quickly as it came. I walk past her bike, locked next to the staff entrance. Think of Emma¡¯s bike getting wet and the little teddy bear sticking out of the basket.


    Stephen immediately osts me in the hallway. One of the waiters quit after receiving a pre-season invitation for college on an athletic schrship. Then Neil tells me one of the sailing instructors is sick with mono and he¡¯s going to have to take her ce for the week. And before I¡¯ve had a chance to look around for Jamie, I¡¯m in my office and knee-deep in the new menu specifications Kristen wants.


    At one point, I see a slender brte with a long braid down her back pass by my office, but she¡¯s there and gone before I can call out.


    My mood worsens after lunch. ¡°Parker,¡± Stephen says, sticking his head into my office. Unusually, there¡¯s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. ¡°We have a guest who requests to speak to you.¡±


    ¡°Requests?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the man from earlier this season.¡± Stephen¡¯s mouth turns down into a frown. ¡°He got¡­ handsy. You banned him.¡±


    I get up from the chair. ¡°Where is he?¡±


    ¡°In the entryway. I¡¯ve told him I won¡¯t seat him, but he won¡¯t leave.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of him.¡±


    John is part of Paradise Shores the same way all of us are, someone you wave at when you¡¯re filling up gas or undocking at the marina. I¡¯d never given him much thought.


    Now I hate him.


    He¡¯s standing in the entryway, a salmon-colored shirt above white khakis. A set of car keys spin, over and over, in his hand. His eyes narrow when he sees me.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°John,¡± I say.


    He smiles. ¡°Hello, Parker. It¡¯s been a while since I swung by.¡±


    ¡°Sure has.¡±


    He leans in closer and spins his car keys one more time. ¡°Look,¡± he says, ¡°your head waiter here seems to have decided I¡¯m to be permanently punished for the little incident earlier in the summer.¡±


    ¡°Oh, has he?¡±


    The tension around John¡¯s eyes rxes and he nods. ¡°Yes, yes. An understandable mistake,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve been a customer here for decades. You know that. Hell, I sat right over there and watched you win your year¡¯s junior regatta.¡±


    ¡°Of course. You¡¯ve lived here longer than I¡¯ve been alive. Isn¡¯t that so?¡±


    ¡°Yes, thirty-odd years or so, after I married Marie.¡± His grin widens. ¡°She loves this ce too, and so do the kids when theye to town. My youngest went to Yale. Just like you, right?¡±


    Reminding me of how great guests they are. He¡¯s pulling out all the stops, and a small part of my brain understands exactly why. The yacht club is an institution in this town. To be banned from it is no small thing. It means missing out on birthday dinners hosted here, retirement lunches, business meetings, lobster rolls in the sunshine after docking your boat.


    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± I say. ¡°Please tell your wife and kids they¡¯re wee to eat here any time.¡±


    His smile falters at the edges. ¡°You¡¯re standing by your waiter¡¯s decision?¡±

 Small Town Hero C30

    ¡°The decision was mine, as you might recall, and it was the least I could have done. You harassed a member of my staff. As long as I own this ce, you will never be allowed past the front door.¡± I give him a wide, conspiratorial smile. ¡°And between you and me, John, I have no ns of selling it.¡±


    His car keys stop spinning, his fist clenched tight around these. ¡°Parker, look here-I know you mean well, but I¡¯ve been eating here since before you were born, and it¡¯s absolutely unreasonable-¡±


    I let my eyes drop down over his form, to the boat shoes firmly nted on my hardwood floors. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re trespassing, John.¡±


    He shifts closer and drops his voice an octave. It¡¯s furious. ¡°It was a stupid mistake, okay? Do you want me to apologize to the girl? I can do that, if you insist. Won¡¯t happen again either. Lord knows she wasn¡¯t worth it.¡±


    Anger res in my chest. People are watching, I remind myself. She might be watching. I have to take a breath before answering or I¡¯ll say something I¡¯ll regret.


    Doesn¡¯t mean my fists don¡¯t clench.


    ¡°You won¡¯te near anyone in my employ,¡± I say, ¡°now or in the future. Now leave my restaurant, John. I won¡¯t ask you one more time.¡±


    A scarlet color rises up his weathered neck and cheeks. It¡¯s startling against the pink of his shirt. ¡°You were always a good kid. I¡¯m sorry to see this happen to you.¡±


    I take a step forward, like I¡¯m going to force him out. He immediately backs up. ¡°I y golf with your dad sometimes!¡±


    ¡°Then give him my regards.¡± I open the door wide for him. ¡°Now leave, and nevere back, or I¡¯ll be happy to tell Marie and those kids of yours exactly why you¡¯re banned the next time they stop by.¡±


    John sighs like he¡¯s been wronged, a man infringed upon, and disappears out the front door. I watch him head toward his Land Rover.


    Someone gives a delicate cough behind me. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll be back,¡± Stephen says.


    ¡°Me neither,¡± I say. ¡°His pride won¡¯t take another conversation like that.¡±


    ¡°And good riddance,¡± he mutters, looking down at his ledger with bookings. ¡°We have a big party arriving at three, I should prepare an eight-top¡­¡±


    He disappears in a sharp turn of his heel, revealing who¡¯s been standing behind him. Listening to the whole conversation.


    Jamie¡¯s eyes are bottomless and impossible to read.


    The fire in my chest from talking to John is still burning. I resist the urge to rub my hand over the spot, right beneath my breastbone. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Hi,¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°A box of merchandise arrived today,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s in my office.¡±


    She fiddles with the hem of her shirt. ¡°Want me to take a look at it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, if you¡¯re not too busy,¡± I say. Polite. Like we¡¯re strangers.


    ¡°No, I have time.¡±


    We make it into the tiny back office in silence. The box is in the corner,rge, silent, a witness to our awkwardness.


    Jamie pulls the door half-closed behind her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry he came by,¡± I say. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Thank you for¡­ saying what you did.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I meant what I said. He¡¯s never going toe here again.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± she says, taking a deep breath.¡±Definitely good.¡±


    ¡°He offered to apologize to you, but I turned that down. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have.¡± I run a hand over the edge of my jaw. ¡°Did you want it?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯d rather not see him again.¡±


    ¡°I figured.¡±


    Her eyes flit from mine to the box in the corner, with the merch. I look at her lips and damn, I shouldn¡¯t, because now all I can think about is their softness. ¡°Parker, I¡­ ¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the other night. I shouldn¡¯t have presumed¡­ I mean, I was the one who started it.¡± She shifts from one foot to the other, and I hate the words. Hate the way she¡¯s speaking them. ¡°Can we pretend it never happened?¡±


    I have to swallow, hard, before answering. ¡°Of course, if that¡¯s what you want.¡±


    She nods. ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t know what came over me.¡±


    ¡°Consider it forgotten,¡± I say.


    I wonder if it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve ever lied to her.


    Jamie¡¯s shoulders rx. ¡°All right, okay. Thanks.¡±


    I¡¯d been right, then. I¡¯d pushed too hard by initiating the second kiss, by being so¡­ into it. We work together. It¡¯s inappropriate in every way and then some, and considering she has a small daughter and aplicated past?


    I don¡¯t me her for pulling back, even if the fire in my chest feels painful.


    She drops to her knees by the box, sounding more like herself. ¡°Let¡¯s take a look at these.¡±


    I hand her a pair of box cutters and for fifteen minutes we only talk of T-shirts and the fit of the caps and the rough linen napkins with the club¡¯s logo on them. She¡¯s tentatively convinced that if we offer them for the guests when they order seafood, people will want to bring their own set home.


    There¡¯s a glow of excitement in her eyes at the ideas. I don¡¯t know why this matters to her so much, this job, beyond the sry. But I¡¯m not going to protest orin. Anything she wants.


    ¡°Look,¡± she says, holding up the navy blue mug with the logo on it.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, and nab it out of her hand. ¡°I needed a new coffee mug.¡±


    She rolls her eyes, but there¡¯s an easiness to her smile now. ¡°This ce is such a huge piece of everyone¡¯s life in town. A mug from this ce is a father¡¯s day gift to the man who already owns a boat, has everything, and a bank ount to buy it himself¡­ but he won¡¯t, because he won¡¯t think of it.¡±


    I grin at her. ¡°You¡¯re diabolical.¡±


    Jamie looks back down at the empty box, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. ¡°This stuff is more fun than I expected. It¡¯s creative, too.¡±


    ¡°It definitely is. You have an eye for it. But then, you were always artsy.¡±

 Small Town Hero C31

    She runs a finger over the rough edge of the cardboard. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you ask Lily to help you with all this? She¡¯s artsy too.¡±


    ¡°She is,¡± I say. ¡°But she also has a young son and is diving headfirst back into the high art scene. I overheard her having a conversation a week ago about the history of blue with an artist friend from New York.¡±


    ¡°The history of blue,¡± Jamie repeats.


    ¡°Yes. Yves Klein was mentioned, I believe, which I only know because she once wrote an entire paper in college about him and forced me to proofread it.¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°I¡¯d almost forgotten you went to college together, too.¡±


    ¡°All of us did, except Rhys,¡± I say. I don¡¯t know what happened to Jamie after Paradise, really. I don¡¯t think she and Lily kept in touch much. She¡¯d visited Lily in New Haven once, and I¡¯d seen her at a college party¡­ and that had been it. Thest time.


    Jamie looks down at her hands. ¡°I¡¯m meeting her today.¡±


    ¡°Lily?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯re taking a walk and talking.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± I lean back, bracing my hands against the floor. ¡°Scared?¡±


    She doesn¡¯t bite back, or pretend to be offended at my question. Never, Marchand. That would be the old Jamie.


    But the new Jamie gives me honesty. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯s missed you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I¡¯ve missed her, but I¡¯ll have to talk about things I don¡¯t want to.¡± She rolls her neck, like she¡¯s steeling herself for a fight. ¡°With anyone, not her specifically, you know?¡±


    Curiosity rises inside me like a wave. She¡¯s been a closed box since she returned, under lock and key, and choosy about when she lifts the lid.


    Does she talk to anyone the way she does with me? A part of me, an ungenerous one, hopes the answer is no. Wants her for myself like this, with whispered confidences and that rare smile on disy.


    Dinner in her kitchen and kisses in the rain.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°You can handle the conversation,¡± I tell her. ¡°Not to mention you don¡¯t have to answer anything you don¡¯t want to. Lily will understand.¡±


    She nods. ¡°Yeah. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going sailing with Haydenter tomorrow, but if you need to sweat it out in the morning¡­ you know where to find me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I might take you up on that.¡± She rises gracefully from the floor and gives me a look that¡¯s all old-Jamie, teasing and confident. ¡°You know, one day I¡¯ll bench more than you.¡±


    My eyebrows rise. ¡°Oh, you will?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m determined, Marchand. Watch out.¡±


    ¡°I consider myself warned,¡± I say.


    She smiles again and disappears out of my office, her steps echoing in the hall back toward the dining room. I stay on the floor next to the box with prototypes and, for a long few moments, let myself linger on the feeling of her lips on mine and her body beneath my hands, there in the rain.


    And she wants me to forget it? I couldn¡¯t even if I wanted to¡­


    ¡­and I don¡¯t.


    JAMIE


    My feet feel heavier with every step I take toward the boardwalk. I¡¯d considered biking, to feel the wind in my hair, but I¡¯d decided the minutes of silent preparation was a smarter move. Give me time to gather my courage.


    But it still feels very ungathered when I reach the spot we¡¯d agreed to meet. Lily is already there, sitting on a bench facing the ocean. I spot her before she spots me.


    Her fiery hair is pulled into a high ponytail and I watch the curve of her neck for a solid minute, taking deep breaths, before I close the distance between us.


    Mommy, who are you meeting? Emma had asked me earlier. The captain?


    That had made meugh, and then immediately afterwards, get nervous. She¡¯s getting attached to this city, to these people.


    I stop next to Lily¡¯s bench. ¡°Hi,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re early too?¡±


    She smiles, standing. ¡°Yes. Things have sure changed since we were kids, haven¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°So much,¡± I say. ¡°I actually exercise now.¡±


    Lily chuckles. ¡°God, so do I, with yoga. I have one of those sunrise rm clocks, you know, that wakes you up with light?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you regrly talk to a therapist and practice healthy sleep hygiene.¡±


    ¡°I do both,¡± she says, grinning. ¡°Have we grown up, Jamie?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we might have.¡± I tug at my blouse, half-smiling. ¡°When did I stop wearing all-ck?¡±


    ¡°A great question. I barely recognized you.¡± Her eyes narrow, but she¡¯s still smiling. ¡°The nose ring¡¯s gone too?¡±


    ¡°I took it out a few years ago,¡± I say. ¡°Turns out it was a phase, just like my grandad always said it was.¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°Hated proving him right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, but my smile falters. I hadn¡¯t been here for his funeral. My mother had called, and I¡¯d apologized and said I couldn¡¯t, not with Emma so small and Lee starting a new business.


    Now I wonder how I couldn¡¯t have insisted on going.


    Lily gestures to where the boardwalk winds its way toward Paradise Point. ¡°Should we walk?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°We have to get our steps in for the day.¡±


    Sheughs again. ¡°We¡¯ve be such adults.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know. Filing taxes and shopping in bulk.¡±


    ¡°Mothers, even,¡± Lily says. Her voice softens. ¡°Emma is lovely.¡±

 Small Town Hero C32

    ¡°She is,¡± I say. ¡°Her middle name is Lily, actually.¡±


    Beside me, Lily falls quiet. Our walk slows from brisk to ambling. Her limp from the car ident is less pronounced than when I¡¯d seen herst. Better with every passing year, it seems, and that warms my heart.


    Lily takes a deep breath. ¡°I didn¡¯t know. Not about Emma¡¯s name, not about¡­ her. That she existed.¡±


    I look at the ground, at the stone worn by decades of regr walking and running along the ocean. ¡°That¡¯s on me. I chose not to share.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s true,¡± Lily says, like she¡¯smenting on the weather. She¡¯s never one for dancing around a topic, but here we are, the both of us cautious like two people on a first date. ¡°Is her father out of the picture?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. And then, my gaze on the horizon, I add the rest. ¡°At least I want him to be.¡±


    She makes a small humming sound. ¡°Is he why you stayed away for so long?¡±


    ¡°A part of it, yes.¡±


    ¡°I can understand that,¡± Lily says. But the other part is evident in her voice. But I can¡¯t understand the rest. Why you didn¡¯t answer my messages. Why you stopped answering my calls.


    I wonder if I even understand that part myself.


    ¡°You married Hayden,¡± I say. It¡¯s a cheap change of conversation, but she doesn¡¯tment, shining up in a smile instead.


    ¡°Yes, we got our happily-ever-after in the end.¡±


    I nudge her with my elbow. ¡°You were always hoping for that.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t deny that,¡± she says and looks down at the ring on her finger. ¡°Even if I¡¯ll admit it took me a while to let him in again after he returned.¡±


    ¡°Where had he been?¡± Last I¡¯d seen Lily, Hayden had been gone for a few years, having left Paradise shortly after the car ident. They hadn¡¯t remained in contact.


    ¡°Making a name for himself,¡± she says with an eye roll. ¡°That¡¯s the way he likes to put it. I think he was running away from the ident, and from my parents, and from his own misguided guilt.¡±


    ¡°I can understand.¡± I nce down at her leg. Her hip had been crushed, and I remember those fraught days right after, visiting her in the hospital. And then the entire long summer after, with all the physical therapy she had to do. I¡¯d done a lot of the moves with her, in her childhood bedroom, while I tried to make herugh with increasingly oundish stories. ¡°That was scary, Lily.¡±


    ¡°It was,¡± she says. ¡°But we found our way back to one another.¡±


    ¡°And to little Jamie.¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°And to little Jamie. His actual name is James, you know.¡±


    Parker must like that. ¡°He¡¯s very cute.¡±


    ¡°Yes, he is, and he knows it. Uses those big eyes to get out of all kinds of trouble.¡±


    I y with the hem of my sleeve. ¡°You sent me a picture after he was born. I hung it on my fridge, next to Emma¡¯s baby picture.¡±


    Lily¡¯s breath catches. ¡°You saw that email?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But, then¡­ Jamie, why did you never answer me? Why did you pull away?¡±


    We curve around the benches by Paradise Point and reach the rock with the golden que. It¡¯s the furthest eastward point in Paradise.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say, and it¡¯s not an escape, it¡¯s the truth. My words feel inadequate and dry and I have none to offer her.


    Lily sits down on the bench next to the rock and gestures for me to join her. So I do. I watch the waves beat against the rocks and she watches me.


    My wordse out haltingly. ¡°It was cool, not knowing what to do, you know. When I was twenty. Skipping out on college and working odd jobs in the city.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I remember.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I was living with artists, and everyone was living this life of true rebellion, you know? Against their backgrounds, their families, society. I loved it. But¡­ what¡¯s nice at twenty isn¡¯t so nice at twenty-four. When no one in your shared apartment bothers buying soap for the shared bathroom. Impromptu parties lose their charm pretty fast.¡± I look down at my nails, pushing down a cuticle. ¡°You¡¯d just graduated college, I remember, with your master¡¯s degree in art history.¡±


    Lily sits very still next to me. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And I started falling behind. That¡¯s what it felt like, anyway. I¡¯d see you and our other ssmates getting jobs you¡¯d worked for years to earn. Starting to build a future, a life, all of it. And I was still running and rebelling. Still trying to figure out who I was. It worked for a bit, but not forever. And then I met Lee.¡±


    I have to take a deep breath, and I focus on the horizon. The spot where the ocean meets the sky. Compared to that infinite distance, my mistakes are minor. ¡°He took up so much space that for a long time I was him. I couldn¡¯t see or think about anything that wasn¡¯t him. I was in love, stupidly so. The kind that won¡¯t let you breathe.¡±


    ¡°Infatuated,¡± Lily murmurs.


    I nod. ¡°Oh yes. And he knew it.¡±


    ¡°I never met him.¡±


    ¡°I wanted you to, in the beginning. Spoke to him about visiting Paradise, but he made enoughments about this town, about my mother¡¯s job, my grandfather¡¯spany, to hint that I should leave my privileged past behind. It wasn¡¯t edgy enough.¡±


    Lily¡¯s hands are tightly knotted in herp, and I look away from them, back out toward the horizon. ¡°He was a few years older, right?¡±


    I nod. ¡°He got a job out of state and we moved. And then I had Emma. She wasn¡¯t nned but that never mattered to me. From the moment I knew I was pregnant, I wanted her.¡±


    ¡°Did he?¡± she whispers.


    ¡°He said he did. In the beginning. And it was good for a while, Lily, I swear it was. But it didn¡¯tst, and my one sce became Emma, making sure she was happy and healthy and doing well.¡±


    ¡°Lee?¡± she asks. ¡°What did he¡­ do?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°He was never violent. But he was very good at breaking you down regardless. And I knew our one-bedroom rental in-the-middle-of-nowhere wasn¡¯t anything to write home about. I knew what people would think, the people in town, our high school friends. They¡¯d think I failed. And you? You¡¯d think the same thing I did when Lee wasn¡¯t around. That I¡¯d betrayed myself, that I¡¯d be smaller than the person I was born to be. Smaller than the person you¡¯d called a friend. You wouldn¡¯t let me hide from that fact¡­ And I¡¯d be very good at hiding.¡±


    I blink at the horizon to stop it from bing blurry. I don¡¯t know how much more I¡¯ve got in me, how many more words until I break.


    I¡¯ve never said any of these things out loud.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± Lily says, ¡°I have loved you since we were seven years old and you stood up to Billy T after he ripped my drawing in half during recess. You could be the size of a flea and I¡¯d still consider you my best friend.¡±


    Something wet runs down my cheek and I wipe at it. Once, twice, and then my shoulders are shaking.


    Lily grabs my left hand with hers. ¡°Did you leave him?¡±

 Small Town Hero C33

    ¡°Yes,¡± I whisper. ¡°I should have done it years ago, but I didn¡¯t¡­ manage to.¡±


    Her low voice is fierce. ¡°Good. And he¡¯d better hope he neveres here, or I¡¯ll pay you back for Billy tenfold.¡±


    A broken half-chuckle escapes me. ¡°Thanks, Lily.¡±


    ¡°Stay here, okay? For as long as you want. Your mom must be ecstatic to have you back, and so are the rest of us.¡± Her hand tightens around mine until it¡¯s almost painful, and I can¡¯t stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. It¡¯s years of regret, finally acknowledged.


    ¡°I love you, you know,¡± I say. My voice wobbles. ¡°Even when I didn¡¯t speak to you for years. Even when I couldn¡¯t answer your texts out of guilt, and fear, and¡­ disgust over who I¡¯d be.¡±


    She puts an arm around me, and I marvel at the way the roles have reversed. How we¡¯re grown up and yet still the exact same, and perhaps that¡¯s all there ever is, in friendships that are more like family.


    ¡°Stay in Paradise,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Stay here. Okay?¡±


    I nod, unable to find my words.


    We stay there for a long time, until the sun dips behind the horizon, and it¡¯ste when I finally make it back to my house. Empty tes in the kitchen are evidence of yet another pancake dinner. Emma is getting spoiled and she deserves every single minute of it. From the stairs, I hear a murmured voice. My mother is reading a bedtime story.


    I do their dishes and walk up to join them. My legs feel heavy, my heart sore, like it¡¯s taken more exercise today than it has in years. And yet my head feels crystal clear.


    Mom looks up when I enter Emma¡¯s bedroom. She softly closes the book and looks back down at my daughter, who¡¯s struggling to keep her eyes open.


    ¡°Want to do the rest?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Thank you.¡±


    She puts a hand on my shoulder. ¡°My pleasure, honey.¡±


    Emma smiles when she sees me. It¡¯s the sleepy, half-here-and-half-gone kind of smile only small children are capable of. ¡°Mommy,¡± she whispers.


    I smooth my hand over her hair. Her eyes flutter as she struggles against the pull of sleep.


    ¡°Sweetheart,¡± I murmur, ¡°what do you think of this town? Do you like it?¡±


    Emma¡¯s eyes open in a valiant effort. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to stay here?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Emma says again. Her eyes close for good this time, her next words barely audible. ¡°Can we?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± I murmur, smoothing a thumb over her feathery eyebrow. ¡°Mom will do her best.¡±


    JAMIE


    I¡¯ve never used dumbbells this heavy before. I have to take a deep breath before I can lift them up, resting them on my shoulders.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Parker says. He¡¯s watching from his recline on the bench, the bar above him resting on the metal. ¡°Back straight too.¡±


    I squat down. The first is easy. The fifth is not.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. Don¡¯t let your body drift too far in front of your knees.¡±


    ¡°A lot of instructions,¡± I huff out. Another squat. ¡°Maybe you should¡±-another squat-¡°focus on your bar. It¡¯s looking¡±-a deep breath-¡°very immobile.¡±


    He grins at me. If he still thinks about that night in the rainst week, the impulsive kiss on my part and his profuse, embarrassing apology, he doesn¡¯t let it show.


    ¡°Feeling strong today, James?¡±


    To my surprise, the answer is yes. The mornings spent in his gym have re-awakened the pitiful muscle mass I have. It¡¯s also given me a win every time I left his garage sweaty and alive.


    I take another deep breath and start with lunges. ¡°Just lift your bar, Marchand.¡±


    He chuckles and reaches for it. It¡¯s loaded with eight times the weight I can handle on chest presses. He¡¯d showed them to me earlier, and I¡¯d protested that I didn¡¯t need to do that exercise. Why do I need to work my pecs? My punishment was a five-minute lecture about the importance of core and upper-body strength.


    Parker grunts quietly as he works through his set. From the safety across the gym, doing my lunges, I watch him without shame.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    He¡¯s his usual self. Ignoring the kiss, just like I¡¯d asked him to. We¡¯re back on a territory we both know how to navigate. And yet the feeling of his lips on mine is burned into my mind, impossible to forget.


    My eyes drift over his arms and his long body stretched out on the bench. When he¡¯s done, he does what he always does, lifting the hem of his T-shirt to wipe his face. I watch the strong stomach and the lines that rise and fall with his heavy breathing. It¡¯s a body that¡¯s built for the strength necessary to sail, to work, to live an active life, and not to impress. No vanity muscle.


    His eyes meet mine across the garage. ¡°Done with your set?¡±


    I nod and put the dumbbells back in the weight rack. My hands feel tingly. ¡°Yes. I think so.¡±


    He reaches for his water bottle. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten stronger,¡± he tells me.


    ¡°It hardly feels that way,¡± I say, ¡°when I¡¯m sore all the time.¡±


    There¡¯s a sh of light in his eyes, there and gone, that tells me he heard something else in my words. A flush creeps up my neck at the innuendo.


    ¡°Right,¡± he says, and shifts from one foot to the other.


    Mirroring him, I reach for my own water bottle. It feels oppressively hot in here. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I do.¡± He clears his throat. ¡°I take it your conversation went well? With my sister.¡±


    ¡°We both survived it, at any rate.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°That means it went great.¡±


    ¡°It did, yeah.¡±


    Parker raises an eyebrow. ¡°Did she manage to get more answers out of you?¡±


    I turn, gathering up my phone, water bottle, and keys. ¡°Oh, I told her everything and swore her to secrecy.¡±


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he says, voice rough. ¡°I¡¯ll get it out of you eventually.¡±


    ¡°What do you think my secrets are, anyway?¡± I ask. His curiosity is ttering, and overwhelming, and I can feel his lips on mine again. How they¡¯d burned.

 Small Town Hero C34

    ¡°I change my mind every day.¡± He goes to the garage door and pushes it open, letting in a flood of cool morning air. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ve been a government agent, a spy, and you had to return to Paradise to lie low after yourst assignment went wrong.¡±


    That makes me chuckle. ¡°And Emma?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s a very charming decoy, all part of your cover story. Exins why she¡¯s so clever.¡± He nods toward the great outdoors. ¡°Are you finally joining me for a swim?¡±


    It takes a few seconds to make the decision. ¡°Okay. Sure. But I didn¡¯t bring a bikini.¡±


    His gaze drops to my chest, voice a little rough around the edges. ¡°Sports clothes work too. Shouldn¡¯t be anyone down by the boardwalk at this hour.¡±


    ¡°Right. Um, yes. Let¡¯s go.¡± I tug at my T-shirt. ¡°Lord knows I¡¯m sweaty enough.¡±


    We don¡¯t run down to the boardwalk, the way I¡¯d seen him do a few days ago. We walk side by side instead, his steps long, mine measured.


    ¡°Want to know something?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Is it about your mysterious past? Are you running from the mob?¡±


    I knock his shoulder with mine and instantly regret it. The brief touch shoots electricity through me. ¡°No, and no.¡±


    ¡°Damn. Well, I¡¯m curious about everything you say, so shoot.¡±


    ¡°Emma wants to go out on a boat,¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯s asked me twice in the past few days, and every time we drive by the marina, she yells it from the backseat.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I think the Junior Regatta blew her mind. Paradise has her.¡±


    I hear the smile in his voice. ¡°Of course it does.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, I me you entirely.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± He chuckles. ¡°I¡¯ll ept, of course, because in this case it¡¯s an achievement. But why?¡±


    ¡°She drew ships at the yacht club and learned to call you captain, and all was lost. I¡¯ll lose her to the sea.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a bad ce to be lost,¡± he says. ¡°You know I¡¯ll take the two of you out, one day, if you want to. On the Frida.¡±


    I look at the horizon, the glittering band of blue gettingrger andrger in the distance. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No pressure, though,¡± he adds. ¡°I know you want us to stay professional.¡±


    To stay professional? I nod, but the word bounces around in my head. I know you want us to. My mind races through the conversation in his office, the night on thewn, in the rain. When had I made that clear?


    Parker stops at the boardwalk and stretches, tall and strong beside me.Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    And reality suddenly kicks me hard in the shins. I¡¯m going to have to take off my clothes around him.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be cold,¡± he warns with a grin and reaches down to pull off his sneakers. The dusty gold of his hair is darkened at the temples with sweat. ¡°Ready, James?¡±


    ¡°I was born ready,¡± I say. It¡¯s a lie, and he sees it too, because his grin widens. But I toe off my tennis shoes and reach for the hem of my T-shirt. Take a deep breath¡­ and pull it straight off.


    Thank God my sports bra covers enough.


    Parker focuses on the tie of his workout shorts, unfastening it, and I take that opportunity to tug off my workout shorts too. My panties are ck cotton and normal and not the least bit sexy. I hurry toward thedder, desperate to get out of view from the road.


    And out of his view.


    ¡°Coming?¡± I call.


    Parker gives me a crooked smile and pulls off his T-shirt. He does it the way men do, grabbing at the shoulders and tugging it off over his head. The abs are back, but this time they¡¯re joined by a wide chest and a smattering of light brown hair.


    I look down at my feet on the dock and the chipped nail polish on my big toe.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to regret this in about five seconds,¡± Parker warns, ¡°but give it a minute, and you¡¯ll think it¡¯s the best idea ever.¡±


    ¡°Will I?¡±


    He nods and stands beside me on the dock. Raising an eyebrow, he gives me a cocky grin, the picture-perfect one I remember from our childhood. And in one smooth motion he dives in, cutting through the surface of the deep blue with the skill of an athlete.


    ¡°Show-off,¡± I mutter and take a few careful steps down thedder. It¡¯s freezing around my ankles. A quick nce over my shoulder reveals himing up for air, facing toward the horizon. So I quickly take the plunge to hide my body from view.


    It¡¯s like entering an ice bath.


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± I say, pushing off thedder. ¡°Holy moly, this is cold. So, so cold.¡±


    Parker¡¯s voice reaches me across the waves. ¡°Did Jamie Moraine just say holy moly?¡±


    ¡°Shush!¡±


    Heughs. ¡°If sixteen-year-old you could hear you right now.¡±


    ¡°She would have pped me,¡± I say. ¡°But she also said fuck way too liberally for a teenager, and she didn¡¯t have a little kid around who mimics everything. Is it always this cold?¡±


    ¡°You should know,¡± he says, easily treading water. The soft wavesp around his broad shoulders. ¡°You¡¯re a native.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while. I¡¯ve lived ind for almost a decade.¡± I swim out toward him, cutting through the water. It¡¯s starting to feel bearable, just almost, and the sun glints off the waves. On a whim, I dip my head beneath the surface and swim until my lungs feel like they might burst.


    I break the surface and take a deep breath.


    ¡°Who¡¯s a show-off now?¡± Parker calls. He¡¯s behind me now, silhouetted not by the horizon but by the dock.


    The water and the cold sets off a peculiar high through my veins. I feel crazy and alive and brave. It reminds me of how I¡¯d felt getting onto that Greyhound with Emma and our two suitcases, leaving our past behind.


    ¡°The water is actually nice!¡±


    He swims toward me, cutting through the water in a crawl. ¡°I want to say I told you so,¡± he says, ¡°but I don¡¯t want to get sshed.¡±


    ¡°Ssh? Me? I would never.¡±

 Small Town Hero C35

    He shakes his head to get the wet tendrils off his forehead, sending droplets flying around us. ¡°You were always a troublemaker.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Someone had to be,¡± I say, and then I ssh him. Hard. A wave of water breaks over his head and heughs. ¡°You Marchands were always too pristine,¡± I say, and ssh him again. ¡°Especially you. The golden son, the winner of the regatta, a Yale legacy¡­¡±


    Parker raises his arm in a sweeping motion. ¡°You¡¯re going to get it now,¡± he says.


    I immediately duck under the surface, but a wave of water still crashes above my head. The salt water stings in my eyes. We never did this, in the past. Lily and I would go swimming with friends, sure. And in the distance I¡¯d see the cool kids from school do things like this. y volleyball, have water fights, and the guys would have the it girls on their shoulders in the water. Parker was at the heart of all of it.


    And now he¡¯s here with me.


    I¡¯m spluttering when Ie up for air. ¡°Truce!¡±


    Heughs again. ¡°So you can dish it out, but you can¡¯t take it? That¡¯s typical.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m just a more peaceful person.¡±


    He turns onto his back and floats beside me. One of his arms is outstretched and the hand rests only inches from me on the water¡¯s surface. ¡°You¡¯ve be more peaceful,¡± he says toward the sky, ¡°but you have the same fire.¡±


    Perhaps I do. Perhaps I¡¯d lost it, but day by day, I¡¯m finding it again. The excitement, the will to provoke, the bravery. Determination and self-confidence. So much of it had been naive and misguided when I was young, but I hadn¡¯t been scared of anything, and I miss that. The years with Lee had left me scared of everything.


