Chapter 4
4
“So you’re getting back together with your ex?” Sloane asked.
“Absolutely not,” Rose replied to the younger woman, hoping that would shut the line of questions down.
Rose had once dreamed of a big corner office from which she’d rule a vast financial empire on a Lucite girlboss throne or perhaps an Aeron chair (better for her back). Instead, a series of sanity-preserving moves sideways and down the finance career game board meant that she still waited for her paycheck to clear before she paid rent every month, but her theoretical boss cared much more about her love life than how she was going to manage the investment portfolio from a decaying B and B on Martha’s Vineyard.
Rose’s actual boss, the chairman of the family charitable foundation where she was the chief investment officer, was in Yellowstone on his honeymoon. Watching the bears or being eaten by them or something. His younger sister, Sloane, who was only twenty-three but seemed to think she’d been left in charge, had not just agreed to indefinite remote work but also offered to have her billionaire boy toy of the week drop Rose and Tom off on the island via his mega yacht. The price of transport, however, was being interrogated on Chelsea Pier while they waited for Tom to arrive. He was late.
“Then is this going to be, like, a hate sex scenario? Bang out the rest of your feelings?” Sloane asked.
Rose’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Her friend was texting her.
Adrian: You’re trying to work things out with Tom?
Rose glared at the screen. Adrian’s girlfriend, Caroline, must have snitched. Rose shouldn’t have said anything at all, but Caroline was the only other person with remote access to the foundation’s brokerage accounts if something urgent came up.
Rose: No!!! 100% no.
Of course Rose wasn’t getting back together with Tom. This was nothing more than two adults deciding to mend fences in a very civil, cordial, distant, adult way. She touched a thumb to her mouth to check on her lipstick. Today she wouldn’t look like a drowned rat. She’d look like the polished professional woman she was, even though she was running on the fumes of only three hours of sleep.
Rose turned back to the young foundation director. “I don’t hate Tom. We’re amicably divorced,” she said to Sloane, hoping that would keep everyone clear on her intentions.
But, of course, Adrian had thoughts about the situation. Thoughts he would insist on sharing.
Adrian: Maybe wait until Caroline and I are back from her semester abroad to see Tom?
Adrian: We could do a group date.
Adrian: And I’ll help with the inn when we’re back.
Rose grimaced. Adrian had been not-so-subtly campaigning for Rose to make peace with Tom ever since she’d hired Caroline to start full-time in the fall—Caroline and Tom were close friends—but he’d probably imagined something like Rose and Tom sniffing each other through a closed door while Adrian and his girlfriend fed them treats and stroked their hair in a soothing way.
Rose was a big girl. She could be mature and reasonable. She could handle this.
Rose: I’m not going to be dating Tom at all
Rose: He has a serious boyfriend and I need the inn fixed before tourist season
She shoved the phone back in her pocket and looked up to find Sloane smirking at her. “I don’t know why you’d ask for help from some guy you don’t want to get back together with and don’t want to sleep with,” Sloane said. “I think you’re lyyying . By the way, you’re wearing two different shoes.”
Rose looked down and jolted because Sloane was correct and she was wearing one black ankle boot and one brown.
It wasn’t like Rose was typically a stress zombie—anymore—but she hadn’t been able to sleep after seeing Tom. And seeing way more of Tom than she’d anticipated seeing, down to his flimsy little boxers on his stupidly muscular thighs.
She didn’t want to be like this. She wanted to be unmoved by Tom’s naked chest and Tom’s easy promises. Helplessly longing for Tom was too familiar a feeling and not one she wanted to feel again .
Her phone buzzed.
Adrian: He doesn’t have a boyfriend.
Adrian: He didn’t mention anyone at Christmas.
Adrian: Caroline also says he’s not dating anyone.
Rose entered her ex’s name and Boyd Kellagher’s into the search bar of her phone’s browser, copied and pasted one of the dozens of tabloid stories that resulted into the chat, and didn’t quite get the image of Tom’s lips on Boyd’s out of her retinas before she’d made a terrible face in front of Sloane.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess today,” Rose groaned, putting her hands over her eyes. “I swear I can still do my job. Just give me one more day to get my act back together.”
“What, now you’re worried about your professional reputation?” Sloane asked, sounding delighted. “I’m just, like, excited for you. I used to think you were kind of scary, you were so perfect. Just phone it in for a while, it’s fine. Your marriage is more important.”
