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“Ah, but it’s not just me. It’s not been one-sided, El. He’s had feelings for me all along.”
“Is that what he told you after he slept with you or before?”
I don't like the sarcasm in her tone. “Don’t make it sound so … vulgar. It’s not like that,” I insist.
“You sure?” Eliana’s tone doesn’t soften. “I bet his girlfriend isn’t there. Are you sure he’s not just using you?”
“He’s not! They broke up.”
“How convenient.” She doesn’t sound impressed. This wasn’t the reaction I wanted. I thought she’d be happy for me, even excited. But instead, I feel a dull ache as my best friend’s doubts seep into my thoughts.
“I gotta go,” I say, my voice wavering.
“Don't go!”
“I have to. Brooke's getting up,” I mumble, ending the call and pulling my knees to my chest.
I feel a sharp stab of loneliness. This has been the closest I’ve ever felt to being in a deep relationship. Except it’s not a relationship. I know I shouldn’t even call it that—it’s more like a whirlwind affair, an erotic fling in paradise.
Go for it, Aunt Scarlett told me, full of encouragement and warmth. She would understand. Maybe she’d know what to say. I pick up the phone, dialing her number, but it goes straight to voicemail. Her recorded message fills my ear, and just the sound of her voice brings a lump to my throat.
“Hi, Aunt Scarlett.” My voice wobbles, my chest tightening as a tear slips down my cheek. She sounds so much like my mom, and I realize just how much I miss her—how much I wish I could talk to her, to ask her what to do. My mom would have understood, and she would have counseled me and helped me through this.
“I miss you so much,” I whisper. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” Another tear slides down. “You’re probably busy, so I’ll talk to you when I get back.”
Chapter 37
JETT
We go snorkeling later that day, or rather, Brooke and I do, jumping off from the yacht into the aquamarine water.
Cari hesitates, her gaze lingering nervously at the edge, so I don’t push her to join. I know her fear of the water. The day she almost drowned is a day I’ll never forget. Seeing her flailing and start to go under scared me to death.
I leave her sitting on the deck, with her legs dangling over the edge, watching us. But Brooke, with the boundless wonder only a child has, is fearless. It’s one of the things I admire most about her. I live for these moments—showing her something new, seeing the thrill in her eyes. Every time she grins back at me, I feel a satisfaction that no business success has ever quite given me.
For the first time, it feels like we’re a family—a unit. And I don’t know if I’m ready to let it go. Waking up every morning and knowing we have the whole day together has made time slip through my fingers faster than I imagined.
After snorkeling, Cari’s content to sit back, snapping photos of Brooke and me as we swim. Her smile is soft and steady, and her laughter blends with Brooke’s as we play. We have a quiet picnic on the yacht as it glides through Bermuda’s crystal clear waters, cutting through shades of blue that shift from turquoise to sapphire. The coastline is dotted with pastel-colored homes, there is a vibrant coral reef beneath us, and tall palm trees sway in the distance against the endless sky. It's the perfect picture, almost surreal.
When Brooke finally falls asleep after lunch, it’s just me and Cari. For once, no barriers.
I glance at her as we sink into the sofa, the faint hum of the yacht beneath us. There’s a hesitation in her eyes now, a subtle distance that wasn’t there earlier. I have a feeling it’s about the call with Dex earlier.
“Look, I’m sorry about that call with Dex,” I say, testing the waters. I hate when anything hangs between us unspoken.
Cari shakes her head, brushing it off. “You don’t have to apologize. He’s entitled to his opinion. Whatever he thinks you’re up to … well, that’s none of my business.” Her voice is steady, but her eyes betray her.
??“Dex and I are close,” I say, reaching for her hand. “Zach and I … not so much. I mean, as brothers we’ve always stuck together. We had to, after our mother died.” The words spill out before I realize it, slipping through a crack in my carefully built walls. It’s something I don’t talk about—not with anyone, except my brothers. But here it is, laid bare.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” She looks at me with her big doleful eyes, but she doesn't press me to elaborate. She just stays there, her hand warm in mine, gently stroking it. ?
“My mother’s death … it’s not exactly public knowledge,” I murmur. “My father had it erased from the newspapers and silenced as much as he could.”
“People can do that?” she asks, innocently. She has no idea what people can do when their insane wealth drives them to make insane decisions.
“Yes.”
She lets out a gasp, looking horrified. No one outside of this family truly understands what it's like to be the son of a megalomaniacal billionaire. A nasty, narcissistic, selfish self-absorbed man. The type of man who has a secret family on another continent. The type of man who, after his wife kills herself unable to deal with the revelation of his adultery, moves his mistress and their secret children, to come and live in the same city as us.