    There¡¯s a happy middle there somewhere.


    ¡°This is the best time of the day out here,¡± Parker says. His voice sounds deeper, echoed across the waves. ¡°It¡¯s too early for the families or the tourists. The damn jet-ski rentals haven¡¯t started up either.¡±


    I turn in the water. It feels warm, now,pping against my skin. My lips taste salty from the ocean.


    ¡°I¡¯ve missed this,¡± I say. ¡°More than I thought I did.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing you¡¯re back.¡± It soundsyered, the words like a caressing wind. He¡¯s said that a lot. Wee back, Jamie.


    He gets out before me. His workout shorts seem to be perfectly capable of doubling as swimwear, falling straight and wet down his legs.


    My clothes? Not so much.


    I tug at the stic of my panties, now soaked through and barely holding up. A quick look down at my sports bra reveals my nipples showing through the polyester fabric.


    Excellent.


    I cross my arms over my chest. ¡°That was nice.¡±


    Parker bends at the waist and grabs the towels he¡¯d brought. He throws one at me, a crooked grin on his face. ¡°You should start doing it more often,¡± he says. ¡°Wear a bikini under your workout clothes and you¡¯d be all set.¡±


    I wrap the towel tight around myself. ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been known to have good ones every once in a while,¡± he says, using his towel to rub his hair. He¡¯s close and big and water droplets run in slow tracks down his wide chest, golden from the sun.


    I wet my lips. ¡°Like standing still in the middle of a downpour, right?¡±


    Something changes in his gaze. ¡°Yes,¡± he says slowly. ¡°I would say that¡¯s one of the best ideas I¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    ¡°Ever? That¡¯s a big im.¡± I run my hands up my arms, trying to get warm.


    ¡°It is, but I stand by it.¡± The distance between us shrinks. ¡°Good things seem to happen when you¡¯re standing in pouring rain. Even if I¡¯ll keep ignoring them.¡±


    My breath escapes me. ¡°You¡¯ll keep ignoring it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. As requested.¡± He lowers the towel. The dark blue of his eyes looks bottomless, a small part of the ocean behind him.


    ¡°Earlier, you said¡­¡±


    ¡°I said what?¡± he asks.


    ¡°That I wanted to keep things professional,¡± I say. ¡°But we work out together a few times a week. We just went swimming. I wouldn¡¯t say we¡¯re all that professional.¡±


    His lip curls. ¡°No, James, I wouldn¡¯t either.¡±


    ¡°The thing we¡¯re ignoring in the rain wasn¡¯t very professional either,¡± I say. My words hang in the space between us.


    Parker shifts closer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± he says softly. ¡°If that made you feel rushed in any way.¡±


    ¡°Rushed?¡± I whisper. ¡°I didn¡¯t feel rushed. I felt confused.¡±


    His eyes darken. ¡°Well, that wasn¡¯t what I was going for.¡±


    ¡°Not by¡­ the kiss. But by your reaction.¡± I shake my head. ¡°I was the one who started it.¡±


    ¡°But I finished it,¡± he says, ¡°and not briefly, either.¡±


    No, it hadn¡¯t been brief. Those seconds with him in the rain, with his hands on me and mine fisted into his T-shirt, hadsted an eternity.


    Breathing feels difficult.


    ¡°Jamie, I can ignore it,¡± Parker says quietly, ¡°if you truly want me to. But I would much rather not.¡±


    I sway closer to him. ¡°Is this a terrible idea?¡±


    ¡°It might be,¡± he says, ¡°but I¡¯ve always been a fan of your terrible ideas.¡±


    Augh escapes me. ¡°Like the purple highlights.¡±


    ¡°I loved those,¡± he says, and it¡¯s such a tant lie, because it had looked awful. I did it myself before school started in the fall the year I turned sixteen.


    ¡°Liar,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Never,¡± he says.


    ¡°Do I have to go first again?¡±


    He smiles, slow and wide, and lowers his head. ¡°No,¡± he says, and then he kisses me. It¡¯s salty and warm and water drips from his hair onto my temple, cold against my flushed skin.

 Small Town Hero C36

    My eyes are still closed when he pulls away. ¡°There,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Not too little, not too much. We did it right this time.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t Goldilocks this, Marchand.¡±


    He chuckles hoarsely and then doesn¡¯t make another sound, not as I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him again. It¡¯s intoxicating being this close to him.


    And just likest time, he bes a stranger under my lips. Familiar and yet novel, an entirely newndscape to explore. Parker and yet not Parker.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he murmurs, his hands finding my waist beneath the towel.


    My hands settle against his chest. His bare chest. He¡¯s warm and hard under my hands, skin deceptively soft over the strong muscle beneath.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he murmurs again, moving his lips to my ear. Heughs softly. ¡°We¡¯re in the middle of the boardwalk.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I whisper against his chest.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind, but I have a feeling you might. You know how this town talks.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I turn my head and peek past his shoulder. An SUV drives by us on Ocean Drive. ¡°What do we do?¡±


    He rubs arge hand up and down my arms, as if to warm me. It sends a shiver down my back. ¡°We¡¯ll go home,¡± he says, ¡°and start our days, and do this again. When we¡¯re alone.¡±


    ¡°I like that n,¡± I say. My voice doesn¡¯t sound like my own.


    He smiles, small and crooked. ¡°Come on, James. You¡¯re getting cold, and I¡¯m in danger of overheating.¡±


    JAMIE


    My feet feel light, carrying me into the yacht club. The familiar scent of food, of browned butter and m chowder, greets me. I nod hello to Kylie and Sarah. I give Stephen a giant smile.


    ¡°Having a good morning?¡± he asks me.


    I attach my name te to my shirt. ¡°More like a great weekend,¡± I say. Yesterday had been spent at sea. I couldn¡¯t remember thest time I¡¯d been on a boat, and as the Frida cut through the waters outside Paradise, I decided it was a shame.


    Emma had adored it.


    She¡¯d been shy around Lily and Hayden at first, but little Jamie had been like a rocket, zooming around, and she¡¯d soon followed suit. Parker had been at Frida¡¯s helm, a kid on either side of him, exining things like speed, knots and steering. Both kids had been allowed to touch the steering wheel while Hayden looked on.


    Lily had rolled her eyes at them. Let them entertain the kids, she¡¯d said, sitting next to me. Her sunsses had been pushed up on her head and she¡¯d grinned at me. It¡¯s so good to have you back.


    Parker had said, once, out of earshot from the others, that he wished we were alone. I¡¯d let my hand brush over his on the steering wheel in response.


    The high of the weekend carries me through the lunch service at the yacht club. I wait tables with a smile, suggesting some of the new dishes off the menu. And while I catch sight of Parker a few times, he¡¯s never standing still, moving from the back office out to the docks with Neil by his side. The sun glints off his hair when I catch sight of him through the windows.


    I wonder why he¡¯s back here, doing this. I wonder what his parents and his siblings think. And I wonder how many things I don¡¯t know about him yet, the nuances, the histories, the questions I can now ask him. A thrill runs through me at the realization.


    An opportunity presents itself after the lunch rush is over, and I duck into the back office unseen.


    Parker is sitting at hisputer, filling out expense reports. He looks up when I softly close the door behind me.


    ¡°Jamie?¡± he says, a smile spreading across his face. ¡°Do you need anything?¡±


    I close the distance between us. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Parker rises from his chair and catches me against him, finding my eager lips, and he kisses me like he¡¯s waited all weekend for this, too.


    My hands knot in the fabric of his linen shirt. The cor pops open and my fingers find the hair-roughened chest beneath.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he murmurs, lips shifting over mine. ¡°Sneaking off from work?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to surprise you.¡±


    ¡°Mmm. I like these kind of surprises.¡± His hands stroke down my body, finding a grip on my butt, and he deepens the kiss. It¡¯s a soft touch of his tongue against my lower lip, and I open for him. He groans at the contact and pushes me more firmly against him.


    I¡¯m dizzy again, pleasurably so, like I¡¯ve had too much to drink. I¡¯m making out with Parker Marchand, I think. The thought is clear as fine crystal in my mind. I wonder what we look like. Do we fit together? Judging only by the way my body molds against his, it feels like the most natural of fits.


    His hands tighten on my body. It¡¯s delicious, being held like this. Like he doesn¡¯t want to let go.


    I didn¡¯t know how much I craved it.


    Parker is the one to finally break the kiss and rests his head on top of mine. ¡°Jesus,¡± he mutters. ¡°A very good surprise.¡±


    I chuckle, and the breathless sound disappears against his neck. ¡°It was time for a break.¡±


    ¡°I approve,¡± he says. One of his hands drifts up to my waist, as if he¡¯s trying to behave himself, but the other stays put, like it can¡¯t bear to leave.


    I smile against his skin. ¡°Whoops.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, I love my sister and Hayden both, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t n for them to join us on the Frida yesterday.¡±


    I tilt my head back and meet his eyes. ¡°You wanted Emma and me for yourself?¡±


    His hands tighten, briefly and possessively, on my body. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I would have liked that too. But Lily is persistent.¡±


    ¡°She is.¡± His eyes darken, dropping to my lips again. ¡°Now that you two have made up, will I have to share you with her? You don¡¯t have much spare time as it is.¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t your parents raise you both to share your toys?¡± I tease.


    He snorts. ¡°Yes. But you¡¯re not a toy, and you¡¯re far too great to share with anyone.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll have to learn to. Even if I don¡¯t think¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think what?¡± he asks. Then, his eyes lighten. ¡°Ah. You don¡¯t want Lily to find out about us.¡±

 Small Town Hero C37

    I give a hesitant shake of my head. ¡°Is that okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just, we¡¯ve just cleared the air between us. And you know how she is, she will have a million questions, and she won¡¯t let up on either of us. It will just be easier. Is that-¡±


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he says, smile widening. ¡°Trust me, I know how my little sister gets. We don¡¯t have to tell anyone.¡±


    I rx against him, my hands ttening on his chest. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be your secret,¡± he murmurs, dropping his lips to my ear. ¡°Did you ever think about that, back in the day? What it would have been like if we¡¯d snuck around together?¡±


    My lips fall open. ¡°What? You mean¡­ you and me? Dating?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°Right under my sister¡¯s nose, but without her knowledge.¡±


    ¡°You thought about that,¡± I say.


    He nods, unabashed. There¡¯s a fire in his eyes. ¡°Every time she left us alone on the couch, watching TV, I wondered what you¡¯d do if I kissed you.¡±


    I can¡¯t find my breath. To have the old tension addressed, to hear him confirm the fire beneath our constant bickering. There had been times I¡¯d been so sure he felt the same¡­ and then most other times, I was convinced Parker would never see me as anything but Lily¡¯s weird friend.


    Parker¡¯s grin widens. ¡°I always wondered if you¡¯d p me or kiss me back.¡±


    ¡°Both, probably,¡± I breathe.


    He chuckles. ¡°Probably,¡± he agrees, and dips his head lower. ¡°Whenever you slept over at our house, in Lily¡¯s room, I¡¯d sleep terribly.¡±


    ¡°You would?¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Mhm. You were only a room away. What if we met in the hallway, going to the bathroom,te at night? What did you wear to bed?¡± He makes his voice teasing. ¡°The scenarios tortured me. I was only a teenage boy, James, and you were gorgeous.¡±


    Iugh at that. ¡°I had purple highlights and a nose ring!¡±


    ¡°Gorgeous,¡± he repeats. ¡°But I¡¯ll admit it made me feel like a pervert.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°You were only a grade older than me.¡±


    ¡°Still. You were my sister¡¯s best friend. Still are, actually.¡± His hand squeezes my hip.


    ¡°God, you were so annoying back then,¡± I say, smiling. ¡°You would take half the couch.¡±


    ¡°Well, I wanted to be close to you.¡±


    ¡°You insisted on watching sports, every single afternoon, and always pulled the older-than-Lily card to win the remote war.¡±


    ¡°Because I knew how much it annoyed you,¡± he says. ¡°Do you think I actually wanted to watch all those games?¡±


    My hands still on his chest. ¡°Of course you did. Didn¡¯t you? You were a jock.¡±


    ¡°I liked them,¡± he says, ¡°but I liked watching you pretend to be annoyed by me more. You¡¯de up with the most ridiculous arguments against organized sports. Come on, tell me you didn¡¯t enjoy our little dance?¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± I say, rising on my tiptoes again. ¡°I liked to annoy you too. Was pretty good at it, wasn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he murmurs, and kisses me back with slow, lingering touches that promise more toe. ¡°You always ignored me at school.¡±


    I¡¯dugh if he didn¡¯t have his mouth on mine. That was the other way around. He was in the glorified space above the cool clique, reserved for the kids who were beyond social hierarchies. He was a Marchand, the third golden son to attend Paradise High, a star athlete, and destined for great things. There was no lunch table off-limits for him.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ignore you,¡± I say. ¡°You were too cool for me.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°You were the one who wore biker boots that broke dress code and staged protests in the cafeteria. You didn¡¯t care about what anyone thought, and I loved watching you do it, all of it.¡±


    I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever noticed.


    He kisses me again, and it takes us several long moments to resurface for air. My head is spinning softly. ¡°I should go,¡± I say, my hands re-fastening the button I¡¯d identally undone in his shirt. ¡°My shift-my break, I mean, it should be over now.¡±


    Parker nudges my cheek with his nose. ¡°When can I see you next?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    He presses his lips to my neck, a warm brush over my sensitive skin. My hands slip into his hair and it¡¯s hard to concentrate. ¡°When, James?¡± he murmurs again.


    ¡°Um. Soon. I want¡­ oh. Wednesday night, maybe?¡±


    ¡°Wednesday,¡± he says. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°My mom has her book club again. You coulde over. Although¡­¡±


    He raises his head. ¡°Emma?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°I cane over after her bedtime.¡±This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°She really likes you,¡± I say. ¡°You saw that, didn¡¯t you, on the boat yesterday? She hangs off your every word. But it¡¯s just that¡­ ¡±


    ¡°I get it,¡± he says, stroking a thumb along my cheek. ¡°You don¡¯t want her to get too attached. I¡¯m not offended.¡±


    I sigh in relief. It¡¯s odd, and new, and so light to be with a man who doesn¡¯t twist my words around. Who isn¡¯t unpredictable, sunshine one day and all mes the next. Parker is steadiness itself, a contrast to the ocean he loves so much.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    He kisses me onest time. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. Until Wednesday, then.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait.¡±


    ¡°God, me neither, Jamie.¡±


    I re-fold the nket thrown over the side of the couch. The pillows are already fluffed, a bowl of chips on the table. That might have been too much, though. Like I¡¯ve prepared for a movie night with a friend.

 Small Town Hero C38

    Which I suppose I have.


    I light a few candles, which leads to an immediate bout of overthinking. They make the ce look date-like, and I blow them all out instead. The faint scent of smoke lingers in the air.


    Upstairs, the door to Emma¡¯s room is closed. She¡¯s usually a heavy sleeper, but she¡¯s been known to wake up an hour or two after bedtime from a dream, from thirst, or something just not feeling quite right. I hope tonight isn¡¯t one of those nights.


    She doesn¡¯t seem to miss her father at all. Hasn¡¯t asked me about him once since we left. But still, the idea of her getting attached to Parker, and to this town, without me knowing if we can stay here? If I can support us? Disappointing my daughter terrifies me more than Lee ever did.


    There¡¯s a knock on the door.


    ¡°Showtime,¡± I whisper to myself. Parker¡¯s standing on the other side, a bottle of wine in his hand.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Nevere empty-handed,¡± he says with a grin.


    I make a show of looking beside him. ¡°But where¡¯s the professionally cooked twelve-course dinner this time?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re aedian,¡± he says, and kisses me on the temple. It¡¯s a casual, affectionate gesture. I¡¯m not sure it was even conscious. ¡°Is Emma asleep? Your mom away?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I follow him into the kitchen. He sets the bottle down, hands bracing on the counter. ¡°She passed out like a light. Summer is good like that. She runs and ys and gets enough fresh air during the days that she struggles to get through brushing her teeth without falling asleep.¡±


    Parker¡¯s smile deepens. ¡°She likes it here.¡±


    ¡°Loves it, more like. Do you want us to open your red wine?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± he says.


    I find two sses and watch as he uncorks the bottle. ¡°What wine is it?¡±


    He rattles off the name with the ease of someone who buys and enjoys this vintage, the words round and foreign-sounding on his tongue. His mother is French, even if the influence is clearer in Rhys and Lily than the all-American could-be-model in front of me, but it¡¯s there beneath the surface.


    ¡°Do you still speak it?¡± I ask. Their mother had insisted on sses, and spoke to them in French whenever she could when we were kids.


    He gives me a half-smile. ¡°Only when I can¡¯t avoid it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re brave,¡± I say. Eloise Marchand is a determined woman.


    ¡°Mom¡¯s fearsome, but she¡¯s settled down some. Or maybe I¡¯ve just learned to ignore her pointed demands? One of the two.¡±


    ¡°What does she think about the yacht club?¡± I ask. ¡°What does the whole family think?¡±


    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°One night alone, and you¡¯re diving right into the tough questions?¡±


    I focus on pouring wine into our sses. ¡°Maybe. But you don¡¯t have to answer.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re confused,¡± he says, ¡°and happy in equal measure.¡±


    ¡°Confused?¡±


    ¡°Do you know what I did before the club?¡±


    I y with the rim of my ss. Lily had mentioned it, briefly, in a message a long time ago. ¡°You were awyer in Boston.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯d studiedw and I practiced it for a few years, ording to n. I would sail in my free time, but¡­ there was very little of it.¡±


    ¡°Did you go pro? The summer after college?¡±


    ¡°Attempted to, at least.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a lurid story,¡± he says with a sigh. ¡°But there¡¯s a lot of time involved, and a lot of travelling. It didn¡¯t work with my job.¡±


    There¡¯s more to that story, I¡¯m sure. None of the Marchands technically need jobs, from a financial standpoint. But I had overheard more than one tense discussion during my childhood visits to Lily¡¯s house. Eloise and Michael Marchand demanded nothing but excellence from their children, and it was excellence narrowly defined.


    ¡°When did you move back from Boston?¡±


    ¡°A few years ago now,¡± he says. ¡°Shortly before Lily followed suit.¡±


    ¡°You led the way.¡±


    His smile is crooked. ¡°I always do.¡±


    ¡°Did you work from here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I kept up myw practice. But there is something soul-destroying about reading corporate contracts day in and day out. My father wanted me to eventually work on retainer to hispany, but¡­¡± He trails off and runs a hand through his hair. ¡°This wasn¡¯t what I had in mind for tonight. I wanted to decipher your secrets, not spill my own.¡±


    I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. ¡°Maybe you have to go first in order to get mine.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± A light sparks in his eyes. ¡°Well, then. Iy my failings as awyer at your feet.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t consider shifting fromwyer to business owner a failure.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°Say that to my father, please.¡±


    ¡°The yacht club is an institution in this town, and your family practically is, too. How could they not be happy?¡±


    ¡°They will be,¡± he says. There¡¯s confidence in his voice. ¡°I¡¯m sure of it. My father loves sailing too much, and my mother the social fabric of this town, to not see how beneficial it¡¯ll be. I give it a year or two before they¡¯re asking me to host private events at the club or my mother decides to contribute with artwork.¡±


    Iugh at that. ¡°Sounds like them.¡±


    ¡°Besides, my license is still valid. I can practicew if I feel the need to.¡± He nods at the ss of wine still in my hand. ¡°You haven¡¯t tasted it yet.¡±


    I haven¡¯t had the time, I think, and keep my gaze on his as I take a sip. He is too fascinating and my stomach is too filled with nerves.


    ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± I say, the red wine exquisite on my tongue. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve had wine, too. ¡°Should we, um¡­ go to the living room?¡±


    His smile widens at my awkwardness. ¡°Sure,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s just me, James.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, you¡¯re not just you anymore.¡±

 Small Town Hero C39

    ¡°I¡¯m not?¡± He sets his ss down and stretches out on the couch beside me, an arm along the back and legs stretched out in front. Taking up space, the way he always has. ¡°How have I changed?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°I didn¡¯t know how good of a kisser you were before.¡±


    His gaze darkens. ¡°It¡¯s easy when you have a good partner.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡± Parker¡¯s eyes drop to my lips. ¡°You¡¯ve changed for me too, you know.¡±


    ¡°I have?¡±


    He dips his chin in a single nod. ¡°I know what you sound like, now, when I kiss your neck.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°That little sigh has been on repeat in my mind for the past few days.¡±


    The room feels too hot. I shift on the sofa, turning to face him. Pull my legs up beneath me. ¡°Parker, what are we doing?¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur, looking down at my winess. ¡°What is¡­ this? Us.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re spending time together, and I¡¯m slowly discovering all of your secrets.¡±


    ¡°I hoped you¡¯d forgotten about that.¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± he says. ¡°Where have you been living these past couple of years?¡±


    That¡¯s a question I don¡¯t mind answering. His dark blue eyes are serious on mine, and open, like whatever I say is okay. There¡¯s no correct answer, and no acerbicment waiting for me if I say the wrong thing.


    ¡°A few hours west of here,¡± I say. ¡°It was a tiny town.¡±


    ¡°Like Paradise,¡± he says.


    That makes meugh. ¡°Well, in size maybe, but very much not like Paradise. There was no ocean close by, and definitely no lobster rolls.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you survived.¡±


    ¡°It was a harrowing few years.¡±


    He smiles, arm stretching out behind my back. ¡°Did you work?¡±


    ¡°Off and on, yeah. Waitressing and graphic design mostly.¡± I tuck my hand beneath one of the pillows, the braided fabric rough against my skin. Mom is big into hemp and jute at the moment. ¡°It wasn¡¯t very reliable.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where you learned it all? The design work?¡±


    ¡°Some of it, yes,¡± I say. ¡°There are great courses online. It was trial and error, mostly. The first website I created was for a ce I waitressed at.¡±


    ¡°Same as now,¡± he says, raising an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s your trick, James? Get hired for one thing and then show your secret talents to get a second gig?¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°It¡¯s only worked twice, but maybe I should put it into practice regrly.¡±


    ¡°There are too few ces in Paradise,¡± Parker says, ¡°and the gto shop doesn¡¯t need a website.¡±


    I dig my teeth into my lower lip and think about it. ¡°That could actually work,¡± I say. ¡°I know you meant it as a joke, but the ice cream shop is a local institution. They could have a system where customers order pints to go, and list all vors on their website.¡±


    Parker grins. ¡°You¡¯re brilliant, you know.¡±


    ¡°Gosh, that was just a stupid idea. I don¡¯t know anything, really.¡±


    ¡°You know a lot,¡± he says. ¡°Own it. You¡¯re good at the business side of things.¡±


    ¡°I have no experience with it.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s all raw, natural talent.¡± Parker shifts closer, his hand brushing my shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s even more impressive. Maybe you should start doing this full-time, instead of waitressing. Website design, newsletters, and business strategy? Not like I want to lose one of my best employees here, though, so maybe I should shut up.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Not likely.¡±


    ¡°But you could work from home with that. Stay in Paradise. Put Emma in school,¡± he says. His voice is warm and reassuring, and I like the picture he paints. Perhaps a bit too much.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure about staying yet.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What do we need to do to convince you?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Nothing, it¡¯s not¡­ because of the town. But Paradise is expensive, and I know the cons as well as the pros. Maybe Emma won¡¯t fit in so well.¡±


    A lot of my memories of going to school here are great, but not all. The teachers were brilliant, but the kids could be ruthless, often casually so. They went on summer vacations to faraway ces and spent their winters skiing in Aspen. Most weekends they¡¯d been on their boats, docked in the marina for all to see. I¡¯ll never be able to afford that kind of lifestyle for Emma. She doesn¡¯t realize that now, but one day she will.


    ¡°She¡¯s a natural-born sailor,¡± Parker says. ¡°She¡¯ll fit in beautifully. Or she¡¯ll stand out, like her mother did, and dazzle the town. Either way, she¡¯s meant to stay.¡±


    ¡°I dazzled the town?¡±


    His mouth lifts into a crooked smile. ¡°Dazzle the high school boys, at any rate.¡±


    ¡°I never dazzled anyone.¡±


    ¡°Wrong,¡± he says softly. The single word sets my heart racing. Parker shifts closer and the distance between us shrinks, inch by inch. ¡°You¡¯ve always dazzled me.¡±


    I give a tiny shake of my head. It¡¯s you, I think, who¡¯ve always dazzled me. The golden boy, the golden man, confidence and ease and strength personified. Laughter that fills up a room and arms that can carry the weight of the world.


    He closes the distance between us and kisses me, a brief brush of his lips, and I find my breath again.


    My hands slide into his hair. The dark blond strands are soft, and just faintly salt-roughened at the ends. I wonder if he manages to get all of it out during the summer, with daily morning swims.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he murmurs, and one of his hands runs through my ponytail. ¡°Let¡¯s take this out.¡±


    I help him with the scrunchie and my hair falls over my shoulders. He runs his hands through it, leaning back to watch the light brown locks spread over my tank top. It¡¯s nothing special. No real haircut, and no highlights, just light brown and mostly straight.

 Small Town Hero C40

    But his eyes are trained on it. ¡°Your hair used to be dyed ck,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°Do you miss it?¡±


    His eyes rise to mine, and a smile that is entirely too charming spreads across his face. It makes my stomach flip over. ¡°I know better than to answer that,¡± he says. ¡°But no, James. You¡¯re gorgeous like this. Too gorgeous.¡±


    Our kisses go from vertical to horizontal. My back hits the pillows, and then the couch itself, stretched out beneath Parker. He¡¯s always been strong, but I¡¯ve never realized just how built he is until this very moment. He¡¯s everywhere, and every slow brush of his lips sends shivers down my arms. I feel like I¡¯ming alive again, like he¡¯s kissing me back into my own body.


    Parker¡¯s attention shifts to my neck and I look up at the ceiling. I¡¯m feeling too much, all of it at once. His lips are a feather¡¯s touch on my sensitive skin.


    I want him, desperately. I want to lose myself in us, in him, and I want to be held in his arms and close my eyes and feel the strong beat of his heart beneath my ear.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    But then I hear Lee¡¯sments in my head. Do you have to make so much noise? God, Jamie, can you buy panties that aren¡¯t for grandmothers? Hygiene is important. I¡¯d have gotten hard if you¡¯d showered first.


    They were always dropped casually, like things I should be aware of, instead of devastating blows. Eachment a pebble against my self-confidence. If he¡¯d thrown boulders instead, I might¡¯ve had a chance at avoiding them.


    I might have seen them for what they were.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± Parker says. His voice is hoarse, and when he lifts his head, the dark blue eyes are nearly ck. There¡¯s a distinct hardness against my leg. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    I tighten my grip on his shoulders. This is everything I¡¯ve ever wanted, and Lee won¡¯t take it from me. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°James,¡± he says. The arms on either side of me are solid, and I turn to look at them instead, the muscles taut as they hold his weight. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°I just get in my head sometimes. I¡¯m sorry. We can keep going, it¡¯s okay, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Hell, no,¡± he says.


    I flinch against the words. Another apology hovers on my tongue, even as I hate myself for it. For the person I became around Lee, for the person I can¡¯t seem to shake fully.


    But Parker isn¡¯t him, and he pulls us up into sitting. A strong arm settles around my waist, making itself at home. ¡°We aren¡¯t doing anything,¡± he says, ¡°unless you fully want to.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but I do, Parker, of course I do. It¡¯s just that¡­¡± My words trail off. There¡¯s no way to exin it. How things with Lee had gone from explosive to passive-aggressive, how intimacy had be another of his maniptive weapons, honed to perfection.


    Something darkens on Parker¡¯s face. It¡¯s there in an instant, and it¡¯s an expression I¡¯ve rarely seen on his face. He looks like he had in Lily¡¯s hospital room, all those years ago, if his devastation was matched by rage.


    ¡°It¡¯s because of Emma¡¯s father,¡± he says ndly.


    It¡¯s a statement, and not a question, but I nod.


    Parker closes his eyes and a muscle jumps in his jaw. A long second passes, and then another.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not. Did he hurt you?¡±


    I shake my head. This night is spiralling, my two lives colliding. The two Jamies colliding.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± Parker says.


    The words tumble out, a torrent that matches the adrenaline flowing through my veins. This is it. He¡¯ll find out just how weak I¡¯ve been and he¡¯ll leave. ¡°Lee never hurt me physically. It was just¡­ little things. Comments. By the end he would critique everything I did, all of the time, until I was walking on eggshells.¡±


    He¡¯d tell me I was worthless, I think, and for years I believed him.


    ¡°He¡¯d critique everything you did,¡± Parker repeats slowly. His voice is monotone. ¡°Including sex?¡±


    I want the Earth to swallow me whole, to bury me in an unmarked grave. Mortification sets my face on fire. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Parker closes his eyes again and the hand on my waist tightens, just slightly, the grip still soft. He turns into a statue with tightly controlled breathing.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I whisper. ¡°I left him. It¡¯s just that, well, sometimes I still hear thosements in my head.¡±


    ¡°He was wrong,¡± Parker says, eyes still closed, ¡°about every fucking thing he ever said. You know that, right?¡±


    I take a deep breath. ¡°Most days, yes. But not all.¡±


    Parker remains quiet and still, hands on me, eyes closed.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I finally whisper.


    He tips forward, his foreheading to rest against mine. Dark blue eyes open again. ¡°I¡¯m trying very hard to restrain myself,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s a new concept for me.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Restrain yourself from what?¡±


    ¡°A great many things, most of which wouldnd me in prison,¡± he says. But then his lips quirk up, a tiny movement. ¡°Or turn you off me forever.¡±


    ¡°Not possible,¡± I murmur.


    He kisses me. It¡¯s achingly sweet, with hisrge hand on my cheek, and brief. When he leans back the air between us feels clear. I see none of the judgement in his eyes that I reserve for myself.


    ¡°Time, Jamie,¡± he says. ¡°I have all the time in the world.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°So whenever that bastard¡¯s words ring in your head, you tell me. What they are, or not, I don¡¯t care. But let me know so I can remind you how brilliant and beautiful you are.¡±


    Something squeezes painfully tight in my chest. All I can do is nod.


    ¡°I have questions,¡± he continues, ¡°and I think there are still things for you to tell me, if you want. But there¡¯s no rush. Was this enough for tonight?¡±


    He¡¯s giving me the choice. Like Lily, he¡¯s not demanding all of it now. Where Lee is now, how I left him.


    ¡°Yes, I think it¡¯s¡­ enough for tonight,¡± I say. It doesn¡¯t quite feel like a defeat, with his steady gaze on me and the strength of his arm around my waist.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he says instead. ¡°Then let¡¯s see what movie you¡¯ll badger me into watching.¡±


    My mouth falls open. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    He grins. ¡°I remember your artsy movie taste in high school. Things had to have subtitles, remember? Or be ck and white?¡±

 Small Town Hero C41

    ¡°God, I was trying so hard to be alternative.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, and hands me the remote. With his free hand he shifts my legs so they lie over his. ¡°But now you can just be you.¡±


    PARKER


    It¡¯s been three days since the conversation in Jamie¡¯s house, on that couch, and I haven¡¯t forgotten a single word she said. Nor how she looked when she said them. She¡¯d turned inward, like a house shutting up for winter. It wasn¡¯t natural. Not for Jamie.


    Not for the teenager who was afraid of nothing, and not for the woman who¡¯d sshed me in the ocean just a week ago. Who had grown into her workouts in an impressively short period of time. The woman who is a brilliant mother to the cutest little girl.


    I hate her ex.


    The hatred is heavy to hold, weighing me down in bed at night. I picture him in my head, though I have no idea what he looks like, and conjure up scenario after scenario. Things he must have said to Jamie. The worst of my musings are the two of them in bed, and thements he might have made, until I have to throw the cover back and stalk around.


    Last night it had resulted in little to no sleep, and my mouth is tight when I park the Jeep outside the yacht club. I wonder what made her leave. I wonder if Emma misses him. I wonder about a lot of things that I have no answer to, and no chance to learn, not until Jamie is ready.


    The restaurant is in full swing when I step inside, preparing for lunch, and I duck into the back office right away. The new website Jamie created has been a roaring sess and I¡¯m tentatively putting inrger orders for the caps, T-shirts and mugs. But when I arrive at my desk, there¡¯s something waiting for me.


    Something that¡¯s lying on myptop.


