CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ADAIR

Today feels like a new page being written in my story. I’m more myself than I’ve been in the last twelve years. My phone chirps from the cradle perched on the dashboard. I swipe the screen on as I put the car into park.

Carly:The Machine is really going all in this time.

Attached to the message is a picture of Stone, surrounded by dozens of volunteers, cleaning the side of the road. He’s got at least three pieces of aluminum soda cans stuck to the tool that looks like a spear.

Adair: I’m surprised anyone trusted him with that thing. Looks deadly.

Carly: True, but this is bad. We need to figure out our response.

I tuck the phone into my pocket as I attempt to balance a chai latte, my espresso, and a tall dark coffee without dropping my keys as I shove the door open with my knee.

“Welcome to Cherry Street Plaza, sir. How may we…” Alexei, the doorman, sneers realizing it’s me. “Oh. You’ve come back. Wonderful. And to what do we owe this… honor?”

“Alexei, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” I say offering him the coffee. “Please accept this as an apology for the way I acted the other night. I wasn’t able to think straight at the time.”

His hands stay clasped behind his back until the slightest hint of a knowing smirk crosses his face when he finally accepts the peace offering. “Women will do that to us every time, won’t they?”

“One in particular.” I can’t help but laugh thinking of how she’s driven me to my limits of sanity over the years, and there’s not a single memory I would change or trade because they’ve all been with her.

“I’ll let her know you’re here, sir.” He pauses waiting for her to answer. “Yes, Miss Carly. He’s in the lobby now.” I can hear her voice through the phone but can’t tell what she’s saying. “You’re clear to go up, sir.”

I nod, lifting my espresso in the air. “It’s going to be a good day! Enjoy your morning.”

“Be careful. I’m still able to throw you out if she tells me to.”

Gulp. “Duly noted.”

The elevator door slides open and there’s Carly pacing in the hall. Her face gives her away when she finally turns to look at me. She saw the picture of my dreads laying on the bathroom floor last night, but she clearly wasn’t expecting the change this morning.

“Good morning,” I say in a sing-song voice.

“I’m surprised you’re up this early.”

That’s not all she’s surprised by. “Why?”

“You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”

I shrug and offer her the chai latte. “Every day brings something new.”

“I can see that,” she says, letting her gaze linger on the lack of hair I’m currently sporting. “I like the new look.”

“It felt like it was time for a change. If memory serves… this is for you.”

She scrunches her nose as she slowly brings the cup to her nose sniffing to solve the mystery of what’s inside. “You remembered that?”

Pfft. “It’s only been five years since we were snowed in at the ski chalet and you spent the entire weekend complaining they didn’t have any chai latte. Of course, I remembered.” A deep belly laugh escapes me. “You kind of drilled it into all of our brains.”

A soft pink pouf pillow flies at my head. I dodge just in time causing it to land in the middle of her floor lamp. It wobbles like a bobble-head but manages to pull itself back upright. “I was not complaining. I was observing,” she giggles. “There’s a difference.”

“Observing. Got it.” The espresso burns my throat as it goes down. A welcome warmth to combat the bitter cold of the day. “I’m not used to this winter stuff,” I acknowledge as I toss my jacket onto her white leather sofa. “I might have to invest in winter clothes, since Griffin’s decided to relocate Amaryllis here.”

“I bet you’re ready to get back to L.A.?” She says, taking a sip from the snowflake decorated cup labeled Cherry Street Perks.

I’ve lived in L.A. since we signed with The Machine. It seemed like it was the perfect place for a guy like me. I had everything I ever wanted within arm’s reach, except for one… “I don’t think I miss it.” Not even a little bit.

“I’m impressed,” she admits taking another sip. “You’ve changed.”

“How?”

She shakes her head and goes back to scrolling on her phone. “I don’t know. You just seem different since Griffin’s wedding.”

Different because I realized how far-off the track, I’ve let my life go. “Hmm. Weird.” I take the seat beside her, peeking over her shoulder to see what she’s scrolling through. Pictures of her brother in the media. Headline after headline telling her he’s trying to sabotage us, which includes her. That has to be hard to read. “Hey, you know, the press doesn’t always get it right. It might be something else entirely.”

“It seems like a campaign angled to community,” she argues. “Which is exactly what they’re saying you all threw away.”

“I know what they’re saying.” My lips purse together as a new thought hits me. “What if that’s just the angle The Machine is spinning it with because they’re trying to misdirect.”

“What do you mean? People change.” She runs her fingers through the hair remaining on my head, even though there’s not much of it. “See?”

“Okay but letting go of a style I’ve worn since I was thirteen, isn’t exactly the same thing as Stone all of a sudden pulling a one-eighty.”

“Why did you decide to cut the dreads off?”

I shrug, unsure if I was prepared for this conversation. Her eyes are sparkling as they search mine. I want to answer her, but the weight is suddenly crashing in on me again. If I’m ever going to push past this wall I’ve built up, I have to start somewhere. Now’s as good a time as any. “I think it was part of how I was still mourning them.”

