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“It's because you told me to say you'd spoil her,” I chuckle, showing him the texts.

“And I will,” he says.

He wasn't joking.

The next morning my mother parks her car at the hotel. Jordan meets her in the lobby with flowers and mimosas. “To celebrate Lorikeet's future,” he explains, winking at me. She thinks he means the marriage. I know better.

She hesitates as she stares at my injured mouth. Ice and makeup have hidden the worst, but it's clear I've been hurt. "Slipped in the parking lot," I explain lamely. If she doesn't believe me she has the courtesy not to say so.

After that, Jordaninsists we go on a shopping trip around the area. I'd been to the Slumber Coast before, but not in years, and certainly not with someone happy to buy me anything I desired.

“How can you afford all this?” I ask as we follow my mother along the strip of stores. “I thought you just started back up at your architect firm.”

Jordan grins, shrugging like it's obvious. “I did very well for myself for years. My business partners have been paying me a cut of the profits all this time. I think they hoped I'd be encouraged to return to work with their continued support. When I called them to explain I was ready, they sent me a hefty upfront check.”

“I can't wait to see your new designs.”

He scoops his hands in mine. His voice drops an octave, buttery and decadent. “You're always welcome in my drafting room, Lorikeet.”

I'm trapped by his warm gaze. I could soak it up for hours, but when I hear my mom call my name, I yank out of his grip. “Oh, uh,” I fumble. He forms a little grin, understanding my response. It wouldn't be easy to explain to my mother why I'm flirting with my soon-to-be-husband's dad.

I'll have plenty of time to tell her the truth of things later.

Once we've both laden Jordan with shopping bags, he tells us he's made dinner reservations. Mom squeals at this, then insists we shop a bit more because she didn't bring anything nice to wear.

Three glasses of wine and a full serving of tiramisu later, and my mother is passed out in her bed down the hall from Jordan's—two queen mattresses, one meant for me, but I have other plans.

I thank god for insulated walls to muffle my screams.

When I wake up hours later, I reach for him in the dark. My palm slides over the cool blankets; they should be hot from his presence. I jerk upwards, staring in the low-light. My eyes adjust, allowing me to see what I feared. Jordan is gone.

There's a note, which I find strange, because he could have sent me a text. I turn on the bedside lamp to read it.

Lorikeet,

Sorry to leave without saying goodbye. My partners needed me for a work problem only I can solve. I'll see you back in Crestwind. Drive safe.

Love,

-J

Pursing my lips, I press the note to my chest. Maybe he's old fashioned and thought a text would be impersonal. I don't mind, it's novel to have a handwritten letter. Folding it, I tuck it in my purse and quickly dress, so I can slip into my mom's room.

She's asleep in her bed. It's only five in the morning, but I'm wide awake, so I head into the shower. By the time I'm clean and changed into one of the new outfits Jordan bought me—high-waisted jeans and a yellow crop top—she's stirring. I watch the sun begin to rise on the balcony, enjoying the way the wind rolls over my cheeks and bare shoulders.

Yes. Today will be a good day. I can feel it.

“Lori?”

“Over here,” I call, leaning into the room.

She yawns while scrubbing her eyes. “Oh, okay. I had a weird dream that I was alone in here all night.”

Blushing lightly, I turn away. “Nah. That's what drinking too much will do.”

“I didn't drink too much.”

“Sure, you didn't.”