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“Tell me about it. But he was sincere, and it’s not like I don’t get the mom thing. It seemed stupid not to accept his apology.”
When it came right down to it, Carly wasn’t really the type to dancing around the truth. It seemed pointless, and as much as it made her heart race, the truth was, she liked Jackson. The fact that she could practically feel his hands on her every time she looked into his crinkly baby blues didn’t hurt, either.
As if Sloane could hone in on Carly’s brainwaves, she let out a suggestive laugh. “Right. I’m sure you forgave him to clear your conscience. You little tart.”
Carly busied herself with her coffee. “Yeah, that’s me. Totally tarty.”
“So, where’s he going to take you?”
“I don’t know,” Carly admitted, taking in a deep breath of fresh air and dappled sunlight. “He’s going to call me later in the week.”
“This is so unfair. Your first date since the big D and I’m not even going to be here to harass you on your way out the door.” Sloane frowned and took a sip of coffee, leaning back in her lounge chair with a pout.
“Yeah, rough life you’ve got, jetting to New York to do a couple of high-profile book signings. You’re all over the map,cucciola.”
“Maybe next time I go, you should come with me,” Sloane said, her trademark sass noticeably absent.
A tiny pang of unease trickled through Carly like ice water on hot skin, but she tamped it down, unwilling to sabotage her good mood with thoughts of the city. Visiting would only remind her how much she missed it, not to mention that she really didn’t need any guilt from her mother. No, she couldn’t go back until she could stay, so there was little point in dwelling on it.
“And miss all the fun here? Plus, you’ll be swamped with publicity stuff. That’s what you get for being a bestseller.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sloane murmured, her Brooklyn accent curving over the words in a hard snap. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to miss your date with Jackson, that’s for sure. Hey, if I play my cards right in the city, maybe you won’t be the only one around here to get some sugar this week.”
Carly’s coffee made a beeline for her windpipe. “Who says I’m getting anything?” Was there no easing into the whole friends with benefits thing? She and Jackson couldn’t possibly end up horizontal right out of the gate, could they?
“What’d you think, you’d be playing Scrabble with the guy? Getting laid is kind of the point of having a bene-friend, sweetie.” Sloane’s lips curled into a cat-in-cream smile. “I thought you liked Jackson.”
“I do, but give me a break. The first date seems kind of abrupt, don’t you think? I mean, how many times do you go out with a friend with benefits beforeyousleep with him?”
Sloane tipped her head, sending a swath of black hair over one eye. “That’s not really a fair question. I mean, it depends on how well I know the guy before we decide to hook up.”
“How do you know none of them is your peacock, then?” Carly crinkled her nose, trying to keep the terminology straight in her head.
“Jesus, woman. Get your birds straight. It’s a swan.” Sloane laughed. “Repeat after me. White bird, long neck.”
“Whatever.” Carly’s grumble—and her question—were cut off by the sound of the phone ringing from beyond the screen door.
“Who the hell would call us at nine-fifteen on a Thursday morning?” Sloane wondered out loud, sending a frown at the back of the bungalow.
“We’re getting an early food delivery today at the restaurant. Gavin said he’d handle it, but our produce distributor is hit or miss in the reliability department. I told him to call me if there was a problem.”
Carly hustled though the door and reached for the phone. One batch of rotten produce or bad seafood would be enough to sink her entire dinner service, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to send someone to Joe’s Grocery to clean out their stock just to stay afloat. Carly scooped the phone to her ear, poised for bad news.
And bad news was exactly what she got.
Fifteen curse-filled minutes later, Carly sank against the sofa, squeezing her eyes shut over hot, angry tears. A truckload of rotten vegetables would’ve been a red-carpet gala compared to this.
No way. Just no way.
“Good God, Carly. You look like death warmed up. Moldy veggies aren’t thattragic, are they?” Sloane asked, making her way inside with concern.
“That wasn’t Gavin. It was my divorce attorney. Travis refused to sign the agreement outlining the distribution of joint property.” The words were hollow as they spilled from her mouth. Surely, this was a nightmare and any minute now she’d wake up, heaving with relief.
“What? Can he even do that? You guys already split everything when you left,” Sloane said, sitting next to Carly on the couch.
“Apparently, he’s claiming things weren’t distributed equally and fairly, and some items of ‘sentimental value’ haven’t been accounted for.” She paused to rake a hand through her hair. Travis had been so much talk and so little action over the course of their marriage that she hadn’t actually expected he’d go through with his threat to drag out their divorce.
“Travis has a shriveled up raisin instead of a heart. What sentimental items could he possibly be talking about?”
