I lean against the door to my suite, my back pressing into the wood in case Xavier gets a wild hair and tries to follow me in here.
He wouldn’t though. He’s classy. Arrogant and smart-mouthed and opinionated, sure, but he would never barge in here.
My suitcase rests on the pillow-top bed. I run the zipper along the side and pull out some clothes for the day. I need a hot shower and a brisk walk to clear my head. Today I’ll hit up the farm stands and maybe grab some fresh vegetables and local wine for dinner tonight. If I can fill my day with tranquil, relaxing activities, maybe I won’t think so much about Xavier’s stark declarations and what they do and don’t mean to the part of me that aches every time I look at him.
He always had a way with words, finding precise combinations to string together to evoke powerful emotions on command. That’s why he’s in the top 1% and I’m not. I’m logical. A numbers girl. That’s where we always differed. I believed in the psychology of numbers and rationality. He believed in the psychology of emotional persuasion.
I know exactly how Xavier operates.
I just never thought I’d fall for it.
EATING ALONE HAS NEVER BOTHERED me. In fact, I enjoy a nice, quiet lunch from time to time because any restaurant in the city worth dining at is almost always pure chaos.
Sunny rays warm the top of my head at a little Vine Street sidewalk café just south of the Saturday morning farm stands. I’ve picked up some celery, an onion, two pounds of potatoes, a bottle of red wine, and a loaf of artisan bread. I’ll stop at a local fish market on my way home to grab some fresh clams for the small batch of chowder I’m making tonight.
I suppose I could be nice and grab enough for two. Xavier did make me breakfast.
But then he might take it as a peace offering, and I’m not sure if I’m there yet.
My total comes to eighteen dollars and forty-five well-spent cents. Nothing beats fresh crab cakes and locally-sourced mixed greens with house made vinaigrette. I pay my tab and head to the fish market before returning to the Van Cleef house. Per my calculations, I have approximately twenty-five minutes to decide what I’m going to say to Xavier when I see him again.
MAYBE IT’S the tranquil breezes or the rolling ocean waves or the blanket of blue sky, but something inside me feels softer. I’ll make dinner tonight and talk to Xavier. There’s no sense in spending the rest of this vacation at odds. We don’t need to be friends. We just need to arrive at a mutual understanding.
And I would never, ever, ever admit this to him.
Ever.
But part of me misses him so hard, and that same part of me can’t stop replaying that kiss.
But he’ll never know that. My heart is wrapped in armor, readied for battle at all times. And Xavier Fox is its number one enemy.
“Hello?” I call out, carrying my bags in and depositing them with one heave onto the kitchen island. “Xavier?”
Quietude fills the expansive house. Addison once referred to it as the “beach cottage.” I’m not sure a house this size qualifies as a cottage. Every window is closed. Not a single shoe resides on the rug near the door. There’s something lighter about this space. I trek toward the main level suite, gently pushing the door open.
The bed is made.
The dresser top is clear.
The bathroom is spotless.
He’s gone.
My chest hollows. I’m unexpectedly gutted. I didn’t expect it to be over that quickly. I expected more fight, more pull, more give, and more take. It’s not like him to throw in the towel and quietly disappear.
I trudge back to the kitchen, putting my things into the fridge and pantry and convincing myself that the emptiness happening inside me is nothing more than shock being mistaken for disappointment.
I got what I wanted.
He gave me exactly what I so stubbornly declared to want.
Now I can enjoy the second half of my weekend in peace and quiet and solitude, just as I intended.
On the drive back here, I’d caught myself accidentally smiling when I thought about him. I’m not sure what that means, and now I’m not sure I’ll get a chance to find out. And maybe it’s best that I never do.
It’s okay. I’m going to be okay. I’m right back where I was two days ago, before coming to Montauk. I’m right back where I should be.
The entry door to the garage opens and shuts with a soft click, and I freeze mid-step, caught between the island and the pantry. Tingles climb my arms as my heart lurches up into my throat.
