Page 70 of Iris Kelly Doesn't Date

Vanessa’s voice sounded from the front door, which Stevie hadn’t even heard open. Adri appeared next to Van, what looked like a mimosa in her hand. She looked beautiful, as always, her hair a deepteal, her natural dark strands mixing throughout, and she wore a black tank top with tiny swim shorts dotted with coral-colored Hawaiian flowers.

“Hey,” Stevie said as Iris slipped her fingers between Stevie’s.

“You made it,” Adri said, her eyes flitting to their hands and back up. “Iris, nice to see you again.”

“You too,” Iris said. “Thank you so much for having me here. I’m so excited.”

“Of course,” Vanessa said. She wore a hot pink triangle top bikini, a sheer floral wrap around her waist. “This is my favorite weekend of the year.”

“Yeah, because you get to sit around in your bathing suit and drink while the rest of us work,” Adri said.

Her tone was light, teasing, but Van’s expression still dimmed.

Iris squeezed Stevie’s fingers and laughed. “Sounds like a dream to me.”

Vanessa smiled. “I mean, right?”

Adri slid her arm around Van’s waist, then pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered something in her ear. Vanessa relaxed, and Stevie felt the sudden need to touch Iris too, push close to her side.

No. Hell, no, she was not going to get into a PDA battle with her ex. Plus, Adri’s the one who had instigated their breakup in the first place—it wasn’t like Stevie could succeed in making her jealous, even if she wanted to.

“Interesting,” Iris said quietly.

“What is?” Stevie asked.

But Iris just looked at her for a second, then shook her head. Before Stevie could question her any further, Van called out to them.

“Come in, come in,” she said, waving them forward.

Stepping inside the Riveros’ house was always a stark reminder that no, rich people were not just like everyone else. Not by a long shot. The downstairs area was one wide-open space, with marblefloors in the kitchen transitioning into a gorgeous driftwood in the living spaces. The living room was huge—there was enough seating for twenty people, at least—sporting a giant white sectional as the centerpiece with light blue and gray armchairs sprinkled throughout, and pillows in ocean colors of seafoam, navy, and turquoise to complete the beach-retreat look. The back wall wasn’t a wall at all, but floor-to-ceiling windows with a sliding door that opened up onto the back deck. The infinity pool glowed aquamarine under the sun, and the Pacific rolled just beyond that.

“Holy shit,” Iris said.

“You already said that,” Stevie said.

“I’ll say it again—holy shit. What do Vanessa’s parents do again?”

“Family money,” Stevie whispered. “Van’s great-great-grandparents immigrated from Columbia and started a tiny vineyard up in Northern California that became super successful. But Van’s mom and dad are also pretty big agents with William Morris Endeavor.”

“Ah. Hollywood types.”

“Yep.”

Stevie took a breath, inhaling the familiar smell of sunscreen and expensive natural cleaners. The last time Stevie had been on this retreat, she and Adri were still a year away from breaking up, but the fissures were already there, tiny cracks of evidence that they were out of love and nearly out of time. But on the retreat, it was like all that disappeared. She and Adri even had sex while on the last trip—probably the last time before the breakup—a wild tangle of limbs in the shower fueled by too much sun and rich food, the heady drug of working on a play together, which had always been like a virtual Viagra for their sex life.

Stevie shoved the memories away. In front of them, Vanessa turned and smiled. “I have the best room for you two.”

“Oh,” Stevie said. “You didn’t have—”

“Actually, babe,” Adri said, “I had to move them to the Jasmine Room.”

Vanessa frowned. “Why?”

Adri took a sip of her drink. “Satchi and Nina really wanted the Hyacinth. And they’ve been together longer.”

“When did they tell you that?” Van asked.

“They texted me when I asked them about room assignments. You know they’ve always loved that room, and I—”