Chapter 4
When we exit the office,the vibrant sounds of the city at lunchtime surround us. The bistro, conveniently close to both our office and my penthouse, suddenly seems less welcoming—almost as if it’s the setting for an unwelcome event rather than my home. I push my hands into my pockets and slump my shoulders, moving forward with a sense of resignation. “Knowing our luck, we might’ve run out of ideas by now,” I grumble, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Max throws an arm around my shoulders, steering me down the sidewalk. His grip is firm, grounding, and I find myself leaning into the comfort of his presence. “Ah, come on,” he says, his voice light and teasing. “We’re two reasonably intelligent, occasionally adult-like individuals. We’ll concoct a plan with such cunning and deceit, it’ll make Machiavelli look like a choirboy.”
I snort, because that’s exactly what we’ve done through the years. Plan, execute, and get away with whatever we want.
We weave through the lunchtime crowd, the city’s pulse momentarily distracting me from the disaster at hand. The bustling energy of the streets, the snippets of conversation floating by, the honking of impatient drivers—it all blends together into a comforting sort of white noise. For a moment, I let myself get lost in it, my mind drifting away from the impending doom of my parents’ visit.
The bistro materializes ahead, quaint and inviting, its aroma wafting out to greet us like an old friend. The scent of freshly baked bread and savory spices makes my stomach growl, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
As we claim our usual table, the gentle clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversation create a backdrop to our plotting. I sink into my chair, my leg bouncing nervously under the table. Max flags down a waiter and orders us both the house special without consulting the menu—or me, for that matter. It’s usually some sandwich with a side.
“So,” he begins, folding his arms on the table. His expression turns serious, his brow furrowing in thought. “Illness is too cliché, and a sudden business trip is too suspect. You need something believable . . . yet tragic. Like discovering you’re the long-lost prince of a small, war-torn country.”
“It’ll be more believable if we say I’m going to save the prince.”
He shakes his head. “We need more than that. Your girlfriend was kidnapped in the middle of a jungle.”
I raise an eyebrow, my lips twitching with amusement despite myself. “And the Oscar for best screenplay goes to . . .”
“Hey, desperate times, man.” Max grins, but his eyes are sharp, analytical. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to come up with a solution. “We need something plausible. What if . . . what if you’ve taken up a noble cause? Something so urgent and time-consuming, your parents couldn’t possibly intrude.”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Like what?” I ask, my voice skeptical. “Saving the whales? Building a new firehouse downtown?”
Max snaps his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “That’s it,” he says, his voice excited. “You’ve joined a volunteer organization. Something that requires all your free time and energy. You’ll be traveling over the weekends to help. Your parents can’t possibly fault you for that.”
As I consider the idea, I find myself nodding slowly. It’s not half-bad, actually. My parents have always been big on giving back to the community. They might actually buy it.
“Okay,” I say, drawing out the word as I mull it over. “That could work. But what kind of volunteer organization? It has to be something believable.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, my brow furrowed in thought.
Just as Max opens his mouth to respond, the chime of the bistro’s entrance bell interrupts us. Two women walk in, and one of them drags my attention. She walks toward the table nearby and it is as if the room itself exhales, adjusting to accommodate her presence.
Her dark hair cascades in gentle waves, catching the soft lighting in a way that creates an ethereal glow around her, as if she’s been touched by an angel’s grace. She moves with an elegance that’s captivating, her steps measured with poise, commanding the space around her without a word.
Her features are harmonious, a natural balance that doesn’t scream for notice yet is undeniably charming.
Her eyes, expressive and inviting, carry a spark of intelligence and warmth, making it easy to imagine losing hours in conversation with her. The softness of her cheeks, complemented by the natural light, adds to her approachable vibe, while her smile, slight but genuine.
She’s probably one of those women who always looks at everything in a positive light.
I can’t seem to stop watching her, my gaze lingering on her every move. My heart races, and I feel a flutter in my stomach, a mix of excitement and nervousness. I wonder what it would be like to talk to her, to hear her voice and learn more about the person behind the enchanting exterior. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, but I can’t shake the feeling that this woman could be someone special.
