Chapter Five
FIVE
HAILEY’S DAILY RULE FOR SUCCESS:
When in doubt, pro/con it out.
I sit at my desk far too early the next morning, clutching an espresso like a life raft. The document open on my laptop is labeled “Pros/Cons of messing with my ex’s personal life.”
Pro/conning is a simple yet effective exercise I have all my clients do when making major decisions.
If the pro list outnumbers the con list, they’re reassured that the advice I’ve offered is in line with what they hope to achieve and they go for it. Of course, the weight on both sides of the pro/con equation needs to be balanced. Reasonings for a decision can’t be less impactful than the ones against, making them superfluous, just as the reasons against can’t be intangible things like fear.
The blinking cursor on my laptop screen waits for me to add something to the con side. The pro side is filling in quite effortlessly:
Stop Liam from heartache.
Obviously, the main objective.
Stop Liam from damaging his career.
Also a big one.
Help Liam and Sonia save money.
Weddings are ridiculously expensive.
Ensure extended family aren’t collateral damage in the eventual breakup.
I know firsthand the loss of the family unit can be as heartbreaking as the loss of the relationship.
Liam will be single and available again.
I sigh and delete the last one. That would be more for my benefit than his. I need to remain a neutral third party and besides, that glimpse means I’m no longer emotionally invested in a future with Liam. Seeing him again after so long and the nostalgic feelings of once being head over heels in love with him had clouded my judgment temporarily. What Liam and I had is firmly in the past. Now I just want to help in the most platonic sense.
I click on the con side and think. Why shouldn’t I interfere?
It’s none of my business.
Since when have I ever let that stop me? I delete the con. It’s circumstantial, not based on fact.
I pause and think. There have to be other downsides...
If I’m caught sabotaging, Liam will stop speaking to me.
Again, seems more about what I have at risk. I delete it.
I need at least one. Otherwise, it feels like I haven’t tried hard enough. I always tell my clients that no matter how fantastic an idea is or how positive it seems, there is always a downside and if it’s not acknowledged and explored early, it will no doubt be the thing that resurfaces to bite them in the ass.
Think, Hailey, think.
I tap my fingers on the desk and really dig deep. Why should I allow Liam to marry a beautiful, sweet, thoughtful heiress despite the inevitable disastrous outcome? Why is it better to sit back and be a silent observer in this volcano bubbling to the surface that will eventually erupt? Why would it be better to pretend I’m in complete support of this union, even though I know it won’t work out?
All that’s coming to mind is why would anyone do that?
I need to think of it a different way. What good comes from failure? What is learned?
I got it! I sit forward and type...
Liam may not grow as a person if he avoids deep sorrow and regret. He may not learn from the life lesson this experience will provide.
I smile. There. No one could argue that’s not a big one. Actually, that’s technically two. I break the bullet points apart and count.
Four pros, two cons.
After much deliberation and sincere soul-searching, guess I have my answer.
Let Operation Breakup commence.
But first, I delete the document. You never—ever—keep the list, because as I remind my clients—things did not end well for Ross Geller.
Is it fair to say I’m taking out my hangover on the team? Absolutely, but they’ll be better players for it.
Sunglasses on, head throbbing and feeling like death, I stand at the edge of the football field. Going to Hailey’s party last night had succeeded in pissing her off and ensuring Sonia’s safety, but the after-party drinks at Deek’s with the happy couple had been a bad idea. Getting home after three and getting up at dawn to submit my final course paper before practice has me feeling my age.
I grab the whistle around my neck and blow three consecutive toots, then wince as the piercing sound hurts my brain. I wave a hand in the air, motioning for my eleven senior players to start the drill again.
Grumbles and profanity all around.
“Come on, Coach, it’s like a hundred degrees out here,” Marcus says, removing his helmet and pushing sweaty dark blond hair away from his forehead.