Xavier stands before me, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his preppy, rust-colored shorts. With everything going on in the last twenty-four hours, I haven’t had a chance to appreciate how good he looks when he’s dressed down.
“Hi.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I thought you’d left.”
“I’m going back to the city.” His ocean-hued eyes study mine. “Went into town to book my sea plane. Came back to drop off the car and the keys.”
“Oh?” My voice is higher pitched than usual, as if that could hide my conflict about this entire thing.
“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He delivers his apology with a hint of grit in his tone. I’m not sure if he’s angry at me . . . or himself. “And I’m sorry we’re not able to be friends.”
My chest squeezes. I place my food on an empty shelf and pace back to the island to grab some cold items to stick in the fridge. I need to stay busy. If my body is busy, it’ll keep my mind from prompting me to do or say something foolish, like blurting out, “You should stay!”
My heels dig into the wood floor along with my pride. I scolded him for kissing me earlier. I have no place asking him to stick around. I wouldn’t want to stick around either.
A horn honks outside, and I step past him to see the bright yellow indication of a taxi pulled up to the circle drive out front.
“Your ride is here,” I say, returning to shut the fridge door.
He hasn’t moved. I can’t stop moving.
We’re different, he and I.
Too different.
We don’t belong together. Maybe we never did.
“We were pretty great.” His full lips pull into a half-smirk, his eyes glazed.
My stomach hardens. There’s a tightness in the back of my throat I can’t swallow away. Every part of me knows this is goodbye.
“Xavier.” I shake my head. “Don’t.”
Don’t make this harder than it is.
“Bye, Magnolia.”
He doesn’t call me Mags. He doesn’t give me a hug or a wave or a dimpled smile. Not that I deserve any of those things. I just wish I’d have appreciated them more when I had the chance.
“Bye, Xavier.”
CHAPTER 8
XAVIER FOX
“SO THIS IS a trendier part of town,” I say Monday morning, showing a two-bedroom apartment to a certified Southern Belle named Savannah McClintock. “Plenty to keep you busy. Lots to do. Great social scene. Very active.”
“Oh, good,” she twangs, batting her thick lashes and twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger. Her gaze swallows me whole, and everything about the way her hips sway when she walks to the way she laughs at everything I say tells me she finds me appealing. “I love to go out. Do you go out? Where do you like to go?”
She speaks with soft vowels and extra syllables, the way Magnolia used to when she was new to the city, before her accent began to fade.
I lead Savannah from the living room to the master suite, pushing open double doors and pointing to the large windows on the far wall.
“This apartment has one master suite and a spare bedroom, which you could use as an office or a guest room or flex room.” I carefully ignore her question. It’s not the first time a client has tried to veer the conversation into a completely different direction, but I’m nothing if not professional.
“This is a really nice bedroom,” she drawls, snapping her gum.
When she smiles, there’s red lipstic
k on her teeth. If I knew her better, I’d tell her, but I don’t want to make her self-conscious. Magnolia once gave an entire presentation with a piece of pepper stuck to her front left tooth. I didn’t tell her because she was already elbows-deep in her exposition and everything was going well. My intention was to avoid throwing her off her game. She tore into me afterward, and from then on, we did “teeth checks” after every meal.
Savannah pouts. “I’m not sure if my king bed would fit in here.”
I’m not sure what a petite Georgian filly like her is doing with a king bed, but I don’t ask.
“Most of the apartments in this building are similarly sized. I can show you something else.”
“Well, I really like this area. I mean, if you say it’s a hot place to live . . .” She smiles, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger extra-tight. “I trust you, Xavier. You seem like a guy who knows the city really well, and I’m new here, so . . .”
“There’s another apartment two floors up.” I lead us out of the bedroom and down the hall, flipping the light on in the bathroom. “It’s slightly bigger than this one, but most of that square footage has been allocated to the main living areas. The view doesn’t compare to this one, and in my opinion, this apartment gets you more for your money.”