As I continue to watch her, lost in my thoughts, the waiter arrives at our table, placing our food in front of us. The aroma of my grilled chicken sandwich wafts up, making my stomach growl in anticipation, momentarily pulling me back to reality.
I’m about to take a bite when suddenly, a burst of laughter from the nearby table breaks through, catching my attention. I pause, sandwich halfway to my mouth, and tilt my head slightly to listen to the conversation next to me.
“Trust me, Zoe, everything”s going to be okay,” the beautiful woman assures her companion with a steady voice.
“You cannot hit up these men you haven’t seen in years with a fucking photo album for them to sign,” her companion’s, Zoe presumably, incredulous reply is tinged with amusement. “Lily, are you for real?”
Lily bursts into laughter, the sound bright and carefree. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
Intrigued, I glance up, feigning interest in the chalkboard menu behind her, but really, I’m all ears now. The bistro fades into soft focus, the aromatic scent of freshly baked bread giving way to the intriguing spectacle unfolding beside me.
“I’m visiting each and every one of them,” Lily announces. “It’s time to find out where I went wrong—or right.” Her tone is playful, but I can sense a steely resolve beneath her words, and I find myself intrigued.
Max and I glance at each other, our eyebrows raised in silent communication. We both frown, our attention fully captured by the conversation at the next table.
“You should not be going alone,” Zoe insists, her tone serious. “I wish I could join you in your ex-quest, but . . . some of us have to work.” There’s a hint of regret in her voice, but it’s overshadowed by concern for her friend.
I take a bite of my sandwich, chewing slowly as I listen. The combination of tender chicken, crisp lettuce, and tangy mustard is a welcome distraction from my own problems, but I can’t shake the feeling that this overheard conversation is about to take an interesting turn.
Max leans in, his voice low. “Is she seriously going to track down her exes? With a photo album?” He shakes his head, a bemused grin tugging at his lips. “That’s either the bravest or the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I nod, my own lips twitching with amusement. “Maybe a little of both,” I murmur, my eyes still fixed on the women. “But you’ve got to admire her guts.”
Lily leans back in her chair, a wistful smile on her face. “I’m between projects, but if anything, I can work while on the road,” she says, her voice filled with excitement. “First stop, Brian. Remember him? High school sweetheart turned PE teacher?” she continues, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
“A PE teacher . . . you hated PE, why would you want to reconnect with him?” Zoe snickers, rolling her eyes. “But sure, take a trip down memory lane. Don’t listen to your older sister.”
“You could at least pretend to be happy for me, be a little more positive,” Lily says. “I need to reconnect with my past to understand my future.”
Zoe sighs, shaking her head. “You let Cleo get in your head,” she says, her tone a mix of exasperation and concern.
“Can you blame me?” She protests. “If I don’t find someone who is worth bringing to the wedding, I’m stuck with the pervert, womanizer . . . What else has she said about him?”
“Self-centered?” Zoe asks and somehow it seems like this quest is a lot more than just wanting to reconnect with the past but run away from her family.
I’m not judging her. This is exactly why I’m here searching for a solution to my problems. Max and I smirk as we listen to their conversation. Apparently, Lily and Zoe are sisters—along with Cleo. I frown because the names sound familiar.
Glancing at the two women one more time I realize I’ve seen them before.
“Dom’s new family?” I mumble.
Max shrugs. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I think those are Cleo’s sisters.”
He nods. “They are, you just heard them say that.”
“Cleo, Dominique’s fiancée,” I clarify.”
“And she’s trying to avoid her family,” Max says, rubbing his chin. “Interesting. We should stop Lily from doing something stupid or . . .”
“No.” I stop him. “We’re not intervening. I’m trying to stay away from my family, remember?”
We continue listening to the plan and the laid-out roadmap through her past romances. It’s both intriguing and unsettling, this nonchalant approach to something so personal. But there’s something about this woman’s plan that catches me. I find myself leaning forward, my sandwich forgotten as I strain to hear more.
It sounds a lot better than my plan to pretend my temporary demise while my parents are visiting. I’m not sure how I’ll make my comeback, but we can make shit up—we always do. My mind starts to whir with possibilities, the gears turning as I consider this unexpected inspiration.