It actually is almost a hundred degrees out here. This spring has to be breaking heat records and the humidity is not helping my nausea. I could use five minutes in the shade.
“Five-minute break!” I yell to the team.
The teens rush off the field to get hydrated and I wave Marcus toward me. He grabs his water bottle and takes a swig as he approaches.
“What’s up with you? You’re slacking out there.”
“Could say the same to you. Looking kinda rough today, Coach,” he says.
“I’m not the one who has to impress scouts next month.” I haven’t had to impress anyone with my on-the-field skills in two years. Not sure I could anymore. The career of a professional athlete is even more fleeting than youth. Two years out of the game, I’ve gone soft—too slow, too uncoordinated, too unmotivated and I hate the nagging thought that maybe this would be where I am now anyway even if it weren’t for Hailey’s destruction.
“What’s going on?” I ask Marcus.
“Late night, that’s all,” he says and what I hear very clearly is “get off my ass.”
Not going to happen. My job as his coach is to push him even harder when I know he’s not living up to his full potential. He entrusted me with that power when he signed up for my team. I peer at him. “Drinking?”
“Nah, Coach.” He sighs and lowers his voice so his teammates won’t hear. “Mom was working a late shift. Stayed up to meet her and walk her home.”
“What’s wrong with her car?”
He stares at the ground. “Crapped out.”
I sigh and nod, lowering my voice. “Okay, well, call me next time, okay?”
Marcus nods, but I know he won’t. I tap his shoulder and he hurries off toward his teammates.
I respect the hell out of him for his commitment to taking care of his mom, even if I know it’s not helping his own future. Internal turmoil, external pressure, and every day not spent on this field is weighing on him and I’d like to help relieve some of that burden, but it’s not my place. All I can do is hope people are right when they say tough times build character.
I reach for my bottle of Gatorade, take a swig, then nearly choke on it as I see Hailey walking across the field toward me, carrying two coffees. She’s dressed in professional clothing—a slim-fitting pencil skirt and a loose blouse that blows casually in the wind to reveal just a hint of a lacy bra underneath. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, but several strands have come loose and fly across her face in the breeze. Completing the look are sky-high strappy heels. She looks like she stepped from the pages of Forbes magazine—despite this sweltering heat, she’s not wilting one little bit. I glance at my sweat-covered shirt and quickly do an armpit smell check as she strides toward me...
...then stumbles on the grass. Coffee sloshes out of the cup as she quickly regains footing.
Underneath it all, still the same klutzy Hailey Harris from high school.
I hide a grin as I fold my arms across my chest and keep my gaze on the field as she stops next to me. “Aren’t you afraid of ruining your shoes?”
“It’s okay, I’ve worn these twice already,” she says sarcastically.
I raise an eyebrow beneath my sunglasses. Up close, she’s even more perky and polished. No sign of a hangover. I saw her consume copious amounts of champagne the night before—not that I was watching her, she just has an annoying way of drawing my eye. And after the exchange I witnessed between her and Liam, I was keeping an eye on things, so I don’t know how she’s so lively this morning.
“What do you want?” I ask when the reason she’s here isn’t immediately forthcoming.
Hailey extends a coffee cup. “Brought you a coffee.”
With or without arsenic? “Why?”
She sighs at my suspicion. “Look, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I thought it was time to kiss and make up.”
I ignore the outstretched cup, despite the tempting scent of caffeine escaping from it. “I’ll assume you mean figuratively.”
“Obvs. Come on, Warren, our friend is getting married. Things don’t have to be awkward,” she says as though I’m the one being petty.
“I’m not awkward. And he’s my friend. Your ex.” Why they still talk I don’t know. A breakup by definition means to break apart. They should be staying far apart, not pretending their history doesn’t matter. This never works out...in my limited relationship experience. I can’t shake the interaction between them the night before or my gut reaction to it.
But damn it, the coffee smells too good. I snatch a cup from Hailey and gulp, burning my mouth.
“Be careful, I asked for extra hot.”