“I can’t phone it in,” Rose protested. She was short and busty and named after a flower. Nobody ever took her seriously unless she did her job flawlessly. “Besides, Tom has a boyfriend. The only reason he’s coming with me is to help with construction, and that’s the only reason I want him there.”
Sloane’s smirk grew into a grin. She flicked long glossy hair over her shoulder and looked down the street, where a figure toting a large duffel bag had just come into view. Tom. Rose took a deep breath to brace herself, but Sloane elbowed her.
“Is that all you’re worried about? The half-assing of your job, the finessing of the extraneous boyfriend? The boyfriend is not an issue. No guy volunteers to do home improvement projects for free if he doesn’t at least want a round of weepy, nostalgic remember-when sex with you.”
Rose scoffed to cover the sharp feeling in her chest. That was the last thing Tom wanted from her. Someone with Boyd Kellagher at home did not go out for a tightly wound thirty-four-year-old investment manager.
After the number her divorce had done on her, it had taken years before she’d begun to feel like she might be attractive to some people—in the right lighting, if she wore expensive lingerie, if the man in question was a boob guy and not a leg guy—but rose-tinted nostalgia glasses were not going to make her more appealing to Tom after he got a look at her in plain daylight. Which was fine, because she shouldn’t care if Tom found her attractive now anyway.
“Holy shit,” Sloane murmured, squinting to get a better look at Tom as he approached.
“What?”
“ Construction reasons my ass. You didn’t tell me he was hot,” she said, voice emerging in a joyful squeak.
Alas, Tom was hot.
He was objectively hot, and not just cute in a floppy-hair-and-baby-fat way, like he’d been at eighteen. His thick dark hair was shining in the rare winter sun, long enough to brush his jaw. His eyes were shaded by a pair of expensive Wayfarers. His profile was classic and handsome, his chin chiseled, his smile broad and white. He wore a new black waffle-knit shirt and cheap, faded blue jeans, the former cradling his muscular new physique and the latter hanging from his narrow hips.
Rose closed her eyes, trying to remember that he had a boyfriend and she would be a bad person for ogling him, especially since they had days alone in close quarters ahead of them.
Sloane shoved Rose’s shoulder with her palm, pushing for affirmation of her opinion.
“Why wouldn’t he be good-looking? I did marry him in the first place,” Rose grumbled, her cheeks heating.
Sloane’s eyes danced with amusement. “Well, obviously. You’re a treat yourself, Rose Kelly. But you’re sure you don’t want to think about keeping him this time around?”
Tom was just a few feet away.
“Even just for sex reasons?” Sloane stage-whispered.
Tom arrived in a waft of sunshine and cinnamon candy, then darted in to kiss Rose on the cheek. It was just a tiny contact, a brief impression of breath and fine stubble, but she didn’t successfully swallow her noise of surprise, and Tom shot her a nervous look as he stepped back.
It startled her only because he’d never done it before. When Tom went in for a kiss, it usually involved a substantial amount of tongue and a situational amount of grab-ass. Even if, say, the elderly Rev. Fr. Gabriel Shea, SJ, was right there officiating their wedding.
But of course he should kiss her cheek. That was the sort of thing exes did if they were on good terms. He could have done that even if his boyfriend were right there.
Tom offered Sloane his hand instead.
“Tom Wilczewski.”
He was clean-shaven and beaming, demonstrating a very masculine kind of beauty now—too rugged for what was currently popular in film, but overwhelming in person. It was why audiences loved him. They held each other’s gazes, Tom grinning, Rose rethinking her decision to ask him for help for the thousandth time.
Did he shave because she hadn’t liked the mustache?
No, that was ridiculous. Ten years ago he hadn’t cared enough to come home .
Rose hesitated in a frozen pause, unable to speak because thoughts were tumbling through her head like stray socks in the dryer. Sloane saved her—she blinked a few times like she was trying to place Tom, then gasped, dramatically pressing a hand to her mouth. “Boydcat! No, Catboy. Tomboy! Tomboy.”
Rose bent away in confusion, though Tom didn’t seem surprised—only mildly embarrassed.
“You’ve heard about that, huh?” Tom asked.
“Oh, I’ve heard . I’ve seen . But you shaved your mustache? I have to tell the Internet.”