She giggles, batting her hand. “Money’s not an object. Daddy gave me a budget, but if I find something more to my liking, he won’t say no.”
Ah, she’s a Daddy’s girl.
Magnolia never was one of those. In fact, she didn’t trust a lot of men, and I wholeheartedly blame that on her father. The stories she’d tell, at least when she’d open up to me, weren’t the greatest.
I shake my head, scolding myself.
Stop comparing Savannah to Magnolia.
“If you like this one, we can certainly put in an offer,” I say. “This building is filling up quickly. All the units have been recently renovated. Many have been sold sight unseen.” I watch her examine the bathroom, her sky-high heels clicking on the intricate marble tile.
“I don’t know, Xavier,” she sighs, pronouncing my name Zayv-yer. Two syllables, not four.
“I like it and all,” she says, her face twisting as if she’s about to make some kind of life-altering decision when we both know damn well she’ll swap it out like she does shoes and purses the second she grows bored with it. “I think we should see some more places. This one just doesn’t feel like home.”
“Home is what you make it.” I flip the light on. “But of course, Savannah. I’ll show you as many places as you need.”
It’s my job.
“You’re the best.” She traipses after me, her hands clutching the tiny Gucci bag in her hands. “You’re sweeter than puddin’ pie!”
“My job, Savannah, is to ensure you find a place you love.”
The keys dangle in my hands as I show her out and lock the door behind us.
“Oh, my,” she says, clutching her gurgling stomach. “Guess I’m hungry. Want to get lunch? Are there any good places around here? It’d be a good chance for me to see the neighborhood.”
This girl is relentless. And smarter than she acts. Behind her Southern charm and grace and gentle giggles lies a girl on a mission.
“Yeah.” I rake my hand through my hair. If I take her to the Italian place on the corner with flowers and candles on every table, she’ll think it’s a date. If I take her to the deli up the road, she’ll think I’m cheap, which translates into unsuccessful, which can erode her confidence in my ability to find her the perfect place. “What are you hungry for?”
“Whatever you want is fine, Xavier.” She speaks like an experienced girlfriend.
I groan on the inside. She’s one of those eager to please, Silly Putty girls who bend and mold to shape my needs. Magnolia was never like that. She was always . . . Magnolia. And she made no apologies for it.
I need to get the fuck over Magnolia.
It’s over.
It’s done.
She’s not giving me a second chance or even the courtesy of letting me know what the hell I did to lose her in the first place.
“You like Italian?” I ask.
“Love it.” She jumps, rising on her toes as a smile fills her face. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 9
MAGNOLIA GRANTHAM
“YOU HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND?” Skylar Van Cleef walks past my office with Addison right behind her.
“You look rested.” Addison brings a coffee mug to her lips. Her skin is the perfect shade of goddess—bronze. St. Thomas must’ve been good to her. “I like that. Looks good on you.”
I pull in a heavy breath, as if I’m agreeing with them, and nod. I’m not sure how rested I could look. I haven’t slept a full night in days. “It was a very lovely weekend. Addison, your place is breathtaking.”
“We got lucky,” she says, taking another sip. “Wilder knew someone. It was a pocket listing. That place would’ve been snatched up in the first twenty-four if they listed it for what we paid.”
Skylar turns to Addison, batting her on the shoulder. “Don’t forget, Theo and I are borrowing it this weekend.”
“Hopefully, we’ll get to use the place sometime this month.” Addison winks at Skylar. Once upon a time, Skylar was her assistant. Then she worked her way up and married Wilder’s cousin along the way. Now they’re family. “Wilder was eager to get back to work. Ten days in St. Thomas without his laptop was too much for him.”
“You didn’t let him take his laptop?” I ask.
Addison grins, shaking her head. “Nope. This was a work-free vacation. He’s lucky I let him take his cellphone. I caught him checking his email a few times the first few days. Made him go cold turkey after that.”