The warning comes a little late and I shoot her an annoyed look. She can’t even pull off a truce gesture without fucking it up.
“Look, even though Liam and I are not together anymore, I still care about him and I’m worried.” She pauses. “Does he seem happy to you?”
I turn to her and lower my sunglasses. “Happier than he’s ever been,” I say pointedly.
Her face twists into this mix of annoyance and a hurtful pout and damn if it isn’t the most adorable expression I’ve ever seen. The thing about Hailey is she doesn’t hide emotion. Happy, sad, frustrated, confident, or pouty, it’s on display. I find it irritatingly refreshing that I always know what she’s thinking, feeling, and where I stand with her at any given moment.
I’ve never experienced that with a woman before.
Not that I see Hailey as a woman in the datable sense. More like a walking red flag of what to avoid, but the transparency is something I wish for with the other women I date. Not having to be a mind reader would make the whole dating scene a lot easier. Although, truthfully, my ego probably couldn’t handle what women were actually thinking of me.
“But isn’t this whole wedding thing a little sudden?” she asks, sounding genuinely concerned.
There’s an ulterior motive.
Sure, when Liam first told me he’d proposed to a woman he’d known less than a year, I was a little nervous, but having met Sonia, I can understand. And they say “you know when you know.” I don’t expect to ever get that kind of clarity, but it’s the catchphrase for all lovesick fools.
“What’s your problem with Sonia?” I ask. Besides the obvious—she’s competition.
“Nothing! She’s amazing,” she says quickly and it sounds like she means it. “But Liam always wanted New York and skyscrapers and to make a difference with his architectural designs limiting environmental impacts—not luxury resorts. His plan was never to stay in California.”
Ah. “You mean his plan was never to stay for you .”
Hailey pouts again and damn, her mouth looks better in that position than any other. Maybe we should actually kiss and make up...
“This isn’t about me,” she says.
Ha! Since when? “Sure, it is. You thought you were getting a second chance when he came back. The reality is Liam has moved on. Don’t mess this up for him.”
Hailey rolls her eyes and scoffs. “How on earth could I mess this up?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a gift you have,” I say and notice that the team are staring at us from across the field. I can hear their dirty teenage minds at work as they grin and check out Hailey.
I check my watch and call them in. “That’s it for today, guys! It’s hot as hell—go cool off. See you all on Tuesday.”
They all looked thrilled by the practice being cut short and start casually tossing around the football and play tackling one another.
Sure, now they’ve got energy.
I turn to Hailey as the teens mess around on the field. “As much as it’s been a pleasure seeing you three times in one week, I gotta go.”
“Who’s the lucky lady about to be left disillusioned and disappointed?”
Ah, there we go. Back to insults. It’s a relief to have the universe’s balance restored. “Actually, I’m meeting the perfect couple for lunch.”
I bend to gather my things and out of the corner of my eye I see it...but I’m too late with a warning.
A football flies through the air, sailing straight toward the side of Hailey’s head. As if in slow motion, I see Marcus run and dive...
He catches the ball just before it hits her but bodychecks her straight off her feet in the process.
Shit.
I move toward her limp, flailed body on the grass. Her coffee cup was luckily launched three feet away otherwise she’d probably have third-degree burns. Her eyes are closed and her face is slack.
“I think she’s dead,” Marcus says, holding the ball under his arm.
“She’s not dead. She’s dramatic,” I say, gently kicking her outstretched arm. “Hailstorm, get up.”
Marcus shoots me a look at the insensitivity, then bends next to her. He shakes her shoulder gently. “Hey, lady. You good?”
Hailey’s eyes flutter open. She blinks several times toward the sky, then sits up slowly.
Marcus looks relieved. “Shit, sorry ’bout that.” He stands and extends a hand to help her up.