    It¡¯s arge, lightly cracked chocte chip cookie. It has M&M¡¯s in it that look an awful lot like the rainbow sprinkles I¡¯d gotten Emma at the gto shop.


    Next to it is a scribbled note, written on a ripped-off piece of legal pad. Captain, thank you for being so understanding. Emma and I baked yesterday. Enjoy!


    I look at the cookie for a long moment before I take a bite. A bit salty, and too dry, and perhaps the most delicious thing I¡¯ve ever eaten.


    Jamie¡¯s working today, and seeing her is the best kind of torture, walking through the restaurant in her uniform. Every now and then she¡¯ll send me a look over her shoulder that ys me. It¡¯s the kind of look a man would go to the ends of the Earth for. It says hello, and I like you, and you and I are an item¡­ but no one here knows. It¡¯s a look that promises kisses in the dark.


    Jamie passes by my office half an hourter and only stops long enough to give me a wink before dancing off toward the restaurant. The gesture makes me grin.


    Time, I¡¯d told her. I¡¯d promised to give her all the time in the world, and I meant it, but by God I hoped we wouldn¡¯t need it.


    It¡¯s past lunch when I hear a familiar tapping on the door. ¡°What now?¡± I ask. ¡°Another cookie?¡±All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Jamie rolls her eyes, so like her old self, and smiles. ¡°No, your brother and his girlfriend are here.¡±


    ¡°My brother?¡± I say. ¡°Do you mean Henry? Faye¡¯s his wife, but they¡¯re not meant to get back until next Friday for the White Party.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Rhys.¡±


    ¡°Rhys is here?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jamie says, smile widening. ¡°Last time I checked he was still your brother.¡±


    My grin widens. ¡°Sassy,¡± I say, and get up to follow her. ¡°Thanks for the cookie, by the way. I loved it.¡±


    She smiles at me over her shoulder, and fucking hell, there¡¯s that look again. We have a secret, it says, and I like you, and I imagine her giving it to me in bed. ¡°Ahoy, Captain,¡± she says.


    I press a hand over my chest and groan. ¡°You kill me.¡±


    Jamie chuckles and leads the way to the restaurant. And, lo and behold, my older brother is there. Rhys is leaning against the wall and flicking through the contents of his DSLR camera. Next to him is Ivy, her light blonde hair in a casual ponytail, looking down at the screen with him.


    ¡°That one,¡± she says. ¡°You have to include it.¡±


    ¡°The light could be better,¡± he says. Then he notices me and lowers the camera, a familiar half-smile on his face. ¡°Hello, little brother.¡±


    I pull him in for a hug. ¡°Only Lily is allowed to be called the little sibling.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s for older siblings to decide.¡±


    ¡°Hi, Parker,¡± Ivy says and hugs me too. She smells sweet, cloyingly so, and I can¡¯t stop the cough that escapes me.


    She gives an apologetic smile. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s this perfume brand I¡¯m working with. They want me to endorse them, but I wanted to test the scents first.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re god-awful,¡± Rhys says.


    Ivy gives a happy little shrug. ¡°Well, I won¡¯t write that back in the email to them, but¡­ yeah, they¡¯re not good. This one is called Spiced Honey, and now I¡¯m stuck wearing it all day.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get your job at all,¡± I say honestly.


    Ivyughs. ¡°Most days I don¡¯t either!¡±


    I take a step back and gesture toward Jamie. ¡°Rhys, look who¡¯s back in town.¡±


    My brother looks at her for a long moment. ¡°Jamie Moraine?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s nice to see you, Rhys.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time,¡± he says. ¡°Ivy, Jamie went to school with us. She was Lily¡¯s best friend.¡±


    Was. I doubt it was deliberate, just as I doubt Jamie missed it. Ivy introduces herself with a bright smile. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure,¡± she says. ¡°You work with Parker?¡±


    ¡°Um, yeah. I¡¯m a waitress here.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s also overhauled the website, designed the graphics for the new menu. See that?¡± I say, pointing to the cab in the entryway. It has a stack of the new caps inside, resting artfully on top of coiled rope. ¡°Jamie¡¯s idea. We sell them now.¡±


    Ivy looks inside the cab. ¡°These are so cute! I want to get one of these.¡±


    Rhys is still looking at Jamie. He must have heard some of it from Lily, but I don¡¯t know how much. The two of them always stay in contact when he¡¯s abroad. ¡°How long have you been back?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Two months, now, I think. Give or take,¡± Jamie says. ¡°Your brother was kind enough to give me a job.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all lies,¡± I say. ¡°I didn¡¯t have a clue she worked here until I saw her in the restaurant.¡±


    Rhys snorts. ¡°Doesn¡¯t surprise me. He¡¯s never been particrly observant.¡±


    ¡°More lies,¡± I say. ¡°Did youe to town just to insult me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know that¡¯s just a bonus.¡± He lifts his camera up. ¡°I came to do you a favor.¡±

 Small Town Hero C42

    ¡°Down from Mount Olympus to honor us mortals,¡± I say, putting a hand on my chest.


    He hits my shoulder with an open hand. ¡°Man, do you know how much I charge per hour?¡±


    ¡°No, and if you send me an invoice I won¡¯t pay it,¡± I say. ¡°Come on, let us show you around.¡±


    Rhys and I join Ivy by the entryway. It isn¡¯t until I¡¯ve opened the doors that I realize Jamie hasn¡¯t joined us.


    ¡°James,¡± I call. ¡°Come along?¡±


    She hesitates, the question clear in her eyes. ¡°Sure?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You know what shots we need for the website, I¡¯ve heard you talk about it several times.¡± I grin at her. ¡°Stephen will cover your tables, I need your brain out here.¡±


    ¡°Okay, sure!¡± She smiles back and rushes into the back office to grab a notepad.


    It doesn¡¯t take long before Ivy and I decide to leave Rhys and Jamie to their business. It¡¯s clear they don¡¯t need our input. As we walk away I overhear Rhys talking about shooting it moremercial and Jamie answering yes, imagine magazine, and I know I¡¯m out of my depth.


    Ivy and I talk about their recent travels instead. They¡¯ve just gotten back from driving across the country, visiting national parks, and she¡¯s got a tan. She¡¯s big into fitness and health, and one topic drifts into the other, turning toward workouts.


    ¡°I just signed a new contract with a fitness brand.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯ll be shooting all kinds of content-workouts, yoga, hiking, meditation, and cooking-in their workout gear and athleisure.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic,¡± I say. ¡°Congrats. But, what the hell is athleisure?¡±


    Sheughs and exins what amounts to wearing workout clothes outside of your workouts. Apparently azy practice I¡¯ve been the master of for decades has be an entire industry. Who knew?


    ¡°How are things in Paradise?¡± Ivy asks. ¡°Any updates on your bachelor life?¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    I lean back on the bench. In the distance, Rhys and Jamie are standing far out on one of the docks, facing the yacht club. Getting shots of the ce from afar. The sun is shining, and the waves are soft.


    It¡¯d be a perfect day for sailing.


    ¡°No major updates,¡± I say.


    ¡°Which means you¡¯re still enjoying it,¡± Ivy says with augh. She¡¯s always been close to augh, quick to it where Rhys is reluctant.


    Sure, they look stunning together, but it¡¯s these differences that make them work. It had taken me a while to figure it out. That her lightness where he was dark, her sincerity where he thrived on nuance, was the magic between them. And beneath it a bone-deep understanding that they see one another-that my brother can be unmasked in her presence in a way that he so rarely is with anyone.


    Including us.


    My eyes track Jamie¡¯s slim figure out on a dock. She¡¯s walking next to Rhys, her arms moving animatedly as she exins something. She¡¯s excited.


    And I find myself smiling.


    ¡°I¡¯m actually seeing someone right now.¡±


    Ivy bumps my shoulder. ¡°Anyone special? Someone we¡¯ll see at the White Party?¡±


    I snort. ¡°Jesus. My parents have been badgering you guys about it too, I¡¯m guessing?¡±


    ¡°Eloise only texts Rhys about it once a day or so,¡± Ivy says. ¡°To make sure he doesn¡¯t decide to explore a Costa Rican rainforest or something that very day.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a definite possibility,¡± I say. ¡°With him, you never know.¡±


    She grins. ¡°No, you never do. We¡¯ll probably be in town for it, though. I really want to go. You guys have told me enough about it to make me curious.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s definitely a town staple,¡± I say.


    The White Party is an early August institution in Paradise Shores. The summer kicks off with the Junior Regatta and ends with the White Party along the boardwalk, with tents and flowing alcohol and live music. Tickets are sold to locals and invited-by-locals, only.


    ¡°So I¡¯ve heard, and I¡¯ve had one too few lobster rolls this summer,¡± Ivy says. ¡°It¡¯s not okay. Besides, Rhys misses this ce when we¡¯re not here. He doesn¡¯t say it, but he does.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s in his blood, try as he may to fight it.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s fighting it less these days,¡± she says easily. It¡¯s true. Rhys has been in Paradise more since he met her than he had ever had before.


    We¡¯re all finding our way back here. Like a braid that untwisted after graduation, sending us on separate paths, is slowly starting to knot itself back together again. I¡¯d been the first, and he¡¯ll be thest, but we¡¯ll all make it back. I¡¯m sure of it.


    Jamie and Rhys join us. She rocks back on her heels and shoots me a happy smile. Something squeezes in my chest.


    ¡°All good?¡± I ask.


    Rhys nods, flicking through images on his camera. ¡°Yes. Now I¡¯ll bother your chef by photographing the food.¡± And then, muttered under his breath, ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m photographing food.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay you in a lobster roll when you¡¯re done!¡± I call.


    ¡°epted,¡± he says. ¡°Oh, and I¡¯m taking the Frida outter with Ivy. I want to shoot her at sunset.¡±


    Damn. I¡¯d toyed with the idea of taking her out myself, but I nod. ¡°Okay. And is Ivy okay with being shot? Because brother or not, I¡¯ll testify.¡±


    The girlsugh, but Rhys just rolls his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not going to dignify that with a response,¡± he says and turns on his heel, walking up toward the kitchen. I follow him. Together with Kristen, there¡¯ll be a bloodbath if I don¡¯t mediate.


    But we get the shots, and I get my brother and his girlfriend a lobster roll, and somehow I end up in my back office with a memory card filled of images from the yacht club.


    Jamie joins me to look through them. Her shift is technically over and she¡¯s back in her normal clothes, a pair of shorts that ride high on her thighs and an oversized shirt.


    She¡¯s quiet as we scroll through the pictures. It¡¯s a thoughtful sort of quiet. I put a hand on her thigh. ¡°What are you thinking?¡±


    ¡°These are good,¡± she says. ¡°They¡¯ll be great on the website, for marketing.¡±


    ¡°Not about the pictures. You¡¯re thinking about something else, I can tell. It¡¯s not¡­what you told me the other night?¡±


    The things she¡¯d told me, about his negativements, about her ex¡¯s voice sometimes overshadowing her own.


    Her eyes widen. ¡°Oh, no, not at all. No. I was just thinking about Rhys and Ivy. They¡¯re so cool.¡±

 Small Town Hero C43

    ¡°Cool?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I mean, Ivy and I spoke afterwards. She¡¯s a model. An actual model, and she¡¯s gorgeous. She¡¯s shot campaigns.¡±


    My smile widens. ¡°They¡¯re normal people.¡±


    Jamie looks at me like I¡¯ve lost my mind. ¡°They¡¯re not,¡± she insists. ¡°Come on, Ivy is probably the most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Wow,¡± I say, tightening my hand on her leg. ¡°Should I be worried here?¡±


    ¡°Come on, Parker, she¡¯s stunning!¡±


    I shrug. ¡°While I like my sister-inw, the most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever seen is in this very room.¡±


    A blush creeps up her cheeks. ¡°Don¡¯t tease me.¡±


    ¡°Not teasing.¡± Her skin is soft and warm beneath my hand. ¡°Do you know how hard it¡¯s been not kissing you? When I see you walk through the restaurant, in your uniform? To not pull you into this very room?¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°God, yes.¡±


    Her lips part. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°I want you a great deal,¡± I say. ¡°The other night? I¡¯ve thought about it. How it felt to kiss you on your couch.¡±


    It¡¯s the truth. And seeing the small, quick exhale of breath from her, I think it¡¯s something she needs to hear. I never want her to doubt herself again. I want to silence every single word her ex ever said.


    I only want her to hear mine.


    So I lean in and kiss her neck.


    Jamie exhales shakily. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°I want you,¡± I say again, sliding my lips up to her cheek. Her ear. Back to her jaw. ¡°And I won¡¯t pressure you, but I never want you to doubt that, either. I¡¯ve thought about you so many times.¡±


    Her legs shift beneath my hand, widening in the chair. And then she¡¯s kissing me. It takes every ounce of my self-control to do nothing but kiss her back. I don¡¯t pull her onto myp, I don¡¯t move my hand up her inner thigh.


    I just kiss her back, pouring everything I¡¯ve learned over the years into it. The slow, the steady, the teasing. When Jamie finally pulls back, she¡¯s red-faced and liquid-eyed. ¡°I want you as well,¡± she murmurs. ¡°And I¡¯ve thought about it, too.¡±


    The words send red-hot desire through me. My jeans feel ufortably tight, strained around the fly.This content ? 2024 N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I should get home,¡± she continues, but her hands around my neck don¡¯t move. ¡°To Emma. To dinner¡­¡±


    ¡°Good idea.¡± I don¡¯t move either and catch her lips with my own for another kiss. ¡°When can I see you again?¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow, probably, at work,¡± she says, smiling against me.


    ¡°Jamie¡­¡±


    She kisses me again, not long enough for my liking. ¡°I know what you mean. I¡¯m not sure. Soon. I¡¯ll try to get my mother out of the house.¡±


    ¡°I have a house, too, you know. You¡¯re wee to more than just my garage.¡±


    ¡°What a gentleman,¡± she whispers, and when she kisses me again, her chest against mine, I groan at the contact. Her body is too sweet.


    But it doesn¡¯tst, and I can¡¯t help following her when she gets up. ¡°Let me walk you to your bike.¡±


    ¡°No bike today,¡± she says, digging through her bag for her phone. ¡°My mom is picking me up.¡±


    I kiss her temple while she sends a text. Being near her and not touching her is impossible. My hands, my head, my body, are all full of her. ¡°I could drive you home, you know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but then everyone would see.¡± She kisses me one final time. ¡°She¡¯s on her way.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Despite her protests, I walk her out onto the parking lot. It¡¯s mostly empty. Lunch is the yacht club¡¯s busiest time, not dinner.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± I say.


    She smiles up at me. It¡¯s a teasing, flirtatious smile, and it sets off something deep inside me. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°What is it now?¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Taking a tone with me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve always liked it when I argue.¡±


    ¡°I always have,¡± I agree. ¡°It was the best part when Lily invited you over.¡±


    ¡°Masochist,¡± she says, and aims a soft kick at my shoe.


    ¡°Sadist,¡± I reply.


    Sheughs and I pull her close. Onest kiss. She lets me, her lips soft. I release her as quickly as I caught her. ¡°Couldn¡¯t resist.¡±


    Jamie grins. ¡°I¡¯m that irresistible?¡±


    ¡°You really, really are. Come work out tomorrow morning. Come swim with me. Have dinner with me, have lunch with me.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± She presses her hands to her cheeks. ¡°You¡¯re really not ying hard to get?¡±


    The dirtiest of answerses to mind. I open my mouth, ready to go for it, before I remember her hesitations in the bedroom. Old Jamie would love it. New Jamie might not.


    But a sh of lights close by breaks off the convo. Jamie¡¯s mother is here. I aim a quick wave at the tinted window and nod goodbye to Jamie. One day.


    JAMIE


    ¡°Mom,¡± I say. ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡±


    She shakes her head and keeps chopping chives. Her eyes are on the knife, not on me, but there¡¯s amusement in her voice. ¡°He¡¯s a good man. He has a great job.¡±

 Small Town Hero C44

    ¡°Mom.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, sweetheart. Everyone in town knows him.¡±


    I grit my teeth. ¡°Yeah, I know.¡±


    She flips the knife over, attacking the herbs from another angle. ¡°Not to mention he¡¯s Lily¡¯s older brother. You girls could be sister-inws.¡±


    ¡°Now you remember who he is.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°All I¡¯m saying,¡± Mom continues, ¡°is that I¡¯m all for it. You deserve some fun and happiness, sweetheart.¡±


    I look up at the ceiling. Thest thing I want is to discuss my love life with my mother, especially when it¡¯s a love life I very much want to keep quiet about.


    But she¡¯d seen the quick kiss in the parking lot and she¡¯s brought it up three times since.


    ¡°It¡¯s good that you¡¯re making yourself at home here again,¡± she continues. ¡°This is your home, you know. People care about you here. Did you call Paradise Elementary for a spot for Emma? Summer¡¯s almost over.¡±


    I drum my fingers against the kitchen counter. ¡°Not yet, no.¡±


    Her chopping stops. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    Yes, I think. I should. There¡¯s a million things I should do. But every time I think of staying here permanently, something stops me. Fear. Guilt, perhaps. The knowledge that I¡¯ll need to rely on my mother for babysitting, for help, for everything until I finally get back on my feet.


    ¡°Jamie?¡±


    But I want to stay, and so does Emma. ¡°I¡¯ll call first thing tomorrow.¡±


    Her shoulders rx. ¡°Great. And¡­ maybe I should be out of the house tomorrow night.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she says, in a tone that makes it clear she does. ¡°You know, just in case you want to have someone over in the evening.¡±


    I put my head in my hands.


    ¡°Or maybe you¡¯d rather I watch Emma one evening and you go somewhere else, hmm? Out on a date?¡±


    My first instinct is to say no. To deny it. But then I think of Parker¡¯s open eyes, the steady way he talks. He has no interest in hiding. And I draw strength from that.


    ¡°Tomorrow night, you said?¡±


    Mom chuckles. ¡°Yes. I can go over to Betty¡¯s. We¡¯ve been meaning to catch up for ages.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I was young too, once,¡± she says, but the way her eyes twinkle, I know she still is, inside. ¡°He¡¯s someone from high school. Isn¡¯t he? You knew him well before?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s still Lily¡¯s brother, yes,¡± I say. ¡°And she doesn¡¯t know about it. About¡­ us, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, intrigue. My lips are shut, if you promise to keep me informed.¡±


    I roll my eyes. Not about everything, I think. ¡°All right, I will.¡±


    She grins at me over the food we¡¯re preparing. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you came home, honey. Life sure isn¡¯t boring anymore.¡±


    Turns out, Parker is free tomorrow night. He says that over the phone, calling me two minutes after I¡¯d texted with the question. Through the phone I hear the sounds ofughter and something mming. A door?


    I¡¯m at a family dinner, he says. But tomorrow night, at yours? Can¡¯t wait, James.


    I spend the entire Friday in anticipation. At work, seeing him briefly in the back room, our eyes meeting. During my lunch break, when Lily and little Jamiee down to the yacht club to eat with me on one of the docks. The boy looks so much like his parents, and is as enamored with his uncle as I am, because he points at the yacht club several times and demands, Parker!


    There¡¯s a brief pinch of guilt when I look at Lily¡¯s open face and easy smiles, our rtionship healing, and know that I¡¯m keeping another secret.


    In the evening, Emma and I wave goodbye to my mom, and she gives me a cheeky wink that I pretend not to see. We eat as quiet of a dinner as is possible with a six-year-old, and I answer a multitude of questions about the TV show she¡¯d watched earlier. Exactly how old are the dinosaurs, and were they alive when Grandma was a child?


    No, I tell her, and never repeat that when your grandmother can hear.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Emma is giggly and tired when I finally put her to bed. She has a band of freckles across her nose from her time in the sun this summer and I pretend to count them. She swats my hand away. ¡°Mommy,¡± she admonishes me.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re just too precious to me.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she says, ¡°but you¡¯re supposed to read the book.¡±


    I look down at the book in question. It¡¯s her favorite, and I¡¯ve read it twice already, cover to cover. ¡°Right. Okay¡­ So, Cinna woke up, and it was a day like every other day. Except for one little thing. What¡¯s that in the sky, Cinna asks?¡±


    Emma giggles and pulls her stuffed rabbit closer. Try as she might, though, she can¡¯t fight against exhaustion, and I¡¯m soon back downstairs. Waiting for Parker to show up.


    Had it only been a week since we were here, doing this exact same thing? When I¡¯d told him about Lee?


    There¡¯s a quiet knock on the door, and then he¡¯s there, tall and familiar and strange all at once. Butterflies erupt in my stomach.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say.


    ¡°Hi,¡± he says, and steps forward. Handsnd on my waist and he kisses me hello. It turns into several kisses and the butterflies shift, turn into wanting.


    He lifts his head. ¡°It¡¯s been too long.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only been a few hours.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that was at work.¡±


    I pretend to frown at him. ¡°Yes, where you kissed me openly in the parking lot the other day. Guess who saw?¡±


    ¡°Your mother?¡± he says, smiling crookedly. ¡°Will she ground you? Enforce curfew? Give you extra homework?¡±

 Small Town Hero C45

    ¡°Very funny. No, she¡¯ll just ask me excruciatingly nosy questions.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Would I be interested in hearing the answers to those?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say. He walks me backward into the kitchen, hands still around my waist, and I feel like I¡¯m soaring. ¡°But that¡¯s privileged information.¡±


    He groans. ¡°Don¡¯t usewyer-speak on me.¡±


    ¡°Bad memories?¡±


    ¡°It makes you even hotter,¡± he says, and with a grunt he lifts me up onto the kitchen counter, right next to the remnants of Emma¡¯s y-Doh.


    ¡°You¡¯ve lost your mind,¡± I tell him, ¡°but I hope you never find it.¡±


    Parker kisses me again. I don¡¯t know how long we make out for, the slow kisses, the steady ones, his hands working in my hair. I slip my fingers inside the cor of his linen shirt and feel the warm smoothness of his skin.


    His hands dip to my waist. One of them finds the hem of my T-shirt and strokes the skin on my lower back.


    It scrambles my thinking.


    ¡°I had lunch with your sister today,¡± I say.


    Parker shifts to my neck. ¡°I know,¡± he says.


    ¡°She asked me about this weekend.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°About the barbecue on Sunday.¡±


    ¡°She told me she would invite you,¡± Parker says. His hand slides clean under my shirt and curls around my bare waist. ¡°You shoulde.¡±


    ¡°You sure?¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯ll be your entire family.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve met them all before.¡± His lips trail down to my corbone, and a quick tug of my shirt exposes it to his lips. ¡°Bring Emma.¡±


    ¡°Emma,¡± I whisper. ¡°She¡¯d like that.¡±


    ¡°So would little Jamie. Henry¡¯s daughter isn¡¯t old enough yet for him to y with, and he can¡¯t understand why,¡± Parker murmurs.


    We kiss for another eternity. It¡¯s impossible not to agree when heat spreads through my limbs, my stomach. ¡°I¡¯ll tell her yes, then.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Parker¡¯s hands settle on my thighs. ¡°Jesus, I really love touching you.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°You really do?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I¡¯ll tell you all the time if you need to hear it.¡± His hands tighten over my shorts. ¡°I could kiss you for the rest of the night, but¡­?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t want to push.


    ¡°I think I might be amenable to that,¡± I say, smiling.


    He grins back. ¡°Might be? And amenable?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re terrible,¡± he says, but he doesn¡¯t sound like he means it. ¡°What did you have nned for us tonight?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ do you like building things out of y?¡± I ask, looking down at the y-Doh next to me on the counter. I feel light, about to float away, the smile etched on my face. ¡°Or drawing? We do a lot of both in this household.¡±


    Parker chuckles. ¡°Tempting, but no.¡±


    ¡°Then we could watch another movie.¡±


    ¡°True. But I¡¯d spend most of the time trying to learn more about you.¡± He tips my head back and kisses the spot beneath my jaw. ¡°You told me a lot of thingsst time that I¡¯ve been thinking about.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I say, my hands closing around the cor of his shirt. ¡°I can imagine. But I still have questions for you.¡±


    ¡°For me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Why are you single? I half expected you to have a litter of kids by now.¡±


    He leans back,ughter in his deep blue eyes. ¡°What? Have you been talking to my mother? My grandmother? Where did thise from?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s just, you¡¯re¡­ you. Golden and handsome and a catch. Howe you aren¡¯t off the market?¡±


    It¡¯s easy to imagine the beautiful, statuesque wife that would match him. She¡¯d be athletic too. Maybe a former swimmer or track runner. They¡¯d y tennis on Sundays and go running in the mornings, and they¡¯d have three cute kids who never threw tantrums.


    I hate her.


    He chuckles. ¡°I¡¯m a catch, James?¡±


    ¡°Come on, it¡¯s a serious question,¡± I protest, unable to stop smiling. ¡°Tell me, Marchand.¡±


    ¡°Are you asking to figure out what¡¯s wrong with me? Because I¡¯ll never tell you. I have no ws.¡± His hands tighten around my ribs, fingers fluttering.


    I shriek. ¡°Parker!¡±


    ¡°Is that it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say,ughing. ¡°Stop it. You¡¯re a grown man!¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yes, and I have to spend many hours a day being one. Here with you I just want to rx.¡± His hands relent, smoothing down my sides. ¡°James, there¡¯s no big secret behind it.¡±


    ¡°Behind your single life?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve dated,¡± he says evenly, ¡°and I had a serious rtionship back in Boston. But there hasn¡¯t been anyone serious in Paradise.¡±


    ¡°Because you know everyone?¡±

 Small Town Hero C46

    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t find anyone I wanted to seriously date,¡± he says. ¡°Maybe because the person I wanted hadn¡¯t moved back yet. Does that satisfy you, your honor?¡±


    My breath catches in my throat. Words are beyond me, and I pull him toward me instead. Answer him with my lips.


    He groans low in his throat when I deepen the kiss. My legs brace against his hips, and I¡¯m drowning in sensation. In his words and his touch, and then I try not to think at all beyond the hungriness of his kisses and the strength of his hands on my body.


    My hands tug his shirt up and, caught between our bodies, I trail my fingers over the tautness of his abdomen. Muscles tighten instinctively beneath my touch.


    ¡°Christ,¡± he mutters against my lips. ¡°I love it when you touch me.¡±


    My hand pauses. ¡°You do?¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do that I wouldn¡¯t like. No mines hidden in this, in us. You know that, James.¡±


    I do. I do, because it¡¯s him, and it¡¯s me, and this has never been anything but safe. And I surrender to himpletely. His kisses deepen, andrge hands slide down to tug me toward the edge of the counter. I¡¯m flush against his chest.


    ¡°God, yes,¡± he murmurs when I wrap my legs around his waist. ¡°Isn¡¯t this so much better than y-Doh?¡±


    Iugh and he switches to my neck, kissing a trail down to the neckline of my shirt. ¡°Marginally,¡± I tease.


    His left hand slides up along the side of my chest, brushing past the swell of my breast, and I take a shaky breath. There¡¯s a fire in my stomach that hasn¡¯t burned there for months. Years, probably.


    ¡°Okay, a lot better,¡± I murmur, ¡°even if you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re missing out on.¡±


    His lips pause at the neckline of my shirt, right there, halfway down my chest. I thread my fingers into his thick head of hair. ¡°I¡¯ll take my chances,¡± he says, speaking the words into my skin, right above my heart.


    So will I, I think, and reach for the hem of my shirt.


    But even deep in the fog of desire, with the man I¡¯d never thought I¡¯d see again, my mom ears haven¡¯t signed off from duty. I register the telltale creak of small feet on the stairs.


    I push Parker away.


    ¡°Mommy?¡± a thick voice asks. Emma walks into the kitchen in her purple pajamas, and in her left hand is Mr. Rabbit.


    I jump off the counter. ¡°Honey, did you just wake up?¡±


    Emma nods and looks at the man beside me. ¡°You¡¯re here?¡± she asks. It sounds like an usation.


    ¡°Yeah. I came over to help your mom with something,¡± Parker says. His voice is only slightly rougher than usual.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Emma says. She blinks at us, eyes sleepy. Then she smiles. ¡°Did you like the cookie?¡±


    ¡°I did, yes. Very much. Did you bake it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, with Mommy and Granny. Mommy said she would bring you one.¡±


    ¡°She did. It was very good. Was it your idea to put M&M¡¯s in it?¡±


    Emma shifts from one foot to the other and yawns sorge I can see her tonsils. It makes me smile, and beside me, Parker chuckles.


    But she manages a nod.


    I bend to smooth her hair back. ¡°Ready to go back to bed, honey?¡±


    ¡°Mm. I¡¯m thirsty.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get you something to drink, then,¡± I say. But when I turn around Parker is already on it, filling up one of the clean sses drying by the sink.


    Emma drains half of it and yawns again. I bend to lift her up. ¡°Come on, sleepyhead. Let¡¯s go upstairs.¡±


    She rests her chin on my shoulder. ¡°Read the book.¡±


    ¡°Again? We read it before.¡±


    ¡°Again,¡± she says. We¡¯re halfway through the living room when a request stops me in my tracks. ¡°I want the captain to read it.¡±


    The captain in question-he¡¯s never going to get over being called this, I think-hears her.


    ¡°You sure?¡± he asks Emma. His eyes are blue and serious on hers. ¡°I might not be as good at it as Mom.¡±


    Emma buries her head in my neck, bravery forgotten. ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± she mumbles.


    Parker looks at me. There¡¯s hesitant surprise in his eyes.


    ¡°Only if you want to,¡± I mouth.


    He nods. ¡°Let¡¯s go upstairs.¡±


    That¡¯s how I find myself standing in the doorway to my daughter¡¯s new bedroom, watching Parker sit down on the very edge of Emma¡¯s purple bed. It makes me smile to see how he tries to make himself small, the gentle way he moves in her space. ¡°This is the book?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It has a funny name.¡± Emma pulls theforter up past her nose, muffling her voice. ¡°Seg id.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Say it.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Parker flips the book over. ¡°Cinna and the Flying Cinnamon Buns,¡± he says.


    Emma erupts in giggles beneath herforter.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. That is a funny name.¡± Parker opens it to the first page. I watch as he reads words that are too familiar to me now, a script I¡¯ve stopped reacting to, and hear them for the first time. He¡¯s warm and gentle with her. He emphasizes words that make herugh, and when he notices she¡¯s starting to drift off, he lowers his voice. It¡¯s deep and soothing in the room.


    I could fall asleep to it too.


    And when she¡¯s out like a light, he gently puts the book down on her night table, and puts her beloved bunny next to her on the pillow.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell him. He pulls me close and presses his lips to my forehead, and I close my eyes, hoping this isn¡¯t just a dream.


    JAMIE

 Small Town Hero C47

    ¡°Who will be there?¡± Emma asks, for the third time. She¡¯s walking beside me on the sidewalk, putting one sandal after the other in an attempt to walk in a perfect line.


    I tell her again, starting with the people she knows. Lily, little Jamie, Hayden, and Parker.


    ¡°Jamie is very small,¡± she says.


    I smile at that. ¡°He¡¯s only two years younger than you, sweetie.¡±


    ¡°I was a baby two years ago.¡±


    ¡°Well, you were smaller than you are now, yes. But not quite a baby.¡±


    She drags her feet when we pass the gto shop, but after a short discussion, we decide to postpone ice cream to tomorrow. Saying tomorrow instead of today really is the hallmark of great parenting, I¡¯ve learned.


    ¡°Why was the captain at our house the other night?¡± she asks.


    I reach for her hand as we cross the street. ¡°Well, you know we work together.¡±


    ¡°At the restaurant.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But, that¡¯s there. Not at our house.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s true, but I help him with other things. Like building a website for the restaurant so people can find out what¡¯s on the menu before theye.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, some people like to know in advance.¡±


    She frowns. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Some are allergic. Others aren¡¯t sure they¡¯ll like the food and want to make sure before they go.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she says. She¡¯s quiet for a long time, face lost in thought, and not for the first time I wish I could read her mind. We pass mansion after impressive mansion on Ocean Drive. Most are more window than wall, all to make the most of the ocean view.


    ¡°Mommy? I¡¯ve been thinking.¡±


    The tone in her voice makes me smile. Absolutely anything could follow that statement. ¡°Oh? What about?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t miss Daddy anymore.¡±


    It takes me a deep breath to hide my shock. ¡°You don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Emma says. There¡¯s only calm in her voice, a child¡¯s easy self-confidence. ¡°I did before. But he never yed with me and he hasn¡¯te to visit us.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I murmur. ¡°No, he hasn¡¯t.¡±


    And thank God for that.


