Chapter 9
Silvie
“This is unacceptable, isn’t it?” I say, holding up one of the only two swimsuits I have here in Coconut Beach.
I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed at Birdie’s, surrounded by the clothes I have, trying desperately to find something appropriate to surf in.
I don’t know how I didn’t think to buy more swimsuits when I went shopping with Summer the other day.
The one I grabbed with her was basic. I also have the granny one I left here at one point when I visited Birdie about eight years ago.
That one is definitely not going to work.
Wilby’s face fills my phone screen, his dark brows already pulled together like he’s not sure what I was thinking wearing that swimsuit then, either.
He’s sitting at his desk in New York, immaculate as always, white button down, coffee cup clutched like a lifeline.
And given that he has impeccable choices in fashion, I know he’ll always tell me the truth.
“Silverlyn,” he says patiently. “Those are not swimsuits, they’re punishments. I can go to your penthouse tonight and pack up some of your things and ship them to you.”
He’s not wrong. One’s generic and the other is a granny suit. I can’t wear them surfing with Cal. He’ll think I’m one of the Bees. He probably already does. And maybe that’s how he should think of me. But that’s definitely not how I want him to think of me.
Why is that anyway?
After the hell Tyler put me through, you’d think I’d be turned off of men.
Initially, I would have sworn that I was.
But, over the past few weeks, I’ve done a lot of soul searching.
What I had with Tyler wasn’t real love. It was convenience more or less.
Of course, it doesn’t excuse his infidelity, with my sister no less, but it makes it less painful.
The lowkey flirting I’ve been doing with Cal has a fire burning in my belly. Maybe having a little fun with him will be nice. I certainly feel safe around him, especially when he’s always taking care of me and bringing me food.
Does he have the same buzzing attraction that I do?
Considering I’ve caught him a time or two staring a little longer than appropriate, I’m going to assume so.
“Seriously, no,” Wilby says, interrupting my thoughts. “Stop waving that ugly thing at me. Birdie called, she wants her old lady swimsuit back.”
“Ugh.” I glance down at the navy one-piece in my hands. “This one’s functional at least. Great for surfing, right?”
“It’s giving grandmother,” he corrects. “Add a little moomoo, and you’re all set, Bertha. Grandmas don’t surf.”
“Stop.” I laugh, tossing it onto the bed. “I’ve been wearing both of these for days.”
“That’s a crime,” he shudders as he sips his coffee.
I miss Wilby. He made work fun, and he’s my right arm man. I know everything about him, and he knows everything about me. I have never had a closer best friend than him.
I snort and start digging through another bag. “I just haven’t had time to think about fashion choices.”
“You have had nothing but time,” he says. “You simply chose yoga and beach walks and emotional healing instead of appropriate swimwear.”
“You’re not wrong,” I murmur.
“You need me to fly down there and get you straight? I can go get you clothes and make a weekend of it,” he offers.
The thought of having my bestie here makes my chest tighten. We would have such a blast trying new restaurants, sunbathing, and, of course, sipping cocktails served up by the cutest bartender in Coconut Bay.
“It’s not a bad idea, Wilby. I’ve put on a little weight, so I’m not sure what I have in my closet will still fit me. I could use some new stuff. I’ve gone up a size...or two.”
Bitterness creeps up inside me. I was a ghost, drifting through the motions, allowing my mother to control my food intake.
Now that I have some weight on me and a sunkissed glow, I can admit I look a million times better than I did the day of my wedding which was supposed to be the most beautiful version of me.
“As you needed to,” he says, frowning. “I told you that the wedding diet was bullshit. You’re stunning, and you need to be healthy.”
Wilby always sets me straight. I knew talking to him would make me happy.
“I’ll come,” he says. “Send me your measurements, and I’ll bring you some things. What’s your vibe right now? Looks like you’re leaning towards beachy boho?”
I just proudly showed him all of the clothes that Summer and I picked out. He hummed in approval, so there’s that.
“Yeah.”
He nods his head. “I gotchu.”
I love Wilby.
“I’m so excited you’re coming!” I say with a grin. “Birdie will be so happy to see you, too. How soon can you get here?”
I see the reflection of the computer screen in his glasses. “I’m looking at flights now.”
I pull out a bright green bikini top and freeze. “Oh. I forgot I’d put these in my bag for my honeymoon.”
Wilby’s eyes narrow. “Why are you making that face? Let me see it.”
“Because this feels like a version of me I was with Tyler.”