Hailey reluctantly accepts it as she gets to her feet. She still looks slightly dazed as she stands there, almost in a haze-like state, but then she drops Marcus’s hand as though she’s been torched. Her expression is suddenly one of conflict and...fear? She takes several steps back.
“You cool?” Marcus asks her.
“Fine,” she stammers awkwardly. She stares at him for a long beat, an odd look on her face. “Um...stay out of trouble,” she finally mumbles.
“O-kay,” Marcus says slowly, then hurries off across the field.
Hailey watches him with a seriously weird expression on her face and I study her. “If you’re thinking about pressing assault charges, the ball would have done a hell of a lot more damage if he hadn’t caught it. That thing was going like sixty clicks.”
She finally turns to look at me and shakes her head quickly. “No...yeah, um...okay,” she says rambling and incoherent.
Maybe she did actually die for a moment.
A rare moment of concern for her strikes and I move a step closer. I peer into her eyes for any sign of concussion. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” she says brusquely. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she asks, and my spidey senses tell me this won’t be the last of her I see today.
Inside my sweltering vehicle, I struggle to shake off what just happened. Not the body-check that nearly knocked my soul free of my body, but the glimpse I’d had of that kid’s future when he helped me to my feet.
Correction: Glimpses. Plural.
That alternate universe thing has never happened to me before—maybe it’s because I try to avoid glimpsing the future of anyone under twenty-one, or maybe because all my senses had been rocked, or maybe it was because his future is still undefined, but I’d seen two variable futures for this kid. One fantastic. One not so much.
I wonder if Warren knows...
He climbs into his Jeep across the gravel lot and when he pulls into traffic, I follow close in my convertible.
What would I even say to him? He’d never believe me anyway.
I struggle with the moral dilemma as I follow him. The kid could obviously use some guidance, but I don’t take on minors for good reason and the dual glimpse has me freaked out. I’m hoping it’s a one-time occurrence, so I shake it off and focus on keeping Warren’s Jeep in sight through the traffic.
Right now, I have enough to deal with. One problem at a time.
I’ve decided meddling is the right course of action, but Liam and I aren’t all that close anymore. After my party the other night, who knows when we’ll see one another again. Now that he’s engaged, hanging out with me is probably last on his agenda. Sonia likes me, but let’s be real—no woman truly loves the idea of her fiancé being besties with his ex. So, getting on the inside to stop his wedding poses a bit of a challenge. I was hoping with Warren on my side, he could help me talk sense into Liam...but apparently he’s team Sonia.
No surprise there.
At my party, the two of them had danced and laughed the night away. Not that I was watching, but Warren’s annoyingly loud laugh seemed to fill my yard, and there was no escaping him. He seemed to be keeping an eye on me . Anytime I was near Liam or Sonia, he was there too—like a shadow. It was difficult to get a read on the couple with Warren so close.
To say my game had been thrown off after my glimpse into Liam’s future would be an understatement. I totally neglected the other potential clients in attendance. At least I’d verbally signed Alisha before everything went to shit.
A few moments later, Warren’s Jeep pulls into the parking lot of Malibu Moon, so I pull my convertible into a space several feet away. I see him remove his T-shirt and my mouth dries slightly at the sight of his tanned, muscular body. So, the forearms aren’t the only noteworthy feature. He may not be a pro-athlete anymore, but his body sure as hell didn’t get the memo. I eye the toned chest, wide shoulders, and the six-pack abs—it’s easy to see why women could overlook his personality. He reaches into a bag for a new shirt and puts it on, then he gets out and goes inside.
I wait a second before doing the same.
Inside the hip café full of Gen Z ordering elaborate drinks over blaring pop music, I see Warren slide into a booth across from Liam and Sonia.
I pretend to scan the drink menu at the counter, then casually glance around. I “spot” the group and approach the table.
“Hey, friends! What a coincidence!”
His arm draped against the back of the plush booth seat, Warren sighs as he glares up at me. “Did you follow me?”