“Best of luck, Carmen San Diego of the dating world,” Zoe says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Thanks, but I doubt I’ll need it.” Lily’s reply is bright and cheerful, seemingly oblivious to her sister’s skepticism.
“I was being sarcastic,” Zoe says, annoyed. “This is the worst idea ever.”
Max leans forward, mumbling so no one can hear us. “You should do it.”
I blink. “Do what exactly?” I ask, matching his tone.
He tilts his chin toward the table close by, a grin spreading across his face. “We own a security company—you could take really good care of her on the road.”
I stare at him, my mouth falling open in shock. “Are you insane?” I hiss, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. “You want me to what, stalk Cleo’s little sister across the country while she reconnects with her exes? That’s too fucking creepy.”
Max shrugs, his grin widening. “Think about it, man. It’s the perfect cover. Your parents can’t possibly object to you taking on a new client, especially one who needs personal protection—bonus points, she’s about to become family.”
I shake my head. “No way. I can’t stand my sister in-law. What if she’s like her?”
He scoffs. “What if she’s the total opposite? The point is that you’re helping your family and yourself.”
I shake my head, my mind reeling. It’s a crazy idea, completely insane. But even as I try to dismiss it, I can’t help but think this might be my only chance to get away for a few weeks. The thought of hitting the road, of escaping my problems and my parents, even for a little while, is tempting. And if I can help someone else in the process, well, that’s just a bonus.
I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. “Okay,” I say slowly, meeting Max’s gaze. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that I agree to this insanity. How do we even approach her? We can’t just walk up and offer our services out of the blue.”
Just as I’m about to answer, Lily says, “Nothing you say will stop me, Zo. It’s a done deal. I just need to figure out a few details.” There’s a hint of vulnerability in her voice that makes me see her. Really see her.
She’s not just a woman with a wild idea; she’s someone taking a leap into the unknown, hoping to land somewhere meaningful. And as I sit here, trying to avoid my family, all I want to do is jump into it too. My heart races at the thought, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through my veins.
“Do it,” Max presses.
I hate to admit that I’m a lot like my parents and would never chase whimsy, but there’s a lot about her idea that makes me think I should go with her.
Wait, why am I even considering this? It’s none of my business, and yet . . . I can’t shake the feeling that this is exactly what I need right now.
“Demoiselle in distress and all,” Max continues, his voice low and persuasive. “You can’t just let this go, and it gives you time to be away from home—while they are here.”
I shake my head, my jaw clenching. “No,” I insist, my voice firm.
“You know it’s perfect.” Max leans back in his chair, a smug grin on his face.
“It’s stupid,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
Max throws his hands up in irritation. “We’ve always done stupid shit, why stop now?” he asks, his eyebrows raised in challenge.
I sigh, my mind whirling with the possibilities. On the one hand, this is completely insane. I don’t even know this woman, and the idea of hitting the road with her on some wild ex-boyfriend chase is beyond ridiculous. But on the other hand . . .
“Ah, screw it,” I mutter under my breath.
I stand, smoothing out the non-existent creases in my pants. Maybe, just maybe, this is the kind of thing I need right now. A crazy chick who’s trying to figure out her past, the open road, and my ass far away from this city. It’s a tempting combination, and I find myself taking a step toward her table before I can talk myself out of it.
“Atta boy,” Max mumbles, and I flip him the finger discreetly as I approach the women.
I have no idea what I’m going to say, no clue how to even begin this conversation. But as I look at Lily, at the determined set of her jaw and the spark of adventure in her eyes, I find myself wanting to be a part of whatever crazy journey she’s about to embark on.
“Excuse me,” I say, my voice sounding surprisingly steady to my own ears. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, and I think I might be able to help with your travel plans.”
Lily looks up at me, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh?” she says, her voice curious. “Help with what?”
“Your trip.”
“Were you listening to my conversation?”
I freeze, my mind going blank. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I realize just how awkward this situation is. I’m about to stammer out an apology and make a hasty retreat when Max appears at my side, a grin on his face.
“Sheesh, Ethan, didn’t your mother teach you not to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations?” he says, patting my back with a little too much force.
I grit my teeth, shooting him a glare that promises retribution. He’s a dead man, and he knows it.