    ¡°I like Granny more. And I like it here. Can I learn sailing this fall? In my new school?¡±


    I have to swallow. ¡°Um, not yet, honey. You have to be eight to start sailing. Remember? We¡¯ve spoken about that.¡±


    ¡°The captain can teach me. He said sost weekend on the boat. Well, he promised little Jamie too, but he¡¯s too small.¡± She tugs her hand out of mine and climbs onto the small ledge cornering off Lily and Hayden¡¯s front yard, arms out to keep her bnce. ¡°So don¡¯t feel bad, Mommy.¡±


    ¡°Feel bad?¡±


    ¡°About Daddy,¡± she says. ¡°Do you miss him?¡±


    There¡¯s a time when dishonesty is okay with your kid. Ice cream tomorrow instead of today, Mommy didn¡¯t bring her wallet so we can¡¯t go to the toy store.


    This doesn¡¯t feel like one of those times.


    While I wish I could undo Lee, that I could shelter her from this, that I had a perfect father to give her¡­ I don¡¯t have any of those things.


    And so I don¡¯t lie. ¡°No, honey. I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so,¡± she says, sounding satisfied with herself. Then we¡¯ve arrived, and she asks me about who¡¯ll be here again, and the conversation slips away from me.


    We¡¯re not the first to arrive, but we¡¯re not thest, either. Hayden, Lily, Parker, and Henry are sitting in the backyard together with their parents. The grill is already going and on the ground is a small bubble machine. Little Jamie is sitting in front of it, happily swatting at them.


    Emma immediately forgets her shyness. She rushes forward and starts to catch them, her favorite activity.


    ¡°Parker brought it,¡± Lily says, by way of greeting, and looks at her brother. ¡°Are you a child yourself? Sometimes I wonder.¡±


    He rolls his eyes and turns to me. ¡°Hi, Jamie.¡±Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say, and struggle to hide my smile.


    The rest of the introductions are swift. Their parents, Michael and Eloise, are like they¡¯ve always been. One is curt where the other is verbose, and both know how to wield words well. Both love their family, too, with a fierceness I¡¯ve always admired, even when I know their children have sometimes resented the pressure that apanied it.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your lovely wife?¡± I ask Henry.


    He nods toward the house. ¡°With the baby. She¡¯s teething, and I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s worse for the baby or for her parents.¡±


    ¡°Tough stage,¡± I say. ¡°It seems like itsts forever when you¡¯re in it, too.¡±


    His eyes light up. ¡°How long did itst for you and Emma?¡± he asks, and just like that, we¡¯re adults who can have an adult conversation, with the awkwardness I¡¯d always felt around Lily and Parker¡¯s older siblings melting away. We¡¯re not teenagers anymore.


    Ivy and Rhys are thest to arrive. I watch them all interact and feel the same warm envy settle in my chest, watching therge family. It¡¯s not intrusive, the feeling, and it¡¯s not malicious. I¡¯m grateful to be here.


    Emma sits next to me when we eat. Michael has cooked lobster tails on the grill, and there¡¯s potato sd, watermelon,mb skewers and dinner rolls. A veritable surf and turf feast.


    Parker sits on Emma¡¯s other side. When she stares at her lobster roll he¡¯s there, helping her crack it open, and is rewarded with a giggle when the shell snaps.


    ¡°Feel like trying it?¡± he asks. ¡°It tastes pretty good. My restaurant sells thousands of these.¡±


    ¡°Thousands?¡±

 Small Town Hero C48

    ¡°Oh, yes. Maybe millions.¡±


    And my fussy little daughter, who is a picky eater on the best of days, pops the thing into her mouth. ¡°It tastes like the sea!¡± she says, and reaches for a second bite.


    Lobster. Figures.


    After dinner I find myself sitting on the grass with Lily, watching as our kids race across thewn. There¡¯s a h hoop and a loosely defined game that involves chasing it as it rolls. The sun is setting and there¡¯s a light summer chill in the air, and I think about how much I love my life.


    How grateful I am to be back here.


    Lily leans against my shoulder, and I wonder if she¡¯s thinking the same thing.


    ¡°They¡¯re good together,¡± shements, nodding to our kids.


    I snort. ¡°When they¡¯re not trying to kill each other, yes.¡± I¡¯d appreciated the bubble machine, but they¡¯d managed to headbutt each other as they fought to pop bubbles.


    Lily chuckles. ¡°They¡¯ll grow out of it.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what I did yesterday?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No? Tell me.¡±


    ¡°I called the school to see if they had a ce for Emma this fall.¡±


    Her eyes widen, and then she bursts into a smile. ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. They had space.¡± I echo her smile, feeling light, so light. ¡°It¡¯ll be hard to stay. I¡¯ll be leaning on my mother a lot. But I really want to, if I¡¯m able.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Jamie, that¡¯s wonderful. You know you can lean on us too, right? I¡¯m happy to watch Emma whenever.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Truly. I don¡¯t¡­¡± I shake my head, knowing there are no words. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Emma crawls across the grass to me. There will be stains on her dress, and I won¡¯t begrudge her a single one. ¡°Mom?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    She puts a hand on my knee. ¡°Can you ask the captain toe read Cinna again tonight?¡±


    ¡°Um, I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯s able to, honey. He has his own life to live.¡± I focus on her inquisitive eyes and not on those of my best friend, which have no doubt sharpened.


    ¡°He did good voices,¡± she says. And then, remembering herself, ¡°But you¡¯re very good too, Mommy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say.


    She turns back toward the h hoop. Little Jamie is struggling to get it rolling and sheunches to her feet, off to the rescue.


    I avoid looking at Lily.


    She won¡¯t have any of it, of course.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± she says. ¡°Did I just hear what I think I heard?¡±


    ¡°You heard nothing.¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure I did.¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure you didn¡¯t.¡±


    A pair of boat shoes and tanned legs step between us. I recognize them both, and close my eyes. Damn.


    ¡°Youdies need any more lemonade?¡± Parker asks.


    ¡°No,¡± his sister says. ¡°But I¡¯m about to demand some answers.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    She pats the grass beside her. ¡°Have a seat, my dearest brother.¡±


    Parker recognizes her tone of voice immediately. He¡¯s had more practice with it than me. ¡°And if I say no?¡±


    ¡°No is not an option.¡±


    With a sigh, he sinks down beside us. ¡°Never have a sister,¡± he tells little Jamie. The boy doesn¡¯t pay us any attention, but it makes Lily snort.


    ¡°He should be so lucky.¡±


    ¡°Lily,¡± I say.


    Her gaze shifts to mine. ¡°I have to ask. You know I have to ask. Parker, why were you at Jamie¡¯s house the other night, reading a goodnight story to Emma?¡±


    I groan and look up at the sky. This is it. When she finds out and she tells us both off for it. When she pulls back her forgiveness for my years of silence.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    How could you keep this from me?


    ¡°I was spending time with Jamie,¡± is Parker¡¯s measured response. ¡°We¡¯re friends.¡±


    Lily¡¯s green eyes narrow. There¡¯s spection there, and like a dog with a bone, she¡¯s not going to let it go. I know that.


    So Ie clean. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not telling you, Lily.¡±


    She bursts into a squeal. ¡°Oh my God. Seriously? The two of you? Together?¡±


    ¡°Jesus,¡± Parker mutters. ¡°Scream it louder, why don¡¯t you? The neighbors didn¡¯t hear you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very new,¡± I say, ¡°and I don¡¯t think either of us know exactly what it is yet. Please don¡¯t be angry.¡±


    ¡°Angry?¡± Lily asks. She turns to Parker with a grin. ¡°You¡¯re helping me make sure Jamie stays in town?¡±


    He snorts. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m dating your best friend as a favor to you.¡±

 Small Town Hero C49

    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Of course not.¡±


    ¡°This is wonderful,¡± she says, looking between the two of us. ¡°I mean, unexpected. Although maybe not. You always squabbled as teenagers, didn¡¯t you? There was definite chemistry there. Hmm. This could be something serious. Oh my God. Our kids will be cousins, Jamie.¡±


    Both Parker and I open our mouths to protest, I¡¯m sure, but she cuts us off.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t jinx it. I won¡¯t embarrass you either. No one else needs to know while the two of you figure it out. But oh, I¡¯m so excited!¡±


    Parker lies back in the grass and puts a muscled arm over his face. ¡°Lily,¡± he says. ¡°Know when to be quiet.¡±


    She makes a small sound of outrage and turns to me for backup. I don¡¯t know what she sees in my expression-I¡¯m still half expecting her to be upset-but she shuts her mouth. And puts her hand on my arm.


    ¡°I get it,¡± she says. ¡°I won¡¯t push.¡±


    I release the breath I¡¯d been holding. ¡°Thanks, Lily.¡±


    ¡°But you know I¡¯m on both of your sides, right? And I can help and listen to either side. I¡¯ll be neutral. I¡¯m like Switzend!¡±


    Iugh. It intensifies when Parker, still stretched out beside us on the grass, says in a dry voice, ¡°I¡¯ve never once needed your help with my dating life, Lily. Not about to start now.¡±


    ¡°All right, all right,¡± she says, holding her hands up. She¡¯s grinning. ¡°He¡¯s prickly today, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    I don¡¯t get a chance to answer her, because her sones barrelling between us. He¡¯s seen his uncle prone on the ground and takes the opportunity to attack, throwing himself over Parker¡¯s torso.


    Parker lets out a pained oof and turns in the grass, little Jamie shrieking. I watch them roughhouse with an almost painful feeling in my chest.


    Emmaes up beside me and I wrap an arm around her waist. She¡¯s watching Parker and his nephew intently.


    ¡°Want to join in?¡± Lily asks. She¡¯s leaning back, resting on her hands, and gives my daughter an encouraging smile. ¡°The big one is really ticklish, and the smaller one loves to y tag.¡±


    Emma looks at Lily for a long moment. And then, decision made, she runs out of my arms and into the fray.


    Lily leans closer and we watch them together. They¡¯re tackling Parker to the ground, and he groans, feigning defeat.


    ¡°He¡¯s a good man,¡± Lily says softly.


    Yes, I think, watching him, and watching Emma. He¡¯s the very best.


    PARKER


    She¡¯s in my garage gym the next morning, being distracting as hell, and I wouldn¡¯t have her anywhere else.


    ¡°Like this?¡± Jamie asks. She¡¯s deadlifting with my weight bar. It¡¯s got the lightest tes. Today¡¯s goal is just to nail the form.


    ¡°Yeah, keep your back straight¡­ yes, like that. Knees just lightly bent. Don¡¯t lock them out.¡±


    She¡¯s gotten stronger, has thrown herself against my weights like they¡¯re another challenge to conquer. Jamie does a set of ten and sets the bar down. ¡°That one hurts.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s great for your back,¡± I say and put a hand on the body part in question. Just to make my point clearer. She¡¯s working out in a tank top today and the fabric is thin beneath my hand.


    She smiles up at me. It¡¯ll never stop warming me, seeing just how easy the expressiones to her face these days.


    So I kiss her. It¡¯s not the first time today. Won¡¯t be thest either. Jamie turns in my arms and puts her hands on my arms. Her fingers flex, gently, and I want to feel them all over.


    ¡°You¡¯re sweaty,¡± she murmurs, sliding them up to my neck. ¡°I like it.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    I turn to kiss the side of her neck. She smells so good, the scent of warm skin, soap, faint sweat, and something else, something that¡¯s only her.


    ¡°Our workouts are getting longer,¡± she says, ¡°but we¡¯re working out less.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s the only time of day I can get you alone.¡±


    Her hands tighten around my neck. ¡°Is that okay? I know I¡¯m not as avable as most women you¡¯ve dated.¡±


    I lift my head. ¡°Of course it is. You¡¯re a mom, Jamie. Thates first.¡±


    Her eyes turn serious. ¡°Yes, and that¡¯s never going to change. Emma and I are a package deal. I have to put her first, and after Lee, my child¡¯s my main focus.¡±


    I smooth my thumb over her cheek. ¡°Jamie,¡± I say. ¡°We don¡¯t have to see one another every day to know where we have one another.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says, ¡°we don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I want you, and I like you, and we¡¯re seeing where things go. Right?¡±


    A smile warms her lips. ¡°Yes. I think you might be the best thing that¡¯s happened to me all year.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Is that so?¡±Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yes.¡± There¡¯s a vulnerability in her eyes, but there¡¯s happiness there too, and I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re here. At this point together, the two of us. We don¡¯t need old arguments or banter to tie us together. We¡¯re not hiding behind any facades.


    ¡°Youing back to Paradise is the best thing that happened to me this year, too.¡±


    ¡°It is?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I bend to touch my lips to her ear. ¡°You¡¯ve been invaluable to my business.¡±


    Jamieughs and pushes me away, pretending to swat me. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    I catch her around the waist and kiss her, to show her just how much I¡¯m joking. The kisses deepen, and like always, the fire of desire inside me res. The constant make-out sessions have put me on edge. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve made out this much before seven AM in¡­ ever.


    Not that I¡¯mining, only it¡¯s the most non-sex contact I¡¯ve gotten since high school or college, probably, and my body is taking notice.


    But nothing matters more than herfort levels.

 Small Town Hero C50

    So I¡¯m surprised when her hands tug at the hem of my T-shirt. I lean back and ask her with a nce, Really? She nods, so I pull it off and toss it into the corner.


    Her eyes fall over my chest, a look of quiet appreciation on her face. And that, right there, is enough to make me feel ten feet tall. When we kiss again, her hands roam free. And I hadn¡¯t realized how good it would feel. How much I¡¯ve craved it.


    She runs them over my back and I groan against her mouth. Thank God for the stic waist of my workout shorts tucking my erection t against my stomach, or she would realize just how much I want her.


    Jamie¡¯s handse to rest on my chest. ¡°Take off mine too,¡± she whispers.


    My hands still on her waist. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    So I find the hem of her tank top and slowly inch it up over her smooth skin, over the sports bra, until it joins my T-shirt in the corner.


    ¡°You¡¯re so beautiful,¡± I murmur, smoothing my hands down her waist. All I see is skin, and the soft swell of her breasts beneath the stic. ¡°Stunning.¡±


    Jamie shakes her head, almost like she wants to protest, and kisses me again. We end up against the long wall of my garage. My foot hits a kettlebell but the pain barely registers.Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Her breasts tten against my chest and I¡¯ve never hated fabric more than I do with this piece of stic.


    ¡°Parker,¡± she whispers, hands knotted in my hair.


    I nod. Words are too hard to form, and my hand stills on her rounded hip. She¡¯s still wearing shorts.


    Can we take those off too?


    ¡°Are you in your head again?¡± I ask.


    ¡°A little bit,¡± she confesses.


    I try to think through the haze of desire. Identify the things she¡¯s told me. But it¡¯s hard, so I just lean my forehead against hers and speak the truth. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do wrong here, Jamie. Nothing that would turn me off. I¡¯m so hard for you, it¡¯s stupid. I¡¯m like a teenager with a boner.¡± Iugh at the confession, at the widening of her eyes. ¡°And if you wanted to stop I¡¯d do that in a heartbeat, too. No wrong decisions. But, James? If a single thing in that head of yours is about me and my wants, or doubts about yourself¡­ banish them. You¡¯re all I want.¡±


    Jamie digs her teeth into her lower lip. ¡°I should probably get going. Emma will wake up soon.¡±


    I close my eyes. Struggle against the wave of desire. ¡°Of course, baby.¡±


    ¡°But maybe I should shower first.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to join me?¡±


    It takes me a moment to process her words, to open my eyes. She¡¯s looking at me, and there it is again. The mixture of the strong and the vulnerable.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. She¡¯s never been inside my house. Somehow that¡¯s escaped us, and I should give her a tour. But my mind is clouded.


    Soap. Skin. Water. And I want her beneath my hands so badly.


    ¡°This ce is so you,¡± she says, voice teasing, as we walk through my living room.


    ¡°It is?¡±


    ¡°This style of couch, the giant TV. Are those your trophies? Is that from the Junior Regatta trophy?¡±


    I lead her away from the bookcase. ¡°Don¡¯tment.¡±


    ¡°I never saw you win it,¡± she says. ¡°Did you lift it high above your head on the docks?¡±


    ¡°Shush, you.¡±


    ¡°Did all the girls swoon?¡±


    ¡°Not you, clearly,¡± I say and hold the door open to the bathroom. ¡°Are you stalling?¡±


    Jamie looks at me. In her shorts, her sports bra, her braided hair¡­ I can¡¯t fucking wait to touch her again.


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± she says and steps past me into the bathroom.


    I don¡¯t know what happens, exactly. Only that at the end of it I¡¯m standing beneath the hot spray of water in my workout shorts and watching Jamie gently unbraids her hair. It falls in waves around her face. The freckles have intensified, and they stretch across her chest, too. Small, intoxicating patterns I want to trace.


    ¡°Parker,¡± she says.


    I swallow. ¡°Anything you want to do. Anything you don¡¯t want to do. It¡¯s all okay.¡±


    She smiles a bit, and nods, and steps into the shower with me. It dampens her hair and turns it dark brown.


    It darkens her sports bra, too, the soaked fabric revealing hard nipples. Need explodes in my stomach. I need to get the thing off. And yet I force myself to go slow, to shield her from the spray and kiss her thoroughly¡­ but I can¡¯t stop my hands from roaming. She exhales softly into my mouth and I¡¯m lost, wet skin beneath my palms.


    Her fingertips trace my chest. My biceps. Down my forearms. I don¡¯t know that anyone¡¯s ever studied me like this before.


    Jamie reaches for the bottle of body wash and it slips out of her fingers, the cap twisting off. We bothugh at it, breathless and heated. And then she¡¯s using herthered up hands on me. ¡°You¡¯re bigger up close,¡± she says, running a slow palm over the side of my chest.


    ¡°You¡¯re stroking my ego?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯ve stroked mine plenty already.¡±


    It¡¯s safer to look down, to watch her hands on me, than to watch her own wet body. But even that is sensual. Her hands with the short clean fingernails, long fingers, no rings. They look pale against my skin-she¡¯s not out in the sun enough-as they trace across my abs.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± I say. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a plea to stop or to continue. The bulge in my shorts looks obscene against the wet fabric and feels just as painful.


    She lets her hands drift to her own chest, and to the band of her sports bra. ¡°Maybe you should wash me.¡±


    ¡°I can do that.¡± My voicees out hoarse. And then I see the hesitation in her eyes, remember the things she¡¯s told me. And a sharp tendril of hatred toward her ex cuts right through my dizzying need.


    I find her hips and curl my hands around them, the wide hipbones and the soft indents above her waist. No one¡¯s skin should be as soft as hers.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be scared, James,¡± I say. ¡°Not of me, and not of us. You¡¯ve got all the power here. You can see how turned on I am, right?¡±


    Her lips twist, and there¡¯s the sh of fire in her eyes that I love. That I¡¯m used to. She nces down at my workout shorts. ¡°You¡¯re big there too?¡±

 Small Town Hero C51

    ¡°Whatever you want to do, I¡¯m game. And if you want to stop? Just let me kiss you here in the shower? I¡¯m okay with that too,¡± I say. Even if my balls might be bright blue by the time we¡¯re done.


    Her smile stretches into a grin. ¡°And let you be braver than me? No way.¡±


    She reaches for the hem of her sports bra and tugs it up, over the roundedness of her tits. They pop free beneath the band and I groan at the sight. Perfectly rounded and topped with pink, rosy nipples that point directly at me.


    Jamie struggles to get the wet fabric over her head and I help her. ¡°There,¡± she says, tossing it to the side.


    Standing in front of me in only her wet panties and glistening droplets, travelling down the curves of her body.


    ¡°You¡¯re staring,¡± she says.


    ¡°It¡¯s impossible not to.¡± My thumbs dig into the groove right next to her hipbones. ¡°You¡¯re so beautiful.¡±


    Sheughs and reaches for the body wash. ¡°Right,¡± she says, cheeks heating. ¡°Come on.¡±


    I don¡¯t need to be asked twice. My hands slide easily across her wet skin, aided by the soap, over the grooves of her spine, the roundedness of her hips, and brushing beneath the heavy weight of her breasts.


    ¡°Jesus,¡± I murmur, letting myself finally cup them. Enjoy the feel of her hard nipples beneath my thumbs, smoothing back and forth. They¡¯re a perfect handful.


    She shivers at my touch and turns her face up. The kisses aren¡¯t soft and hesitant now. They¡¯re heated, and when she presses herself against me and I feel the soft roundness of her breasts tten against my chest, I have to think about famine and expense reports and an incorrectly tied knot to stop myself from erupting.


    Especially when my erection is still trapped in my workout shorts, and pressed against her stomach, giving it delicious friction.


    It¡¯s not a conscious thing, the way we end up. Her against the tile wall of my shower and my hand on the back of her knee, lifting her leg up to my hip. The way my hips grind between her legs.


    ¡°Parker,¡± she whispers, and it¡¯s the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever heard. ¡°Parker.¡±


    I find her nipple with my mouth and suckle hard. The rosy bud tautens and I cup the other with my free hand. Can¡¯t get enough. Will never get enough, and between her legs, my hips are softly thrusting. Every brush of friction feels like the sweetest hell.


    Her hand knots in my hair. ¡°Parker,¡± she says again. ¡°Let me feel you.¡±


    Yes. I reach for the edge of her dark underwear. They¡¯re luscious on her, the high-cut fabric holding to her body, but she stops my hand. Her eyes are liquid on mine.


    ¡°No. Like this¡­¡± she says, and slides her hand inside the tight stic of my shorts.


    The first brush of her fingers has me groaning. It¡¯s a tentative swipe across the head, sending molten heat up my shaft. She murmurs something that sounds like wow. Her hand lies t against the length, still tucked against my stomach, and I can¡¯t take it. I reach for the stic of my shorts and tug them down. Kick them off.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± I say. ¡°I haven¡¯t been this hard in forever.¡±


    A wicked smile spreads across her face and she leans back against the tile wall, her hand tightening around my cock. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I grind out. She starts to stroke,zy movements of her hand, aided by the soapy water. Lightning rackets up my spine.


    I can¡¯t look away from her. The excited, teasing look in her eye, the length of her neck, her beautiful tits with their rosy nipples, her soft waist, the damp fabric of her panties and her long legs. Leaning against the wall¡­ and stroking me.


    It¡¯s my ideal fantasye to life.


    I brace my hands against the tile wall on either side of her and widen my stance, letting her get acquainted with me. She can do whatever she wants.


    Her hand speeds up and I groan in response.


    ¡°You like this,¡± she murmurs. ¡°How about when I do¡­ this?¡± Her fingers form a tight ring that passes over my head and I curse, my hips bucking once. Sheughs and does it again, and again, and I have to close my eyes to keep froming too soon.


    Goodbye, beautiful tits. You¡¯re too good.


    She adds her other hand to my base, and then down below to cup my balls, tight with need, and I can¡¯t think anymore. No rational thought at all. It¡¯s left me, disappeared right down the drain.


    ¡°Tell me what you like,¡± she says. ¡°I want to make you¡­¡± Her words trail off, like she¡¯s oddly shy to say thest bit. I shift down to my forearms, on the tile, and let my hips guide the motion.


    ¡°Like that,¡± I mutter. My own hand grips her smaller one, tightens it slightly around me. ¡°Near the end I need it faster. Right there¡­ fuck yes, baby. The head is the most sensitive. You can squeeze here-¡±


    And then she does, and I have to kiss her, have to have her, have to get closer. My hips buck into her tight grip and with her mouth beneath mine Ie, lighting ring up my spine, my legs, through and out my cock. I groan against her lips, my whole body tightening with each release.


    Her hands grow slow, and soft, and I shiver at the pleasure-pain across my too-excited skin. I open my eyes to find her smiling up at me in victory, and it¡¯s the hottest thing I¡¯ve ever seen.


    I need this woman in my life, I think. It¡¯s such a hit of post-orgasm rity that I grip her to me. Only then do I realize I¡¯ve marked her thighs and stomach.


    ¡°Shit,¡± I murmur. ¡°I was supposed to clean you up.¡±


    Jamie wraps her arms around my neck. ¡°This was better.¡±


    ¡°Well, you know I agree.¡± I kiss her deeply, and thoroughly, and think about ways to persuade her toe to bed with me. Let me return the favor slowly and methodically.


    She rests her head against my shoulder beneath the warm spray and lets me soap her down, washing away my pleasure.


    ¡°You just blew my mind,¡± I tell her. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that just happened.¡±


    ¡°I live to impress, Marchand.¡±


    ¡°Well, you seeded.¡± I run a finger along the edge of her underwear. ¡°I want to reciprocate, you know. Feels ungentlemanly of me not to. But if you want to save that for the future¡­?¡±


    She nods, a note of shyness entering her voice. ¡°Yes. You can think of ways to do it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a challenge,¡± I say, stunned. ¡°One I ept.¡±


    Sheughs again and I reach for her hair, running the wet tresses through my fingers. ¡°Come with me to the White Party this weekend,¡± I surprise myself by saying.


    She lifts her head from my shoulder. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We could go together, enjoy the open bar, and swipe some of the catering to bring back to Emma.¡±


    Her eyes are open on mine. No makeup, just wet eyshes and cheeks flushed with the heat. ¡°But your family will be there.¡±All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°But Lily already knows about us. The others won¡¯tment.¡±


    I¡¯ll make sure of that.


    ¡°Besides, we won¡¯t show up with a giant sign above our heads that says we¡¯re dating. But I¡¯ll know, and you¡¯ll know, that we came together.¡± I bend my head, speak the next words in her ear. ¡°Let me be your date, Jamie.¡±

 Small Town Hero C52

    I don¡¯t know why this matters. But it feels like it does, another puzzle piece in Jamie¡¯s return to Paradise.


    She looks at me for a long time. Then she smiles, and it feels like the sun emerging after a rainy day. ¡°Okay,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡±


    I grin, and kiss her, and when we finally make it out of the shower and she sees the time she has to run back home.


    Best workout ever.


    JAMIE


    I¡¯m waiting by the porch of my mother¡¯s house. Thete summer air is hot and thick withte-blooming flowers, the sun is unchallenged by any clouds, and I¡¯m giddy with nerves.


    Emma and my mom aren¡¯t home. They¡¯d left a few hours earlier for the beach. My mother hadn¡¯t been interested in attending a White Party for years, doesn¡¯t share the same circle as Eloise and Michael Marchand, and Emma was excited about her new sandcastle equipment.


    She¡¯d oohed about my outfit before she left. You look so pretty! The white dress was a splurge, with all of my earnings earmarked for my savings ount, and here I took a little bit out. But it had been on sale and I¡¯d been unable to resist and here I am, standing on the porch of the house I grew up in and waiting for a man toe pick me up.


    I feel like I¡¯m living out an alternate reality, like I¡¯m sixteen again. Like the past decade-plus never happened.


    What would it have been like? If we¡¯d done this a lot earlier? If I had my bad decisions in front of me instead of in the rearview mirror.


    Hees walking up the street toward me and I lean against the porch, watching him. He¡¯s wearing navy chinos and a white linen shirt. The dark blond hair is darker. Still a bit wet from his shower. I can identify it, even from this distance.


    I can¡¯t stop my excited smile.


    Parker sees it, and an answering grin spreads across his own face. He bounds up the stairs in his old sailing shoes and stops in front of me. The same man I¡¯ve known almost all my life, and yet brand new.


    ¡°Hi, gorgeous,¡± he says. ¡°You look stunning.¡±


    ¡°You cleaned up pretty well yourself.¡±


    His lips lift. ¡°I¡¯ve been known to wear a shirt once or twice. Now, James, I¡¯m nning on kissing you hello. But is this door about to be opened by a six-year old?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°She¡¯s by the beach.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± he says, and lowers his head to kiss me. Warmth travels through the simple, considerate touch all the way down to my feet.


    We walk toward the boardwalk and the park with the gazebo that houses the yearly White Party. With each step, nerves rise in my stomach. There will be people from high school there, old teachers, friends of my mother¡¯s, friends of my grandparents.


    Parker puts a hand on my lower back and bends to speak in my ear. He smells like soap and cologne and I think of his groan in the shower earlier this week, when he¡¯d looked at me like he might die if he couldn¡¯t have me. ¡°If you want to leave at any point, you just tell me,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say, and bump my elbow into his side. ¡°But I was promised food first.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°I¡¯ve heard the restaurant catering is excellent.¡±


    A live band is ying music in the gazebo, and beneath the marquees are tables filled with food, courtesy of the yacht club restaurant. I see the familiar kitchen staff. They¡¯ll see us, too, I realize. Me and Parker together.


    Everyone will.


    It doesn¡¯t take long for Parker to draw the attention of party-goers. He knows everyone, I realize, as the third couple stops us.


    ¡°Great job on the renovation,¡± a man says, pping Parker on the shoulder. ¡°The ce somehow looks the same but ten times better.¡±


    Parker smiles. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    ¡°We tried the new menust week,¡± his wife says. ¡°The chowder was divine. A cheat meal, perhaps, but a hundred percent worth it.¡±


    The same kind of small talk continues with person after person. I remain by his side and try to scan the crowd for Lily and Hayden.


    ¡°We even signed up to the newsletter!¡± a person says. ¡°I heard there might be live music Fridays?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Parker motions to me beside him. ¡°That was Jamie¡¯s idea. She¡¯s the new graphic and web designer for the club.¡±


    Five pairs of eyes turn to look at me. ¡°Is that so?¡± one of them asks.


    I clear my throat. ¡°Yes. You can reserve a table online, too, now.¡±


    A man I vaguely recognize nods. ¡°About time. You¡¯ve got a great head on your shoulders, Parker, to surround yourself with talented people.¡±


    That¡¯s how Michael Marchand finds us, with his son congratted on a business endeavor he himself hadn¡¯t originally supported.


    ¡°You made it,¡± he says to us both. ¡°The food is good, Parker. You hired a new chef?¡±


    ¡°I did, yes.¡±All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°My son, the restauranter,¡± Michael says. ¡°Well, there¡¯s no denying it. Your changes are popr.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s been my impression too,¡± Parker says. His voice is so smooth, so at ease, it¡¯s hard to imagine him as anything but unbothered. But I can see as he puts on the smile, like when I pin my name tag to my shirt at work.


    Lily and her mother join us, and then Hayden arrives and gives Parker a half hug, and the party bes a Marchand family reunion.


    ¡°This is as good a time to announce it as any,¡± Parker says to us all. ¡°I¡¯ve bought a boat.¡±


    Lily is the first to react. ¡°What?!¡±


    Eloise grabs her son¡¯s arm. ¡°Tell me it¡¯s not to sail around the world. Non, I won¡¯t have it.¡±


    Parker gives her a half smile. ¡°She could, but she would need a lot of work before getting to that stage.¡±


    Michael¡¯s eyes are sharp. ¡°Tell me about her.¡±


    They connect, as they always have, about sailing. It¡¯s always been a cult in this town and them the most devoted of disciples. At one point Hayden chimes in and immediately attracts Lily¡¯s ire.


    ¡°You knew about this?¡± she uses.


    He grins at her. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I swore him to secrecy,¡± Parker says, hands up. ¡°Didn¡¯t want to jinx anything before the seller epted my offer.¡±


    Michael grills his son about the boat. They step aside, and speak in nautical terms I have no hope of understanding. Lily drags me away, and the following hour is spent in a daze of good food, nicepany, and copious amounts of small talk.

 Small Town Hero C53

    Lily insists on introducing me to our old friends in town. There weren¡¯t many, but some are left, and she¡¯s clearly gotten closer with them over the years.


    It¡¯s a dizzying amount of names and incredulity. Is it really you, Jamie? Yes, it really is. Are you back, for good? Yes, I am. Where are you staying? What are you doing? What, where, how, who, why?


    My eyes note the perfectly blow-dried hair, and dresses ten times the price of mine, as they share augh about the PTA at Paradise Elementary.


    A cold sweat breaks out across my back when they start talking about their husbands. What¡¯s my official story about Lee? Avoidance has been the one so far. But if I¡¯m staying here, it won¡¯t be good enough, not when Emma starts school.


    Lily has always known my moods better than I have myself. She excuses us after a particrly lengthy discussion about mortgages-I am so far from being a home owner-and walks us toward the drinks table.


    ¡°That was a lot,¡± she says.