I scoff laugh at the ridiculous—true—suggestion. “Don’t flatter yourself. Needed a caffeine fix after my coffee got knocked out of my hand by a wild ball,” I say tightly.
“Well, if you hadn’t been standing in the way, it wouldn’t have happened,” he counters.
Across the booth, Sonia looks mildly amused by our heated exchange, as though she senses chemistry. She’s totally, a hundred percent wrong, but I can’t even be bothered to entertain the thought right now—I’m on a mission. I need to get myself invited to this lunch.
Liam looks back and forth between us. “What’s going on?”
“Hailey’s suddenly obsessed with me,” Warren tells them.
My mouth gapes. “Hardly.”
“Hailey, why don’t you join us?” Sonia says politely, gesturing for me to have a seat next to Warren.
That was easy—thank you, Sonia. You may be an ally in your own demise yet.
A stunning ally. She’s wearing another pale-colored sundress that accentuates her tanned skin to perfection. Fresh-faced, hair in a messy bun, her casual Sunday brunch look is arguably her best look. I bet her messy bun is actually a messy pulled-together look and not the twenty-minute exercise mine was.
“Oh, I’m sure Hailey’s rushing off to a meeting with a client. No rest for the wicked,” Warren says, sending me a look that says “beat it.”
I refuse to let him throw me off course. If he won’t help me save Liam from making the biggest mistake of his life, then I’ll find a way to do it on my own. “Actually I am...but I have a few minutes.”
I motion for Warren to slide further into the booth. He begrudgingly moves less than an inch. I sigh and place half an ass cheek on the edge of the seat, struggling not to fall out. I place my forearms on the table and lean forward, my thighs burning in the half squat position. I hide my pain as I smile brightly. “So...what were we talking about?”
“Warren has generously offered to throw us an engagement party,” Sonia says excitedly, wrapping one arm through Liam’s and cuddling closer. The two share a look of love that if I didn’t know better, I’d swear was the real deal.
But I do know better. They may seem happy now, but it won’t last.
I frown, turning to Warren. “You’re hosting an engagement party?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Mister ‘I hate all things commitment’?”
Warren swings toward me and I nearly fall out of the booth. “For the last bloody time—yes! Isn’t your business built on you being a good listener?” His gaze burns into mine.
I glare back at him. Damn, his eyes are really blue and the color seems to intensify when he’s all charged up like this. Do other people have this effect on him or am I the only one? He’s usually so chill and yet, I seem to be particularly skilled at bringing out this version of him. Should I take it as a compliment?
As our gazes lock for far too long, something in his expression changes and while I can’t define it, I’m definitely uneasy enough to be the first to look away.
He may have won this silent battle of wills, but he won’t win the war.
I turn my attention to Sonia and Liam. “Why don’t I help him?”
“No thanks,” Warren says.
I ignore him and continue my pitch to the couple. “We can host it at my place.”
Across from me, Sonia’s face lights up.
“I have a house,” Warren says.
“A sad and pathetic smelly man cave doesn’t exactly scream happily ever after,” I say with a wild, dismissive wave that nearly smacks him on the cheek. It forces him to slide in a little further and I take the opportunity to move in a bit more. “My place is...”
“Over-the-top, like you.” Warren turns toward me and for what feels like the millionth time, we square off. I grip the edge of the table so as not to fall out of the booth, refusing to back down.
“Why? Because I have matching dishes and don’t use a Ping-Pong table as a dining room set?”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Sonia sending Liam a worried look.
“I’m sure she’s kidding,” he whispers in reassurance.
“It’s called multipurpose furniture,” Warren says to me.
“Okay, maybe not,” Liam whispers to Sonia.
“It’s called cheap and sophomoric,” I tell Warren.
Another sizzling stare down. I wonder what it would be like to spend five minutes with Warren when we weren’t bickering. Probably not as exciting.
Sonia squeezes Liam’s arm. “We think it’s a good idea,” he says quickly. “It will be a great way for you two to figure out how to get along before the wedding.”