Wilder is a ruthless businessman, commanding respect the instant he walks in the door. But he loves his wife more than anything. Addison comes before everything else, including their multimillion-dollar real estate empire.
“You’re good.” Skylar lifts her brows, picking at her pink polish. “I’m impressed. Theo would look at me like I had two heads if I made him take a technology hiatus.”
“Vacations are exceptions. You should try it this weekend,” Addison says before turning back to me. “So what all did you do in Montauk?”
I should’ve been prepared for this question. Guess I’ve been so preoccupied, it didn’t occur to me how I was going to answer it.
“Um,” I say. “I got there Friday, and someone else was there.”
I glance up at Addison. Her eyes crinkle.
“Xavier Fox,” I say with meticulous detail.
Skylar’s jaw falls. She didn’t know me two years ago, but she knows of Xavier, and she knows we had a falling out.
“How’d that happen?” Addison glances up at the ceiling. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry. Wilder must’ve lent out the house without telling me.”
“It’s fine. I still had a nice time.” I force a smile to cover the sick swirl in my belly. That gorgeous weekend in the Hamptons, the one that should’ve rejuvenated me and brought me back from the dead, left me consumed with confusion and tasting bitter melancholy instead. “He left on Saturday. I still had two whole days to myself.”
“Was he cordial?” Her chin tucks, her eyes softening. Wilder and Xavier are friends, and she knew something went down the second I left my partnership with Xavier and came running to her new agency. She never asked questions, though at the time, she was probably too excited to sign me on to care what happened.
“There were . . . moments.” I try to be as diplomatic as possible.
“Knowing him, I believe that.” Addison chuckles. “I’m so sorry about the mix-up. We’ll make it up to you, okay? Let me talk to Wilder, and we’ll find another weekend for you that is one hundred percent yours.”
I wave her away. “Don’t worry about it. Really.”
“Speak of the devil.” Addison pulls her phone out. “Wilder, hey.”
The second she walks away, Skylar rushes inside my offic
e and shuts the door. “Tell me everything.”
“I don’t feel like talking about it.” I shrug and face my computer, scanning my emails.
“Aw, come on.” Skylar sulks, plopping into a guest chair. “I know something happened between you two. You rarely talk about him unless it’s in the professional sense, and even then, your body gets all tense and your eyes get all squinty. Tell me. I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened. Then and now.”
I know Skylar, and I know she won’t leave until I tell her, and I don’t have the energy to keep protesting anyway.
“We used to be a team,” I say. “We worked for Bliss Agency’s Tribeca office.”
“Right. That much I already knew.”
“We were inseparable. Did everything together. Got close. Got a little too close after that.” I bury my head in my hands, inhaling through the break between my fingers. I lift my gaze to her. “We went to a national broker’s conference in Tallahassee. Something happened that weekend. I don’t know. It was different. He was tender with me. Instead of razzing me and throwing quick one-liners at me, he was quiet. He’d slip his arm around me. Order for me at dinner. Our dynamic shifted. I don’t think either of us realized it was happening until it was too late.”
“Too late?”
“We slept together that night. For the first time. In my hotel room.” My voice is weighted with tiny shreds of regret. If I could take back that moment in exchange for our friendship, I would.
“And?”
“It was amazing. It was everything anyone would want it to be. Intense. Passionate. Sweet.” I shake my head. “He told me that night that he’d been in love with me for years.”
“And you never knew?”
“Never.” I lock eyes with Sky. “All that time, I never allowed myself to make him an option. And when he told me how he felt, I realized I felt the same. I’d just been burying it over and over, deeper and deeper, until I could hardly feel it anymore. But after we made love, everything surfaced stronger than ever. I told him I loved him too.”
Skylar’s head tilts, her lips spreading into a sweet smile though her eyes offered sympathies.
Bitter Rivals: a novella Page 4
