“Did you hear that conversation?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she admits, and I hear the shift in her tone. “I—he—you’re?—”
“Hey. I don’t need an explanation.” I tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear. “He’s shit-talking—that’s all.”
“I can’t wait for him to leave,” she says, staring out at the ocean.
His words got to her too.
Him calling me a rebound stings, and she hasn’t denied that. The tension between us tightens. Just as Wendy is opening her mouth to speak, Josie steps out of the elevator.
“We’ll talk later, okay? Don’t worry about it.” I excuse myself and go upstairs, needing to get some work done.
I open the presentation Gideon sent and stare at the quarter-three projections without comprehending a single number.
She’ll never really love you.
I’ve never had to fight for a woman before. My name, my money, my family’s reputation did the heavy lifting before I walked into a room. Women came to me, begging to have a chance with me. Wendy has me on my knees, practically begging forher.
I came here and stripped everything away. She saw me raw.
What if Adam is right? What if …
I force myself to focus on the spreadsheet and make the changes Gideon needs.
The notification for the meeting hits my calendar, and I look at those who were invited. Weeks have passed since I’ve worked, and I’m rusty.
But I can pull myself together and be Dyson Banks, CEO of Banks Finance, for fifteen minutes. Then, tomorrow, I’ll wake up and be Carter again, the man with no title or responsibilities. The man Adam believes isn’t enough. The man Wendy has chosen for now. I’ve never been someone’s rebound before.
Wendy said we’d be each other’s summer crush. The weight of this might actually crush me.
chapter twenty-two
Wendy
Three days ago, I heard every word Adam said to Carter. Gran had cracked the windows at lunch, and the crashing waves were not loud enough to mask it. Thankfully, I was the only one in the lobby at the time, or I’d have been embarrassed.
“She’ll get bored with you.”
“You’re nothing more than a distraction.”
“Wake up, Carter. You’re a rebound.”
And the one that turned my stomach …
“She’s acting like your summer slut.”
I stood behind the front desk with my hands clenched into fists, listening to what both of them said when they thought things were private. My very much—and will always be until the end of my life—ex-boyfriend reduced me to a whore while Carter threatened to put him on the ground.
I wanted to rage out, but I’ve learned it’s best to cool off first.
It took me seventy-two hours.
Tuesday, he ate alone, skipped breakfast with the Bees, and stayed in his room most of the day. Wednesday, we made small talk at the counter while I sorted through the mail. He asked about the surf competition and if I was entering. I didn’t answer him.
This morning, Adam comes down the stairs, dressed with intention. He’s styled his hair how I like it with enough product to make it look naturally messy. He’s wearing a navy button-up, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His cologne drifts toward me, the same smell that still holds so many memories. His stubble is cleaned up, and he smiles at me as he passes. Tomorrow is his last day here, and we don’t have availability for him to extend his stay. This is the final performance.
I busy myself with my work. Adam gets the hint and leaves.
