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LaShonda: going to the cape. You?
Once again, I’m torn.
Katherine: woman shrugging emoji
I navigate to my list of text messages and reread Ford’s invitation. He’s going to Sutton’s Miami beach house. Mansion is more like it. Sutton might be our former stepbrother, but those two are still thicker than tourists in Times Square on New Year’s Eve. I hardly ever see one without the other.
There’s nothing from my mother.
Not that I expected anything. She’s so busy.
But my father has invited me out to his place in the Hamptons. I miss that house and the summers we spent there. Back before my parents split up and everything changed.
I’m perfectly happy doing my own thing.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
I’m already antsy enough tonight. There’s no way I can go down memory lane right now. That’ll only add nostalgia to my nervousness.
I click on Kingston’s name and scroll up. Until college, he’d been my closest friend. Five years older but always there for me from the time I was young. We’ve traveled in the same circles for years, and we bonded over never feeling like we belonged in our powerful families.
At least we did until he was bitten by the travel bug.
I pause at an incredible picture from Croatia. Pristine aqua waters, charming tan and terra cotta buildings, brilliant blue sky. Not a skyscraper in sight.
My fingertip traces lazy figure eights over the image. He’s been there for a while. Seems like he’s stayed in this seaside village longer than any of the past places he’s been.
I miss him.
I scroll up through the pictures he sends every few days. There’s an old window with faded blue-green shutters that looks like it should be on the homepage of National Geographic. Above that is a sunset. Then a sunbaked cafe, complete with pot after pot of vibrant red flowers. I can almost feel the sun on my face. It looks like a quiet spot to enjoy an afternoon.
Maybe that’s the answer. Run away to Europe for the holiday and relax on my bestie’s sailboat.
Down the hall, a door opens, then clicks shut. Adrenaline pings through me as if I’ve just been caught. Fudgecake. No one’s been by here in twenty minutes. And it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. I guess my solitude had to end sometime. I smooth a hand down my thigh.
Muffled footsteps echo across the thick carpet, and I peek out from behind the potted palm. My mouth opens with a silent gasp.
Heat and longing surge through my veins, twining around my limbs. If I wasn’t suddenly vibrating with desire, I’d think my eyes were playing tricks on me.
What are they doing here?
Shoulder to shoulder, dressed in gorgeous bespoke tuxedos, Alexander Hunt and Gabriel Rothburn stalk toward me. All loose hips, broad shoulders, and clean-shaven. It’s enough to make a girl go weak in the knees. And goofy in the head.
I’ve never in my twenty-four years experienced anything like it. It’s both disconcerting and decadent.
I duck behind the palm and take a steadying breath. This isn’t a terribly good hiding spot.
I’m not even sure why I want to hide from them except that I’m hiding in general, and they’re going to know it. Gabriel will pick at me, and Alexander will stare at me with those dreamy eyes, silently watching. Calculating. Figuring things out.
I can’t begin to understand the connection I feel with him. It’s been that way since the moment we met. We see each other occasionally and yet, it’s always the same. I’m aware of him on a deeper level. He doesn’t have to say a word, and I’m buzzing.
More than once, I’ve returned home, crawled into my bed, and reached for my favorite vibrator.
Yes, I do have a favorite.
This morning, I cut my workout short so I didn’t risk begging him to hold me. The desire was stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.
He oozes protection. And there’s no use denying it. I feel emotionally beat up.
