Chapter 11 #2
Wilby looks over at me. “This explains why you’ve been hiding out down here. I’d never want to leave either and deal with the crap back in New York.”
“I’m not hiding,” I say.
“You are absolutely hiding, and I can’t blame you,” he says as he stretches and takes in the view. “This place is stunning.”
“It’s about time you came to visit,” Birdie says as she straightens the kitchen towel over her shoulder.
“You smell like cookies.” Wilby raises an eyebrow. Sweets are the way to Wilby’s heart, and Birdie knows it.
“I made lemon blueberry scones,” she says. “Come in and have one. They’re fresh out of the oven.”
Wilby looks at me, eyes wide. “I love her. Do you think she could adopt me?”
I nod. “See? This is why I came here. Your soul is about to get a big ol’ hug, too.”
“I get it now,” he confirms as he follows her inside.
We sit at Birdie’s kitchen table with scones on our plates and coffee. Wilby eats as if he’s never been fed before, and he’s so happy.
Birdie puts another scone on his plate. “Where are you staying, sugar?”
“At the Seaside Bed and Breakfast,” he says. “Although, I can’t check in until later.”
“Oh, good! Silvie can show you around,” Birdie says.
“This,” he says between bites, “is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Birdie pats his cheek. “You know you can come visit me anytime you want, Wilby.”
He nods and jokes, “I live here now. Wherever the boss goes, I go.”
And thank God. Because I’ve missed my best friend.
Wilby and I have a lot to catch up on workwise, so we pack a beach bag and head over to the beach. We might as well catch up by having cocktails and lounging at the beach.
We set up our chairs and towels not far from Cocktails & Chaos, and I glance over, wondering if Cal is working.
When I don’t see him, I deflate, shoulders slumping. I chew on my bottom lip, wondering where he could be.
I tie my sarong a little tighter around my waist. I’m wearing my green bikini since it’s still the best option I own. Wilby sets up our chairs facing the water and smiles with that smug confidence he has in all his city-boy audacity.
He looks unfairly good shirtless. Annoyingly fit.
“My goodness, Wilby. You’re like a chiseled Greek god.”
He has ripped arms, a six-pack, and a tan that should not exist on a man who lives under office lighting. Sunglasses perch on his nose, and I grin when I see he has sandals on his feet. Not flip flops, but still, sandals.
He grins, “Hey, I blame you. You dragged me on all of those runs and workouts for your wedding body prep.”
My chest tightens and my stomach sinks. I say nothing, shifting uncomfortably and glancing down at my honey-toned thighs, not missing those grueling workouts.
He sighs and says, “Sorry, Silverlyn. I shouldn’t have brought up the wedding.”
“It’s fine. I’m over it. I mean...pretty much over it. I haven’t gone back and faced it all, yet. But I have no feelings for Tyler anymore. In fact, I don’t even think about him. I will never let another man know my soul like that. Because it crushed me in ways I didn’t think were possible.”
“I’ve missed you,” he says as he glances over at me. “You look really great. Strong.”
“It’s the daily yoga,” I admit.
He grins. “You are doing yoga? This I would like to see.”
“Good. Because I’ll be dragging you there with me. Birdie got me hooked on it and then she abandoned me. So, I go by myself in the mornings most sunrises.”
He shrugs. “I’m down for yoga on the beach at sunrise. Sounds amazing.”
Our chairs are close enough to Chaos that I can hear music drifting down from the bar and smell fried food and fruity drinks in the air. Wilby leans back in his chair and immediately shifts into shop talk.
“Okay,” he says. “Do you want it straight or filtered?”
I love that Wilby always gets me.
I glance over at him through my sunglasses. “Hit me straight.”
Despite my wishes for the directness, my stomach twists with nerves. I’ve been so detached, there’s no telling what he’s about to say, and that gives me anxiety.
“First off, I am relieved you never married Tyler. Good call,” he says as he leans in.
I brace myself, afraid that whatever comes will make me mad.
He ticks off on his fingers. “Tyler’s still a douche canoe.”
“Obviously.”
“Your sister has been at the office every day visiting said douche canoe and asking for money and attention from anywhere she can get it. Mainly your parents because Tyler doesn’t have any, and he’s hanging onto his job by a thread.
Your father has had it with him. And word is that the board has as well.
