“She ruined our evening, you know.” I’m standing in the kitchen looking at the bucket of champagne and thinking about the caviar chilling in the fridge. “Fucking bitch.”
Dallas is still in the living room, and he comes toward me with the now-empty bottle of wine. “If the evening is the only thing she takes from us, I’ll consider that a victory.”
I take the bottle from him and slam it down in the recycler so hard it breaks.
“No,” I say, “that’s not victory. I want to be rid of her. We need to be rid of her.” My phone rings, and my first instinct is to just toss it into a drawer and slam it shut. But then I see that it’s Brody.
“Call him back later,” Dallas says, but I shake my head. Then I take a breath to calm down and answer the call.
“How’s my favorite New York exile?” Brody asks as soon as I pick up.
“Not having the best day, actually.”
“Oh, shit.” His tone immediately changes. “Did something else happen? Do you have any news about who attacked you? You and Dallas aren’t—”
“We’re fine,” I say, reaching for Dallas and giving his hand a squeeze. “We’re about the only thing that is.”
“Oh, kiddo, I’m sorry. Bad news about the bitch who put you in the hospital?”
“No news,” I say. “But more drama.”
“Fuck,” he says, his voice heavy with concern. “Something else happened. What?”
“Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll tell you when I see you next. In the meantime, if you go on social media, I’m sure it’ll be trending by morning.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry you have to deal with this shit.”
“It’s definitely not fun. But like I said, I’m shaking it off. Or trying to anyway.” I actually shake my arms and head, as if sloughing off the bad shit. “So,” I say brightly, “did you just call to check on me?”
“Actually, my timing sucks, but I called for a favor. I was wondering if I could maybe use Dallas’s bungalow for the week. Get there tomorrow afternoon sometime?”
Dallas is an investor in The Resort at Cortez, an island vacation destination off the coast of Los Angeles operated by Stark Real Estate Development. And, as an investor, he owns a private bungalow in a gated section.
“Sure. I mean, I should check and make sure he hasn’t promised it to anyone, but I don’t think there will be a problem. Hang on.”
I ask Dallas, and of course he says it’s fine, which I relay back to Brody.
“That’s great. Thank you, and thank Dallas for me.”
“No problem. But what’s the occasion? Just looking for a getaway?”
“Pretty much. I just—I just want to surprise Stacey.”
I frown, something in his tone worrying me. “Is she okay?”
He chuckles. “I’m not allowed to surprise my wife?”
“I know you, remember? Your idea of a surprise is to rent a romantic comedy instead of an action flick.”
He barks out a laugh. “I don’t think I’m that uninventive, but I take your point. And yes, everything’s fine. Great, in fact. Next Wednesday is her one-year anniversary of being cancer free. I just want to celebrate being together. Because, well hell, because I just cherish every moment we have, you know?”
I did know, and I told him so. “I can’t offer you the jet anymore, but why don’t you see what kind of flights you can get, and we can arrange for the island helicopter to ferry you over.”
We work out the details, and I promise that if Dallas and I are still in LA we’ll even hop to the island and visit. Then I hang up the phone, look at Dallas, and sigh.
“Hey,” he says, taking my hands. “What is it?”
“I’m just so proud of both of them. The way they fought her cancer. The way they stood together. I don’t know.” I lift a shoulder. “We’re fighting to survive, too, and I just hope we have the same strength together that Brody and Stacey do.”
He pulls me into the circle of his arms and holds me tight. “Oh, baby, how can you doubt it? Think of everything we’ve been through. We’ve been forged in the fire, and we’ve come out stronger.”
“Maybe,” I say, as I press my cheek against his chest. “Maybe it doesn’t matter?”
I feel him tense. “What do you mean?”
For just a moment, I lean back so that I can see his face. “Because sometimes the strong don’t win, Dallas. We both know that. And I’m scared.”
His brow furrows as concern flashes in his eyes. “Of what?”
“That no matter how hard we fight, it won’t matter, and that somehow, someday, the world is going to rip us apart.”
