Roxie
I was halfway through a sleeve of cookies and scrolling through a food article that featured my photography when Hallie walked through the front door of our apartment.
All I had done the entire morning was melt into the couch with snacks and let my brain switch off.
The only upside was the promise of sunshine and salt air when James came to pick the two of us up for a trip to the Hamptons.
“How was your day?” I asked, admiring how the photography and the article came together, as I barely glanced up from my computer screen.
“Uneventful,” Hallie replied, her words coming too quickly for me to believe she was telling the truth. She dropped her purse and shed her blazer. “By the way, well done for getting out of your family dinner this weekend.”
Hallie knew as much as she needed to about my family.
She knew my parents’ names, she knew they lived in Connecticut, and she knew that I was much closer with my grandmother than my grandfather.
She’d even had a few drinks with Winn on the occasions he ventured into the city.
But she had no idea about the immense wealth my family had or how absolutely fucked up that wealth made all of us.
She absolutely did not know that I had forgone a trust fund that would have made my life look drastically different than it did now, one that wouldn’t have included her if I had listened to my grandfather’s demands.
James was supposed to be here any minute, and to say that I was looking forward to a break from the city was an understatement, even if I was going to be third-wheeling all weekend.
Things at the gallery were becoming almost soul crushing.
I was so stressed out by my boss’s negative comments about sales and his controlling behavior regarding my art curation that I needed a break before making a rash decision, like handing in my notice.
When Hallie asked if I wanted to go on the Memorial Day weekend trip, I immediately agreed, hoping it would be the perfect escape.
A knock sounded on the front door.
“I’ll get it!” I called to Hallie, who had yet to emerge from her room.
On the other side of the door stood James, dressed head to toe in linen, looking far more relaxed than the flashy suit he’d been in at McGuire’s.
Hallie came around the corner, nearly stopping in her tracks when she spotted him. I glanced between the two as I watched them take each other in.
“Hey,” James said with a smile.
“Hey,” Hallie responded. She was looking at him like he was the sun, moon, and the stars all wrapped in one. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ever seen her look at a guy like that.
James reached for Hallie’s weekend bag, slipping it from her shoulder to carry himself. “I picked up some bagels from that little stand down the street for when we hit the road.”
“The one that Hallie reviewed a few months back?” I asked, coyly.
Despite a mean hangover from one of our many nights out, Hallie had dragged me out of bed to review a new bagel shop for her blog.
Having shaken me awake, she pressed the camera into my hands, promising a greasy bagel as a cure for my vodka-soda-induced misery.
After one bite, it had quickly become a favorite of ours and a place that Hallie posted about frequently.
“One and the same.” James reached for my bag next. I shot Hallie an approving look. “Are you both ready? Sebastian is meeting us there. He said something about some sort of work emergency with one of his designers.”
As the blood rushed to my head, my vision swam.
Did he just say Sebastian?
“The city is already emptying out. So I’d prepare for a little extra time in the car,” James continued, disappearing back out the front door with our bags.
But I didn’t move.
I stood rooted in place, heart pounding, pulse in my throat, praying I’d heard James wrong. Maybe it was a different Sebastian. A harmless, non-threatening, perfectly forgettable Sebastian. Not him.
Hallie stepped into my line of vision, her brows furrowed in slight concern. “Are you ready?”
I blinked, straightening and forcing a smile onto my face. “It’s a weekend in the Hamptons. Why wouldn’t I be ready?”
“Are you going to be okay spending the weekend with Sebastian?” Hallie reached out to keep me from walking out the front door. “I know the two of you only spoke briefly at the bar the one time …”
Spoke briefly?
My stomach did an Olympic-level somersault.
That hadn’t been a conversation at McGuire’s. That was a barely contained implosion of my life. That was years of buried history surfacing like a horror movie jump scare.
Does she know?
No. There was no way Hallie knew anything. If she did, she wouldn’t have looked so casually curious. She’d be dragging me into the kitchen by my elbow for a glass of wine and an interrogation.
Besides, I’d never told her. Not about my past. Not about my would-have-been trust fund.
Not about how Sebastian Whittaker was once my best friend, my biggest mistake, and the reason I dramatically swore off all men who had a future waiting for them on Wall Street.
If she knew any of that, she wouldn’t have invited me into the lion’s den armed with nothing but SPF and a fragile sense of emotional stability.
That was the truth of it all that I had locked away in the vault long ago.
“Of course, this weekend should be fun!”
Hallie tilted her head, not 100 percent buying it but mercifully let it go.
The two of us went to find James, who was loading our luggage into the back of his car.
I tried my best to focus on the sun as it kissed my skin or the way the city already sounded quieter as everyone fled for somewhere warmer.
I just needed to keep my mind on literally anything other than the fact that I was about to spend three full days in close quarters with the one person I’d spent the last decade pretending didn’t exist.
Sebastian was just a man. A very attractive, infuriating man. Nothing more.
And I was fine. I was totally, completely, absolutely—
Not fine.
Not even close.
“We’re nearly there. The house is just around the corner,” James announced as he pulled onto a road of houses that made me feel like I’d been sucked into a time machine and dropped straight into the most pretentious chapter of my adolescence.
The mansions lining the street weren’t houses.
They were declarations. Statements of wealth, old money, and lawn perfectionism.
Rolling green yards with hedges trimmed as if they had full-time stylists.
Flower beds that probably cost more than my annual salary nowadays, and fountains (plural).
