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“Maybe I’ll tell you at some point,” I said.

Her shoulders fell, but she didn’t push it. She knew what it felt like to have a sister trying too hard to help. “I’ll be here,” she said.

My phone buzzed. I picked it up off the counter. It was a text from Griff.

GRIFFIN:Heading out of town. It can’t wait.

I gaped for a moment, though I shouldn’t have been surprised.Thiswas Griffin’s way of telling me he wouldn’t be coming to dinner.

“He’s unbelievable.”

Chelsea looked over my shoulder at my phone as she poured product in her hands and smoothed it over my now pinned-up hair.

“Well, at least he’s not technically employed by the hotel,” she said pulling out a few strands around my face. “So he’s not blowing off work.”

“Griff never blows off work,” I said. Social stuff, always. Work, no. Not like Jude, who was the opposite. “At least if he was employed, I could fire him.”

“We don’t report to you,” Chelsea reminded me.

We’d made up very specific contracts when we took over the hotel. None of us reported to each other, instead voting equally if decisions needed to be made about each other. It was the only wise advice about this place Dad had given us.

Right before he took off.

“I could still fire Griff,” I said. “For fun.”

Chelsea laughed. But when I stood up and looked in the mirror, I couldn’t help my mouth falling open slightly.

“How did you do that?” I looked like night and day from when I’d walked into the bathroom only a few minutes before. “I look…” I didn’t have the words. Chelsea had pushed my unruly hair into a soft, wispy chignon, and given me subtle eye makeup but crimson red lips that looked not like me, but somehow…

“Hot?” she finished for me.

I’d never thought of myself as hot. Sometimes I felt attractive, or powerful, at least when I wore a suit. But hot? That was Chelsea’s domain.

I smiled. “Thanks, Chels,” I said.

“Anytime,” she said. “Now let’s go celebrate the turning of this new leaf you keep talking about.”

7

BLAKE

The housewe were renting in Quince Valley was perfect for us—and I hated it.

The place itself was beautiful: a modern three-bedroom bungalow right in town, just off the main strip. There was a heated pool in the backyard, but more importantly, a two-bedroom guesthouse on the back side of the lot, almost as large as the main house where I stayed. We could have all shared a single house—it would have been easier on my wallet given I was now footing the bill—but I couldn’t stomach the thought of staying even closer to Lila and Brynn for six weeks.

Even the separated houses didn’t feel like enough.

While I should have been pleased I’d salvaged the Rolling Hills project—for a second time that day—I’d sunk into a shit mood ever since negotiating the deal with Cassandra. Lila and Brynn noticed, and kept trying to ask what was going on, but I’d said I was just in focused planning mode, which I often fell into at the beginning of these big projects. It was partially true—over the past week I’d buried myself in work. But it wasn’t exactly the kind of project planning I usually did. Half of my time had been spent going back and forth with lawyers over this new contract with Cassandra, and half of it had been dealing with my accountant trying to assess how to cover our stay to conceal the fact I was paying for it from Lila. But the whole thing was making me feel like a complete piece of shit. Now, not only was I lying to the world about my life, I was lying to Lila, too. Several times I considered telling her what had happened between me and Cassandra, and about the new deal I’d negotiated. But she’d freak out. Someone knew our secret, which meant both the business and our lives were vulnerable. She’d also insist we bring the project back onto Harrington Consulting’s books, rather than me paying out of pocket. On top of all that, I couldn’t stop thinking about the CEO herself.

Iwantedto turn her resort around. I wanted to show her how good I was at this. I wanted her to like me.

I thought about the way her hair fell across her cheek. The way she’d walked down that hallway in long, angry strides. But other times my thoughts were more… base. Maybe I just wanted to fuck her. Maybe that’s why I’d reacted the way I did on the island. Maybe that’s why I’d blurted out my secret identity to her. Maybe if I did that, I’d get everything out of my system. But that couldn’t be it. I’d wanted women before—plenty of times. But I’d never obsessed about them the way I did with Cassandra. Each night since I’d seen her, I’d replay that moment on the island in my mind, picturing taking her right there in the wild. I’d jerk off in the shower to that image, but even after releasing, I wouldn’t feel any different. It didn’t feel like it was enough. I still didn’t know whether I’d made the right choice in telling her. The obvious answer was I hadn’t, but there wasn’t much I could do about that now, so I came up with all the ways this was going to be good for our business, and for her business, too. I wasn’t normally a morose guy, I didn’t think, but this past week had been hugely messed up for my personal identity. I wondered, most of all, if this was what Dad felt like when he was living an elaborate lie. Then I got pissed at myself for identifying in any way with my father.

I’d tried to reach Conrad a couple of times—at this point he was the only one I could tell everything as he had no skin in the game, knew all about my fake life with Lila, and would mostly listen instead of giving advice. He was usually a reliable shoot-the-shit-over-beer partner, even over the phone. But the second time I called he’d texted to let me know things were shit over on his end, too. I knew he was going through a rough patch with his wife, and his son was taking it hard, and suddenly I felt like an ass for wanting to call and dump on him, too.

My only salvation before Saturday was the pool—when I was fed up with working, I’d spend time swimming endless laps, even during the giant dumps of rain the valley had that week. That part was at least mildly therapeutic, at least.

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, I was in a deeply shit mood.