Never Kiss a Stranger (16 page)

“Addison, sweetie, what’s the matter?”

Wilder had just hung up on me when Brenda Bliss walked by and happened to see me dabbing my eyes with a tissue. She rushed toward me, suddenly all motherly, and slipped her arm around my back.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but lately you’ve been off your game.”

Her words stung, but they were true. I couldn’t argue with that. I used to be a shark. I used to be relentless and constantly “on” as I raked in sale after sale and nonstop networked. Now I was nothing but a floating jellyfish, emotions transparent and set to casually sting anyone who dared come near me.

“I’m sorry, Brenda.” I inhaled sharply and focused on the sensation of cool air renewing my lungs. “I’m just dealing with some… family things… I shouldn’t let them affect my work, but I guess I am.”

“Why don’t you get out of here? Take the rest of the day. Shoot, take the rest of the week. Go do something for you,” she suggested. Brenda Bliss practically lived at the office. It was rare she told anyone to take time off, especially considering time off in the real estate world was unpaid. If we weren’t working, we weren’t getting sales and Brenda Bliss Agency was losing money. “I want you to come back here Monday completely recharged. I want to see the girl I hired. The girl that’s going to take over Manhattan real estate someday soon…”

She offered me a kind wink and cordial smile before slipping away and leaving my office. I shut my laptop and locked my desk before gathering my things and heading home.

“Hey, Coco.” I called my sister as I walked home, taking a sharp turn at the halfway mark and heading back uptown. Everything about me felt deflated, and I was certain she could hear it in my voice. “Can I come over?”

“Of course,” she said. “I just got home from hot yoga, but I’m here. I need to hop in the shower, but you can just come over.”

By the time I arrived, the kettle on the stove was whistling and Coco was simultaneously flitting around the kitchen pulling ceramic mugs from the cabinet and drying her hair with a microfiber towel.

“I have some of that lemongrass green tea you like.” She poured some steaming water into my cup and unwrapped a tea bag.

“Thanks, Co.”

“What’s on your mind?” Her blue eyes searched mine. “Wait. I think I know.”

I expected her to roll her eyes. To tell me to toughen up. Insist I’d done the right thing and the pain would go away soon. Instead she climbed up onto the bar stool next to me and laid her wet, soggy head against my shoulder.

“You’re not you anymore,” she said. “Ever since you ended it with that guy. With our new stepbrother.” She placed air quotes around the word I’d grown to hate. “I miss you. The girl you were when you were with him. You were happier then. You’re not happy anymore.”

I tilted my head, my cheek hitting the top of her wet hair. “I miss him so much, Co.”

“Are you still working with him? Selling him properties?”

“Technically, yeah. I don’t think I should anymore. You should see him now. He’s not himself, either. It’s like he’s been replaced with this… darker version of himself. Like his heart’s turned black or something. And it’s all my fault.”

“Psh,” Coco said, sitting up. “You can thank Tammy Lynn for marrying some random guy who just happened to be Wilder’s dad. She sure can pick ‘em.”

“I just can’t get over how happy she is now. I’ve never seen her this way. She’s suddenly the mom we always dreamed of having.”

“It’s not going to last. You know it’s all an act. She’s pretending like she gives two fucks about us because that’s what Vince wants to see.”

I lifted the steeped tea to my mouth, blowing first and then taking a careful sip. “You know, I could wait until this whole thing blows over and she divorces Vince, but who knows when that’ll be? She was married to the last guy for three years. Three years from now, Wilder will have long moved on.”

“Is he coming to Florida?” Coco changed the subject, sort of.

I set the teacup down, my heart racing. “I hadn’t thought about it. I have no idea. I doubt it.”

Coco ruffled the towel over her hair one last time and finger combed it into place. “Why’s that?”

“I told him I needed space.”

Her lips bunched in the corner as she drew in a deep breath. “I really hope Mom divorces Vince. I hate seeing you this sad. When you’re sad, I’m sad. And I’m this close to telling you to just fucking be with the guy.”

“But your career,” I objected. If me being with Wilder had any adverse consequences for her career, I’d never forgive myself. As her sister, I couldn’t do that to her. And if her career went tumbling down over some stepbrother-stepsister scandal, I’d be next. “I’m not going to put your future at jeopardy. I love you, Coco. I’m not doing that to you.”

“I appreciate it,” she said, a hint of her Kentucky twang emerging. She’d told me endless stories in the past about a certain subset of journalists and Susannah Jethro loyalists who’d do anything to get their hands on a single piece of dirt that would take her down. “Though it doesn’t make me happy, I’ll tell you that. Have you thought about talking to Mom about him? Maybe come clean and tell her why you were acting so weird at the restaurant? You never know. She might decide to put her daughter’s happiness before hers, for once.”

“She loves Vince. I can’t ask her to not to be with him.”

“She doesn’t deserve you as a daughter.” Coco raised her brows. “You’re handling this a lot better than I would.”

Wilder’s words burned in my mind,
“You’re a goddamned saint, Addison… that’s your fucking problem.”

