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London’s expression turns curious. “But you want to know him?”
I run my fingers through the end of my ponytail. “I mean, we’re together practically all day.” And night. Warmth spreads over my face, and I force myself to think of something else.
I stare at the blue expanse of the ocean. Is the water off the beach really cold? I could use a frigid splash of reality when I think of Cannon.
Holland studies me. London’s quietly watching me.
Am I that transparent? Do they know I’ve done something with him and it was cataclysmic? He wasn’t even inside me. No part of him—except his tongue—was inside me, but it tops my best experience by far. By galaxies.
Holland’s red lips part. “You want to really get to know him.”
“No.” My answer lacks conviction, and Holland’s expression intensifies. “I’m still married.” Technically, though I haven’t felt married for years.
“You don’t owe that man one single second more of your time,” London says, her hands fisted like she’s ready to fight for what she means. “He ended the marriage when he first insulted you.”
“Then I wasn’t married long,” I say on an exhale. My marriage was over as soon as it began. Roman stayed the dutiful husband until Father signed on with him. Then he changed into the cold, insulting man I know him to be. The Roman I dated was a fabrication. The Roman I married was a mirage.
London grabs my hand. “Not that I don’t like Cannon, but do you think he’s the right rebound?”
“He’s absolutely not the right rebound. He’s my bodyguard. He’s working for me.” And he sleeps on top of the duvet even though his head was between my legs minutes earlier.
He’s chivalrous in an unexpected and un-bodyguard-like way and I’m here for it, apparently.
“He shouldn’t be a rebound,” I stress, my gaze rising to the office I’m sure all the guys are in.
London squeezes my hand. “It’s okay to be confused. Just give yourself the space you didn’t give young Penni. I don’t feel like I know him well, but Cannon’s not going to be overbearing like Roman was when you first met.”
I nod, hating the reminder of how naive I was. How naive I still am. Cannon’s not overbearing, but I haven’t known him long. He could change after he gets what he wants too. I just don’t know what he wants. “Father stopped by.” I tell them about the visit, then how I’m helping Mother with her new line of products.
Like I intended, that gets London’s mind off me and Cannon. She’s the owner and CEO of a makeup company and launching new products is her own personal drug, a habit she doesn’t want to shake.
Holland listens, her eyes shrewd behind her horn-rimmed sunglasses. With her hair pulled back, her blonde curls frame her head like a halo. She looks innocent, but I’ve known her long enough. She’s a lot like Cannon. Marilyn Monroe sex doll is what she wants the world to see. Savvy businesswoman is what she uses to get an advantage over her competitors in the fashion industry. She’s cryptic about her background, same as Cannon. And I like her anyway. Same as Cannon.
My reprieve from my real life doesn’t last long. Holland tips her head and asks, “So, what are you doing about the studio? Can you keep it going?”
Tears burn my eyes. I worked so hard for that place. It’s my passion. It’s where I socialize. It’s an escape.
But on the drive over, I made some hard decisions. I’m scared for my friends. I’m in fear for my family. And I can’t endanger the kids. If the attacks keep happening, how long before it’s not just about me? How long before someone else gets hurt?
“I’m going to talk to Pierre and Juan Pablo. I have to step back from teaching. My presence poses a danger.”
Holland puts her hands on her chest. “I’m so sorry, Penni.”
I blink back my tears, but I don’t know whether I’ll win the battle against crying. “Juan Pablo doesn’t need the competition, but we’ve come to rely on the prize packages.” It’s hard to afford our coach otherwise. “I hope he’ll take over teaching for me while I go on a sabbatical.”
“You rely on the prize packages too.” Holland’s voice oozes sympathy.
“I don’t have a wife and kids to support. It’s why I’m collaborating with Mother.”
“Smart move,” London murmurs. “It’s a hard decision, but I think it’s the right one.”
I can no longer hold the dam. Hot tears streak down my cheeks. Why does the right decision have to suck so bad?
The girls crowd around me. I’m surrounded by their warmth and their support.
I’ll need to hole up at Mother’s place. Unless it’s too dangerous for her to have me around.
How long before I’m cut off from everyone? How long before they forget me as they move on with their lives? How long will it be before I have nothing?
