Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Careful what you wish for.”
Tell me about it.
“What will you do?” He stares back at me in the mirror, his bearish eyes bright and assessing.
“Working on it.”
“If you need suggestions, I know a—”
“No.” I cut him off before he even starts. “Just find out what you can about Finch’s itinerary before the Portland conference. If he’s making any new moves, report back ASAP. We can’t get caught with our pants down again.”
It’s criminal that flushing out a viper like Apollo Finch feels easier than winning Piper back.
Only, with Finch, I have an army of people behind me and I know what to do.
With her, I’m clueless and alone.
I show up the next day again with a bouquet of fragrant verbena.
I only knock a couple times before Maisy opens the door. “Oh, welcome back. FYI, she still won’t talk to you.”
“Will you just give her these?” I hold up the bouquet.
She nods. “Hmm, it’s a start. Nice.”
I pass her the flowers.
“Do you want to wait here?”
I nod.
Good. If she’s asking me to wait, maybe Piper will come out of her hole.
I’m still watching the sunny street, grateful for the break in the midsummer gloom, when the flowers come flying out of an upstairs window.
They roll to a stop next to my feet.
“Sorry!” Maisy says, leaning out the door.
I don’t bother asking.
It’s not like it’s her fault Piper won’t speak to me. I climb into the car, feeling drained.
Fyo already has the privacy screen down.
“Before you ask, the answer is fucking awful,” I say.
“Flowers are overrated. Maybe try something more intimate?”
“These were personal,” I grumble. “They’re the same flowers she loved in Lanai—and today she didn’t give a damn.”
“Perfume? Jewelry? Tickets to her favorite show?” Fyo suggests.
“Piper doesn’t wear much jewelry.”
Because she doesn’t like it or because she doesn’t have it? I wonder.
That’s something I should know.
Shit, maybe our problems started before I blew up on her.
“What does she like?” Fyo asks.
“Travel. Her family. Birds.” I stop before I accidentally say, me.
“I need to think,” I whisper, wishing I could rub my pounding headache away.
“Take your time, Romeo.”
I open her TikTok and stare at her videos until I feel like I need toothpicks to hold my eyes open. An ad cuts in between the hundredth TikTok for high-end luggage.
Huh.
It’s worth a shot.
I order the suitcases in pale pink with stylized flamingos on them.
Delivery takes a couple days, so I bury myself in work, annoyed that there’s nothing new on the Finch front.
I wish he’d get off his ass and take a swing so we can get this over with.
The next time I go to the Renee house, I’m rolling an oversized Italian leather carry-on with one hand and a pile of matching suitcases in smaller sizes with the other.
I knock on the door.
No answer.
I’m banging until my fist hurts when Maisy finally appears.
“You again? I talk to you more than I talk to my friends.”
“I promise you won’t have to deal with me as soon as your sister talks to me.”
She narrows her eyes. “Y’know, I should start charging you a consulting fee.”
I snort. “And what’s your advice today? Will she talk to me or not?”
Maisy bites her lip.
Goddammit.
“Really? I’m still that radioactive? Has she said anything?” I form a fist at my side.
“She said she’s getting sick of you pestering us, dude. You’re lucky Dad met up with his fishing buddies. I told him we’ve been getting a lot of annoying salesmen lately, but he said if he hears anyone at the door again, they’re getting a piece of his mind.”
“I’m not quitting until I see her. If she wants me gone, she’ll have to tell me herself.”
“Won’t be today. Maybe in a month.”
I glare at her.
She better be joking.
“Will you at least give her this?”
“Yeah—for ten dollars,” Maisy adds, staring at the luggage.
“What?”
“I didn’t sign up to haul your gifts around for free. And these look way heavier than flowers.”
“Are you serious?”
She folds her arms in front of her chest.
“I’ll send you an invoice.” She pulls out her phone and fidgets with it for a second.
“Forget the damn invoice,” I growl, fishing in my wallet.
I don’t have exact change so I push a crisp twenty in her hands.
“After college, you need to talk to me,” I tell her. “I’ll find you a job in sales.”
“Cool! Pleasure doin’ business.” She disappears behind the door with the luggage.
I hang out on the porch again, steeped in my misery for a few more pointless minutes in the fading hope that maybe—just maybe—Piper might give me the slightest opening.
Nope.
I knock on the door again. Maisy opens it. “Mr. W? What now?”
“Did she like it?” I demand.
“The bags? She hasn’t even seen them yet.”
“Where would she like to go more than anywhere else?” I ask.
“Hmm. She’s mostly just been around the US. Anything overseas would knock her socks off.”