Page 17 of Never Your Valentine

The mere mention of Ted Ender brings an unhealthy amount of bile to my throat and I have the urge to spit. I’m swallowing the last of my coffee to wash away the urge when the front door opens and Lia comes in, followed by Annabelle.

I pull the cup away from my face so fast coffee dribbles down my chin and onto my shirt. I swipe it away. “No.”

Annabelle manages a small wave. “Hi.”

“No,” I repeat as it all clicks. This is why Annabelle moved here in the dead of winter. This is why she was oddly gleeful about Echo Creek. This is why my life is about to get very, very complicated.

My ears ring with an anxious buzz that makes it hard to hear when Lia, all smiles, tells me who owns my building now. My sister’s acting like she’s friends with Annabelle already. They’re laughing and bouncing. June gives a happy shoulder shimmy.

I’m not laughing. I’m not shimmying. I grasp the bottom hem of my flannel shirt, roll it up a few times, and let it go. I cut my eyes to the door and then back to my sister. “What are you doing?”

“We met this morning,” June says. “Immediate besties. Instagram official.”

“Perfect,” Lia says, even though it’s anything but. “You’re going to be great neighbors. Have wine nights. Share the WiFi.”

“Cool, cool,” I say. Not at all cool.

“I have to go.” Lia turns to me. “Didn’t Stan give you a key to the other unit? Annabelle’s going to need that.”

I unhook the key from my ring and place it on the table in front of me, backing away from it as if it’s radioactive. Did Felix leave the apartment a mess last night? Is she going to think I did it? Should I say something?

Lia gives Annabelle a giant folder of paperwork and heads out. The silence in her wake stretches to an uncomfortable degree.

Last night, Annabelle was beautiful in soft bar light and the haze of alcohol. Framed by daylight, she somehow looks even prettier. Her hair is clipped back, her skin dewy, with a faint blush on her cheeks. She’s wearing those tight jeans again, this time tucked into warm boots. Her sweater is the same blue as her eyes, which I tear my gaze from the moment I notice.

I am so screwed.

Annabelle folds her hands into her sleeves. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t plan this.”

“You didn’t have to,” I say miserably. “The universe clearly hates me.”

“I inherited the building,” Annabelle says. “I didn’t choose to own your chaos.”

June’s head is swiveling back and forth between us. “Wait…you two know each other?”

“No,” I say.

“Barely,” Annabelle says at the same time. We share a grimace.

“I can’t believe you inherited my building,” I say.

“Your building?” Annabelle takes a step forward. “You don’t even have this address listed on your license.”

June swats his arm. “You didn’t change that yet? How many times have I told you?”

“I’ll get to it,” I say, still focused on Annabelle. “You didn’t think to mention that you owned this building when we—” I stop myself just in time, cut my eyes to June, and gesture vaguely in the air. “—ran into each other last night?”

June regards us like she’s watching her favorite sitcom. “So, you’ll be living upstairs?”

“Temporarily,” Annabelle says. “Until I can figure out other arrangements.”

“Not likely.” I go back to sorting dishes, giving the plate in front of me a very thorough examination, looking for hairline cracks.

“Yeah,” June agrees. “It’s impossible to find long-term rentals in Echo Creek. You’re lucky you’ve got your own place here.”

“Not feeling super lucky at the moment,” Annabelle says.

“What do you want?” I ask. “A ribbon cutting? Confetti? A spontaneous duet?”