20. Parker #2
“I hadn’t. I was working for an entrepreneur, and she had me traveling to different sites she was considering doing business in. We ended up at the same club. Loud music, overpriced cocktails, questionable lighting. One of those nights.”
We both giggle like love-sick puppies on cue.
“But we didn’t exchange numbers,” she adds, shrugging. “Didn’t even know each other’s last names.”
“So what brought you back together?” Paul asks, pen hovering.
Adair tilts her head. “Fate, apparently. ”
I smile. “Palm Beach. We ran into each other at the hospital not too long ago. I remembered her first.”
“Because I was annoyed with him,” she says, shooting me a look. “He nearly ran me over with his cart in the ER hallway.”
“It wasn’t a cart,” I mutter. “It was a mobile ultrasound machine.”
“Same difference.”
She shoots me a side glance, the tiniest spark of irritation flashing in her eyes. “To be completely honest, I thought you were a bit arrogant,” she corrects smoothly.
“Most doctors are,” she says in a confidential tone to Paul. It’s meant to be funny, but I know she felt that way that day in the hospital. And it wasn’t in the romantic way.
I put a hand over my chest, feigning mock offense to cover my legitimate hurt feelings. “Arrogant? Really?”
Paul chuckles politely, but his gaze remains sharp. “And yet, here you are. Quite the turnaround.”
“Absolutely,” Adair says quickly, her smile wide and forced. “Once I realized it was an accident and got to know Parker, I realized he has this softer side. Beneath all the pomp and circumstance.”
I grin, trying to ease the tension. “And Adair's not as buttoned-up and biting as she seems. Once she loosens up a little, she's funny.”
Her laugh is brittle, but she rolls with it. “Guilty as charged.”
Paul chuckles under his breath. “And things picked up quickly from there?”
“Very,” I say, nodding. “Once we figured out who the other person was, it seemed inevitable.”
Adair leans in, a little more serious now. “You spend a year thinking about someone you only knew for one night, then they show up in your life again like no time passed, you’d be an idiot not to see it for what it is.”
Paul gives a slow nod, jotting something down. “Well, it sounds like you two have a solid foundation.”
I keep my expression calm, even as I track the slight pause before he speaks again.
Paul taps his pen once on the edge of the folder. “Now that you’re thinking about the future, where do you plan to live together? Here in Palm Beach, I assume? I know you were in LA before, Adair. What brought you to Palm Beach?"
“My cousin, Milo, who lived in Miami, loved Palm Beach. I came here on his suggestion and got a job with Bets Sterner and never left."
"Oh, nice. And you’ve been all over the last several years, Parker. Aren’t you originally from the Washington, DC area?”
I shift in my seat and lean back slightly, draping my arm along the back of Adair’s chair. “That’s correct. We’ve both bounced around a lot, but this place seems to have stuck for both of us.”
She nods, her smile warming. “Palm Beach has that weird coastal magic. I came for a pop-up event and never left. Lucky for me, I got a second chance with my husband here.”
She pats my knee almost a little too hard to hammer home her point.
Paul hums, glancing down at his notes again. “And you two live in the same building?”
“We do,” I say.
“Well—” Adair leans in with a grin, “—technically, we ran into each other again before either of us realized it. I didn’t know he lived next door until after we’d already reconnected. ”
I jump in. “What a coincidence, right? I’d bought the place around that time. Hadn’t fully moved in yet. It was interesting, to say the least, when we figured it out.”
She was right earlier. Sticking to the truth does make this easier. It's messy, which makes it more realistic. A few stretched details, a few well-timed glances, and boom—we’ve got ourselves a love story.
I turn back to Paul. “We’ve got adjoining units. Right now, we float between them. Haven’t decided yet what to do with the extra one. I’m pushing for renting it out, but for now, we’re a package deal. As a unit.”
Adair shrugs like it’s no big deal. “We share one kitchen, one bed, and both closets. Mostly because Parker refuses to get rid of his college hoodies, and I needed more room for shoes.”
Paul’s mouth twitches—somewhere between a smirk and a red flag. “So you’re keeping both condos?”
“We are,” I say, steady. “For now. Hers makes a better office. Mine has the bigger kitchen. She cooks, I clean.”
“Sometimes,” she mutters under her breath, not missing a beat.
Paul glances between us. I catch a flicker of calculation in his eyes. We’re being assessed, catalogued. Maybe the earlier fight helped. The tension between us isn’t an act. And that makes this whole thing seem less like a performance, more like a relationship with layers.
“We spent half the night arguing about whose bed to keep,” Adair adds, eyes dancing enough to look in love. “Mine won. Obviously.”
“Because I value my spine,” I say, and she laughs—real, soft, and warm.
Paul leans in slightly. “So the plan is...?”
“To keep doing what’s working,” I say. “We’re not rushing to consolidate addresses to check a box. We’re focused on the relationship.”
“Exactly,” Adair says, slipping her hand into mine, and this time she squeezes it, like we’ve done it a thousand times.
Paul closes his folder. “My job’s usually to make sure claims like this don’t fall apart when money’s on the table. I’ve seen a lot of creative arrangements.”
He studies us. “But you two?” He glances at our hands. “You don’t give me the usual warning signs.”
Adair grins. “That’s good. Because we're in it for the long haul.” She looks at me right on cue and smiles.
“We knew it immediately, the second time, of course,” she continues.
Paul gives us a long, assessing look before closing his portfolio. “Well, I appreciate you both taking the time to meet with me tonight. Anders will want to hear all about our conversations.”
Adair and I look at each other, and I see the tension in her shoulders ease slightly as Paul rises from his seat.
“We’ll keep in touch,” he says, extending a hand to each of us.
“Of course,” I say, shaking his hand firmly. “Looking forward to it.”
Adair nods, her smile tight. “Thank you, Paul. Have a great evening.”
As Paul walks away, Adair slumps back in her chair with a dramatic sigh. “Well. That was the most acting I’ve done since I pretended not to hate you on the way in.”
She glances sideways at me, one brow arched. “Think we convinced him? Or do I need to jump you right here and now to sell it?”
“You’re not getting any of this. You contradicted me. Twice. ”
I hold up my hands. “Hey, you’re the one who leaned into the juice-selling bit. I was trying to keep it vague.”
She groans. “We hadn’t agreed to full honesty. You have a terrible memory.”
“Or maybe you’re rewriting history to make yourself look better.”
She huffs, but doesn't argue. Just leans on the table and buries her face in her hands. “Okay, that might be a fair assessment.”
I glance toward the exit, where Paul is disappearing into the crowd like some kind of mild-mannered executioner.
“He seemed okay, I guess. Suspicious, maybe. But not enough to call bullshit.”
“Right,” she says quietly, lifting her head. “But people like him never show their hand until it’s too late.”
That chills me more than it should. I nod slowly, watching the doors swing shut behind him.
"It’s out of our hands now."
Adair mutters, “Five months and nineteen days. Maybe they’ll decide before that.”
I don’t answer. Because for the first time, I don’t know if I want this to end early… or at all.