Some even had elaborate wrought-iron gates that looked like they belonged at Versailles rather than in front of a vacation home.
I knew these houses. Not these exact ones, but this … world. The unspoken competition of who had the better tennis court, whose wine cellar was better stocked, who could hire the more discreet nanny. And yet here I was, strolling back into it like I hadn’t clawed my way out.
I rolled down the window to let the warm, salty breeze hit my face, but it didn’t calm the nerves fluttering in my stomach. The air smelled like honeysuckle and ocean, and for a second, I almost forgot I was headed straight for a landmine named Sebastian Whittaker.
“It’s beautiful,” Hallie said from the passenger seat, her voice soft with wonder.
“Beautiful, indeed,” James echoed, but he wasn’t looking at the coastline. He looked at her, as though she was the most captivating thing in this place.
I, meanwhile, was clutching my water bottle like it might ward off my anxiety spiral.
The last time Sebastian and I had spoken was through email—his most recent replies still sitting at the top of my inbox, waiting.
After that particularly painful family dinner, I’d come to my senses about my little stroll down memory lane with him.
Nothing good was waiting for me at the end of it.
Just disappointment. So I figured I’d save myself the heartbreak.
James turned the car down a private drive, and I caught the first glimpse of the house. Or estate, as I should call it.
Cedar shakes, white trim, black shutters framing windows so big you could spot a midlife crisis from a mile away. The front hedges were manicured with not a leaf out of place. It was disgustingly perfect.
“Oh my goodness,” Hallie breathed. “Is this it?”
She glanced over her shoulder at me in the backseat, and I knew she was looking for me to have the same reaction. I leaned forward onto the center console, eyes wide as I pretended to take the place in like I’d never seen anything like it in my life. And I’d grown up rich. “Holy shit.”
“Holy shit,” Hallie agreed.
James laughed. “It’s been in the family for generations. My great-great-grandfather bought this place nearly eighty years ago.”
I snorted before I could stop myself, earning a concerned look from Hallie. “Of course he did,” I muttered under my breath.
“And no one’s using it this weekend?” Hallie asked, craning her neck to take it all in.
“It’s been undergoing renovations for nearly a year,” James told her, putting the car in park in front of a garage that looked like it could fit ten cars and a yacht. “I think we’ll be the first people to use it. I’m not even sure if everything’s done yet.”
“Did you come here a lot before the renovations?” Hallie asked as she stepped out.
“I spent nearly every summer here,” James said, moving around to grab our bags.
Of course he did. Rich people summered. Regular people worked double shifts and prayed their window A/Cs didn’t give out.
“My mom wanted me to get out of the city,” James continued. “She thought it was good for me to have a break from the concrete jungle.”
I snorted at the ridiculous sentiment. “She didn’t want you to spend all your time rubbing elbows with the rich in the city, so she brought you here to rub elbows with the rich out of the city?”
James chuckled in agreement. “Come on, let’s get inside. You can pick your rooms.”
As we walked in, the cool air surrounded me, and I paused for a moment, taking in the expansive area.
The ceilings were high, the floors were wide plank, and the staircase curved just so, as if designed for dramatic climbs and descents.
I pictured a teenage James standing there for debutante season with the girl he would present to society. Much like Sebastian had done for me.
“As long as my room has a view and a bathtub, I don’t care,” I said, already planning on staking my claim on the largest room.
“And as far away from Sebastian Whittaker as possible,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for Hallie to hear.
She gave me a sidelong glance, her curiosity barely contained but thankfully didn’t push. Yet.
“Can you point me in the direction of the closest bathroom?”
“Just down there, second door on the right.”
“Perfect,” I said, already plotting a way to hide away in the warmth of a bubble bath once I got to my room until I could pretend this was just a nice, normal weekend getaway with my best friend.
The truth became unavoidable as I made my way down the hall, consciously trying to stay calm and avoid obsessively thinking about every way this weekend could go horribly wrong.
How could I possibly continue this charade of not knowing Sebastian all weekend?
Hallie was already on my trail. I deposited my luggage on a bench just outside the bathroom James directed me to that was still draped with a drop cloth from the recent renovations, leaving Hallie and James to get on with whatever plans they had for the trip.
With a click, the bathroom door closed, and I slid down it, needing to be alone. I needed a second. Maybe five. Maybe a decade.
My heart was pounding like I’d just sprinted around this entire property instead of diving into the closest bathroom. My reflection in the mirror looked only mildly feral, which felt like a win. I splashed some cold water on my face and gave myself a stern look.
You’re fine. You’re an adult. You are not going to let Sebastian Whittaker ruin a perfectly good weekend.
I dried my hands on a towel that still had the tag on it and stepped out into the hallway.
And that’s when I saw him.
Sebastian strode through the front door, the crisp fabric of his suit rustling with each step. With a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and sunglasses nestled in his thick, dark hair, he looked far more attractive than felt fair.
His green eyes found me at once, their color intensified by the golden afternoon light.
His hair was slightly longer than the last time I saw him over a month ago.
It was less sculpted, more tousled in that effortless I just woke up like this kind of way that people would kill for.
The same tattoos I’d seen back at McGuire’s climbed the backs of his hands.
The same hands I used to trace with my fingers when we were seventeen and thought we had the world figured out.
“Roxie,” he said, but it felt involuntary. Like he could hardly believe he was using my name.
I stopped walking. Mostly because my legs forgot how.
“Sebastian.”