“What?” Rose said, but Tom gave a wincing smile and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Yeah, it was for the role, but it’ll be a while until we start rehearsing again, so—”
“What’s a Tomboy?” Rose finally inquired.
Sloane delayed Tom with a gesture and turned to Rose, her face delighted. “Him and Boyd Kellagher! They have a ship name. They were all over Tumblr a couple months ago. There was a ship war with the Benny Boys. The people who ship Boyd with Benedict Cumberbatch. Or their characters.”
Rose didn’t understand half the words in that explanation, but Tom apparently did.
“You have a Tumblr?” he deflected. He curved his hands into parentheses. “Derogatory.”
“Of course I have a Tumblr. A fashion blog.” Sloane nodded in satisfaction. “Fifteen thousand followers. But, you know, I can’t totally avoid the fan art. With you . God, the things I’ve seen you and Boyd doing—”
Tom gave a weak laugh, shooting Rose an uncomfortable side glance. “Oh man. You must have…seen some things. I know Boyd’s fans can be…a lot.”
Sloane turned back to Rose. “I didn’t realize you were talking about Boyd Kellagher! Isn’t he amazing?”
“Sure,” Rose said stoically, because only a terrible person said anything catty about their ex’s new flame. “I liked that movie where he blew up the moon.”
And he seemed like a nice man whenever she saw headlines about him. Not just gorgeous but nice too. And it was cute that he and Tom shared a wardrobe. Probably cut down on laundry.
Rose pointed toward the marina behind them. Her phone was still going off in her pocket, but she ignored it. Adrian needed to mind his own business for once.
“We should probably get moving if we want to make it to the island before dark. Are you okay to leave for a while? Did you stop your mail? And take out the trash?” Rose asked Tom, trying to keep her tone gentle.
Tom’s smile dimmed. “I did take out the trash. I’m pretty sure.” He thought for a second, pulled out his own phone. “Let me just call a neighbor about the mail.”
He walked away down the block to have a second think about his readiness for departure, his phone pressed to his ear.
Sloane gave Rose another incredulous look as soon as he was out of earshot. Rose was abruptly exhausted by the effort of keeping her face clear of her emotions. She would have liked to slouch and rub her eyes and consider having a few feelings about hundreds of people on the Internet imagining Tom and Boyd doing it, but she was determined to be unbothered by any amount of news about her gorgeous ex’s gorgeous boyfriend.
“He seems really sweet,” Sloane said when Rose didn’t speak.
“He is sweet,” Rose confirmed.
“But he didn’t remember to take out the trash, huh?”
“Never did,” Rose agreed.
Sloane gave her a wide-eyed, imploring look. She fisted her hands and propped them together under her chin.
“I didn’t divorce him because he didn’t take out the trash,” Rose said, annoyed. “I knew this about him when we got married.”
If Boyd Kellagher was really the dark, dominating fuck prince he played in the movies—or if he could afford a housekeeper and a personal assistant—she was sure the two of them were enjoying substantial domestic bliss. It wasn’t like Tom didn’t think the trash needed to go out; he just needed someone to tell him to do it.
“Okay, so what’s the problem with seeing how things go, then?”
“Aside from his movie star boyfriend?” Rose suggested.
Sloane scoffed. “They’re probably not exclusive. Boyd’s got to be off filming most of the time. That’s not how guys like that operate.”
Rose checked her phone, cleared three missed calls from Adrian, and wrinkled her nose at his new texts.
Adrian: Caroline says she just read the article and it doesn’t have any pictures of Tom and Boyd together since last summer.
Adrian: Answer your phone you coward
Adrian: That last was Caroline but please don’t fire her.
Rose put her phone on silent without responding. If Adrian thought that she was still harboring tender feelings for Tom, he needed to prepare for disappointment—Tom’s theoretical open relationship, big stupid muscles, and willingness to do unpaid construction work at a moment’s notice didn’t matter at all.
“Okay, but even if they’re not exclusive,” Rose said, “the next problem would be our relationship. Trust me, the kind of issues we had are not the kind that go away with not seeing each other for ten years.”
Sloane looked disappointed by this unequivocal statement. “I think you should give it a try. People can change a lot, especially after such a long time,” she announced.
Rose elaborately shrugged to cover her discomfort, eyes tracking Tom’s progress as he paced the block. He was apparently double-checking the trash situation.
Why would Tom change, when he had the exact life he’d always wanted? Rose was the one who’d obviously screwed up somewhere along the way.