She puts one hand on top of mine and lightly squeezes. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“No one did. It was my style. I owned it. But deep down I think it started as a rebellion against my reality and losing them was the reality. I had to let it go of it all if I was ever going to move past the accident.”

“That makes a lot of sense. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” she says pulling her hand back.

“Don’t be sorry. I have to face all of my demons if I’m ever going to put them behind me.” I take her hand back in mine. “There’s no one I’d rather face them with than you.”

“Me?”

My nerves get the better of me. I swallow the lump growing in my throat and let out a snort-chuckle… a snork-le? “Well, you know how terrifying you can be, especially before your coffee. You could scare any demon away.”

She playfully slugs me in the arm. “You are a jerk.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I take a gulp of espresso half hoping it burns my throat enough I can’t say anything else stupid. “Anyway, back to Stone?”

She pulls up one of the images on her phone and makes it full screen. “It looks like he’s actively picking up trash and helping the community.” She lets the word hang in the air as she draws the sounds out.

“Change is one thing, but that…” I tap at the smug face looking back at me through the screen on her phone. “Anyone who believes that guy is somehow putting other people first, raise your hand.”

Her lips twist into a frown then a smirk as she thinks about it. “You know, you might be on to something.” She slaps my leg as she jumps up and heads to the kitchen. The sound of silverware banging together carries through the room as she rummages through a drawer. “His attorney left me his card the last time I saw him. I could call and find out if there’s anything else that might be sparking all of this community service.” Her delicate fingers make air-quotes around the last two words.

“Oh! That would make so much sense. Call him.” I take a sip of my espresso as I bring her phone over to where she’s still fighting with random utensils and trying to cram them back in the drawer. The snicker escapes before I can even attempt to stop it.

“Don’t judge,” she says scowling up at me. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Which is exactly why I need to wrap up the paperwork and sign off on the sale of my L.A. home. I don’t want to be out of sight and out of Carly’s mind now that she’s moved here to be closer to Amaryllis Studios, and the only real family she’s ever known.

She snatches the phone out of my hand and plugs in the number from the card she found at the back of the drawer. She lets out a huff as she waits for someone to pick up, still annoyed over the rebel spatula refusing to be confined in the drawer and is now lying triumphantly behind her on the counter. “Mister Danvers, this is Carly Thompson, Stone Thompson’s sister. I just have some questions and since you left me this number, I was hoping you could help answer them. Please call me back when you can.” She taps to end the call and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Voicemail.”

“Well…” I take the spatula and slide it back in the drawer on its side. That didn’t win me any points. I should be dead right now from the look she’s giving me. “While we wait, we could work on our counter to the latest Stone-tastrophe.”

“Cute. Real cute,” she snorts. “What do you have in mind?”

The gray skies outside her window finally opened up. “Tis the season, you know?” I nod toward the window where a flurry of white powder is floating through the air.

“Right. And?”

“Lots of trees are going to be cut down. Why don’t we start a campaign to put some back into the ground?”

“Oh!” Her fingers snap together as she runs from one end of her apartment to the other, pulling something from her desk. “These guys,” she holds up a media kit with two DJs from a neighboring market on it, “I connected with them while we were in Colorado Springs for the wedding. They asked Amaryllis to be on their show before the new year. We could talk to them about their station co-sponsoring the event with Amaryllis Studios. Let me send them an email right now.” Her face glows when she’s excited like this. The sparkle in her eyes mesmerizes me. “Adair!”

“What?”

“I just asked you if you’d be willing to do the show in two days and you completely ignored me.”

Oops. “That’s fine with me,” I say, wiping at the coffee I apparently just dripped on my shirt while I was distracted. “As long as you do the show with me.”

“No way.” She shakes her head and continues typing. Not one to let her ignore me so easily, I close the laptop interrupting her email spinning her chair around so she’s facing me. “I’m not doing it unless you do too.”

Her eyes narrow as she studies. “Why?”

I hadn’t planned on answering that question, and I sure didn’t plan on telling her it’s because I want to soak up every second I can with her afraid it might be my last. “Because you’re the one putting all this together for Amaryllis, so you should be getting some of the spotlight too.”

She waves her hand in the air, dismissing the idea as she goes back to typing up her email.

“Your contract with The Machine is up at the exact same time ours is. If you don’t start planning for your future, then you’re going to end up scrambling and I don’t want that for you.”

Her chair slowly turns back around as her white fluffy socked foot pushes off on the floor. “You’re worried about me.”

“Uh… I don’t think I said—”

A black and gold painted fingernail pokes my chest. “Don’t try and play it cool now. You’ve already shown your hand.”

I shrug both shoulders. “I’m not going to deny it. You deserve better than getting booted out the door because we couldn’t stay tied to The Machine. If Amaryllis Studios goes under, I don’t want to see you left without a career to fall back on. I want to help.”

“So, it’s guilt?”

It’s so much more than that. “Maybe. A little.”

She smirks and rolls her eyes as she swings back around. Her fingers flying across the keys. “I know you better than that, Mister Miller.”

I want to do everything I can to protect her, even if that means she wouldn’t be working with Amaryllis anymore.