    I nod. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re nice, and they mean well. But they¡¯re sometimes best consumed in small doses.¡±


    Iugh weakly and ept another ss of white wine. ¡°Yeah, I can see that. But you eat brunch with them? Have ydates with your kids?¡±


    She shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. ¡°Yes. They¡¯re not you, Jamie, or how we were, but it¡¯s amunity. I think you can like them. If you were to give them a chance.¡±


    That makes me nod. Once, I¡¯d been quick to judge everyone. Life has taught me better than that. ¡°You¡¯re right. I will, I promise.¡±


    She nods, but her eyes quickly sparkle with interest. We¡¯re alone and she can ask the question she¡¯s been dying to. ¡°So you came as my brother¡¯s date?¡±


    I take a deep sip of the wine. ¡°I plead the fifth.¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°He gave me an earful after the barbecue.¡±


    ¡°He did?¡±


    ¡°God, yes.¡± Lily rolls her eyes. ¡°He was so protective of you, it was silly. Don¡¯t put any pressure on her, don¡¯t force her tobel anything. Don¡¯t tell anyone. And Lily, don¡¯t you dare ask for any intimate details.¡±


    She parodies Parker¡¯s voice with the skill only a younger sister has and I can¡¯t help but smile. ¡°He said all that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. It was like he was afraid you¡¯d get spooked or something if I added any pressure. I told him, very sternly I might add, that you¡¯re not made of ss. Whatever you¡¯ve gone through, I know you, Jamie, and you¡¯ve got a spine of steel.¡±


    I have to swallow. ¡°Thank you. I don¡¯t know about all that, though. I think I forgot who I was for a few years.¡±


    Her gaze softens. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you¡¯re home, then, and surrounded by people who can remind you of it.¡±


    We¡¯re joined by an old high school teacher and the party spins ever onwards, conversation after polite conversation. I¡¯m aware of where Parker is throughout. My eyes are drawn to him. I can see him across the crowd, holding court, a ss of red wine in his hand. At ease even here. The same golden steadiness radiates from him wherever he goes. If an ident happened, if a guest fell into the water, the yacht club ran out of food, I know exactly who¡¯d take the lead. Him.


    And he¡¯d do it all withoutining.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    The group Parker¡¯s with allughs at something he says. Effortless, I think. Life beside him would mean more of these events. Would mean everyone talking to him, to us, all the time.


    He would constantly have to justify being with me. Others wouldn¡¯t understand. He could have anyone.


    My gaze snags on a woman standing by the buffet. Her profile is strikingly familiar, and suddenly I¡¯m back in high school, watching ir Davids.


    She was in the same grade as Parker and I¡¯d always suspected they¡¯d dated for a while. She looks like a polished version of her eighteen-year-old self, with beautiful blonde hair and a happy smile. And as I watch she waves to Parker.


    He gives her a smile back and they talk, exchange a half hug. It¡¯s nothing special. Just friendly.


    But they look so good together. The kind of woman he should be dating.


    ¡°Jamie, dear,¡± Eloise Marchand says, bringing me back into the conversation. ¡°Spotted someone you know?¡±


    Dear. Lily¡¯s mother had always called me dear, and my artistic pursuits inspired, even when I was clearly not her first pick of friends for her daughter. She¡¯d hated my nose piercing and she¡¯d once called my hairstyle a travesty. But she had never once been disrespectful of me as Lily¡¯s best friend.


    Would I be good enough for her son?


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say. ¡°Most of the town is here. It¡¯s a beautiful event-even better than I remember them.¡±


    She preens, and above her ss of wine, Lily winks at me. I haven¡¯t forgotten the way to her mother¡¯s heart.


    I excuse myself a few minutester to check my phone. It¡¯ste afternoon, and my mother and Emma should be back home by now. My mom is brilliant at check-ins. As if she knows just how nervous I am about Emma, she sends me updates all the time.


    Thetest one is in, making me grin. We have sand everywhere. I¡¯m going to have to scrub our scalps.


    But the second message on the screen melts my smile right off my face. It¡¯s from Lee.


    You went back to the town you grew up in, didn¡¯t you? And here I thought you were serious about being independent. That town sounded like nothing but safetys and money. Everything you once said you hated. Think you¡¯ll fit in now? Or that I¡¯ll let my daughter grow up in a ce like that? She¡¯s too good for it, and you¡¯ve sunk too low for it.


    I read the words again. And again. Every sentence is a carefully designed dagger, my mind reading it in his voice, and dread unfurls its night-ck wings in my stomach.


    He¡¯s right.


    I¡¯ll never fit in. This summer has been one long game of pretend. Who do I think I am? To show up at the White Party with Parker?


    I start walking down the boardwalk, away from the party, fighting the urge to run. Emma is my first instinct. The next is the ocean. If I swim far enough I¡¯ll disappear, and so will my problems.


    A gust of wind sweeps in from the waves. It catches my hair and untangles the careful curls I¡¯d made in front of the mirror earlier. I take a deep breath and let the salty air wash away the dark haze of his text.


    Lee is wrong.


    I know that.


    It takes me another minute to shake off the yoke of the message, of his words, of his voice in my head.


    And then real terror kicks in.


    He knows where I am. And he won¡¯t let his daughter grow up here. Which means it¡¯s only a matter of time before he¡¯s here.


    JAMIE


    I make it to Paradise Point, to the bench right at the outcrop. Thete-afternoon sun is starting to drop, hinting at a warm evening toe. I¡¯m far enough away now that I can¡¯t hear the music.


    And they can¡¯t hear me.

 Small Town Hero C54

    Panic rises in my chest like a tidal wave. Lee can¡¯te to this town, with these people, with me. With Emma. The scenarios build upon one another until they tower around me, a wall I can¡¯t look over. I¡¯m trapped.


    I sink onto the bench and focus on my breath, drawing it into my lungs with heavy inhales. Something wet is running down my cheeks and I wipe at the tears. I can¡¯t believe he can do this to me with just one text.


    I thought I was stronger than this. That I¡¯de further.


    ¡°Jamie?¡±


    I look down at my shoes and try my best to ignore the voice. There¡¯s a golden buckle around each of my ankles.


    ¡°Jamie, my God, are you all right?¡± Parker¡¯s voice is closer, and the bench creaks softly beneath me. ¡°Do you need help? Are you hurt?¡±


    I shake my head and a half-crazed, half-sobbedugh escapes me.


    ¡°Okay, baby. Just breathe, then.¡± He puts arge hand on my back, rubbing it in circles.


    I do what he says, several long breaths, and then my sobbing breaks out in full force. It feels ridiculous. And the ridiculousness of it, of crying here, in front of the ocean, next to him of all people, makes me cry even harder. What if everything I¡¯ve built here has been a dream?


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he murmurs and draws me into his arms. He does it effortlessly, folding me against his body. I grip onto the cor of his linen shirt and smell the soap on his skin and it makes me cry harder.


    ¡°What happened? Was it something at the party?¡±


    I shake my head against his neck. We sit like that until I can control myself, until my tears have slowed to a drip instead of a waterfall.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he murmurs and uses his thumb to wipe beneath my eye. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t fit in here. At the party, with all these people¡­¡±


    His eyes sharpen. ¡°Where is thising from? Absolutely not. You¡¯re as Paradise as I am, as any of us.¡±


    Iugh at the absolute impossibility of that. Ites out like a half-sob. ¡°No, I¡¯m not. No one I spoke to would understand what I¡¯ve been doing thest couple of years. I have no career. No car. No house. No husband, no father for my daughter. I don¡¯t even have a proper savings ount. I¡¯m an absolute failure.¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Jamie, Jamie¡­¡± he says, both hands cupping my face now. ¡°Where¡¯s thising from? These aren¡¯t your words.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes they are. They¡¯re true,¡± I say. ¡°And Lee just texted me.¡±


    Parker grows still. ¡°He did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s figured out where I am. I wasn¡¯t sure he even remembered the name of Paradise Shores, but he did. And he said he doesn¡¯t want his daughter to grow up where I did, and I can¡¯t take that, can¡¯t¡­ I have to leave with her again. And she loves it here. And I love it here.¡± I shake my head and look down at my hands. ¡°I sound half insane, and I can hear it, and I know you can hear it¡­ You¡¯re probably thinking it right now. That this isn¡¯t the Jamie you grew up with, the Jamie you remember. Maybe you¡¯re even thinking, she¡¯s changed so much. What a shame. You are, aren¡¯t you? I can¡¯t bear it. I can¡¯t bear to be anything less than what I was, but I¡¯m reminded how much I fall short every single day in Paradise Shores.¡±


    ¡°Jamie,¡± Parker says. His voice is steady. ¡°Do you assume I¡¯m thinking it, because that¡¯s what you believe about yourself?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°All right. Well, it¡¯s absolute bullshit,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t think any of those things. Not a single one of them. I think you¡¯re still one of the strongest people I know. I think you¡¯re a fantastic mother-no failure in sight there-and I¡¯ve seen how you and Emma are together. You spend every single hour you¡¯re not working with her, and you¡¯ve done your best to make this summer her best yet. I¡¯ve seen you do all of that. Is that a failure?¡±


    I swallow. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°Exactly. And I couldn¡¯t have done what I¡¯ve done with the yacht club without you. You have all the necessary skills to start working as a frencer, you know. Offering graphic design, website design, and newsletter services. Does that sound like someone with nothing to offer?¡±


    I shake my head.


    His eyes darken, and something tightens along his jaw. ¡°You do not have to leave this town because your ex knows you¡¯re here. If anything, he should be the one to stay away.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯ll react,¡± I whisper. It feels like a terrible thing to admit. But his influence had once been so strong, and I so weak to believe his words. Worthless, I think. It had been his favorite word.


    ¡°Will you tell me about him?¡± Parker asks. His hand shifts from my cheek to my shoulder. ¡°Emma¡¯s father? How did you leave him?¡±


    I take a deep breath. What do I have left to hide? ¡°He¡¯d been growing more distant. He did that, sometimes. He¡¯d freeze me out when he was displeased about something. I don¡¯t even know what he was angry at me for thest time. Not frying his bacon the way he liked it? Talking to the neighbors down the street who he thought were too nosy? It changed all the time.¡±


    Parker exhales sharply. ¡°He¡¯d ice you out?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Not talk to me, ignore Emma, make littlements about how I could never do anything right. It had gotten worse over the years. Wasn¡¯t like that in the beginning. And thisst time¡­ I couldn¡¯t take it any longer. Not when he froze out Emma too, when he refused to answer her quiet questions, punished her as a way to punish me. She¡¯s big enough to take notice.¡±


    ¡°Of course she is,¡± he says, voice hard.


    I take another deep breath. ¡°So I packed a suitcase for me and Emma. Took out all the money I had in my ount. He had ess to it.¡± I shake my head, shame acidic in my stomach. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I gave him that. But I wrote a note and left it on the kitchen counter. I wrote that if he didn¡¯t want us anymore, we didn¡¯t want him. And Emma and I left to the bus station.¡±


    ¡°Just like that.¡±


    ¡°Just like that,¡± I murmur. ¡°He was working odd jobs, and he didn¡¯t always like me working. We had to get away.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not paying child support,¡± Parker says slowly.


    ¡°No, he most certainly is not. But I don¡¯t mind. I don¡¯t want him to have any im on Emma, no more than he already does. I¡¯d revoke even that if I could.¡±


    ¡°So he has custody, legally speaking?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. The thought sweeps a wave of nausea through me. If he were to exercise it¡­


    A thoughtful, calcting lookes into Parker¡¯s eyes. The one I¡¯d seen often enough at the yacht club, or back when he¡¯d been sailing. He¡¯s so much more than a jock. Always was, even back when I tried to only see him as that. ¡°Have you saved text messages? Between the two of you?¡±


    ¡°Um, yes. I think so. Everything¡¯s automatically saved, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t delete anything,¡± he says.


    ¡°Do you think¡­ it might be necessary?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he says, and his mouth tips up in a reassuring smile. ¡°But if there is, you have awyer in your corner. Emma isn¡¯t going to go anywhere without you. He was emotionally abusive and maniptive, and a judge will hear your case.¡±


    I lean back on the bench and wipe at my face. My outburst has left me empty and restless. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Anytime. You have people here, James. People who care about you.¡± His handnds on my knee, curving over my bare skin. ¡°People who can remind you who you are.¡±


    I take a deep breath. ¡°You¡¯re way too good for me, you know.¡±


    He snorts. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°You are, though. I felt like I was watching you at prom, back there. With your group of cool friends, lighting up the room.¡±

 Small Town Hero C55

    He runs a hand through his hair and faint color creeps up his neck. ¡°Come on.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re popr, and likeable. You know that, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says. ¡°I can make people like me, surface-level. What¡¯s the big deal?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a skill everyone has.¡±


    ¡°Sure. But I don¡¯t want a lot of people to like me surface-level.¡± His hand tightens around my knee, and the blue eyes get serious. ¡°I want one person to like me on a deep level.¡±


    My heart stutters in my chest. The quick throws of the past hour have left me drained, and open, and I feel paper thin. Life is all around me, only a heartbeat away. ¡°Oh,¡± I say.


    His smile curves. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°If this person is who I think she is¡­¡± I start.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he murmurs.


    I smile. ¡°Well, if she is, then she already likes you on a deep level.¡±


    ¡°She does, does she?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She likes you so much, in fact, that she¡¯s a little bit scared of it.¡±


    Parker leans closer on the bench. ¡°It scares her?¡±


    ¡°Well, liking people hasn¡¯t always gone well for her, and if she were to let someone in¡­ hypothetically speaking, of course?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he says with a grin.


    ¡°Things could go south again. It¡¯s a question of being brave enough to open herself up to it again¡­ It¡¯s weird to talk about yourself in the third person.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°Yes, but you¡¯re doing it very well.¡±Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to live in the past,¡± I say. ¡°I want to live here and now. Not being afraid, not living in my head.¡±


    Not living with my fears.


    His arm tightens around mine. ¡°You¡¯re well on your way to do just that,¡± he says. ¡°What do you want to do now? To kickstart your new attitude? Because there¡¯s no way we¡¯re going back to that party.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? I didn¡¯t mean to take you away from it.¡±


    He rolls his eyes. ¡°Come on, I¡¯d rather be with you any day of the week than talk to my old coach.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say, and smile. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°I can walk you home? Emma must be home from the beach by now. How does that sound?¡±


    I take his hand. It¡¯s warm andrge around mine, and as we walk back toward my house, I experience a warped sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. A glimpse into what might¡¯ve been, what could stille to pass. My teenage self would never have believed I¡¯d be walking hand-in-hand through Paradise with Parker.


    I want to act on that feeling, and I want to chase away Lee¡¯s text, the thoughts, the return of the Jamie I¡¯d tried so hard to bury. That¡¯s in the past.


    This is the present¡­ and maybe also my future.


    So when we reach my street, I keep walking.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± Parker says. His voice is teasing. ¡°Have you lost your sense of direction?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I release his hand and turn, walking backwards up toward the cul-de-sac. ¡°But your ce is on the other street.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Well, I figured¡­ what if this was our do-over on prom? Do we really want the night to end yet?¡±


    His eyes are nk on mine. And then they narrow in understanding, a whole new kind of focus transforming the tanned face. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Oh.¡±


    We make it into his house. The front door shuts behind us, and Parker locks it, and I mentally vow to pay my mother back in dinners andundry for the extra babysitting she¡¯s doing.


    Parker¡¯s hands are steady on my waist, but the mouth kissing mine is hungry. He wants me, he wants me, he wants me.


    I peel off his shirt and he tosses it away, groaning when I trace my hands over his chest. I hadn¡¯t gotten my fill in the shower the other day. I don¡¯t think I ever will.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he murmurs, reverently running his hands down my dress. I raise my hands up and he lifts it over my head.


    And we¡¯re still in his hallway.


    Iugh and take his hand, breathless, pulling him toward the giant couch in his living room. But he shakes his head. ¡°My bed,¡± he murmurs. ¡°We¡¯re doing this right, James.¡±


    ¡°Fancy.¡±


    He rolls his eyes again and bends at the waist. The movement is so quick I don¡¯t realize what he¡¯s doing until I¡¯m hoisted up in his arms. He carries me through the back of the house, and my smile feels like a physical thing, etched into my face. Because of course this is fun with him, too, effortless with a man who doesn¡¯t know how else to be.


    He puts me down on his bed and I stretch out on the navy sheets. His bedroom is dark and simple with wooden ents.


    Parker¡¯s smile slowly fades as he watches me on his bed.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I ask. My body is okay. It¡¯s nothing special, and with faint stretch marks after my pregnancy, it¡¯s not what it was before Emma.


    ¡°I can¡¯t really believe you¡¯re here,¡± Parker says. ¡°In my house, in my bedroom.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so fucking beautiful.¡± He reaches for the buckle of his belt. ¡°It feels like I¡¯ve waited a lifetime for this. For you.¡±


    It does, I think. Like the twists and turns of life led us to this moment, a winding road that took us far away before bringing us back together again.


    And he doesn¡¯t feel like a stranger at all. Not after the shower, the make-out sessions, the kisses we¡¯d snuck in his office. He feels like Parker, my best friend¡¯s older brother. Parker, the man who¡¯d be my friend and confidante since I returned. And Parker¡­ the man who looks at me like I¡¯m a wave he can¡¯t wait to sail.

 Small Town Hero C56

    He climbs on to the bed next to me, and somewhere in the deep kisses and smooth hands, my braes off. He tosses it aside and returns to my arms, hitching my knee to his hip.


    Parker holds his body against mine like space is the enemy. I don¡¯tin, not when his skin is warm and dry and taut, his chest and lower stomach smattered with light brown hair. The hand he smoothes over my outer thigh has callouses from pulling ropes at sea.


    He rests his head against my neck. I¡¯m on my back, eyes closed, and keep my hands tight on his wide shoulders.


    It feels so good to be held like this. To feel the need rising up in him and the answering want in me.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he says. The voice against my neck is hoarse. ¡°Jesus, I need you so bad.¡±


    He¡¯s hard against my leg. The outline is clear through his pants and I take a deep, shaking breath. There¡¯s no artifice here. No games, no maniption.


    ¡°I need you too,¡± I whisper.


    He groans, moving the scruff of his cheek over my chest, and closes his lips around my nipple. I close my eyes as sensations sweep through my chest. He licks, and bites, worrying it between his teeth.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I whisper. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°You have to tell me what you¡¯re feeling,¡± he says, arge hand moving down across my stomach. ¡°Talk to me, okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    The hand pauses between my legs, cupping me through my underwear. ¡°I¡¯ll listen to whatever you tell me, through your words or your body.¡± He presses down with the heel of his hand and a shaky breath escapes me.


    It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve felt like this. Since desire was a physical thing, a source of red-hot emotion coursing through my limbs.


    Parker uses a hand to gently push my knees apart. He teases me through the fabric, and I keep my arm firmly ced over my head. Try to focus on nothing but my pleasure.


    ¡°You¡¯re wet,¡± he murmurs. ¡°So at least one of you is talking to me.¡±


    ¡°Parker,¡± I mutter.


    He chuckles. ¡°There she is. What do you want me to do, baby?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to say it.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear it aloud.¡±


    ¡°One day,¡± he promises, but he takes pity on me, long fingers hooking around the stic hem of my panties. And then he waits a few seconds, but hearing no protest, he tugs them down my legs. They only make it to my knees before he curses.


    ¡°Jamie, fucking hell¡­ You¡¯re going to make mest all of two seconds tonight, look at you. You¡¯re so pretty.¡±


    ¡°Oh my God,¡± I whisper. He blows over my exposed skin and I wrench my arm away to find him grinning. ¡°Parker!¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± He puts his hands on my hip bones, long fingers curling down toward my center. ¡°What do you want me to do, huh? Tell me, baby.¡±


    ¡°I hate you,¡± I whisper.


    His grin widens. ¡°No, you don¡¯t. But let me show you what I want to do¡­¡± He bends forward and kisses the inside of my thigh. Kisses the top of my mound, my other leg. ¡°This. And then I want to do this¡­¡±


    He kisses me softly, open-mouthed, right there, and I¡¯m so grateful I didn¡¯t have to use my words. Grateful that he¡¯s treating this with a smile and augh and with darkened desire in his eyes. Calloused fingers help spread me and all I can do is breathe deeply, chest rising and falling in tune to his mouth on my skin.


    Lee never liked doing this. He made it seem like a favor, a sacrifice on his part, and it made me feel bad for wanting it. For liking it. It had stopped being a part of our sex lives years ago.


    There¡¯s noparison to the man now between my legs.


    It¡¯s too much, and my nerve-endings are too sensitive. I need this to end. I need¡­ but as I reach down and run a hand into his hair, prepared to stop him, he flicks his tongue. And my thought process short-circuits. I tug him closer to my skin instead.


    And then I¡¯m barreling toward an orgasm.


    It surprises me with the unexpected force that sweeps through me. My legs straighten and I tighten my hand in his hair, breathing bing difficult. And he doesn¡¯t stop. Not until I tug at his hair, breathless, does he look up. Dark blue eyes meet mine with a desire that makes my heart clench.


    ¡°I want to do that again,¡± he murmurs. ¡°All day, all night.¡±


    ¡°Your employees would have something to say about that.¡±


    He grins, the crooked, victorious smile. And I¡¯ve never wanted anything like I want him in this moment. ¡°The yacht club will never stand a chance pitted against you.¡±


    I have to swallow hard. ¡°Come here.¡±


    He climbs up my body, kissing it all the way. He goes still when I reach for the zipper in his pants.


    ¡°You sure?¡± he asks. ¡°We can stop with this. I¡¯m happy to go slow, Jamie. Whatever you-oh, fuck. Jesus.¡±


    I tighten my grip around him and watch as his expression pinches, eyes closing. The square jaw sets beneath the stubble and he breathes sharply out of his nose. Thisrge man, tanned and glorious, is stretched out beside me¡­pletely unmanned by my touch. His erection is like solid stone in my grip and already weeping.


    And thest of my fears melt away.


    This is Parker. This is me. Letting him in will hurt, but so will letting him go. There¡¯s no safe option anymore.


    Maybe there never was.


    I kick my panties off from their spot around my ankles. He¡¯d never gotten them down any further.Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    Anticipation flutters through me. ¡°Do you have¡­?¡±


    He nods. ¡°One second.¡±


    When he returns, condom on, I open my arms to him. He covers me like a warm nket, all hot skin and warm kisses and a need that makes the arms on either side of my head tremble. ¡°Jamie,¡± he mutters. It sounds like an admonition and a prayer, his mouth drifting down to my neck. ¡°Dear God¡­¡±


    I bend my legs around his hips and feel the blunt head of him resting on my stomach. The blue of his eyes looks almost dark in the dim light, throwing shadows across his tan skin. ¡°Jamie,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I whisper. Any louder and the moment would shatter, float away. I tilt my hips to wee him in. It feels like I¡¯ve been waiting a lifetime for this.


    ¡°I want to go slow,¡± he says, a hand drifting down to my hip. He grips himself, aligning us with measured strokes.


    I don¡¯t need slow. I just need him. ¡°You can go at whatever pace you¡¯d like,¡± I say, ¡°as long as you go.¡±

 Small Town Hero C57

    He gives a hoarse chuckle and pushes in. My body protests for a second before I rx and he sinks in, and in, and in. It¡¯s a delicious pressure.


    ¡°Jesus,¡± he mutters.


    I don¡¯t talk. I just hold on to his shoulders, my fingers digging into the muscles, and raise my hips to his. He drives into me again with powerful rolls of his hips that send me gasping every time he bottoms out. The movement leaves no room for thought beyond the present. No sensations except those our bodies provide, and I¡¯m here, with him, in his bed, and nowhere else.


    He rises up on his arms and looks at me. It¡¯s intimate, our eyes meeting while we¡¯re doing this. A flush creeps over my face and he smiles as he sees it.


    ¡°Getting shy on me, James?¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± I say, and pull him down for a kiss.


    His body grows more frantic, the skin beneath my hands damp with sweat. I wrap my legs around him and hold him when the movements crescendo into a snapping of hips. He groans when hees, just like he had in the shower, the sound deep and honest. Just like him.


    He¡¯s always been honest in his feelings.


    Afterwards, I keep him on top of me, my forehead against his shoulder. I don¡¯t want to break away from the bliss of the now.


    Parker is the one who finally pulls away, disposing of the condom. Afterwards he tugs me against his side like it¡¯s the most natural thing in the world. I rest a hand on his chest and feel it rise and fall beneath my palm, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it could be.


    PARKER


    I wake up early. It¡¯s a habit, ingrained after years of morning sailing lessons. The blinds aren¡¯t drawn in my bedroom and summer light filters across my bed, gilding the woman lying next to me.


    Jamie¡¯s hair is a light brown cascade across her pillow and her left shoulder, mussed at the temples. Her cheeks look rosy with sleep.


    She¡¯s still here, and as I watch her, a deep sense of satisfaction sweeps through me. Last night had been everything I¡¯d ever wanted and more, but this? This is just as good. To have mornings with her in my bed, with Jamie¡¯s guard down. To be the person she trusts.


    She blinks her eyes awake to the sunlight, and then immediately closes them again. Stretches out.


    ¡°Mmm. Parker?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Oh.¡± Sheughs, burying her face in the pillow. ¡°I slept herest night.¡±


    ¡°Sure did.¡± I put a hand on her bare back, the skin silky to the touch. She looks up at me from beneath her hair and I can¡¯t stop my wide smile. ¡°I¡¯m d you did, too.¡±


    ¡°So am I,¡± she says. ¡°Gosh, I almost can¡¯t believe we¡­ but we did. And it was great.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°You sound almost surprised.¡±


    ¡°I was, a bit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always known you and I would have the best sex.¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°You did not.¡±


    ¡°Of course I did. You think I haven¡¯t thought about it? Back in the day, or in the weeks since you¡¯ve been back?¡±


    She ps my chest and I catch her hand, pulling her across me.


    ¡°I know you did too,¡± I say. ¡°Come on. Tell me.¡±


    Jamie pushes her hair back and admits the truth. ¡°Fine, I did. Of course I did.¡±


    My grin widens. ¡°I knew it. I was your friend¡¯s hot older brother, wasn¡¯t I? And you couldn¡¯t stop thinking about me. Had my name in your diary.¡±


    ¡°You should shut up while you¡¯re ahead.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s never been my strong suit,¡± I say, and I¡¯m rewarded by another eye roll. But she¡¯s grinning, and her breasts are ttened deliciously against my stomach. Sleeping naked with Jamie is something else.


    ¡°Then why was it better than you expected?¡± I brush a tendril of hair off her face. ¡°You and me, together?¡±


    Her face is open and soft, but she looks away from my eyes. Traces a finger down my chest instead. ¡°Well, you know who Ist¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, because do I ever.


    ¡°This was very different. So much better. I didn¡¯t expect¡­¡± She shakes her head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°You can tell me,¡± I say, sweeping my hand over her back. Give me more reason to hate your ex.Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d go down on me.¡±


    A slow smile spreads across my face at the memory. ¡°Baby, I¡¯ll want to do that every time. All the time.¡±


    She swallows. ¡°Wow. Well, he didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t deserve you.¡± My hand curves around her hip, and then across the twin dimples on her lower back. ¡°Were you in your head at all? Last night?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°No. I didn¡¯t have the space to think about anything but us. You took it all.¡±


    ¡°So I did,¡± I say with a grin, and she chuckles. But then I sober, looking at a lock of her hair I¡¯m twining around my finger. ¡°Any man who would criticize you during sex lost his mind a long time ago. You know that, right?¡±


    She smiles, a finger tracing through my chest hair. The touch is light and teasing. ¡°So you don¡¯t think my nipples are a bit too big?¡±


    ¡°What? Of course not.¡±


    ¡°They changed size after my pregnancy. So did my hips. Not too wide, then?¡±


    My hand drifts to her round hip and tightens. ¡°Fuck no.¡±


    Jamie¡¯s smile widens. ¡°And I wasn¡¯t too loud? Or too wet? Or too needy, or clingy, and I shouldn¡¯t have taken a shower before, or worn nicer underwear for you?¡±


    Gently, but with hands that I have to work to keep soft, I turn her over. Run a hand over her body, across all the spots she¡¯d mentioned. She¡¯s still smiling, in a teasing mood.


    I¡¯m not. ¡°He said these things?¡±


    ¡°Yes, interspersed over the years. That was just in bed. Other days I was worthless, or a failure, a terrible girlfriend and mother.¡± She gives a littleugh. ¡°Once it was over how I¡¯d cooked his bacon. I can¡¯t believe I ever listened.¡±

 Small Town Hero C58

    ¡°I hate him,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t care that he somehow fathered the cutest girl in the world. I fucking hate him, and he¡¯d better not set his foot in this town.¡±


    Jamie¡¯s smile softens, settling into an expression of trust. It soothes the jagged edge of rage inside me. ¡°He¡¯s in the past,¡± she says. ¡°His words don¡¯t hurt me anymore.¡±


    I vow to myself that they never will again. Dropping my head, I kiss one of her pink nipples. ¡°Perfection,¡± I say. ¡°The best fucking size.¡±


    Sheughs and slides her hand into my hair. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard you swear so much.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got me worked up,¡± I say. In my mind, I¡¯m thinking a lot worse about her ex. Words I wouldn¡¯t say around her or anyone I loved. I drift to her other nipple, its perfect pinkness teased taut.


    ¡°Are you going to prove everyment wrong?¡±


    ¡°Damn right.¡± I drift down beneath the sheet, my fingers finally finding the silky-soft skin between her legs. ¡°And this? It can never get too wet. That¡¯s a goddamnpliment, and a man who doesn¡¯t see it that way isn¡¯t worth the title.¡±


    It takes us an hour to get out of bed. Jamie sits up, a flush of satisfaction on her cheeks, and sees my rm clock for the first time.


    ¡°Oh my God.¡± She throws the cover back and I get a glorious view of her nude body in the morning light. ¡°It¡¯s past our usual workout time.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Thinking about your family?¡±


    She hunts for her underwear, finding them next to my dresser. I turn on my back and look at her shimmying them up long legs and hiding my new favorite ce from view. ¡°Yes,¡± she says.


    ¡°What are your ns for the day?¡±


    ¡°Mom is meeting friends in the next city for lunch, and Emma and I will probably go to the beach. I promised her we¡¯d bake this afternoon.¡±


    ¡°Sounds nice.¡±


    She pauses, bra snapping around her chest. Hiding my second new favorite ce from view. ¡°Do you want to join us?¡±


    ¡°You and Emma?¡±


    ¡°Yes, if you want to.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I want to.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    A shy smile stretches across her face. ¡°Okay. It¡¯s a date, then.¡±


    The next two weeks are the best of my life. I sail the new boat into the marina and both Hayden and my father are there to help tie it up at the dock. She¡¯s beautiful, and she¡¯ll need work, and she¡¯s all mine.


    Hayden had crouched on deck and inspected one of the portlights. ¡°Needs to be reced,¡± he¡¯d said. And I¡¯d grinned at him and he¡¯d grinned back, and there¡¯s a reason he¡¯s my best friend and my brother in all but blood.


    The yacht club has found its sea legs and runs smoothly under Stephen, Neil and Kristen¡¯s stewardship. I¡¯ve had to put in another order for the caps, which apparently sold out after a local high schooler wore one to a party.


    But what makes the weeks the very best is Jamie. The meltdown at the White Party seems to have broken through a dam and let out the fears she¡¯d kept inside. Because the smiles she shoots me every time we¡¯re together make me feel ten feet tall.


    It¡¯s not the teenage Jamie, asionally defensive and argumentative and idealistic. And it¡¯s not the Jamie from this spring, with her guard up so tightly it was concrete-enforced steel.


    It¡¯s a mixture of the two, and something entirely new, the image of the Jamie she is now. Grown, a mother, still strong and fierce but tempered the way a de is, put through me. She knows when to bend to avoid breaking now. It¡¯s be my mission in life to make herugh as often as I can.


