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I laughed, catching myself off-guard. “As if I’m ever thinking of anything else. From what she’s said… I wonder.”
She studied me a while longer before she smiled, softly, a little lopsided. “You’re doing something, aren’t you?”
I looked down at my phone, opening it up to the picture again—one I’d taken of London against the balcony of that place she’d just tried to convince me to finally buy. The shape of her against the blue Miami sky—the woman who’d broken me down into so many pieces and put me back together.
“Is it too fast to say I’m in love with her?” I said lightly, and Anya laughed—a big, warm laugh that came from her belly.
“You kids are always like that. Worrying if it’s too fast… once you’re old, you’ll miss those wild, untamed feelings. Be in love with her. And do something about it.”
I squeezed my phone tighter, swiping to another picture—her face, up close, laughing at a breakfast we’d had together, lit up from one side by the golden light of sunrise over the water.
She’d told me I’d ruined her for anyone else. I didn’t think she realized that she’d ruined me worse.
“She said I could contact her about anything,” I said.
“I would hope so,” she said. “Sure you’ll be married before the year’s out at this rate.”
“Not her. I have an idea. Sorry—I’m just talking to myself.” I turned off my phone, standing up, turning back to face her. “Anya—thank you.”
She stared at me for an eternity before she softened into her gentle smile. “Ah, thank me with actions, not words. You know what I’m asking for. Get to it.”
I would.
Otherwise, I was going to miss that damn woman.
Chapter 30
For all Kevin’s posturing about him and Cameron living like normal people, not indulging in obscene wealth, honestly—the house was a little much for one person. But I guess the rules were different for a man, weren’t they?
Hadn’t even thought about the possibility of it—that I knew exactly where the guy lived. That house in Coconut Grove that was still listed as Cameron’s address in the account—she’d told me how she’d let him have the house. Probably bought with her money in the first place, but he didn’t seem too proud to accept her generosity.
Was I genuinely out of my mind showing up here? Probably. But I’d have been out of my mind to just walk away, leave Miami behind, to stand by watching while he got his hooks back into Cameron.
It was mostly about Cameron, honestly. Turned out I was a little possessive when I got serious about someone. Discovering new things about myself all the time.
I got out of the car into the hazy light of dusk that played in the palm trees along the long, neat street, down the driveway that wound longer than anyone needed a driveway. The lights were on at the house—didn’t really know what I would have done if Kevin hadn’t been here. Or maybe it was Cameron and she’d already gone back there.
I wasn’t thinking things like that.
I didn’t stop for breath or a single thought until I was at the front door and I’d rapped hard, twice, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, leaning against one of the square columns at the front entrance—a two-story house with a decorated front entrance, tall arched windows along the front, a dramatic bay window on the second floor looking directly out into a wall of trees, because people who lived in houses like these were always terrified at the fact that they had neighbors. Fancy place. Not obscene-wealth—I’d worked with enough of those—but solidly upper-middle class, petite bourgeoisie pretending to be royalty. Suited Kevin.
No answer from the door. A sensible person would have walked away. I rapped hard again, and I wasn’t above playing dirty, because I dropped my voice deeper and shouted, “Signature for a delivery!”
There was a rustling from inside, and then footsteps coming down the stairs with a heavy, world-weary sigh before the door swung open—like a true salesperson, I stuck my foot in the door just before he saw me, made a face, and tried to close it.
“What the hell are you—”
“Oh, god forbid somebody show up uninvited to a home while someone else is there. You wouldn’t dream of it, would you, Kevin?”
He tried to shove my foot out of the door, but it meant he let up on the pressure on the door itself, and I pushed it open, walking in behind him. He spun on me, red-faced, sweat on his brow. Ostensibly, the guy was dressed down, wearing a polo shirt and khakis, but something about it still looked like he was trying to be something he wasn’t, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why that energy drove me out of my mind.
“I’ll call the police on you,” he said.
I folded my arms. “Try it. I’ll tell them you were trying to kidnap me. Have a lot of people who would corroborate my story, especially given you’re already trying to ensnare one woman.”
He shot me a dirty look, folding his arms, matching mine. Mirroring my gestures—he stood a little to one side as well, angled his shoulders in the same way I did. Standard persuasion tactic, building invisible rapport. I’d used it a million times. “What the hell do you want?” he said, and I put my hands up, deliberately breaking the posture he was mirroring, squaring my shoulders with him instead, standing with my feet wider.
“What do you think I want? You’re trying to force my girlfriend into a marriage with you. Work it out, buddy.”