He is lazy and got away with it because he was marrying you.
Now that he’s not? Nobody cares about his loser ass anymore. ”
Well, no surprise there on Belladonna. Word has it she’s burned through her inheritance. I invested mine and kept working. But that’s what a normal person would do. Not a grifter like Belladonna. How someone can blow through that much money in just a few years is beyond me.
“She’s exhausting.” I sigh.
“And your father,” he lowers his voice, “is angry.”
That makes my stomach twist with guilt. “What’s he most angry about?”
“Everything,” Wilby says. “About Tyler, optics, and losing control.”
I pick at my fingernail as I stare out at the water. “Great.”
“And,” he adds carefully, “your mother’s been coming around constantly.”
I groan and snap my head to him. “What?”
“She’s actually attended board meetings,” he says.
I’m stunned by this fact. It’s…unusual.
“I have never seen her attend a single meeting,” I say, and can’t help but wonder what her angle is here. I don’t like it.
“No,” he agrees. “It’s not good. They’re circling. Something is going on. They’re planning something, Silverlyn.”
I blow out my breath. “What are you thinking?”
Wilby looks around slowly, as if he’s scanning the beach, the bar, and the easy rhythm of this place, and about to drop a bomb.
“I’m saying,” he says, casual but sharp. “Maybe you could find a temporary fake husband.”
My heart stutters to a halt. He can’t be for real right now.
I bark out a laugh. “Come on, Wilby. Be serious.”
“I am serious. You just need to think outside the box here,” he says. “Can you think of anyone?”
“You know it’s not that simple. My grandmother had rules set in place. I can’t just choose some rando and make it work.”
He frowns and lets out a frustrated huff. “I feel like we need to make it happen one way or another. Your time is slipping away. I’m afraid if you wait too long, the vultures are going to swoop in.”
My head throbs as I try to work out who the vultures might be. In my gut, I know, but I’ve been playing blissfully ignorant in paradise.
“I could marry you,” I say, wondering if that’s too far outside the box.
He recoils. “Ew. No offense, darling, but you are absolutely not my type.”
“Rude,” I joke back.
“I love you,” he says, “but you have to convince the board that this is a real marriage. And the optics of marrying your assistant is not going to fly. In fact, I’m terrified of what your father would do to me. He scares me on a normal day at work. As a son-in-law? Never, ever going to happen.”
Anxiety makes my chest tighten. I circle over and over to my problem that needs solving. Unfortunately, all the answers are vague and out of reach.
“Ohhh.” Wilby’s head jerks and he looks behind us. “Ohhhhh my.”
I swivel in my chair and follow his gaze. Cal is walking toward us from the bar, barefoot, shorts slung low on his hips, a button-down shirt flapping in the wind, unintentionally showing off his chiseled abs. He’s smiling and waves at me.
Wilby’s jaw drops.
“Him,” Wilby says faintly, looking stunned by Cal.
Cal comes around and stands in front of us, eyes flicking between us with curiosity.
“Hey,” he says, wearing a friendly grin. “This must be your friend.”
Wilby stares and doesn’t blink. He’s entranced. Then he slowly turns to me. “You know this exquisite man, Silverlyn?”
Cal’s mouth turns up when he hears my full name. “Silverlyn,” he repeats. “Beautiful name.”
I never told him my full name. Not that I don’t trust him, it just never came up. And hearing it on his lips is nice.
I smile. “Cal, this is Wilby. Wilby, this is Cal.”
Wilby stands and offers his hand like a gentleman who has lost control of his motor functions. “Hi,” he says. “Hello. Wow.”
Cal shakes his hand, looking at me, amused. “Nice to meet you, Wilby.”
“Is Cal short for something?” Wilby asks, something I’ve been wondering myself.
“Callahan,” he says. “Callahan Bennett.”
I laugh. “That’s sexy too, hot bartender.”
Cal groans playfully. “Not this again.”
“She keeps calling me hot bartender,” he tells Wilby.
Wilby looks at me, his eyes widening, and mutters. “Well, if the shoe fits.”
Cal snorts, shaking his head. “Can I bring you two some food or some cocktails?”
Wilby sinks back into his chair with a sigh, staring up at the sky. “I’ve died,” he mutters. “And gone straight to heaven.”