    I¡¯d surprised her one morning at work with a box, waiting for her in the back office.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she¡¯d asked, running a hand over it. And then she¡¯d seen the fruit symbol. ¡°Oh. You got a newputer?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°This is more of an investment.¡±


    ¡°An investment?¡±


    ¡°Yes, in a talented graphic designer whom I hope the yacht club will work with for years toe.¡±


    Her eyes meet mine. Protest res, then disbelief, and then surprised joy. ¡°Parker, you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t possibly ept this.¡±


    ¡°Of course you can. I¡¯ve hired you to run the booking system, website, and the newsletter. Not to mention the store and all the merchandise. It was all your idea.¡±


    ¡°But this is too much. I already have aputer I can use.¡±


    ¡°Which is your mother¡¯s, and it¡¯s on its death bed. Won¡¯t this make your job easier?¡±


    She looks down at the box. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Well, that settles it.¡±


    Jamie smoothes a hand over it. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to repay you.¡±


    ¡°You already have,¡± I¡¯d said. ¡°Your help with the business has been invaluable.¡± And that had been it. That evening she¡¯d sent me pictures of the newsletter she was setting up for the yacht club on her newputer, with the logo as the header, informing themunity about the seasonal menu items to be announced soon.


    Her mother knows about us, too. We talk about it once when I go to pick up Jamie and Emma. They¡¯reing with me to the docks to see the new boat and go for an evening swim. Vera is the one who answers the front door. She gives me a too-knowing smile. ¡°Hello, Parker.¡±


    ¡°Hi, Mrs. Moraine. How are things?¡±


    Her smile widens, filled with insinuation. ¡°We¡¯re all good, thanks. As are you, if what I¡¯ve heard from my daughter is correct?¡±


    I won¡¯t deny it. ¡°I am, and your daughter has something to do with that, too.¡±


    She gives a delightedugh. ¡°And here I thought I would have to pull it out of you!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m an open book, Mrs. Moraine.¡±


    ¡°Vera, please. I¡¯ve known you your whole life,¡± she says, waving a hand. ¡°This is refreshing. I have to ask and ask and ask to learn things from my daughter, and even then, she tells me one thing and hides two.¡±


    ¡°She ys things close to the vest,¡± I say.


    ¡°She does. Always has. But not with you, I suppose. You know, she¡¯s happier than she was when she first got back.¡±


    My hand stills on my leg, from where it had been drumming. ¡°I¡¯ve noticed that too.¡±

 Small Town Hero C59

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s because of a lot of things¡­ But some of it I think is your doing,¡± she says. Then she looks over her shoulder, but Jamie and Emma are nowhere in sight. When she turns back there¡¯s caution in her eyes.


    I know what she¡¯s going to say. So I save her the trouble. ¡°I know,¡± I say quietly. ¡°I know, and there will never be any of that from me.¡±


    Her shoulders drop an inch. ¡°I didn¡¯t know how much she¡¯d¡­¡±


    ¡°Some,¡± I say. ¡°Enough.¡±


    ¡°She mentioned that you¡¯re awyer?¡±


    ¡°A recovering one, yes.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she says, nodding. ¡°Very good. You know, my granddaughter is the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to me after Jamie. Now, she¡¯s been saying great things about you. Crazy things too. You¡¯re a captain? I don¡¯t believe that. But it¡¯s important to protect her heart, too. Because if-¡±


    Vera¡¯s words are cut off by a childish shriek and a jump as Emma joins us on the porch. She looks up at me shyly and then, oveing it, raises her hands. I give her the double high five we¡¯d started doing a few days back.


    ¡°Hi, kiddo.¡±


    ¡°Hello!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here, I¡¯m here,¡± Jamie says, digging through her beach bag. ¡°We got everything¡­ hi, Mom.¡± She looks between us. ¡°All good?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, at the same time her mother nods.


    Jamie smiles, an exasperated one, and takes Emma¡¯s hand. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    Emma pauses at the top of the stairs and looks up at me. It¡¯s an expectant look.


    ¡°Ah. You want to ride high?¡±


    She nods, her double ponytails bouncing. I crouch down and she scrambles onto my back.


    ¡°You¡¯re spoiling her,¡± Jamie says, but the way she looks at me¡­ These girls are mine, I think. It settles into ce with a finality that feels destined, like a pattern finally discerned. I want to give them both what they deserve, I want to be a part of their family.


    I want to be chosen by them in turn.


    Emma loves the new boat. Jamie is more cautious, running a hand over the aged wood. ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s safe? I know you want to take it outter this week, but are you sure?¡±


    I grin at her. ¡°How many years have I been sailing?¡±


    ¡°Since you could walk,¡± she says, rolling her eyes. ¡°I know you¡¯re capable. I just don¡¯t know if the boat is.¡±


    I catch her around the waist. ¡°She¡¯s got ster bones and shows great promise. All she needs is a bit of TLC and she¡¯ll do great.¡±


    Jamie raises an eyebrow. ¡°Are you still talking about the boat?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯d never call the woman in my arms anything less than perfect.¡±


    ¡°Smart man,¡± she murmurs, and kisses me. It turns into a long, heart-warming kiss, my hands tightening around her waist. Mine, my brain says.


    There¡¯s an outraged shriek beside us. ¡°Mommy!¡± Emma says, and then erupts in giggles.


    It¡¯s the first time she¡¯s seen us kiss.


    I lift my head and look away, running a hand over my mouth. Shit.


    But Jamie onlyughs and crosses the deck to her daughter, sitting on the pic nket she¡¯s brought, along with food. ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to kiss the captain?¡±


    Emma giggles again and shakes her head.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Jamie sits next to her daughter, smiling. ¡°Remember how I told you that I¡¯ve be a very good friend of Parker¡¯s? We like each other a lot.¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    Emma looks at her mother with a challenging re she¡¯s inherited from Jamie. ¡°Yes, but we¡¯re on a boat,¡± she says, like it¡¯s self-evident, ¡°and you have to do what the captain says.¡±


    Jamieughs. ¡°So I can¡¯t distract him?¡±


    Emma reaches for a grape and grins with her gap-toothed smile. She¡¯d lost her first toothst week and had been so proud when she showed me.


    A calm settles over me, watching them. She¡¯s okay with it. They¡¯re okay with me.


    I sit down opposite Emma. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I tell her. ¡°Your mom distracted me, but she¡¯s allowed to as first mate.¡±


    Emma looks between us and breaks into giggles again. ¡°Kissing!¡± she says, and keepsughing.


    Jamie joins in and I run a hand over my jaw, fighting a smile. ¡°So it¡¯s okay if I¡¯m together with your mother? You approve?¡±


    She nods again and reaches for a grape. ¡°Catch,¡± she challenges me, before tossing it in my direction.


    I guess children really are more adaptable than people give them credit for.


    Two nightster they¡¯re at my house and I¡¯ve gotten the papers prepared. An old colleague who works with familyw had looked them over to make sure every loophole was considered.


    Emma falls asleep on my couch to the soft sounds of a cartoon on the TV, and in my kitchen, Jamie is baking cookies.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t take me for a baker?¡± she says, smiling at me over her shoulder. I¡¯ve been leaning against my kitchen ind and watching her for thest half hour. The ease she shows in my kitchen, the happy smile, the small gestures that make my heart tighten.


    ¡°I remember a time when you swore never to do a domestic task in your life.¡±


    She chuckles, reaching for the sugar. ¡°Yes, well, it¡¯s easy to have radical opinions when you¡¯re fifteen. Look at me being domestic now,¡± she says, and slowly pours a cup into the mixing bowl.


    ¡°Gorgeous,¡± I say.


    She chuckles and shakes her head. ¡°You¡¯re going to inte my ego, you know?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a tough job, but someone¡¯s got to do it,¡± I say. ¡°Do you know how long it¡¯s been since someone baked in this kitchen?¡±


    ¡°No? How long?¡±


    ¡°Previous owner.¡±

 Small Town Hero C60

    She rolls her eyes, but her face is open and soft. From the living roomes the muted sound of one cartoon character chasing another.


    I clear my throat. ¡°Remember what we spoke aboutst week?¡±


    Her hand stops moving. ¡°Custody?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The papers are in a folder, and I slide them across the ind to her. All the preliminary paperwork. ¡°There are a few things to do before you should officially file for single custody.¡±


    Her hand reaches for the paper. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better getting ahead of this. Especially if you think he might¡­ object.¡±


    I don¡¯t want to say return. I don¡¯t want to think about that man being close to my family. Since the text two weeks ago at the White Party, he hasn¡¯t contacted Jamie again. She never responded to it-but she¡¯s convinced he¡¯s not going to give up so easily.


    ¡°I¡¯ll read all of it. Should I hire awyer? What should I do?¡± She looks down at the folder. ¡°He¡¯s not getting Emma.¡±


    I slide an arm around her waist and she leans against my chest. ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°I still have friends who practicew. Let me make some calls. Worst case, I can represent you. I¡¯m not specialized in familyw but I¡¯m qualified.¡±


    ¡°Parker,¡± she whispers, and I hear what she can¡¯t say. The fear. Anxiety has been weighing on her for the past weeks. ¡°I can¡¯t ask you to do that.¡±


    That makes me smile. We¡¯re so past that, I think, and kiss her temple. ¡°Baby, I know you want to go slow. This isn¡¯t to pressure you¡­ but in all the ways that matter, I consider myself yours.¡±


    There¡¯s an audible exhale of breath. ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. This, right here? The two of you in my house, the smell of cookies, you smiling in my arms¡­ it¡¯s all I want.¡±


    She tilts her head back. Large, chocte-brown eyes meet mine. ¡°Ie with baggage.¡±


    ¡°I can carry a lot,¡± I murmur. ¡°You¡¯ve seen my workouts.¡±


    Sheughs despite herself and turns, wraps her arms around my neck. ¡°I¡¯m scared,¡± she whispers. ¡°About us, about him, about myself. I¡¯ll make mistakes, Parker. I know that. But¡­¡±


    ¡°But?¡±


    Her lips rise in a smile. ¡°Remember the girl who wasn¡¯t scared of anything?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I do,¡± I whisper, bending to her ear. I¡¯d been a little in love with that girl.


    ¡°Well,¡± she murmurs, ¡°I¡¯m finding my way back to her.¡±


    JAMIE


    I¡¯m sitting crosslegged on the patio, watching as little Jamie and Emma run across the yard. They¡¯re racing, and Emma is winning with her longer legs, but Jamie has determination burning beneath his dark hair.


    ¡°They¡¯re still going?¡± Hayden asks me. He has a beer in hand and sits down next to me on the patio. From inside, we hear the calm sounds of Lily on the phone. A buyer has called her about the gallery, about a piece, and she¡¯d pulled out her professional voice. I can¡¯t wait to tease her about it.


    ¡°Yes, they can¡¯t seem to stop. They¡¯re going to sleep wellter.¡±


    ¡°Out like two lights,¡± Hayden agrees. His arms rest lightly on his knees, the beer bottle dangling from his hand. Despite the dark clouds, rain hasn¡¯t fallen yet, and we¡¯re taking full advantage of it. The scent of the grill being fired up is warm in the August air. ¡°So¡­ you and Parker, huh?¡±


    I groan, and my best friend¡¯s husbandughs. He¡¯s been a constant presence in both of their lives since the age of eleven, and through them, also mine. We¡¯d both been spectators to the Marchands.


    Outsiders with one foot in, one foot out.


    ¡°You know I have to ask,¡± he says. ¡°He won¡¯t tell me anything.¡±


    ¡°He tells you everything.¡±


    Hayden snorts. ¡°Not this. I offered to start by talking about my love life, but he begged me not to. Was quite entertaining, actually. Seems he doesn¡¯t want to hear about me and his little sister.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Surprising.¡±


    ¡°Baffled me. So, Moraine. Did you guys hook up in high school?¡±


    ¡°What? No, never.¡±


    He grins. ¡°I always suspected you did, you know.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. If we¡¯d be sitting on the quad and you¡¯d walk by, he¡¯d watch you like a hawk until you were out of view. I caught him at it several times and he always tried to y it off.¡±


    I roll my eyes, but my chest grows warm. ¡°We were kids back then.¡±


    ¡°So was I, and I was in love with Lily even so,¡± Hayden says calmly, in that unwavering certainty he possesses. ¡°Didn¡¯t you like him too? Lord knows you two argued enough for it.¡±


    I reach for my ss of lemonade. We¡¯re too old for blushing, and yet here I am. Maybe because this thing is new, and maybe because it¡¯s actually old, both true at the same time. And maybe because Parker had spentst night at mine for the first time, with my mother out of town¡­ and helped make pancakes for breakfast along with a giggling Emma. She¡¯d dared him to flip pancakes and he¡¯d managed beautifully, capable of winning at any sport, and earned a round of apuse from her.


    ¡°I did like him,¡± I say. ¡°But I never told Lily that.¡±


    ¡°She knows,¡± Hayden says simply. ¡°You two never spoke of it, but she knows.¡±


    ¡°d we were that obvious.¡±


    He grins and takes a swig of his beer, eyes on his son, running as fast as his bare feet can take him. There are grass stains on his shorts. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m rooting for the two of you.¡±


    Maybe I would have rolled my eyes at that a decade ago. Now it makes something sting at my eyes. Having people interfere in your rtionship can be annoying, and tough, and pressureden.


    It can also be wonderful.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I murmur. ¡°So am I.¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°Does Parker know that?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You think he doesn¡¯t?¡±


    Hayden shrugs, eyes dropping to theces of his old sailing shoes. He runs a hand through his dark hair. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But he¡¯s given both Lily and me pretty strict orders about not saying anything to you that might sound like pressure.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°Of course he has. But I¡¯m not going to spook.¡±

 Small Town Hero C61

    ¡°Spooking is fine,¡± Hayden says, ¡°as long as it¡¯s just a short thing. We all do it every now and then.¡±


    ¡°Not you and Lily.¡±


    This time, heughs. His son turns around to watch his dad, eyes looking to find what¡¯s funny. When there¡¯s no obvious reason, Jamie turns right back around and reaches for the h hoop Emma is ying with.


    ¡°You think I haven¡¯t? You think she hasn¡¯t? You know us,¡± he says, and reaches for his beer again. ¡°Hell, when she told me she was pregnant, I spooked bad enough for the both of us.¡±


    That¡¯s news to me. ¡°You did?¡±


    He nods, a brief dip of his chin. ¡°Yes. I didn¡¯t feel qualified to be a father. Now I know nobody does, of course, and it¡¯s still the best thing ever. You write your own ybook. But I didn¡¯t then.¡±


    I smile, watching Emma. ¡°No. Nobody knows what they¡¯re doing. But it¡¯s the best winging it you¡¯ll ever do.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± he says softly. ¡°Just like in rtionships. It¡¯s all winging it, Jamie.¡±


    The message is clear. But he says it differently than Lily, says it softer, says ityered. And I understand. I smile down at my lemonade, thinking that they¡¯re both looking out for us, me and Parker.


    ¡°Guys,¡± Lily says. Her voice is back to normal now, her phone in her hand. ¡°Have you heard from Parker today?¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°He took the new boat out. Should be back soon, I think.¡±


    Lily frowns. ¡°Do you know which direction he headed in?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t ask.¡±


    ¡°North,¡± Hayden says. ¡°That¡¯s what he told mest night, anyway.¡±


    She looks down at her phone and her frown deepens. ¡°The storm that was supposed to pass us by has switched directions. It¡¯s heading here instead.¡±


    Hayden gets to his feet. ¡°Try calling him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve done that,¡± Lily says. ¡°He¡¯s not picking up.¡±


    Something cold wraps a hand around my throat. ¡°I have his phone.¡±


    Two pairs of eyes turn to mine. ¡°You do?¡± Lily asks. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°He forgot it at mine earlier today.¡±


    Her green eyes lock on mine for a moment longer. ¡°Well, I wish I could focus on that detail a bit more, but Hayden¡­ what do we do?¡±


    He¡¯s on his own phone. ¡°We¡¯ll start by calling the yacht club and ask if he¡¯s already back.¡±


    But he¡¯s not. The new wood-and-navy boat with the cream sails hasn¡¯t returned to its spot next to the Frida. And they haven¡¯t seen it for hours.


    It¡¯s fifteen minutester when the rains hit.


    It¡¯s like the sky opened its maws and released weeks¡¯ worth of moisture, cold drops assaulting the ground below. Hayden turns off the grill and I grab Emma¡¯s sweater, forgotten on the patio chair.


    ¡°He would know about the storm, though,¡± I tell Hayden. My voice is low and hard. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t he?¡±


    Hayden nods. ¡°He¡¯s religious about checking weather. But if he didn¡¯t have his phone¡­ and it was predicated to hit far north of here¡­¡± He shakes his head. ¡°Things change fast at sea. Parker knows that too.¡±


    I try breathing through my nerves. ¡°What¡¯s thetest prognosis on the storm? On wind conditions?¡±


    The man next to me, who I never used to speak much to, who is Lily¡¯s soul mate and as much Parker¡¯s brother as his own, hesitates. Panic slides its icy grip around my spine. ¡°I won¡¯t lie,¡± Hayden says. ¡°They¡¯re not good.¡±


    Somewhere during that dazed evening, I find my way to the couch, and pull Emma against me. Her eyes are on the cartoon Lily had put on for her and Jamie. On the mantel, the short hand ticks with steady movements. And still no news.


    I barely register when the front door opens against the pouring rain. A gust of cold wind sweeps into the house, and then I hear Michael Marchand¡¯s voice.


    ¡°What¡¯s thetest?¡±


    The family convenes in the dining room. I wrap my arm around Emma and fight against the fear in my chest. Not now, not when I¡¯ve finally found him, not when I¡¯ve finally created a life for myself that¡¯s safe.


    ¡°Mom,¡± Emma whispers. ¡°Is it the captain?¡±


    I force a hard swallow. ¡°Yes, sweetie. But he¡¯s going to be all right.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s at sea?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Emma rxes underneath my arm, her eyes returning to the TV. ¡°He¡¯s a good sailor.¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    I close my eyes. Yes, he is. But storms don¡¯t care.


    Behind me, I hear Michael asks Hayden questions, sharing notes on wind conditions, waves, miles per hour.


    ¡°Good man,¡± Michael says at one point, pping Hayden on the shoulder. ¡°Why weren¡¯t you out with him today?¡±


    ¡°I offered,¡±es Hayden¡¯s measured response, ¡°but he wanted to take the new boat for a short spin by himself.¡±


    Michael¡¯s voice grows gruff. ¡°Well. He¡¯s the best sailor on the East Coast, if not the whole goddamn country. He knows what to do.¡±


    When I turn, Lily has her arm around her mother, both looking down at her phone. ¡°The coast guard,¡± Eloise says. ¡°Why aren¡¯t we calling them? Why aren¡¯t they looking?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t brave the storm,¡± Hayden says simply. ¡°Not right now.¡±


    Eloise looks at her husband with anger, but Michael nods, confirming it.


    ¡°So the only thing we can do right now is wait?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°Does he have a signal? Why isn¡¯t he answering his phone?¡± she demands, looking down at her own. Manicured fingers curl around the ss and steel. ¡°He should pick up! He always picks up!¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have his phone on him,¡± Lily says gently. She¡¯s been a quiet presence throughout this, soothing, making tea, lighting candles, kissing the top of her son¡¯s head over and over again. But the eyes that meet mine across the living room are strained. She loves all her brothers, the siblings close even when they¡¯re far apart. But Parker is her closest in age, the one she fought over chores with, the brother she sees weekly.

 Small Town Hero C62

    ¡°Idiot,¡± Michael curses. The word hangs in the space and no one contradicts him. It¡¯sced with worry, at any rate, and not sincerity.


    There¡¯s a tug on my free arm. Little Jamie climbs up on the couch next to me. His wide, dark eyes, so like his father¡¯s, look up at mine, questioning.


    ¡°Want a piece of the nket? Here,¡± I murmur, spreading the one Emma and I are using.


    He nods and settles against my side, turning back to the TV. ¡°Is my uncle all right?¡±


    I wrap my arm around him too, and with all my might, I pour conviction into my voice. ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°He is going to be just fine.¡±


    Did you hear that, Universe? I think. You owe me one.


    The evening turns to night. Night turns to two sleepy children, and me staying in the guest bedroom, texting my mother to be careful if she¡¯s out driving tonight. She¡¯s in a town over, and she sends back a bunch of hearts. I don¡¯t tell her about Parker. Not yet. Not as I lie in the dark, in Lily and Hayden¡¯s guest room, and stare up at the ceiling.


    And when I creep downstairs at two a. m. and find Lily and Hayden in the kitchen, her head against his chest, we don¡¯t speak. She just pushes a cup of hot tea my way and meets my eyes with worried ones of her own.


    When morninges, and the rain has stopped, and there¡¯s still no sign of a boat¡­ My fear settles into a painful realization, one I can¡¯t look at for too long. I care about someone that isn¡¯t my mom, or Lily, or my daughter.


    I love him, and it terrifies me.


    ¡°Will you let me know?¡± I ask Lily. ¡°As soon as you find out?¡±


    Lily hugs me tightly. She smells like shampoo from the shower she¡¯d just taken, and I feel the outline of her spine beneath her T-shirt. ¡°Of course. You too. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I whisper, fear making it hard to speak.


    All the things I hadn¡¯t said. All the things I hadn¡¯t dared to.


    Emma has her hand in mine the entire walk back home. She¡¯s been quiet, and I know I should ask her why, but I¡¯m too scared to hear the answer. That she¡¯s left afraid by this too. That she¡¯s grown attached to Parker too.


    I¡¯m focused on her hand in mine, and the careful way she avoids the puddles on the sidewalk on Greene Street, and don¡¯t see the person waiting in front of my mother¡¯s house until it¡¯s toote.


    The tall shape. The dark hair. The backpack slung over a shoulder.


    And under my breath, and within earshot of my daughter, I whisper the only thing thates to mind.


    ¡°Shit.¡±


    JAMIE


    ¡°There you are.¡± Lee¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t reach his eyes, not even as they drop down to Emma. ¡°Hi, kid.¡±


    She steps behind my leg.


    Adrenaline erupts into a steady drumbeat beneath my skin, a second heartbeat, warning me to flee. He¡¯s a ck hole. I can¡¯t let us get sucked in.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°Hello to you too,¡± he says, and lets his backpack drop to the gravel path on Mom¡¯s front yard. He doesn¡¯t fit in next to Emma¡¯s pink bicycle and my mom¡¯s wind charms hanging off the porch. ¡°You haven¡¯t exactly kept in touch.¡±


    ¡°Neither have you.¡±


    ¡°I think we both needed time,¡± Lee says. ¡°Some time to cool down and reflect on our actions.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°I¡¯ve reflected,¡± I say carefully. On how I could be so stupid as to let him into my life in the first ce.


    Lee nods. ¡°I knew you would¡¯ve, Jamie. Running away is beneath you. I¡¯ve missed you this summer.¡±


    ¡°You have?¡± I ask. But he doesn¡¯t seem to hear the disbelief in my voice, taking it for what it¡¯s not. Hope.


    ¡°Yes. The apartment isn¡¯t the same without you there. Without both of you.¡± Lee extends a hand to the house. ¡°Why don¡¯t you invite me in? We can have coffee and talk about us. It¡¯s time you came home. Both of you.¡±


    And I know I can¡¯t do that. Can¡¯t let him pour the poison into my ear, the slick reasoning, the slow breakdown of my arguments, of my self-worth. No one twists words better than he does.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a future,¡± I say.


    His arm drops, and the smile turns into a frown. Brown eyes ice over. Disapproval, and despite the distance between us, despite the warmth, fear runs like a shiver down my spine. ¡°Jamie,¡± Lee says. ¡°We have a child together. Please be reasonable.¡±


    I put a hand on Emma¡¯s head. Her arm is around my leg, a solid, warm weight against me. I don¡¯t miss Daddy, she¡¯d told me.


    Lee¡¯s frown deepens and he looks down at Emma briefly, as if he doesn¡¯t like what he sees. ¡°Jamie,e to your senses. This has been a little experiment, but it¡¯se to an end. I¡¯ll be here for as long I need to convince you I love you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll stay in town?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve travelled a long way to get here.¡± He looks at the tree-lined street behind me, at therge houses. ¡°You¡¯re swimming in money now, it seems. I remember when you had to ask me just to buy groceries. Was it all an act?¡±


    My breath whooshes out of me. I¡¯d asked him because I hadn¡¯t been working, because he hadn¡¯t liked me working. Hadn¡¯t liked the supervisor at the restaurant I¡¯d waitressed at. He smiles at you too much.


    But then Lee¡¯s eyes soften. ¡°That¡¯s okay, Jamie. I forgive you. I can be very forgiving, you know. I might be open to taking you back and forgetting this old childish tantrum. Why don¡¯t you unlock this door and let me sit down and have a beer?¡±


    And I know, with a bone-deep certainty, that if I let him in he¡¯s never going to leave.


    ¡°We¡¯re not having this conversation in front of Emma,¡± I say.


    Lee goes still. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Today¡¯s not a good time for me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a good time?¡± he repeats, face paling. He never flushed with anger. He¡¯d grown quiet, and white, all color leaking out of his cheeks. And he¡¯dsh out with his words. ¡°Why can¡¯t you ask your trophy wife of a mother to watch the kid? She¡¯s inside, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°That¡¯s not our house anymore. Mom sold it a few years back.¡±


    ¡°You sold it,¡± Lee says, and looks down at the child¡¯s bike on thewn. But I don¡¯t let him call me on the obvious lie. I don¡¯t let myself falter either.


    ¡°I¡¯ll text you when there¡¯s a better time. Stay at the motel in town.¡±


    He rolls his neck, eyes on mine. He¡¯s annoyed, but he¡¯s also unnerved. I¡¯m not reacting the way I used to. Any second now, he¡¯s going to start the old barrage¡­ that I¡¯m useless, worthless, that nobody would want me anyway, that he¡¯s the best I¡¯ll ever get¡­


    ¡°Fine,¡± he says, and a smile sweeps across his face instead. ¡°Text me tomorrow, then. I¡¯ll see you. I¡¯ve missed you, Jamie.¡±

 Small Town Hero C63

    I shift Emma to my left side. We leave down the sidewalk and I look once over my shoulder, over at Lee, still standing in front of my mother¡¯s house. His dark eyes watch me.


    So I take Emma¡¯s hand and resist the urge to run the rest of the way down the cul-de-sac. We take the walking path between the houses, past the meadow, and onto Parker¡¯s street. Emma is quiet beside me, her legs moving fast, hand tight in mine.


    She knows, I think. For all that I¡¯ve tried to shield her, she knows, because she¡¯s too clever.


    We stop outside of Parker¡¯s garage. A quick nce around shows that Lee isn¡¯t following us, and I rush us into Parker¡¯s backyard.


    ¡°But he¡¯s not home. Right?¡± Emma whispers.


    I nod and focus on sorting through the empty pots by the grill. He has the key to the garage in one of these, left for me if I ever wanted to work out when he isn¡¯t home¡­ and in the garage, under the box with the extra sails for Frida, is the house key, hidden there if he ever locks himself out.


    He¡¯d shown it all to me.


    Parker, I think, and bite down hard on my tongue to stop the tears. Here he is, saving me once again, and I don¡¯t know where he is.


    He¡¯d given me a job and trusted my skills when I didn¡¯t myself. He¡¯d half-forced me into the workouts, helping me to build self-confidence without knowing just how nonexistent it was.


    And now he doesn¡¯t even have to be here to save Emma and me from Lee.


    I let us into his house and shut the door behind myself, pulling the deadbolt.


    ¡°Why are we here?¡± Emma asks. She¡¯s toeing off her wet shoes without me having to ask. ¡°Is it because of Dad?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she says, epting it like she epts everything. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Good?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I like Dad anymore.¡± She walks into Parker¡¯s living room and runs her hand along the wainscoting on the wall with every step. ¡°Do we have to be quiet?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Can I turn on the TV?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur. ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    The ce smells like him. An old cable-knit sweater is tossed over the back of an armchair. I reach for it and pull it on. It¡¯s too long in the arms and I have to fold them up twice.


    Come back, I think, looking at one of the trophies he has in his living room. I¡¯d given him shit over them just a week ago. That he¡¯d disyed them in the bookshelf, right next to a bunch ofw textbooks and above a framed picture of all the Marchands on safari in Kenya.


    ¡°So boastful,¡± I¡¯d teased. He¡¯d wrapped his arms around my waist, face against my neck. Just wait till I get my trophy for winning you, he¡¯d said. Watch me disy it on the frontwn.


    Ridiculous nonsense, but the memory makes my eyes sting. I love him. I hadn¡¯t realized how much until he¡¯s gone.


    Emma and I sit side by side on the couch and watch the first thing she finds. It¡¯s a cartoon she¡¯s watched before, and I pull her close to my side.


    Lee is back.


    Parker is gone.


    But I still have her, and it¡¯s all that truly matters. Lee can¡¯t take her from me. The papers Parker gave me are in my mother¡¯s house, true, but they¡¯re there and they¡¯re all filled out. I¡¯ll file for single custody first thing tomorrow morning.


    Lily and I text, but there are no updates. Nothing at all, not from the coast guard, not from the family. She tells me their father is moments away from grabbing Frida and taking the boat out to look for Parker himself, if he wasn¡¯t being stopped by Lily and her mother. Henry and Faye are on their way from New York. Rhys has been told.


    Parker, I think. Pleasee home.


    Emma is quiet beside me, like she often is. I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d caught most of what was going on, not until the cartoon ends and she stretches on the couch. ¡°Mommy?¡± she says.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Maybe we should bake the cookies he liked,¡± she says. ¡°With the M&M¡¯s. For when hees back?¡±


    I close my eyes to stop the tears. ¡°Yes, I think that¡¯s a great idea.¡±


    While we bake, I put Parker¡¯s phone on his kitchen table, as if its very presence might force a call. As he might somehow call it himself. And we fill his kitchen with the smell of home-baked cookies.


    Any updates? I text Lily.


    None. Hayden and I are down by the marina, still no sign.


    Emma eats two giant cookies and falls asleep on the couch. I spread the nket over her and lean my head back. Close my eyes.


    Come back, I think. I¡¯ll do it all differently if you juste back.Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Between the soft sounds of Emma dozing and the scent of Parker on the sweater I¡¯m drowning in, I drift into an uneasy slumber. My mind is filled with crashing waves. Him, his ship, Lee. Water filling up my lungs. Sea-salty hair. The way Parker looks when he swims, strong strokes through the water.


    His voice cuts through my hazy dreams. Jamie, he says, and then again, softer. Jamie, you¡¯re here?


    I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, fighting against half-sleepy tears. The past twenty-four-hours have been too much. I care too much.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± his voicees again, and then a handnds on my shoulder. ¡°Baby, wake up. Please.¡±


    There¡¯s a face bent over mine, beautifully familiar. A jaw with a two-day stubble and dark blue eyes.


    ¡°Parker?¡± I say.


    He nods and puts a finger to his lips, motioning to the sleeping child beside me. I slide out from under the nket and into his arms.


    He gives a surprised oof and then his arms wrap around me, two steel bands that don¡¯t let go, my toes the only part of me still on the ground. The skin on the side of his neck is warm and salty and I bury my face against it. He smells like ocean, like seaweed and wind.


    ¡°Shh,¡± he murmurs, hands moving over my back, and he buries his face in my hair, like he¡¯s breathing me in too. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    I don¡¯t know when I start crying, but suddenly it¡¯s the only thing I can do, sobs racking my body.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± Parker whispers. His voice is ragged and I tighten my hands around his neck. ¡°Come here. Come, baby, let¡¯s not wake Emma¡­¡±


    He walks me into the kitchen, away from my sleeping daughter. And the small act of thoughtfulness, such a contrast from Lee, makes my tears run faster, until I have to gasp for breath. And Parker holds me through all of it.

 Small Town Hero C64

    When I can finally shape words, I form the only ones I can think of. ¡°How?¡±


    His face feels rough from wind and salt between my hands. ¡°Sheer luck, to be honest.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been so scared,¡± I whisper. ¡°All of us. Your family¡­¡±


    He nods. ¡°I¡¯ve heard. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± I repeat.


    ¡°I went too far north. She was flying beneath me, I swear, Jamie. Beautiful boat. But when I realized I needed to course correct, it was toote.¡± He sighs, frustration marring his face, and I know it¡¯s hispetitive nature ying into it. ¡°It caught me two hours north of Paradise. I wasn¡¯t even far!¡±


    My hands tighten on the cor of his shirt. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I took down the sails, but the winds still damn near took the mast clean off. I anchored but soon realized it wouldn¡¯t help. The waves would just tear the boat apart, tugging at the anchor.¡±


    ¡°So what did you do?¡±


    ¡°I let her drift.¡±


    I shiver, and he notices, his crooked smile appearing. ¡°Good thing I don¡¯t get seasick easily.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t get swept overboard?¡±


    ¡°I strapped in,¡± he says. ¡°By nightfall I managed to motor into a small bay. There were rocks acting as a windbreaker, but it was a damn close thing. She might as well have gotten smashed on the rocks.¡±


    I close my eyes. ¡°So you could have jumped off and swum to the shore at that point?¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± he says.


