Chapter 2
EBBA
“Shopping with you is dangerous.”
Whimsy, my brother’s girlfriend and former assistant, laughs as she sets her bags down on the kitchen island in my downtown Miami condo.
“The same can be said for shopping with you. I definitely didn’t need those Chanel sandals.”
“But they were so cute,” I argue, opening my fridge and grabbing us each a Ginger Ale. “And your favorite color.”
“I do love pink,” she sighs. “Thanks.” She takes the soda from me.
“I think I got some good options for Vegas.”
My best friend, Sabrina, is marrying the love of her life in three short weeks.
In one of those weeks, we’ll be in Vegas for a joint bachelor and bachelorette party.
None of us are too rowdy, not anymore at least, so I’m hoping that things will remain pretty lowkey.
But that didn’t stop me from splurging on some new clothes, shoes, and jewelry.
“You looked incredible in that hot pink sparkly dress. You better bring that one.”
“I did look good, didn’t I?” I don’t mean it in a conceited way, but that dress made me feel like an absolute bombshell. It hugged all my curves and made my breasts look at least two sizes bigger.
Peeking into the refrigerator once more, I frown and turn to Whimsy. “I forgot to get food again. Takeout?”
“I’ll never say no to—”
The door to my apartment opens and I groan when my twin brother makes an appearance.
“Elias,” I groan as he barrels inside and scoops Whimsy up. I never thought I would see the day my brother fell in love, but he fell hard for Whimsy and hasn’t even looked at another woman since. “We’re having a girls night.”
“But I’m lonely,” he says, kissing her. She laughs and wipes her gloss from his lips. “Can’t I join? We shared a womb! Surely this is nothing.”
“At least then I could kick you in the ribs,” I grumble. “You can stay, but you’re not to complain about our movie choice and you’re buying dinner.”
He grins in victory. “Deal.”
An hour and a half later the three of us settle on my couch to watch the new Jenna Holloway movie. She’s one of our favorite authors and currently on her third book to screen adaption. Each one has been superb, so I’m hopeful this one will be no different.
Whimsy and Elias cuddle together, and while I’m so happy for them both, I feel a sting of jealousy on my behalf.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone who made me smile the way Whimsy does at my brother.
Not since ... I refuse to think about him.
He’s firmly in my past and that’s where he’ll stay.
While I haven’t had the best luck with dating since him, it doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there for me. I just haven’t found them yet.
But I’m taking a break from dating after my last disaster a few months ago. The guy I was dating attacked Whimsy and me in Paris. It was terrifying and I’m still dealing with the residual trauma. It’s made me jumpier than usual.
The movie ends and I ease off the couch, wincing at the pain in my leg. An accident years ago has left me with a constant ache in the limb and lately there’s been more pain than usual.
“Are you okay?” Elias asks.
“Fine,” I grit out, reaching for the bedazzled cane I use from time to time.
My brother was with me when I had the bike accident, he ran for miles me with me in his arms to get back to the car and to a hospital.
Even though it was no one’s fault, I think he blames himself since it was his idea to go biking that day.
But it was a freak accident no one could’ve predicted.
It did end my career in dance, though, which was devastating at the time and still stings now and then.
“Ebba, if your leg is giving you trouble, I need to know. I can schedule you to see a doctor and maybe they can—”
“Can what?” I cut him off. “Take more CTs and MRIs and do more surgeries on ligaments and muscles that are already compromised. Pain is inevitable with something like this.” I gesture to the long scar. “There’s only so much they can do.”
He frowns, clearly not pleased with my response, but it’s true.
I’ve done everything I can do. I still do physical therapy online to help with pain levels and keeping the limb loose.
As hard as it is for some people to understand, sometimes pain is a part of your everyday life and you learn to live with it.
“You’ll tell me if you need help, won’t you?”
Scooping up the blanket I was using, I fold it and set it on the back of the couch. “Yeah, of course.”
It’s not a complete lie. If things ever progress to the point that it’s unbearable, I’ll be honest about that, but I’m managing. Using a mobility aid is new to me, but it’s been useful and I wish I had done it sooner.
Elias and Whimsy help me clean up our cups and snacks and wipe down the counters. My brother even pulls out the vacuum.
“You domesticated him,” I tell Whimsy. “I’m impressed.”
She laughs. “It’s only because Craig’s hair gets everywhere so we have to vacuum constantly.”
Whimsy’s adorable Persian cat has quickly become my brother’s favorite. I overheard him the other day begging Whimsy to bring the cat with them when the new ATP year kicks off in Australia.
Elias returns the vacuum to the closet I keep it stashed in and turns to us with his hands on his hips. “Why do I feel like you ladies are making fun of me?”
“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to mock,” I tease.
“You know you love me.” He ruffles the top of my head as he passes behind me for the refrigerator. He grabs a bottle of water and turns, swinging his arm around Whimsy’s shoulders. “Ready to go, Whim?”
She covers a yawn. “Yeah.” Shrugging off his hold, she crosses the few feet between us and wraps her arms around me in a hug. “I’ll make sure he stays at home next time,” she whispers.
“And I don’t want details on how you convince him to do that,” I tease.
“You two are definitely talking about me again,” Elias says, grabbing his hoodie off the rack by the door. We might live in Florida, but there’s still chilly days here and there, especially in December.
After hugging my brother goodbye, I lock up behind them and head to my bathroom for a long hot shower. When my bones are thoroughly warmed through, I hop out and tug my robe around me.
Padding out into the kitchen, I scour my cabinets for my favorite sleepy time tea.
“Come on,” I mutter. Surely, I have at least one packet stowed somewhere. I really should have gone to the grocery store this morning.
By some blessed miracle, I find a lone tea bag in the back of a drawer. I can’t guarantee it’s my favorite one, but it’s better than nothing.
When my tea is ready, I set the cup beside the bed and change into my pajamas before I burrow beneath the covers and turn the TV on.
The tea is just beginning to kick in when my phone rings.
I’m tempted to not reach for it, but I always worry that something might’ve happened to someone. I think my accident, and the pregnancy loss, made me paranoid when it comes to that sort of thing.
Sabrina’s name and a selfie of the two of us together fills the screen.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey,” she says, sounding slightly breathless.
“I know this is last minute, but my final dress fitting is scheduled for Friday, and I was wondering if you would come? I was going to ask Whimsy, too. I know it’s probably silly of me, but since my mom isn’t around for this kind of thing it’s nice to have my friends.
Don’t feel bad if you can’t, though, because Lucy and Alyssa will be there too.
But I just got to thinking about it and I know the final fitting isn’t a huge deal but—”
“Sabrina, please, for the sake of your lungs take a breath.” I laugh when she does just that. “If you want me there, then there’s no place I’d rather be and I can’t officially speak for Whimsy, but I’m sure she’d love to come too.”
“Oh, thank you, Ebba. You, or both of you, can stay at our place for a night or two so you don’t have to immediately fly back.”
“You’re welcome and I don’t want to be in your way.”
“You wouldn’t be. I promise.”
She gives me a few more details and promises to send a plane ticket—even though I insist I can pay for my own—and hangs up to call Whimsy.
It only hits me just as I’m about to fully fall asleep, that chances are I’m going to run into Fisher. Sure, I’ve seen him around plenty, but something about this feels different. Maybe since it’s not related to tennis.
I wish the thought of him didn’t haunt me like it does.
But it seems like there’s no moving on from Fisher Grant.