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Oliver’s words—so casual, so quiet—sliced through her. He’d never see her as anything separate from Kyle. She didn’t hear Roman’s reply. Just took a sip of the cold drink, its effervescence at odds with the weight in her stomach.
Two weeks and two days.
As if sensing her sinking mood, Oliver settled his hand under her hair and gave an assuring squeeze. “You okay?”
She nodded, shifting her chair a few inches away.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” What else could she tell him? That her heart was breaking into a million pieces because he’d never see her for her?
“Mandy is on her way,” said Roman. “I’d asked her for a moment alone with you both first.”
Mandy joined less than ten minutes later. A pixie-like blonde, she could have played Tinker Bell in a movie. She waved excitedly at them as she skirted around the jostling crowds on her way to their table. With a little hop, she hugged Addison first, then lifted her bright eyes to Oliver and offered her hand, ignoring the undercurrents. “I’m Mandy.”
Oliver offered a polite handshake. “Join us.”
As Roman settled her next to him, she gazed up at him with a joyful twinkle. Everything about her always twinkled. No wonder Roman couldn’t let this one get away.
“Is it too late in the day for an Irish coffee?”
Roman’s entire face softened as he smiled at his wife. “Never too late.”
The waitress appeared as if on cue. The spiked, creamy coffee was brought a few minutes later.
“Fast service for a place this crowded.” Mandy took a sip. “Now that we are all here, let’s find that brother of yours.” She turned to her husband. “Did you tell them yet about the Triple-D?”
“The triple what?” asked Addison. What else was Roman hiding from her? The shattered trust would be hard to mend.
“This woman who approached us with a triple-D rack.” Mandy gestured in front of her. “Like that lady is getting her bras special made. We’ve been following the private investigator’s report pretty diligently, trying not to miss anything. We visited Kyle’s old haunts, spoke to anyone who might have seen him. Just as we were leaving one of the bars, this woman comes up to us. Her breasts were unreal.”
Addison exchanged a look with Oliver before returning her attention to Mandy. “What did she want?”
“She said she’s seen us around. Her name is Flicka, and she’s looking for Kyle, too. Apparently, he’d left her on read. She told us that Kyle mentioned Roman’s name before, and she’d like our help in finding him.”
Oliver draped his arm along the back of Addy’s chair. “What did Flicka look like?”
“Besides the overstuffed breasts? A redhead. With a nose piercing.”
The bar around them didn’t quiet, but Addison no longer heard a single conversation. A nose piercing? “Right or left side?”
Mandy thought about it. “Right. A cute little diamond.”
What were the odds that two of Kyle’s exes looking for him had the exact same piercing? Sylvia was either pretending to be the big-boobed Flicka, or Kyle had a thing for nose rings.
“What did you tell her?” Addison prodded.
“A decided no. First of all, she wouldn’t tell us how she knew Kyle. And she certainly wasn’t someone Kyle mentioned to us. So we declined. She hurried off in a huff, and we haven’t seen her since.”
As much as Addison wanted to share her and Oliver’s interaction with nostril-pierced Sylvia, who wanted her hundred grand back, she knew Oliver would disapprove. Roman may not have been part of the accident, but he’d been part of the cover-up. Trust would take a long time to build.
Oliver traced soothing patterns across her shoulder. “What have you learned about Kyle the last few weeks?”
“That the boy burns his bridges,” Mandy responded. “Every single person who remembered him wanted to knock him out.”
“As I told Oliver earlier,” Addison tapped her head to his shoulder, “punching Kyle is much less expensive than shooting him.”
Roman watched the playful interaction with unmistakable wariness. Most likely remembering JB and how heartbroken she’d been.