    ¡°Parker!¡±


    He pulls me closer, tugging my head against his neck again. ¡°I¡¯ve weathered storms before,¡± he says. ¡°But trust me, the only thing I wanted was to get back home to you.¡±


    A noise escapes my throat, half pain and half despair. Arge hand rubs a circle between my shoulder des.


    ¡°I motored into the marina an hour ago,¡± he murmurs. ¡°Good thing I always stock my boats with extra fuel, just in case. Lily and Hayden said you were at home, and I went to your house.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you weren¡¯t there.¡± His voice drops. ¡°You were here, instead. On my couch.¡±


    I sniffle. ¡°I used the key in the garage.¡±


    ¡°I figured. And you¡¯ve baked?¡±


    ¡°It was Emma¡¯s idea. She wanted¡­ she wanted you to have your favorite cookies when you got back.¡±


    Parker¡¯s hand stills on my back and I can feel him swallow hard, the column of his throat moving. ¡°She did?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± he whispers, and pulls me closer. ¡°Jamie, thank you for being here. You were the only person I wanted to see on that dock.¡±


    My tears speed up. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say. ¡°Parker, I¡¯m so sorry. For so many things. For¡­ for¡­¡±


    He leans back and puts his hands on my upper arms, steady eyes meeting mine. The state of him only makes me cry harder. There¡¯s a tear in his sleeve and a faint bruise at his temple. He¡¯s just survived a near-death experience and here I am, beingforted, when it should be the other way around.


    ¡°Jamie? What¡¯s happened?¡±


    ¡°You were gone,¡± I say, ¡°and I realized I¡¯d never told you how I felt.¡±


    His eyes soften. ¡°I know. Even if you don¡¯t tell me.¡±


    ¡°But you shouldn¡¯t just know, you should hear it. I¡¯ve been so closed off all summer. Keeping you at an arm¡¯s length, even when we¡¯ve been spending time together. And I¡­ kept telling myself it was because of Emma, because I couldn¡¯t have her get close to someone again only for it not to work out. But Parker, Emma loves it here. Emma embraced it all open-heartedly from day one. It was always me.¡±


    ¡°You did what was right,¡± he says, hands rubbing up and down my arms. ¡°Is this my sweater?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It smelt like you.¡±


    A smile spreads on his face, golden and glorious, and I think my chest might break from how much I care about him.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he says. ¡°Baby, don¡¯t cry.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re hurt. Aren¡¯t you?¡± My fingers hover over the temple at his forehead. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°The beam. Almost knocked me out.¡±


    ¡°You need to go to the hospital.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he murmurs. ¡°I need to be home, with you.¡±


    ¡°Why is your sleeve ripped?¡±


    ¡°A cord snapped.¡±


    ¡°Jesus.¡± New tears bubble in my throat and I hug him toward me. I wish I could erase the past day, erase him at sea, erase Lee. Go back to my happy little bubble. ¡°I never, ever, ever want you to sail into a storm again.¡±


    He chuckles hoarsely and kisses my temple. ¡°James,¡± he murmurs.Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Because I realized something earlier today, when I saw Lee. That I¡¯ve been afraid for so long, and I don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°What? Lee¡¯s here?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He came to town today.¡±


    Parker has gone still, his hands warm weights on my shoulders. ¡°Lee is in town,¡± he says slowly. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re in my house. Did he do anything to you?¡±


    ¡°No. We spoke briefly, but I didn¡¯t want to have the conversation in front of Emma. He knows where my mom¡¯s house is.¡±

 Small Town Hero C65

    ¡°Is she home?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°She¡¯s out of town tonight again, visiting my aunt.¡±


    ¡°Good. Text her about him,¡± Parker says. His voice has dropped into the steady, confident one. It brings back memories of him instructing junior sailors. Strapping kids into life vests. ¡°Tell her not toe back home to the house until you give the all-clear. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Good idea.¡±


    ¡°Did you sign the papers I gave you?¡±


    I nod. ¡°They¡¯re in my house though.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll get them tomorrow,¡± he says. A strong hand smoothes over my back. ¡°Don¡¯t see him without me, James. Please.¡±


    A grateful breath escapes me. ¡°You want to be there with me?¡±


    ¡°God, yes.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say.


    His eyes, thoughtful and sharp, meet mine. There¡¯s calction there. ¡°We can get ahead of this. Bluff about the custody papers.¡±


    There are dark shadows beneath his eyes. I smooth my hands over his cheek, against the stubble. ¡°Thank you,¡± I murmur. ¡°But he won¡¯t bother us tonight. You need sleep.¡±


    ¡°I need a shower,¡± he mutters. ¡°And one of these. Emma really wanted you guys to make them?¡±


    I nod, watching him take a bite of the cookie. ¡°You must be hungry.¡±


    ¡°Starving,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I want most. A meal or sleep.¡±


    I stear him toward a chair and re-heat the dinner we¡¯d had a few days ago, still in his fridge. He eats while I put Emma to bed in his guest bedroom. She walks sleepily from the couch and murmurs something about not having to brush her teeth. Not tonight, honey. She smiles happily at the exception and snuggles into the guest bedroom.


    ¡°The captain?¡± she murmurs.


    ¡°He¡¯s back,¡± I say. ¡°He really liked your cookies, too. You¡¯ll see him when you wake up.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she whispers, turning into her pillow. ¡°He makes you happy.¡±


    My heart is full when I rejoin Parker. He¡¯s heading to the shower and I join him, washing his hair beneath the hot water. He bends and rests his head against my shoulder when I dig soapy fingers into the tense muscles around his neck.


    ¡°Never stop,¡± he says.


    I don¡¯t, but I take the opportunity to notice the added bruise on his right arm, the cut along his left ankle. And when we¡¯re done, when we stand together beneath the hot water, I let it take my worries and fears with it.


    Parker traces my corbone with a calloused finger. ¡°Thank you, Jamie,¡± he says.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°For being here. For being you.¡±


    And tears blur my eyes again. I blink them away and tug him out of the shower. We towel off the bare minimum and pull back the sheets of his bed. Parker groans as he lies down.


    ¡°You¡¯re hurting,¡± I say.


    ¡°Every damn muscle in my body,¡± he mutters, and extends an arm to me. ¡°Come here.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He curls his arm around me, pulling me against his body, and I tug the sheet up around us. Carefully, I put a hand on his chest, and he snorts. ¡°I¡¯m not close to death.¡±


    ¡°No, but you¡¯re sore, and it¡¯ll be worse in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me.¡± He sighs deeply and his eyes close. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t about to pass out,¡± he murmurs, ¡°I¡¯d spend the night showing you just how much I wanted to get back to you.¡±


    I press a kiss to his chest. ¡°Sleep,¡± I say. ¡°No one is going to dispute your manliness.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he whispers. I listen to his breath evening out into sleep, the strong chest rising and falling steadily beneath my cheek, and I whisper the words into his skin.


    I love you.


    PARKER


    Across the kitchen counter, Jamie¡¯s digging her teeth into her lower lip. She¡¯s reading through the document I¡¯ve put together with a pen in hand. ¡°This¡¯ll work,¡± she murmurs. ¡°It has to.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°It will,¡± I say.


    Behind us, Henry and Hayden talk quietly, sitting on Vera¡¯s couch. Giving us privacy.


    Jamie had protested my idea first, when I¡¯d suggested calling them. There had been embarrassment in her eyes. Trust me, I¡¯d said. There¡¯s one impression I want her ex to have after today, one impression he¡¯ll carry with him out of Paradise and Jamie¡¯s life.


    He¡¯ll never be able to fuck with her again.


    He¡¯s never raised a hand to me, she¡¯d reminded me quietly, in the early hours of the morning. I¡¯d draped her over my chest and closed my eyes at the simple pleasure of her fingers tracing across my skin. A deep blue bruise had spread over my left shoulder from the beam, and she¡¯d kissed it gently.


    He hurt you in other ways, I¡¯d said, eyes still closed. My anger leashed tightly. And he never will again.


    Jamie had stayed close to me all night, and in the darkness of my bedroom, she¡¯d told me just how scared she¡¯d been for me. That I wouldn¡¯te back.


    I haven¡¯t admitted to anyone quite how bad it got. Worse than I¡¯ll ever tell her or my family. The boat will need a few repairs to make it out of the marina safely again.


    The ocean is a fickle mistress.


    Jamie¡¯s thumb skims over the custody papers. ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± she says. ¡°God, I¡¯m so jacked up on adrenaline, I need him toe now.¡±


    I round the counter to her. ¡°You¡¯ll do great.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s so much I need to say¡­ I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll remember it all.¡± She looks up at me and lowers her voice so the guys won¡¯t hear. ¡°How are you feeling? Really?¡±


    I lift a hand to smooth her hair back, ignoring the protesting muscles in my arm. ¡°Don¡¯t think about me today.¡±

 Small Town Hero C66

    ¡°It¡¯s hard not to,¡± she murmurs, ¡°when you just almost died.¡±Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I pretend to scoff. ¡°It never got that close. The ocean and I have an understanding.¡± I bend my head, brush my lips to the outside of her ear, and feel the same tidal wave of emotion asst night, when I¡¯d found her and Emma asleep on my couch. She¡¯d worn my sweater, and I¡¯d never wanted her to take it off. ¡°Just remember that you¡¯re Jamie Moraine,¡± I murmur. ¡°You¡¯re a great mother to the best kid, you¡¯re starting your own web design business, you go regrly to the gym, you have a very handsome boyfriend-¡±


    Sheughs against my cheek, breaking my stride.


    I grin. ¡°Isn¡¯t it all true?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention you have awyer, your friends, and an entire town on your side. This asshole doesn¡¯t stand a chance. So you don¡¯t believe a word he says. Okay?¡±


    She nods, and I can see the steel she pours down her spine. ¡°Not nning to.¡±


    When the doorbell finally rings, I walk her to the front door. I¡¯ve agreed to stay out of sight until she calls for me. I need to say a few things to him, she¡¯d told me earlier that morning. Trust me, Parker.


    So here I am, my hands balled into fists as I hear the voice of a man I¡¯ve dreamed of hurting far too many times. I¡¯ve never considered myself a violent man. But here I am, brimming with it.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he says. ¡°So this is your mother¡¯s house after all?¡±


    The voice is smarmy, with an admonishing note. I lean my head against the wall in the hallway and look out the frosted ss window. The man isnky and dark-haired. He stares at Jamie with ufortable intensity.


    ¡°Yes. I lied when I said it wasn¡¯t,¡± she replies.


    ¡°Did you? You¡¯ve picked up a lot of questionable habits this summer,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I like them, Jamie.¡±


    I remind myself to breathe.


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± she says. ¡°You don¡¯t have to.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the kid?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s with a friend,¡± Jamie says. Emma is at Lily¡¯s together with Vera, both women fully aware of what¡¯s going on here.


    Jamie had been embarrassed about that, too. This is your family, I¡¯d told her. These are your friends. We want to help.


    Let us.


    And she has, my brave girl, standing on the porch now with steel in her voice.


    ¡°Oh? Hiding her from me?¡± Lee asks.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never shown any interest in fatherhood, so I¡¯ve been following your lead. Isn¡¯t that what you¡¯ve always wanted me to do?¡±


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he says, and there¡¯s clear displeasure in his voice. ¡°When did you start talking like this? So defensive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m speaking my mind. I understand if that¡¯s a new experience for you, since I lost mine during the years I was with you.¡±


    ¡°Stop this,¡± he says harshly. There¡¯s thunder in the voice. ¡°This isn¡¯t you, this isn¡¯t the woman I love. I¡¯ve told you I¡¯ll consider forgiving you if youe home with me, to our ce, Jamie, but I¡¯m going to change my mind if you keep acting like this.¡±


    ¡°Good. I won¡¯t go anywhere with you ever again, and neither will Emma.¡±


    Lee scoffs. ¡°So you¡¯ll stay here? With what money, Jamie? You¡¯d live like a leech off your family or your old friends, and how long will thatst? It¡¯s not like any of them actually want you here. You¡¯ve been gone for years. They¡¯ll realize soon enough how worthless you are. How you don¡¯t fit in. Maybe they already have, huh? Haven¡¯t you started noticing the signs already?¡±


    I grind my teeth together, my jaw hurting from the pressure, forcing myself to stay in ce.


    Not until she asks me to.


    Then Jamie surprises both Lee and me. Sheughs. ¡°You really think that¡¯ll work on me? I left you and your poison behind. I¡¯m not worthless, and you were always the leech. When I think of all the things I did for you, the paychecks you took right out of my hand¡­¡± She shakes her head with a dryugh. ¡°My only regret is that I didn¡¯t leave you sooner.¡±


    Lee narrows his eyes. ¡°You think anyone else will want you? I know all your ws, Jamie, and still I love you. I¡¯ve forgiven you for all of them. And you¡¯ll throw that away?¡±


    ¡°What you felt for me,¡± she says, ¡°was never love. I know that now. Leave, Lee. And never contact me again.¡±


    His face goes bone white. I step toward the door. If he dares raise a hand-


    ¡°My daughter is in this town,¡± he says. ¡°If you think I¡¯ll leave without her, you¡¯ve cracked your goddamn mind even worse than I thought. Is she inside?¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s-¡±


    ¡°Emma? Let me in, Jamie,¡± he says, and tries to shoulder her aside.


    I decide that¡¯s my cue and open the door. It would beical to see him halt, only inches from my chest, if I didn¡¯t see red.


    Lee takes a step back. ¡°What the hell?¡±


    I¡¯ve been in a fair amount of bars in my life, ces where men with quick fists eye one another. Avoided them best I could, but there had been a fight or two in college. Stupid, drunken things. But I know what it feels like when a man sizes you up.


    And I know how to do it in return.


    So I let my eyes drift over the man in front of me, over his legs and the wiry arms. His face looks weathered beyond the years I know he has, and the eyes burn with indignation.


    ¡°Lee, is it?¡± I say. ¡°Emma isn¡¯t here.¡±


    His eyes drift between me and Jamie, narrowing in anger. ¡°Who the hell is this?¡±


    ¡°Mywyer,¡± Jamie says. ¡°Well, amongst other things.¡±


    A slow smile spreads across my face. ¡°That¡¯s right. It¡¯s a pleasure, Mr¡­?¡±


    ¡°Thompson,¡± Lee says. His gaze locks at my temple, where I have a bruise. ¡°You¡¯re awyer?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Amongst other things.¡± My smile widens. I know it¡¯s an unfriendly one. ¡°So it¡¯s my duty to inform you that Ms. Moraine has filed for single custody.¡±


    Anger shes in his eyes and he looks at Jamie. ¡°What the hell? Have youpletely lost your mind? What lies have the people here been telling you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never wanted to be a father,¡± she says. Her voice doesn¡¯t waver.


    ¡°Not true. Emma is the best damn thing that ever happened to me,¡± Lee says.

 Small Town Hero C67

    Jamieughs again. It¡¯s a chilling sound, and he stares at her like he doesn¡¯t recognize the woman he sees.


    ¡°What the hell has gotten in to you?¡± he says. ¡°What has this asshole told you?¡±


    ¡°Asshole?¡± I say.


    But Jamie is the one who answers. ¡°You never took care of her, you never read her a bedtime story, you never picked her up at daycare. There were weeks when you barely spoke two words to her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all that counts?¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°Mr. Thompson, your ex-girlfriend and your daughter were in a different city for four months without youing to visit. Is that not true?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know where they were.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you did. You suspected they¡¯d gone to Jamie¡¯s mother from the start.¡± I raise an eyebrow. ¡°But you waited four months. Doesn¡¯t show a lot of paternal affection, does it?¡±


    The white of his face drains away to leave splotches of color. For a few moments, he can¡¯t speak.


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he says, reaching out a hand to grip her arm.


    I put a hand on his chest. ¡°Back up,¡± I tell him. ¡°You don¡¯t touch her.¡±


    ¡°Who the fuck even are you?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve told you. I¡¯m Ms. Moraine¡¯swyer,¡± I say. As if on cue, Jamie leans into my side, closer than a friend would, and I can¡¯t resist adding the words again. ¡°Amongst other things.¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    Lee¡¯s eyes darken on mine, and there¡¯s a hint of fear there. He¡¯s all bark and no bite. The kind of man who¡¯d verbally abuse a woman-who¡¯d abuse her in any way-isn¡¯t worth the ground he stands on.


    ¡°So you have rich friends now?¡± he asks Jamie, giving her a disgusted look. Like she¡¯s the one in the wrong. ¡°Always knew you¡¯d run back to your little trust fund upbringing. Where¡¯s the independent woman I love?¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± Jamie says, her voice thoughtful, no sign of the rage I¡¯m feeling at his words, ¡°for all your big talk about sticking it to the elite, I¡¯ve never once seen you volunteer for people who have it worse than you. And independent, Lee? You wanted me to serve you on my hands and knees. You¡¯re a hypocrite.¡±


    He looks between us again, and a light flicks in his eyes. ¡°You want me to leave, Jamie? You want me to sign over custody and never bother you or Emma again?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says.


    Here ites, I think.


    ¡°Well, what will you offer me in return?¡± he asks.


    Iugh. It¡¯s so predictable. My reaction sets him off, because his arms tighten at his sides. But he ignores me and focuses only on Jamie.


    ¡°You left me in a bad situation when you took our money,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve been kind enough not to press you on it, but you know what you did. It was stealing.¡±


    ¡°I took my money, from my ount. It was money I¡¯d earned from myst paycheck waitressing,¡± she says. ¡°That money was never yours.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Thompson,¡± I say. ¡°No one is going to pay you a dime to stay away. That¡¯s not what¡¯s happening here.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll fight custody. I¡¯ll fight it in court!¡±


    I take a step forward, shielding Jamie behind me. ¡°With what money?¡±


    His eyes narrow. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Lawyers charge exorbitant fees. I¡¯d know, Mr. Thompson. Proceedings can drag on for months, if not years. You have a documented past of emotional abuse toward Ms. Moraine and Emma. We have texts and phone recordings, not to mention this four-month-long absence. Do you really want to go down that path?¡±


    My question hangs in the air between us. There¡¯s a gossamer-thin veil of civility over my face, my words. If he tries to raise a hand, if he charges, I swear to God¡­


    ¡°Please,¡± Jamie says by my side. ¡°Let Emma live a good life. Don¡¯t turn her into a pawn in some game between you and me. She deserves better¡­ and you never wanted fatherhood. You can be free of it. Of us.¡±


    Lee¡¯s voice falters, takes on a desperate edge. ¡°I can still make your lives miserable. I could stay here. But I¡¯ll leave quietly if you give me something. Anything. You owe me, Jamie!¡±


    He wants money.


    How predictable.


    I rap my knuckles against the closed door behind me, two sharp times.


    They don¡¯t dawdle. Henry and Hayden must have been waiting in the hallway, because they join us on the porch right away. Hayden stands to my left and Henry on Jamie¡¯s right.


    Lee takes a step back. ¡°What the hell¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, these two aren¡¯twyers,¡± I say. ¡°But they are good friends of Jamie and Emma. Like me. None of us take particrly kindly to threats against either of them. Paradise is a small ce. We take care of our own.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re not going anywhere,¡± Hayden adds, cracking his knuckles.


    Lee takes another step backwards, eyes drifting to Jamie. ¡°You¡¯ve lost it.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯ve lost me.¡±


    A figure emerges from the bushes, as Rhys stretches to his full height. He brushes a leaf off his shoulder and walks toward us on thewn. In his left hand is a film camera.


    ¡°Thanks for the show,¡± he tells Lee. His voice is the slow, arrogant drawl I¡¯d wanted to punch him for so often as a teenager. ¡°The part where you demanded money in exchange for surrendering custody will y especially well in court. You¡¯re truly a devoted parent.¡±


    Lee¡¯s eyes drift across all of us. From Rhys to Henry, from Henry to Hayden, and then to me. Finally theynd on Jamie, standing by my side, and the papers in her left hand.


    ¡°Where do I sign?¡±


    He ends up getting money. The bus fare out of Paradise, in fact, in an envelope Jamie had prepared. When he¡¯s left she thanks each of my brothers with hugs. I¡¯m so sorry you had to do this, thank you so much¡­


    They each assure her they¡¯d do it again in a heartbeat. Henry drylyments that all he had to do was stand there. I never knew I could be so threatening, he¡¯d said, and Rhys and I hadughed. If there¡¯s one thing our eldest brother had always been good at, it was threatening us to obey.


    We all end up back at Lily and Hayden¡¯s house. Rhys gives me shit about riding into the storm, but the arm he flings around my shoulders lies lighter than it usually does. ¡°I¡¯m not covered in bruises,¡± I tell him.


    He looks at my temple. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that.¡±


    Jamie hugs her mom, and Lily, and Emma when wee back home. Mostly Emma. And she tells her mother that it¡¯s over, showing the signed custody papers.


    There will be time for longer discussions when the dust settles. But for now, all I feel is a deep contentment, watching her smile at Lily andugh with her daughter. It¡¯s the feeling after a fight, after the storm, when adrenaline and fear leaks out to leave only lightness behind.

 Small Town Hero C68

    Someone lights up the grill, and Henry recounts the story to his wife and Ivy. Faye protests at not being there and Henry lobbies the ball to me.


    ¡°It was all Parker¡¯s idea.¡±


    I pretend to grimace. ¡°Sorry, Faye. But if we invited you there would have been bloodshed.¡±


    Her mouth drops open. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You would have taken a swing at him,¡± I say, grinning. ¡°We couldn¡¯t have that.¡±


    Henryughs and wraps an arm around his wife. ¡°You are pretty fierce when you¡¯re angry,¡± he says.


    She pretends to grumble, but she¡¯s smiling, too.


    At one point Hayden puts a hand on my shoulder, and his words catch me off guard. ¡°You¡¯ll be a great father one day. You know that, right? I¡¯ve always known it, but today¡­ I can¡¯t wait to see it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say. It¡¯s unexpected and nice and I catch Jamie¡¯s eyes across the room. She¡¯d heard, but she looks down at herp. I can¡¯t wait to have her in my armster.


    Later that night, when the grill has died and the kids are half-dozing on the couch, I overhear Lily talking to Jamie. ¡°I¡¯m so d it worked out,¡± she says. ¡°You know, Parker has a huge house. You two could move in there. I¡¯m pretty sure he wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±


    I pretend not to hear and turn in the opposite direction, but I can¡¯t help grinning.


    No, I definitely wouldn¡¯t mind.


    JAMIE


    Money.


    That¡¯s what it all came down to. I struggle processing that for the first couple of days. That the only value Lee saw in our beautiful, happy, amazing little girl was the leverage she gave him over me.


    But now she¡¯ll never hear him tell her that she¡¯s worthless. Never suffer his neglect and cold stares any longer. And she¡¯ll never have to hear him say those things to me, either. The relief is so big it¡¯s hard to feel anything else.


    Emma starts school. My mother and I are both there on the first day of Paradise Elementary, watching as she disappears with her little purple backpack and braided hair. I cry as soon as she¡¯s out of sight.


    Mom lowers her camera, having documented everything about Emma¡¯s morning until the veryst step, and hugs me.


    ¡°I know, sweetie,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s the greatest and saddest thing you¡¯ll ever do, raising your kids only so they can leave you.¡±


    We have a heart-to-heart right there in the parking lot. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for leaving. I¡¯m sorry for noting back sooner. God, Mom, I¡¯m so sorry I wasn¡¯t here when Grandpa died, and that I didn¡¯te for his funeral. I can¡¯t believe I let myself¡­ that I didn¡¯t leave Lee sooner.¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± Mom says, and she¡¯s crying now too. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re home now. We¡¯ll always be family. You and me and Emma.¡±


    You and me and Emma.


    It¡¯s what Lily had said. You and Parker and Emma.


    The week passes in a blur, with Emma¡¯s school and my work and the newfound relief of the custody papers. But in the back of my mind is the niggling sensation that another shoe is about to drop.


    I turn words over in my head. Lee¡¯s. Parker¡¯s. Lily¡¯s and Hayden¡¯s. You¡¯ll be a great father, Hayden had told Parker and afterwards he¡¯d looked at me, happiness and hope in his eyes. Like I¡¯m the one he wants to have children with.


    And then Lily had said I should move in with him.


    Is he expecting that? Are they all?


    The fears turn over in my mind until it bes a twisted knot I can¡¯t unravel.


    On Thursday morning, after I¡¯ve dropped Emma off at school, I join him in his garage. He¡¯s ordered some exercise bands for me and they¡¯re rolled neatly in a corner, along with my workout shoes. I¡¯d left them herest time.


    You and Emma should move in with him¡­


    ¡°Good morning,¡± he murmurs, and kisses me hello. It¡¯s as soft and delicious as always, and my body rxes. It¡¯s just my mind that can¡¯t.


    He waits until halfway through the workout before he asks me. ¡°So?¡± he says, lying on his back beneath the weight bar. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    I bend at the waist to grab a kettlebell. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    He does a few reps, voice calm. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong. I¡¯ve noticed it all week. Has he been in contact?¡±


    ¡°No. No, not at all.¡±


    Parker sets down the bar and sits up on the bench, running a hand over his forehead. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±


    I set down my weight, and slowly, unwilling to say the words, I look over at him.


    ¡°You can say it,¡± he says, as understanding as he always is. I don¡¯t deserve him.


    ¡°Remember how you¡¯ve been afraid I¡¯ll get spooked?¡± I ask. ¡°Well, I think I¡¯m spooked.¡±


    He gives a slow nod. ¡°Ah. Right.¡±


    The words pour out of me. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize how much I cared about you untilst week. I mean, I knew I did, but I didn¡¯t realize just how much I need you. And it scared me.¡±


    He runs a hand over his jaw. ¡°I can see why it would, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Then I realized all the things we haven¡¯t spoken about, you and I, and it kinda overwhelmed me.¡± I walk across the gym, to my water bottle, and take a deep swig. My fears have a solid grip around my throat.


    ¡°What things?¡± he asks. ¡°You know we can talk about anything.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, maybe not everything. You know? We¡¯ve just started dating, you and I. And I just got single custody of Emma¡­ and I mean, I¡¯m still living with my mom. I don¡¯t have everything figured out yet.¡±


    ¡°I have space here,¡± he says, calmly, and it twists in my chest.


    ¡°Yes, but we can¡¯t move in here. I¡¯d be moving from Lee¡¯s to my Mom¡¯s to yours.¡±


    His eyes widen. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Not that I don¡¯t want that-ever. That¡¯s not it. But I can¡¯t do it yet.¡± I close my eyes, fear rising up. He¡¯s going to leave. He won¡¯t want to wait for me to sort myself out. I won¡¯t be able to live up to his expectations.


    ¡°I have to be my own person, after Lee, I have to figure out who I am. I have to do what¡¯s best for Emma.¡±Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.

 Small Town Hero C69

    ¡°And that¡¯s not me?¡± he asks, calmly, quietly.


    ¡°No, I mean¡­ I need to learn who I am when I¡¯m just me again. Not me in a rtionship.¡±


    ¡°So you don¡¯t want to be in a rtionship?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean either.¡± I hang my head in my hands, cursing myself for bringing this up. For not knowing what to say to exin that I want him, but I don¡¯t know if I can be what he wants. ¡°We¡¯ve never spoken about kids. Do you want them? Because I don¡¯t know if I can give you that down the line either. Right now all I can think about is Emma.¡±


    ¡°Jamie,¡± he says softly, and I hear as he gets up from the bench. ¡°We can sort all of this out.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t be able to be the woman you want,¡± I whisper.


    Strong handsnd on my shoulders. Hands I love, hands I want around mine for the rest of my life. And hands that deserve a wedding ring, a baby to hold, a beautiful wife at his side who knows how to sail.


    ¡°I want you,¡± he says, ¡°and I¡¯ve wanted you for a very long time. I want you to choose me¡­ to want to choose me. So if this is how you feel, that¡¯s okay. It¡¯spletely okay. It¡¯s been an overwhelming week.¡±


    I look up at his face, the strong jaw, the stubble, the steady blue eyes and the bruise already starting to fade at his temple. We¡¯d almost lost him.


    I don¡¯t know what I would have done if that happened, and it scares me more than Lee ever had.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s better for you to sort things out for a little while,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll be here when you do.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll wait?¡± I ask. Ites out choked, because I know what I¡¯m asking for is impossible. He¡¯s in his mid-thirties. He¡¯s too good of a catch to wait for me to pull the broken slivers of my soul together.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he murmurs, and kisses me again. It¡¯s a warm and urgent touch, and I cling to him.


    ¡°You¡¯re the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to me,¡± I tell him. ¡°It¡¯s important that you know that.¡±


    He smooths the back of his hand over my cheek. ¡°Find yourself, Jamie,¡± he murmurs, ¡°so you can choose me.¡±


    When I leave his house and walk back to my mother¡¯s beneath the trees standing sentinel around me, I realize I forgot to tell him the most important thing of all. I love you, I think. I love you, I love you, I love you.Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    JAMIE


    I finally see Lily¡¯s art gallery, a week and a half after the fateful conversation in Parker¡¯s garage.


    ¡°This is beautiful,¡± I say, stopping in front of a charcoal drawing. Sharp lines depict a skyscraper, or, I think, a steep mountain. El Capitan or the One Trade Building. It¡¯s impossible to tell.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Lilyes to stand beside me. In her floral dress and long auburn hair, she¡¯s the picture of artistic elegance.


    I wonder how proud the fifteen-year old Lily would be to know that she¡¯s here, back in her hometown, running an art gallery, painting full-time, and married to her childhood sweetheart.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± she says, putting a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Is the piece getting to you? It¡¯s such a greatmentary on nature and industrialism.¡±


    I smile. ¡°No. I mean yes, it is, and I can see why you bought it. But I was just thinking how proud I am of you.¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. What do you think our kid-selfs would say, if they saw us now?¡±


    ¡°Oh, gosh. That¡¯s a good question.¡± Her face lights up in a smile. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯d be surprised to see us standing side by side.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so either,¡± I say.


    ¡°They¡¯d be happy to see us both as mothers, I think.¡± Her smile turns thoughtful. ¡°How¡¯s Emma doing in school?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s loving it.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was nervous she¡¯d be overwhelmed, and she has been, but she¡¯s taken to it like a fish to water. Every afternoon shees home and recounts everything they did that day. Some of it sounds unlikely. Apparently, they went to the moon in rocket ships during recess yesterday, but she¡¯s enjoying it, and that¡¯s what counts.¡±


    Lily¡¯s grin widens. ¡°I can¡¯t wait till it¡¯s little Jamie¡¯s turn. I have a feeling I¡¯ll get a lot of calls about disruptive behavior.¡±


    Iugh. ¡°He does struggle with sitting still.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s four,¡± she says, ¡°but I doubt it¡¯ll get much better in two years.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a lot happens in those years.¡±


    We move through the rest of the gallery. She shows me the pieces she¡¯s especially fond of and the paintings she¡¯s done herself. They¡¯re beautiful, and really shows the growth she¡¯s experienced over thest couple of years. I tell her just how proud I am of her and Lily, true to form, brushes it off. But I can see that it pleased her nheless.


    After the tour I pour myself a cup of coffee from the machine in the corner.


    ¡°So,¡± she finally says, looking at me over the rim of her blue-and-white mug. ¡°How¡¯s it been at work? With Parker?¡±


    ¡°Good, actually. We¡¯re still friends. Everything¡¯s amicable,¡± I say. It¡¯s the truth. We say hello and goodbye, and we talk about the website when necessary. But every time I look at it him it hurts a little in my chest. And I know I¡¯m the one causing that, and causing the same longing in his eyes.


