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“Almost twenty years.” My mother brushes across the arm of her chair, swiping at a few stray dog hairs. She gives me a soft smile. “Time flies, doesn’t it?”
The frustration I’ve been fighting all day returns with a vengeance. “Sometimes.”
My mother’s eyes are sharp, watching me closely. “What’s happened now?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.” I pause as Nicholas comes back to deliver my mother’s drink, along with a tiny square napkin. “Frustrated Rogers pulled out and left me scrambling.”
My mother takes a sip of her drink, waving one hand dismissively. “Rogers can sod off. He’s a fool and everyone knows it.”
“He’s a fool with deep pockets.” I blow out a long breath. “I suppose I should start considering using a shell corp to hide my identity so I don’t end up in this situation again.”
“This whole thing is ridiculous.” My mother takes another sip of her martini before gently setting it on the small table beside her. “I don’t understand why this hasn’t blown over.” Her eyes come to mine as she swipes one hand at the sweeping fringe of the custom wig designed to perfectly replicate the hair she lost. “Do you want me to make a few phone calls? I’m sure I can explain—”
“No.” I can only imagine how that would look. “I don’t think my mother fighting my battles for me will do anything to help my image at this point.”
Her lips flatten into a thin line. “There shouldn’t have to be any helping your image. Anyone who knows you, knows there’s not a shred of truth to what that woman said.”
“Ah, but they don’t.” I stand unable to remain still. “So I suppose I’m off to create a shell corporation.” I pause beside her, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call later.”
She catches my arm, her eyes holding mine. “Maybe it’s time for you to return to London.”
My mother might not have been the reason I moved here, but she is the reason I’ve stayed even as my social life imploded. “I don’t think so.” I straighten, giving her a wink. “I’ve developed a fondness for the ocean and I’m not sure I’m ready to leave that behind just yet.”
I don’t want her to think she’s the only thing keeping me here, though she is. I can’t leave while she’s still recovering. She seems to be on her way to regaining her strength and the spark that’s always made her so magnetic, but there are still follow-up scans to determine if her second round of treatment was successful.
And until I know it was and that she’ll be more than fine without me, I’ll remain here. Eating all the shit thrown at me.
I do feel some satisfaction as I take the lift back to my car because I spared Valerie the same fate. I’m sure at this point she sees my retreat for the favor it was and feels immense relief her reputation wasn’t ruined by Sweet Side’s filthy liar.
CHAPTER SEVEN
VALERIE
“THOSE ARE THE prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen, Val.” Crystal does a slow walk around the tiny, circular table in the dining nook of her small apartment. “You must have made quite an impression on the dickhead.”
I press my lips together because I didn’t tell my only friend the full truth of how my date with Fynn went yesterday. I skipped over a few parts. Namely the bit where he got me off in the middle of the ocean and then abandoned me when a surprisingly aggressive woman decided to go all vigilante on us.
So I’m guessing the breathtaking arrangement that arrived this afternoon is less about the impression I made and more about apologizing for running with his tail between his legs.
It’s still really pretty. Full-petaled, pale pink roses stand tall in a clear glass vase, surrounded by a variety of flowers in similar shades of pink and white. Peonies, hydrangeas, and lilies fill out the huge bouquet, making it not just the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, but also the best smelling.
Crystal gives me a sly smile over the top of it, her head dipping in a slow nod. “He’s hot for you.”
I don’t disagree, but I’m not sure that’s going to help my case, which has me panicking a little. I was hoping I could ease Fynn into this little plan of mine, but, after yesterday, I think I just need to rip off the Band-Aid. Shoot my shot and pray he’s as invested in saving his reputation as I am in ruining mine.
I slide my palm into the back pocket of my jean shorts, pressing it against the card I lifted the second the delivery man carried in the flowers, ensuring my well-meaning but overbearing roommate didn’t get her hands on it. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.”
Crystal pushes up on her toes as I leave, widening her eyes at me over the gargantuan arrangement. “You need to call him and thank him for these.” She sniffs one of the roses. “Gush about how gorgeous they are.”
“Okay.” I manage to give her a smile before I duck into the bathroom. My heart is pounding as I pull the tiny, pale pink envelope from my pocket and slide the card inside free.
I’m sorry.
Fynn.
The handwriting is too pretty to be his, the curling letters graceful, but not quite feminine looking. A man like Fynn would make neat, but scrawling, letters.
So, after leaving me on the beach to deal with his mess, he couldn’t even be bothered to order apology flowers in person?
