Coco huffed and rolled her eyes. “Who gives a shit about him? I don’t know what the big deal is anyway. He’s not that great.”
They were all lies she told herself to sandbag the gaping hole he’d left in her heart since they’d parted ways after high school. Being the good sister I was, I closed the tabloid and tucked it into the seat pocket in front of me. I’d have to read it later. “I agree, Co. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
“Can I offer you some champagne?” the flight attendant interrupted us with a grand commercial smile across her pretty face. Mom and Vince had paid for our tickets, but we’d paid to upgrade to First Class when we checked in. Coco tended to be left alone when she flew First Class, and I wasn’t going to turn down the extra legroom.
Four hours later, we were cruising down I-95 with the top down on the convertible as the wind whipped our hair. Well, at least it whipped my hair. Coco decided to go all Jackie Kennedy and wrapped a silk scarf around her dark locks. We found the beach house shortly after arriving in Cocoa Beach and parked the car in the circle drive.
“They really went all out,” I said as we tugged our overloaded suitcases out of the trunk of the Mustang. The white beach house with the wraparound porch and sundeck had to have cost a small fortune to rent, though I presumed it all came out of Vince’s pocket. He seemed like a man who liked to toss around the fact that he may or may not be rolling in the dough. It was a real estate agent thing. Some agents had to project an image of wealth and enormous success to land the larger contracts. I supposed Vince felt the need to project that image 24/7, because he sure as hell didn’t need to impress us.
“Hello, hello,” Coco called as we showed ourselves in. Gauzy curtains flanking open sliders toward the back of the house led us to a covered porch where Mom and Vince were enjoying margaritas with salted rims. The inside of the house was slightly dated with decorative schemes ranging from sea foam green to shades of peach I never knew existed, but in a nostalgic vacation sort of way, that didn’t bother me in the slightest. People didn’t stay there for the seashell and nautical-themed rooms. They stayed for the ocean view.
“They’re here!” Mom stood up and practically ran to us, wrapping us in hugs and refusing to take the ridiculous smile off her face.
Vince stood up, one hand in his pocket while the other gripped his frozen drink, and waved a friendly hello, which was appreciated since we weren’t exactly on hugging terms yet.
“Have a seat, girls,” Mom said as she strutted toward the kitchen. “I’ll pour you some drinks. We have a margarita machine!”
The salty ocean breeze ruffled my hair and the warm, thick air was like a calming embrace. I needed that. I needed to get away from the city and Wilder and work. We were there for five days, and I fully intended on planting my toes in the sand and not moving a single muscle all week.
“Wilder should be here soon,” Vince said as he sat back down and took a sip of his drink.
“W-what did you say?” I stammered. His words knocked the wind right out of my sails. I glanced over at Coco who raised her eyebrows like she didn’t know a damn thing about it, either. My cheeks burned hot and my hands clammed up I gulped in humid air. “I didn’t think he was coming?”
Maybe it wasn’t that I didn’t know he was coming. I just assumed he wasn’t coming. I’d asked him to give me space and he’d listened. Coming to Florida to spend a week in a house with me would defeat the whole purpose of him avoiding me the last two weeks.
And while I was convinced space was what I needed to make me fall out of love with him, the reaction coursing through my body at Vince’s mere mention of Wilder coming told me I was far from over him. I wasn’t even close.
“Here we are, girls.” My mom sat two overfilled margaritas in front of us, and I practically lunged for the thing. “How was your flight?”
“It was fine,” Coco said, spinning her glass between her thumb and pointer finger. Ever since she saw that article about Beau, she’d kept getting lost in thought. Every time I looked at her, she had some faraway look on her face.
A rustling coming from the inside of the house drew my attention toward the open sliding door behind me. Shuffling footsteps and the sound of luggage being hauled were enough to tell me the guest of honor had arrived. I couldn’t think straight. I hadn’t planned to see him.
“Wilder, my boy!” Vince stood up and headed into the house. “I’m so glad you decided to come!”
Oh, so he wasn’t going to come?
I turned to face him and offered him a dismal smile. We were going to have to make the best of things that week. “Hi, Wilder. How are you?”
“Hey, sis!” His tone was sarcastic, though I was quite certain I was the only one who picked up on that. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tight and forcing me to breathe in the intoxicating scent of his aftershave. The one that had felt like home just weeks ago.
“You want a drink? Here, have a seat.” Vince offered Wilder his chair, which happened to be right across from me, as he headed inside. Emerging with a beer a minute later, he handed it to Wilder.
“Thanks, Dad,” Wilder said with a Wally Cleaver smile as he pulled the tab on the beer can and took a drink. His eyes held mine prisoner, refusing to let go.
I mouthed the word “what” and scrunched my nose at him. What was he trying to do here?