    Lily leans against the desk she has at the back of the gallery. ¡°I thought you were good together.¡±


    ¡°We were, Lily¡­ we are. It¡¯s all my fault. I¡¯m the one scaring myself.¡±


    ¡°You are? Tell me.¡±


    I sigh and look down at my coffee. ¡°I see you and Hayden,¡± I say. ¡°And I see Henry and Faye, and Rhys and Ivy. I even hear my mother and her lovely, helpful, but also very annoyingments about how Parker¡¯s perfect. And he is, Lily-he always has been. And I want it. I want him, the life, all of it. But¡­.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± she says gently.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m good enough for him. I can¡¯t live up to what he wants, to what people expect. Not fast enough, at any rate.¡± I look down at my shoes. ¡°There are still days you or Parker or my mom don¡¯t see, when I struggle getting out of bed. When things feel dark again. I always get through them and I will get through them, but I have to work at it.¡± I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯ve never fit into Paradise properly, Lily, you remember that. And Parker is Paradise. It¡¯s only a matter of time before he realizes I¡¯m not capable of being who he wants me to be.¡±


    ¡°Jamie,¡± Lily says. ¡°I know you don¡¯t believe in your ex¡¯s words anymore. But you¡¯ll also have to stop believing in your own.¡±


    I look up at her, meet the gaze that once steadied me daily. ¡°I do?¡±


    ¡°Yes. So what if you don¡¯t want to move in together? If you¡¯re not sure you want to have kids? There¡¯s no rulebook.¡±


    ¡°He told you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, and closes the distance between us, putting down her coffee cup. ¡°But only because he wasn¡¯t sure what to do. I told him you had to figure it out on your own and you will. Because you always do.¡±

 Small Town Hero C70

    I whisper the words. ¡°But what if we¡¯re not actuallypatible?¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°You and Parker? Jamie, my brother isn¡¯t a paragon of perfection. We both know that! Haven¡¯t you learned all his ws this summer? I can list them for you if you don¡¯t already know. He can be toopetitive, too bossy, a bit arrogant, he never washed behind his ears-maybe he¡¯s started now-and he can¡¯t cook at all.¡±


    I can¡¯t help but smile. ¡°I think he washes behind his ears now, at least.¡±


    Her nose wrinkles. ¡°Good. But he loves watching weird fantasy and sci-fi movies and he hated being awyer and he still wants to sail the world. He¡¯s not going to expect you to y at a housewife.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°You used to be so full of rebellion,¡± Lily says, gripping my hand. ¡°Making your own path and deciding your own norms. When did that change?¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s because it¡¯s him,¡± I admit. ¡°I always had a crush on him. For years, and I never told you. Should I have?¡±


    Her smile widens. ¡°I forgive you for that. Especially if it means I get to keep you forever as a sister-inw. And honestly, it was probably a good thing you never told me. Teenage me would probably not have handled it as well as I do now.¡±


    I squeeze her hand back. ¡°You¡¯re still my favorite Marchand.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she says, and pulls me into a hug. ¡°Keep it that way.¡±


    ¡°I love you,¡± I murmur. ¡°And I love him, and I haven¡¯t even told him that.¡±


    ¡°You should. Because I have to tell you, as his sister, that he deserves it.¡±


    A shakyugh escapes me. ¡°God, he really does.¡±


    He deserves love and so much more. A real rtionship in every meaning of the word. I want to give him that. Maybe I won¡¯t live up to the ideals, either¡­ but I can do my best.


    And maybe that¡¯s the only thing any of us can do.


    ¡°Besides,¡± she says, leaning back, ¡°if you really want your independence, you and Emma can move into our cottage. I¡¯ll even allow you to pay me a tiny amount of rent if it¡¯ll make you feel better about it.¡±


    ¡°We can?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± she says. ¡°Jamie, you have options!¡±


    Options, I think. It might be the best word I¡¯ve heard in forever.


    PARKER


    Slowly but surely, the boat ising along. A few things had been broken or damaged during the storm, but the worst of it is now fixed. I¡¯m sitting on her deck and working on changing a cracked portlight. It¡¯s a finicky process, but being on the boat and rocked softly by the waves beneath her is good for the soul.


    For the mind, too.


    Hayden had joined me earlier and helped with the hull, and we¡¯d spoken about her. He¡¯d heard through Lily that we¡¯re taking a break.


    She¡¯s it for me, Hay, I¡¯d told him honestly. She¡¯s it.


    He¡¯d nodded,miseration in his eyes, and I knew he understood. That part he¡¯d always understood. Because there¡¯s no one else I want beside me. No one else I can even imagine wanting. And if she needs time¡­


    Well, I can give her time. I¡¯m a patient man.


    I¡¯ve had to learn to be.


    Across the docks, a figure approaches, silhouetted against the setting sun. It takes me longer than it should to see who it is.


    I put the wrench down. ¡°Jamie?¡±


    She nods and shields her eyes from the sun with a hand. ¡°Hey. Am I bothering you?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all. I¡¯m just fixing some things.¡± I wipe my hands on a towel and gesture to the deck. ¡°Do you want to join me?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    It¡¯s not the first time we¡¯ve spoken since the conversation in my garage. But they¡¯ve mostly been quick exchanges at work, with other people around. Gone are the long workouts and evenings spent together. No early morning swims or weekend exploits.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jamie says. She steps onto the boat, feet firmly nted. A smile curves on her lips. ¡°I was prepared to hate this boat after what it nearly did to you.¡±


    ¡°The storm,¡± I correct, putting a hand on the hatch. ¡°This beauty saved me.¡±


    Jamie sits down on deck, crossing her legs. She runs a hand over the wood. ¡°She¡¯s gorgeous, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Have you named her yet?¡±


    I rub the back of my neck. ¡°Yeah, I have one in mind.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Yes, although I was considering your name first. But I figured that might be too soon.¡±


    Her eyes widen. ¡°My name?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But I don¡¯t want to spook you any more than I already have.¡±


    A flush rises on her cheeks. ¡°You haven¡¯t, Parker,¡± she says. ¡°But you¡¯re right. It might have been¡­ too soon. Not to mention there¡¯s already two Jamie¡¯s in your life!¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Yeah, a third would have made my life even more confusing.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. So what did you settle on?¡±


    ¡°As.¡±


    Her eyes shine up. ¡°Your old family dog?¡±


    I nod. ¡°He was a loyal dog, and she¡¯s already proven herself to be just the same.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± she says. ¡°An as is a map of the world, and a sailing boat can take you anywhere. Right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I say, smiling. ¡°Good name?¡±

 Small Town Hero C71

    ¡°Great name. Lily will love it.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Yes, she will. How¡¯s Emma been?¡±All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Jamie¡¯s face lightens. She tells me about Emma¡¯s new school, and how she¡¯s struggling with another loose tooth. I listen as a feeling of certainty settles over me. My family, I think. If they¡¯ll have me.


    Jamie motions to the spot in front of her. I don¡¯t need to be asked twice and sit down. The boat sways softly beneath us.


    ¡°I went by your house first,¡± she says. Her hands curl in herp. ¡°But you weren¡¯t home, so I figured you were here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been fixing her up most evenings this week.¡±


    ¡°She looks good.¡±


    I nod. ¡°But she¡¯ll look better in time.¡±


    Her mouth softens. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be the most beautiful boat in the marina.¡±


    ¡°Will she?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You take good care of the things in your life.¡±


    I reach out a hand and smooth a lock of hair away from her forehead. She stays still, the smile soft on her face. Achingly beautiful.


    ¡°We¡¯ve had fun together this summer,¡± I say. ¡°Haven¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something I want you to do for me.¡±


    ¡°There is?¡±


    I nod, letting my hand drop. ¡°There¡¯s a security firm Hayden works with that installs security systems in houses. Sensors around doors, rms, the works. I want your mom¡¯s house to have a system like that. You two will be the only ones with the codes.¡±


    Her eyebrows rise. ¡°That¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    ¡°Just in case. I doubt he¡¯lle back, but I¡¯d sleep better at night.¡±


    ¡°So would I,¡± she says, swallowing hard. ¡°Thank you, Parker. For always looking out for us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll send you the details.¡±


    Jamie looks down at her hands. A faraway seagull cries out and the wavesp softly against the boat¡¯s hull. This is it, I think. She¡¯ll break or heal me right here.


    ¡°Thest voice I needed to silence,¡± she says, ¡°was my own.¡±


    ¡°It was?¡±


    She nods and brushes a hand over her cheek. Her eyes are zed and my stomach sinks, seeing it. ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°Last week, the expectations got to my head. That we would move in together, that we would have kids, all things you deserve, Parker. All things I¡­ but it got to my head.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never made you feel that way,¡± I say. ¡°Have I? Put any expectations on you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says, andughs a little, wiping at her cheek again. ¡°I realized that thest set were all my own. It¡¯s everything I want and yet, now that I could theoretically have it, it terrifies me. Maybe I don¡¯t feel like I deserve it or if I¡¯d even get to keep it¡­ and that if we fail, it¡¯ll hurt so much worse than anything with Lee ever did. If you were to get lost in a storm again¡­¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I promise her. ¡°Never.¡±


    Sincere eyes meet mine. ¡°It was my own voice, in my own head. Reminding me of what I have to lose. You. What if I can¡¯t be what you want, Parker? What if I can¡¯t move fast enough for your liking?¡±


    My hands ache to take hers. ¡°You¡¯ll always be what I want, James,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s no timeline for us. Never has been. We¡¯ve always defied it.¡±


    ¡°I have baggage. A lot of it,¡± she says.


    ¡°Everyone does.¡±


    She takes a deep breath and meets my eyes. ¡°I love you,¡± she says. ¡°I think I always have, even back when you were someone I loved from afar, knowing we¡¯d never make sense.¡±


    ¡°Not true.¡±


    ¡°A little true,¡± she says, ¡°and you know that, too.¡±


    ¡°That was then. We¡¯re not the same people anymore.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says, and reaches for my hand. ¡°We¡¯re not. I love you. I don¡¯t know if I can be what you want, but that won¡¯t change.¡±


    I love you.


    The words send liquid warmth through me. Nothing else matters. ¡°You are what I want already. All of it,¡± I say. ¡°What about what you saidst week? About a rtionship?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°I want to be with you, if you¡¯ll have me.¡±


    ¡°Jamie,¡± I protest, pulling her close. ¡°You know I will.¡±


    Sheughs softly against my shoulder. ¡°I want to find my footing. I want to frence with graphic design and I want Emma to properly start school and get friends. I want to move out of my mom¡¯s into a ce that¡¯s just ours.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I murmur. ¡°I support all of that.¡±


    ¡°I want us to be¡­ equal. I can¡¯t live at your house rent-free. I can¡¯t put myself in a position like that again.¡±


    ¡°Jamie, I understand. Trust me. And for the record? We are equal. We always have been.¡± I take her hand and lift it to my cheek, needing her touch. ¡°Whatever you want.¡±


    She takes a deep breath. ¡°Thest part. Kids? Do you want more? Because I don¡¯t know yet. I can¡¯t make any prom-¡±


    I kiss her softly, stopping the words. Surprised lips open beneath mine. When I feel grounded again, I lift my head and rest my forehead against hers. ¡°Jamie,¡± I murmur. ¡°If I¡¯m an uncle and a stepfather all my life, that will be okay for me.¡±


    ¡°It will?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    A sigh escapes her. ¡°Oh. But don¡¯t you have wants, too?¡±

 Small Town Hero C72

    I can¡¯t help but smile at that. ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°What are they?¡±


    I brush her hair back. ¡°I want to be the person you tell your fears and hopes to. I want to support your dreams. I want to spot you when you lift weights and get to know your daughter and help both of you grow. I want to be your safe harbor.


    ¡°But I also want you to tell me off when I¡¯m doing something wrong and to argue with me and to never, ever be afraid of me, because I¡¯ll never be him. Hurting you would be to hurt myself. I can¡¯t promise I never will, because rtionships are messy. But I will never do it deliberately.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she breathes.


    I kiss her cheek, closing my eyes against the emotions. ¡°You were my first crush and you¡¯re my greatest love. Just let me be with you forever. Here, in our home, with our families. That¡¯s what I want. The rest? We¡¯ll figure all of it out. Including the voices in your head.¡±


    Jamie kisses me, a soft brush of her lips against mine that I seize on. I pull her firmly against me and feel like I can finally breathe again after more than a week of fear. And when she gets cold, when we should leave the marina but can¡¯t bring ourselves to, I dig out the spare sweater I keep in the hatch and she pulls it on.


    I tug her against my side. ¡°You see me,¡± I murmur, ¡°in a way no other woman ever has. From the very start, all those years ago, you looked at me and you kept looking.¡±


    Not once had she thought the surface was all there was to me, and as long as I keep her clear gaze in my life, I¡¯ll be the luckiest man alive.


    JAMIE


    ¡°Catch,¡± Parker says.


    ¡°Wait!¡± I say. He doesn¡¯t, and I¡¯m forced to jump to grab the rope.


    He grins. ¡°Nice.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to teach me!¡±


    ¡°People learn best under pressure,¡± he says, moving along the deck to me. His footsteps are sure on the wooden deck of the As. ¡°And now what do you do?¡±


    ¡°I secure it here,¡± I say, bending at the waist. I fasten it around a hook and focus on the knot he¡¯d shown mest weekend. Up, and over, and across¡­


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it,¡± he says. ¡°Tighten?¡±T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    I tug on the end of the rope and it slots into ce beautifully, like a puzzle done right.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± he says. ¡°You sure you haven¡¯t been training in secret? Do you have another sailing boyfriend somewhere?¡±


    I stick out my tongue at him and Parker¡¯s grin widens. The mid-October sun kisses his hair, tousled from the wind, and behind him the sail stretches taut. Without the motor on, the only sounds around us are seagulls and the waves cleaving beneath us.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make a sailor out of you yet,¡± he says, and catches me around the waist.


    ¡°Aye-aye, Captain.¡±


    He rolls his eyes and kisses me. Once, twice, trailing along my cheek. I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in the scent of him and salt and ocean spray.


    ¡°I¡¯m so d we took today off,¡± I say.


    ¡°Mmm,¡± he murmurs. ¡°One of the many, many perks of working for yourself. I¡¯m d we both do.¡±


    ¡°Sure you don¡¯t miss me waitressing?¡±


    He chuckles. ¡°Yes, even if having you around daily was a little bit distracting. But I still appreciate the shifts you take when someone calls out.¡±


    ¡°I like doing it, every now and then,¡± I say.


    He shifts us to the seat, pulling me down beside him. The cushions here are waterproof andrge and newly refurbished. ¡°How are the websitesing along?¡±


    ¡°Great. I should be done with the one for your old colleague next Friday,¡± I say.


    My main job now is frence web design. I¡¯d showed Parker my own overhauled website a month ago. He said he¡¯d send it to everyone he knew, and I thought he was exaggerating until I got three separate calls from small-scalew firms who needed an overhaul of their ageing websites. After a conversation with Ben of the Paradise Gto Shop, I¡¯m building them a website, too.


    Four projects, and a job that lets me spend mornings with Parker in the gym, take Emma to school, and still be there to pick her up in the afternoons.


    ¡°Mmm. As long as you don¡¯t forget to check in with your first client.¡±


    I grin. ¡°It¡¯s very hard to, when I¡¯m also in love with him. Your newsletters will alwayse first.¡±


    Parker presses a hand to his heart. ¡°That¡¯s my lovenguage, baby.¡±


    Lily had talked our ear off about lovenguagesst week at dinner, exining a book she¡¯d just read in minute detail. She¡¯d asked a frustrated Hayden, an amused Parker and me, mostly confused, what ournguages were.


    It made for an interesting dinner.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m learning a new dialect in mine,¡± I say, grinning.


    ¡°Oh? What is it?¡±


    ¡°Long trips at sea.¡± I touch his jaw with my lips. ¡°Who knew this was so nice?¡±


    He chuckles darkly and curves his hand around my hip. ¡°I did.¡±


    I rise up on an elbow. ¡°Is this your move, then? Bring your girlfriends out on the boat with you?¡±


    ¡°This feels like a trick question,¡± he says, still grinning.


    ¡°So you¡¯ve done it before?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it was a long time ago, and it was never anyone I cared for a lot. And it was never on my own boat.¡±


    ¡°Good answer,¡± I say.


    He chuckles. ¡°I¡¯m learning what your lovenguage is.¡±


    ¡°Would you say that boats are your happy ce?¡±


    ¡°In a way, sure. Although my happy ce is where you are.¡±


    ¡°Another good answer,¡± I say. I scoot away from him on the bench and back up to the t of As¡¯s deck. The wood is well oiled beneath me, in perfect shape after all the afternoons Parker¡¯s spent on refurbishing her. Emma has been along on more than a dozen asions.

 Small Town Hero C73

    She¡¯s learning knots faster than I am.


    ¡°Why are you going further away?¡± heins.


    I smile. ¡°Come here.¡±


    ¡°There are cushions right here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I can lie back t here. Come on.¡±


    His eyebrows knit together, but he does what I ask, sitting down beside me on the deck. A gust of wind catches my hair and tugs tendrils loose from my braid.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he says. ¡°This is nice.¡±


    That makes my smile widen. I¡¯ve been doing so much of it for the past weeks. I still struggle under the perceived ideals, ones I¡¯ve internalized. But with my own business growing, with Emma loving her new school, with Lee gone for good¡­


    I can just be me.


    And I¡¯m in love with the man beside me. ¡°So if boats are your favorite thing-¡±


    ¡°Second favorite thing,¡± he says.


    ¡°Right. I¡¯m your favorite?¡±


    ¡°Naturally,¡± he agrees.


    I wrap an arm around his neck and tug him down with me. He braces himself on a forearm, surprise in his eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done a lot of things on boats, I¡¯m sure,¡± I say, bending my leg to twine over his. The October day is mild, and there¡¯s not another boat in sight. I feel wild, and teasing, and high on life. ¡°But have you ever had sex on one?¡±


    He lifts his head. Dark blue eyes widen, and he grows still. ¡°Jesus. No, I have not.¡±


    ¡°Well then,¡± I say, and notch my leg around his hip.


    Parker is perfectly still for another two seconds. And then he¡¯s kissing me, and Iugh against his eager lips.


    ¡°You¡¯re perfect,¡± he murmurs against my ear. ¡°You know that, right? Absolutely perfect.¡±


    I reach down for the button on his pants. ¡°Maybe I just know you very well.¡±


    Ten minutester I¡¯m t on my back on the boat and Parker is moving deep within me. His skin is sun-warm and his hair tickles against my forehead with every thrust. We¡¯re only partially undressed, but it¡¯s enough, and I bury my head against his neck. Hold him tight while we race to the finish line.


    When the fire has passed, I look past his shoulder to the deep blue sky above us and keep my knees locked tight around him.


    Tears leak down the outer corners of my eyes, dampening my hair at the temples.


    ¡°Jamie?¡± he murmurs. He¡¯s carrying most of his weight on his arms, and I tighten my grip on him. He rxes with a grumble, letting me feel all of him. I¡¯m pressed down against the ocean even as I stare at the sky. The sea around us is endless and boundless, but I feel anchored here, with his body against mine.


    ¡°I love you,¡± I whisper.


    He gives a huff at my ear. ¡°I¡¯ll never tire of hearing you say that.¡±


    I wonder why I fought so hard against sailing when I was a teenager. Why I had to rebel at every turn, or why I needed to argue just to feel seen. It seems you learn some things toote, and others too early.


    But some things? Some things you learn just when you need to. This is one of those things.


    We are one of those things.


    We have dinner at the yacht club that evening with the entire family. Kristen has added a few extra fall items to the menu, and in the Marchand family text thread, Lily had hinted at it being necessary to pull the entire family together.All content is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be an announcement,¡± Parker says on the way there. ¡°You know it will be.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say. I¡¯d been working out of Lily¡¯s gallery the past week, sitting side by side with her when she takes calls and I design. She¡¯d seemedpletely normal. ¡°But maybe it¡¯s for someone else? And she¡¯s throwing off the scent?¡±


    He runs a hand along his jaw. ¡°Could be. Emma, wait for us!¡±


    My daughter stops ahead of us on the sidewalk, rocking back on her heels, and gives us an impatient look. ¡°You¡¯re walking slow,¡± she uses us.


    ¡°Oh?¡± I reach out a hand. ¡°Want to fly?¡±


    She nods. With one hand in Parker¡¯s and another in mine, we lift her high between us with every few jumps. I¡¯d exined to her, after Lee left, that her father and I hade to an understanding. That he wouldn¡¯t be returning to us again.


    I¡¯d dreaded the conversation, my heart in my throat, waiting for her reaction. But she¡¯d looked at me very seriously. ¡°So he¡¯s nevering back?¡±


    ¡°Probably not any time soon, no.¡±


    She¡¯d considered. ¡°That¡¯s okay, Mommy.¡±


    ¡°It is?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She¡¯d looked down at her y-Doh, and reached for the purple color. ¡°I like you with the captain.¡±


    A breath escaped me. Thank God.


    ¡°So it¡¯s okay if I keep being with him?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s going to teach me sailing when I turn eight.¡± She¡¯d wiggled from side to side, a little dance, and stacked her y-Doh colors. ¡°The square knot, and the thief knot, the clove¡­ the clove knot¡­¡± she¡¯d sing-songed.


    So here we are, weekster, walking with Emma between us toward the yacht club. My resilient daughter and our new life in Paradise.


    The table Stephen has reserved for us is in the back of the restaurant, along the ocean-facing windows. Hayden and Lily are already there, along with little Jamie, who waves at Emma with a pack of crayons in hand. She takes off to sit next to him.


    The rest fill up soon. Henry and Faye, and little Hazel. Michael and Eloise Marchand and then,te as always, Rhys and Ivy,ing hand-in-hand through the restaurant.


    Halfway through the dinner, Michael gives Parker the ultimatepliment. ¡°This is delicious,¡± he says, motioning toward his chowder. ¡°You¡¯ve done a great job with this ce.¡±


    Parker smiles easily. ¡°Thanks, Dad.¡± He drapes an arm over the back of my chair. It¡¯s without thinking, without asking, and I lean into his side. We belong.


    Across the restaurant, a group of people I recognize follow Stephen to their table. It¡¯s Turner and ir, and a few other people I remember from high school. People who¡¯d moved in the same crowd as Parker and Hayden.

 Small Town Hero C74

    They wave across the restaurant. Parker raises his free hand and nods, never removing his arm from around me. And I find myself waving to them too.


    The sound of someone tapping their fork against a ss silences the conversation around the table. Parker turns to me with a raised eyebrow.


    Here ites.


    Rhys clears his throat. And, surprising us all, he starts to talk about Lily¡¯s wedding.


    ¡°I want to remind everyone just how great a time we had, celebrating Lily and Hayden. What a beautiful ceremony and delicious food. We partiedte that night.¡± He raises his ss to Lily, who lifts hers back, eyebrows raised.


    ¡°What the heck?¡± Parker mutters by my side.


    ¡°I¡¯d also like to bring everyone¡¯s attention to Henry and Faye¡¯s wedding. Stunning New York location, a string quartet, excellent mingling opportunities. Hats off to the two of you, too.¡±


    Henry lifts an eyebrow in response. He has one arm around Hazel, who¡¯s falling asleep against his chest. ¡°I had to show the rest of you how it¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°Right, right,¡± Rhys says. ¡°Exactly. I¡¯d also like to humbly remind Mom and Dad how expensive weddings are.¡±


    Michael chuckles. ¡°Where is this heading, huh?¡±


    Rhys wraps his arm around Ivy, sitting by his side. She has a wide smile on her face. ¡°Ivy and I have gotten married,¡± he says.


    ¡°What?¡± Lily says. ¡°Rhys!¡±


    Eloise has her hands on her face. ¡°You didn¡¯t!¡±


    Parker¡¯s the one who grins, extending a hand across the table to his brother. ¡°Congrats, man. And congrattions, Ivy. Couldn¡¯t ask for a better sister-inw.¡±


    Faye pretends to gasp. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Parkerughs. ¡°You¡¯re tied for best ce! Both of you!¡±


    It takes the family a solid ten minutes before they¡¯ll let Rhys and Ivy exin. I watch the two of them, their obvious happiness, and lean against Parker¡¯s side again. There really is no rulebook. Rhys has never followed one, at any rate.


    Parker and I can do whatever we¡¯d like.


    Rhys and Ivy exin how they¡¯d tied the knot, just the two of them and an officiant, on one of their trips. ¡°We have pictures,¡± Ivy says, almost shyly. ¡°Would you like to see?¡±


    Later, Lily makes a Hail Mary pass for a chance to celebrate them. ¡°How about we throw a party for you two? Please, Rhys? Ivy? I can handle everything!¡±


    Hayden clears his throat and puts a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Can you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course I can.¡±


    ¡°This is as good a time as any,¡± he says.


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what we¡¯d nned,¡± he says.


    She nods, and smiles, and taps her fork against her own ss a bit sheepishly. That¡¯s how we learn that not only have Rhys and Ivy eloped, but Hayden and Lily are expecting another child.


    Emma, oblivious to the cheers around us, tugs on Parker¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Captain,¡± she says.


    He looks down to see her with an unopened lobster tail in hand. ¡°Ah. Remember how I¡¯ve showed you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°It does. Look here¡­¡± He cracks it open for her between strong fingers, and she giggles in response. I watch them with a warm weight in my chest. And when it¡¯s time to raise a ss to Lily and Hayden, and to Rhys and Ivy, I do so with my eyes on Parker.


    ¡°And to us,¡± I mouth.


    His smile widens. ¡°Always.¡±


    EPILOGUE


    PARKER


    Two yearster


    ¡°Dad?¡± Emma calls. ¡°Where are you?¡±


    ¡°In the garage!¡±


    ¡°We have to go!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ming!¡± I rummage around the box, searching for the gloves I¡¯d bought for her first lessons. It hasn¡¯t gotten old yet, her calling me dad. She¡¯d first started saying it a year ago. Casually, randomly, like it didn¡¯t upend my entire world every time she did it.


    The first time it had happened, Jamie had met my gaze over Emma¡¯s head, oblivious in her y, and I¡¯d seen she was just as shocked as I was.


    From that moment on, Emma hadn¡¯t stopped using it. I¡¯d told her earlier that she could call me whatever she wanted, and she¡¯d been the one to settle on Dad.T¨ºxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Here they are,¡± I say, fishing out the pair. ¡°Do you have your backpack?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    I lock the garage and join her by my car. She¡¯s shifting from foot to foot, hair neatly braided. Jamie had done it this morning before she went to work. ¡°Water bottle? Life vest?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says, our wannabe teenager, and opens the door to the car.


    I grin at her eagerness.


    We drive down to the marina, and she talks the whole way, all nerves and excitement. We¡¯ve sailed a lot over the past year together, but this is her first proper lesson with other kids from her school and the area.


    ¡°What if I fall in?¡± she asks when we¡¯re down on the docks, watching the group by the training dinghies.


    ¡°You probably will, kiddo,¡± I say. ¡°But you¡¯ll be in a life vest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be cold.¡±

 Small Town Hero C75

    I chuckle and tug at the end of her braid. ¡°Yes. But you know what to do. We tried thisst summer, remember?¡±


    She nods. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Jamie and Emma had worked hard on her swimming skills all ofst summer, and I¡¯d been there to help as often as I could. They¡¯d still been renting Lily¡¯s cottage then.


    It¡¯s been seven months now since they moved into my house. Into our house.


    ¡°Mom will be here when you¡¯re done with the ss,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯ll stay over here the whole time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be watching?¡±


    ¡°If you want me to, kiddo.¡±


    She nods and looks up at me. Behind the hesitant expression there¡¯s determination in her eyes. She might be shy with strangers, but she¡¯s got a stubborn streak that¡¯s all Jamie. ¡°Stay.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll be right over there.¡± I point to the benches along the dock. ¡°Want me to introduce you to Neil?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°I can do it.¡±


    ¡°Course you can.¡± I adjust her backpack and nod toward the group. ¡°You got this, skipper.¡±


    Her smile turns crooked. ¡°I¡¯m not a skipper, Dad.¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    She snorts, steels her shoulders, and walks down the dock. I watch her say hello and get weed into the group, the instructor fitting her with a life vest. I do just what I¡¯d told her, and sit down to watch the lesson. They¡¯ll start with the basics, things she already knows.


    I feel Jamie¡¯s fingers in my hair before I see her. She runs them along the nape of my neck, curling inside my shirt, and sits down next to me.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she says.


    I kiss her. ¡°Hi, baby. How did it go?¡±


    ¡°It went great. Everything looks normal.¡±


    ¡°And no ultrasound?¡±


    She smiles. ¡°No. That isn¡¯t untilter. I just got some vitamins and a second check-up scheduled.¡±


    ¡°I wish I could have been there,¡± I say, and I mean it.


    Her hand reaches for mine and threads our fingers together. ¡°This was the earliest slot my doctor had, and Emma¡¯s been waiting for this ss for years. She wanted you here, not anyone else.¡±


    ¡°I know. But I¡¯m not missing another doctor¡¯s appointment. Not for the rest of the pregnancy.¡±


    Jamie leans her head against my shoulder. ¡°Good. I want you there, too.¡±


    ¡°I know it¡¯s still too early to tell, but I wonder¡­¡±


    ¡°Boy or a girl?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I smooth my thumb over the back of her hand and breathe in the smell of her hair. Beautiful, and mine, and pregnant. It¡¯s unlocked apletely different side of me. There¡¯s something almost primal in holding her in my arms and knowing she¡¯s carrying our child.


    ¡°What are you hoping for?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Either. Both.¡±


    She chuckles. ¡°Both? I¡¯m not hoping for that. Can you imagine twins?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a lot,¡± I admit. ¡°Does this mean we can tell Emma soon?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But I want to be a little further along. You know she won¡¯t be able to keep it a secret.¡± There¡¯s a warm smile on Jamie¡¯s face as she watches Emma and the other kids across the docks. ¡°When we tell her, we tell the rest of the family too.¡±


    I turn my face toward her ear. ¡°I love you so much.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± She nestles closer against my side and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. ¡°You tell me that more often since I got pregnant.¡±


    ¡°Well, I have to say it twice as often. I¡¯m saying it to two people now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a charmer.¡±


    ¡°Only for you.¡± I kiss her temple. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to marry you, James.¡±


    Her breath catches in her throat. It¡¯s brief, and then she¡¯s teasing me, like always. ¡°I¡¯m going to be pregnant in a wedding dress, and it¡¯s all your fault.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°Yes. But I feel more than a little proud of that. And you¡¯re going to look beautiful, baby. You always do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already said yes,¡± she murmurs, smiling.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never stopplimenting you.¡±


    She runs a hand up my chest, stopping at the cor of my linen shirt. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see you in a tux, either. Or call you my husband.¡±


    ¡°Lily¡¯s going to cry the entire wedding. I guarantee it. From start to finish.¡±


    Jamieughs. ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right, she will. But she¡¯s promised to throw a great bachelorette party.¡±


    ¡°Hayden¡¯s trying to talk my brothers and a few friends into doing something for me, and I have a feeling it¡¯s going to result in beers at the yacht club and sailing,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯m absolutely okay with that.¡±


    She turns her face up. Warm, open, teasing eyes meet mine, ones that haven¡¯t held the shadows of her past for months. One of her hands strokes along my jaw. ¡°When this baby is born and a bit older, you and I are going on a honeymoon. A proper one.¡±


    ¡°We are?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Remember how you¡¯ve always wanted to sail in the Caribbean?¡±


    ¡°Really? You¡¯d stay on a sailing boat with me for an entire week?¡±


    Her smile widens. She¡¯s gotten used to regr trips with me, and she¡¯s learned, but she still doesn¡¯t need the ocean like I do. That¡¯s fine. As long as she needs me the way I need her, I don¡¯t need to get on a boat again for the rest of my life.


    ¡°Yes. Something that¡¯s just for you and me.¡±


    ¡°Baby, we do things like that all the time.¡±


    Sheughs. ¡°When was thest time?¡±


    I rest my forehead against hers. ¡°The shower. Two days ago.¡±Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Well, okay, if that counts, yes.¡±


    ¡°It counts. I counted to two, even, for you.¡±


    Jamie rolls her eyes, but heat rises up her cheeks. ¡°Did you add them to your logbook?¡±


    Iugh, and kiss her. Asking her to marry me had felt harder than the conversation we had about children, before we started trying, and she went off birth control.


    The child had been her idea. I hadn¡¯t wanted to pressure her in any way, and when she suggested we start trying, I¡¯d damn near gotten on my knees. Yes. But when I¡¯d asked her to marry me, fully expecting a not yet answer, Jamie had surprised me.


    She started crying¡­ and she said yes. So we ended up doing both at the same time, not quite following the rulebook, but fully adhering to our own timeline.


    The way we always have.


    ¡°I wish I found my way back to Paradise sooner,¡± Jamie says. ¡°We could have been married years ago.¡±


    I tighten my hands on her waist. My soon-to-be-wife, the mother of my kids. Both of them.


    ¡°You got here in the end,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


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