“Fantastic,” Warren mumbles, knowing I’ve won this one.
“Fantastic,” I say with a beaming smile, because well, I won.
Though moments later it’s tough to keep the smile plastered on as Sonia recounts the story of how she and Liam met.
“There I was soaking wet on the side of the street, when this taxi stops and Liam rolls down the window and offers to share his ride,” she says.
I lean my elbows on the table, my thighs completely numb by now, and look completely engrossed in the romantic meet-cute story.
Liam stares lovingly down at Sonia. “What could I do? Couldn’t leave her out in the downpour.”
“Only turns out we were heading in different directions,” Sonia says as though it’s the cleverest twist of fate ever.
“Obviously, I missed my meeting,” Liam says and there’s a hint of regret only someone who knows him well could decipher.
I frown, doing the math in my head to calculate when this union might have occurred. “Is that why you lost the build contract you were working toward before Christmas?” As I said, Mr. Jensen keeps me posted.
Liam looks surprised that I know about the long hours and incredible work he put in to secure a meeting with his dream firm in New York to design a city community space.
Not only do I know about it, I may have asked a former client of mine who’s in business development to put in a good word for Liam to help secure the meeting. It may have been somewhat counterintuitive to the possibility of a second chance, but if my ex wasn’t happy here in California, I still wanted him to be happy and successful following his dream across the country.
Liam’s smile is definitely forced as he says, “I didn’t lose it—I backed out.”
Sonia squeezes his arm and sends him an almost grateful look as he continues, “Once Sonia and I started dating, her father’s company offered me a contract I couldn’t refuse.”
To build resorts. All makes sense now...
“Best decision I ever made,” Liam adds quickly.
I call bullshit.
I go to speak, but Warren interrupts. “Got the girl and the amazing career opportunity. Win-win,” he says in an attempt to wrap this up.
Sonia’s phone chimes and she glances at it then turns toward Liam. “Oh, we have to go. We have an appointment at the jewelers,” she says.
Liam’s expression is slightly tense as he nods. I know he’s still thinking about that contract he gave up.
“Rings. Wow. Really committing.”
Everyone looks at me and I laugh.
“Kidding.”
As we all get up to leave, my legs nearly give out thanks to painful pins and needles as blood returns to my lower limbs. I hold the table for support as I try to shake feeling back into them.
“I’ll pay the bill,” Liam tells Sonia and he and Warren walk away toward the counter.
Alone, Sonia approaches me and lowers her voice. “Hey, I was...uh, wondering if you might have any openings?”
I frown. “For coaching?”
“I could use some advice,” she says nervously.
I doubt that. Sonia Banks is the most polished, confident, put-together woman I’ve ever tried not to like. Besides... “As the heir to the Banks Resorts family legacy, I’m sure you have things pretty well figured out.” Or things have been perfectly figured out for her since birth. Either way, she’ll be fine without my help.
“Ha! Believe me, I don’t,” she says and damn it if I don’t like her even more for her sincere vulnerability. Why does she have to be marrying and divorcing my ex-boyfriend?
“Oh, um, my schedule’s a little full.” I obviously can’t coach her. Too much of a conflict of interest.
“I get it,” she says, nodding disappointedly. “You’re in high demand.”
I hesitate. Conflict of interest or just another step in my plan to stop the wedding? It might be challenging to get close enough to Liam without raising any red flags, but Sonia was coming to me...
“You know what? I can fit you in,” I say as though I’m doing her a huge favor. Let the record show, this is not my fault if it backfires.
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Glimpsing Sonia’s future might shed some light on the situation, and on another level I’m actually curious to see why Sonia Banks could possibly need my career advice.
She links her arm through mine and from the corner of my eye, I see Warren watching us. Suspicion appears on his face and I need to be careful. I can’t let him figure out that I’m getting involved with this wedding simply to destroy it from the inside.