He leans closer to the camera. “That is literally the point of a summer reinvention. You are finding out who you are without Tyler the Turd.”
I told him what Birdie called him, and it’s kind of stuck with everyone now.
I hold it up. “Is this too much for surfing?”
“For Coconut Beach,” he says, “it’s perfect. Wear it until I can bring you some more swimsuits that will make your hot bartender swoon.”
I laugh and toss it onto the bed. “I don’t think I’m ready to be more than his friend,” I lie. “I have got to figure out how to save this company. And that is what I need you to come and strategize with me, Wilby.”
“We totally have this. Now, for flights,” Wilby says, tapping on his keyboard. “I can be there tomorrow. Tonight, I have to go shopping.” He playfully rolls his eyes.
“You know there are stores here, too,” I say with a chuckle.
“Yeah, but I’ll need to bring some reinforcements just in case. Plus, you’re rich. You can let me shop for you. You know I live for this stuff.”
“I appreciate you. Buy yourself some beach attire with my card, too,” I tell him. I know he won’t go crazy, but he works hard for me, and I want him to have a fun little trip away. He’s been bored in the office without me.
“Oh, I’ll get myself some linen shirts and trunks. Gotta check out the pretty ladies in Coconut Beach and have to look hot myself.” He smirks. “Oh, and I booked my flight first class. You owe me for having to deal with Tyler the day of your wedding.”
I’m not sure what all that entails, but I’m sure he’s going to tell me all about it.
I grimace. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“He looked like a lost puppy. A stupid lost puppy. Then he left with your harlot of a sister.”
I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about Belladonna. Is she happy that she won “the prize”? I have a hard time believing they’re truly in love. With my sister, there’s a motive to everything she does. Tyler is no different.
“No more turd talk.” I shake my head. “You will love it here. You deserve a break putting up with everything at the office without me. First class all the way, bestie. Just hurry up! I miss you.”
He smiles and then it falls as he grows serious. Since he’s a mostly playful person, I prepare myself for whatever he’s going to say next.
“One more thing I wanted to tell you. You’re not going to like it,” he says as he takes a deep sigh and clicks something on his keyboard.
“Okay, what?” I brace myself.
“I checked your mail like you asked.”
My stomach tightens. “And?”
“Tyler still hasn’t moved out.”
My jaw clenches, and I roll my eyes. “Of course he hasn’t.”
“And,” he adds, clearly enjoying this part less, “I saw evidence that your sister has been staying there.”
The audacity of that woman. First, she takes my fiancé and tries to steal my home too?
“What? How do you know?” I demand as I shoot to my feet and begin to pace. “I don’t want her there.”
“She is very much there,” Wilby says, grimacing. “I saw her in her underwear.”
“Eww.”
He shudders. “I can’t unsee it, Silverlyn. I’m traumatized.”
Rage floods my chest, hot and fast. “The penthouse is mine, and I want Tyler evicted. Immediately.”
He doesn’t blink. “Do you want me to start the process?”
“Yes,” I say. “Today. Get our team on it. I don’t care what you have to do. He needs to be gone, immediately.”
He smiles, making a note on a pad of paper next to him. “Sure. Evict the turd. It will be my pleasure.”
Because Wilby hates Belladonna and Tyler almost as much as I do. I can’t believe the nerve of these two.
I sink back onto the bed, heart pounding, phone still in my hand, clothes scattered everywhere.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He softens just a fraction. “I’m here for you, Silverlyn. I’ll get the ball rolling.”
“I can’t wait to see you. You’re the best, Wilby.”
He scoffs. “I know. Have fun surfing with the hot bartender!”
Then, with a pointed look, he says, “Wear the green swimsuit, Silverlyn. You are not healing nothing in that navy crime against fashion.”
I laugh, glance at the mirror, and for the first time since I left New York, I feel empowered.
I feel like I’m finally starting to find myself.
“Are you ready?” Cal asks as he reaches for my hand, his board tucked under his arm.
Last night I was uneasy. Now, I’m straight up nervous about surfing with Cal.
He’s a great teacher and spent the better part of the morning showing me, while safely in the sand, how to lie on the board, paddle, and pop up safely.
Each time his hand shot out to assist me, my skin would burn at his touch.
If he’s that protective on dry land, I know he’ll keep me safe while on the water. Still, I’m nervous.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, trying for casual and pretending that my heart isn’t beating a mile a minute as I slide my hand into his, feeling goosebumps dancing up my arm. Just a casual surfing experience with a friend, I try to tell myself.