* * *

Two weeks later…

I’d emailed Wilder several listings, never getting a single response. I’d even sent him some referrals for new agents. Still nothing. I supposed it was his way of giving me space. I couldn’t blame him. He was only doing exactly what I’d asked.

It didn’t help that every tall, dark-haired man in a three-piece suit strolling the city sidewalks of Manhattan looked like him. I searched for him everywhere I went. Every restaurant. Every showing. Every open house.

He was never there, and it was as if I’d wished him away. Like he never existed in the first place.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some sun.” Coco stretched her pale arms in front of her as we settled into our spots on the plane. “It’s been such a cold, gray spring.”

“I got us a convertible rental car,” I said, nudging her arm. “A Mustang.”

“Do you even remember how to drive?”

“Of course I do. It’s like riding a bike.”

“Not really.”

“How hard can it be?”

“You haven’t owned a car in, like, eight years. Do you still have a license?”

“Of course I do. And I promise I’ll get us where we need to go, all right? Just trust me.” I shoved my purse beneath the seat in front of me and pulled out a tabloid magazine I’d picked up in the gift shop. Flipping through, I stopped when a spread in the middle caught my eye.

It was an article about Coco’s ex-boyfriend, Beau, and how he was permanently retiring from the music business for personal reasons. The article quoted many close sources to him, stating he was refusing to give an official interview. I felt her eyes over my shoulder as she pretended not to read it.

“You want this when I’m done? You can maybe cut out his picture. Frame it. Kiss it goodnight…”

Coco huffed and rolled her eyes. “Who gives a shit about him? I don’t know what the big deal is anyway. He’s not that great.”

They were all lies she told herself to sandbag the gaping hole he’d left in her heart since they’d parted ways after high school. Being the good sister I was, I closed the tabloid and tucked it into the seat pocket in front of me. I’d have to read it later. “I agree, Co. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“Can I offer you some champagne?” the flight attendant interrupted us with a grand commercial smile across her pretty face. Mom and Vince had paid for our tickets, but we’d paid to upgrade to First Class when we checked in. Coco tended to be left alone when she flew First Class, and I wasn’t going to turn down the extra legroom.

Four hours later, we were cruising down I-95 with the top down on the convertible as the wind whipped our hair. Well, at least it whipped my hair. Coco decided to go all Jackie Kennedy and wrapped a silk scarf around her dark locks. We found the beach house shortly after arriving in Cocoa Beach and parked the car in the circle drive.

“They really went all out,” I said as we tugged our overloaded suitcases out of the trunk of the Mustang. The white beach house with the wraparound porch and sundeck had to have cost a small fortune to rent, though I presumed it all came out of Vince’s pocket. He seemed like a man who liked to toss around the fact that he may or may not be rolling in the dough. It was a real estate agent thing. Some agents had to project an image of wealth and enormous success to land the larger contracts. I supposed Vince felt the need to project that image 24/7, because he sure as hell didn’t need to impress us.

“Hello, hello,” Coco called as we showed ourselves in. Gauzy curtains flanking open sliders toward the back of the house led us to a covered porch where Mom and Vince were enjoying margaritas with salted rims. The inside of the house was slightly dated with decorative schemes ranging from sea foam green to shades of peach I never knew existed, but in a nostalgic vacation sort of way, that didn’t bother me in the slightest. People didn’t stay there for the seashell and nautical-themed rooms. They stayed for the ocean view.

“They’re here!” Mom stood up and practically ran to us, wrapping us in hugs and refusing to take the ridiculous smile off her face.

Vince stood up, one hand in his pocket while the other gripped his frozen drink, and waved a friendly hello, which was appreciated since we weren’t exactly on hugging terms yet.

“Have a seat, girls,” Mom said as she strutted toward the kitchen. “I’ll pour you some drinks. We have a margarita machine!”

The salty ocean breeze ruffled my hair and the warm, thick air was like a calming embrace. I needed that. I needed to get away from the city and Wilder and work. We were there for five days, and I fully intended on planting my toes in the sand and not moving a single muscle all week.

“Wilder should be here soon,” Vince said as he sat back down and took a sip of his drink.

“W-what did you say?” I stammered. His words knocked the wind right out of my sails. I glanced over at Coco who raised her eyebrows like she didn’t know a damn thing about it, either. My cheeks burned hot and my hands clammed up I gulped in humid air. “I didn’t think he was coming?”

Maybe it wasn’t that I didn’t know he was coming. I just
assumed
he wasn’t coming. I’d asked him to give me space and he’d listened. Coming to Florida to spend a week in a house with me would defeat the whole purpose of him avoiding me the last two weeks.

And while I was convinced space was what I needed to make me fall out of love with him, the reaction coursing through my body at Vince’s mere mention of Wilder coming told me I was far from over him. I wasn’t even close.

“Here we are, girls.” My mom sat two overfilled margaritas in front of us, and I practically lunged for the thing. “How was your flight?”

“It was fine,” Coco said, spinning her glass between her thumb and pointer finger. Ever since she saw that article about Beau, she’d kept getting lost in thought. Every time I looked at her, she had some faraway look on her face.