Page 81 of Eye Candy

I kissed her cheek mechanically. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t come!”

“Here I am.”

The morning was gray, but New Yorkers needed very little encouragement to gather on a rooftop. Rows and rows of plantsdecorated the roof, making it look more like a jungle than a rooftop in Manhattan. There were six of us on the roof, but caterers in uniform stood behind a row of barbecues, grilling what smelled like eggplant and mixing what looked like Bloody Marys.

My brother was at one edge of the building, wearing shorts and Ray-Bans, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the skyline like a bored god.

“Look who else is here!” Jemima pointed to the bar, where Xan was sipping something green. He raised the glass at me in greeting.

I noticed there still wasn’t an engagement ring on Jemima’s finger, despite what my brother had said at the park, and I made a mental note to ask him about it when she wasn’t around. I’d bring it up gently, nonjudgmentally, to show him I wasn’t going to give him shit for moving too fast. I wasn’t in a position to be passing judgment on that front anymore.

“How do you know Xan?” I asked Jem as she towed me toward him.

“I don’t,” she replied. I faltered a step, but Jem’s arm was still through mine and she tugged me forward. “I wanted you here, and I know you don’t like to be at things with many people—Joe told me about your crowd thing—so I uninvited some of our regulars and called that games place you have—Joe told me about that too—and invited your friend to come. I wanted you to feel safe, and have an ally.”

“Why do I need an ally?”

Instead of answering, she pushed me onto a stool and pressed an Aperol Spritz into my hand. “It’s virgin.”

“So is he, at this point.” Xan joked.

I sighed. “Knock it off, Xan. Virginity is?—”

“A construct,” he and Jemima finished simultaneously.

“We know, Chase,” Xan said. “We’re messing with you.”

I nearly jumped when a hand clapped me on the shoulder. I looked up and saw Joe.

“Long time no see, Fixy. You’ve been keeping a low profile.”

On my third day back in the city, whispers had spread that Teddy Bircher was an imposter. I couldn’t prove it, but I suspected that Gerry had been responsible. I was flooded by well-meaning callers (and Fiona), all wanting to know what had happened, wanting to talk about what they’d heard about Caroline. On the advice of one of the most expensive PR people in New York, I didn’t engage, not wanting to give the rumors legitimacy. I’d stayed out of the public eye—not a hardship for me—and hoped things would die down. But they hadn’t yet. It felt like trying to swim against the current on a stormy day in Tahiti.

The calls Ihadtaken were from various trustees. As Gerry had calculated, they were panicking about the stability of Joe as an investment and wanted competency measures and other bullshit. I’d talked them down, promising that I had nothing to do with the Teddy Bircher woman anymore, and explaining my stepbrother’s plan to bring Joe and I into disrepute. I stuck to reciting the statement the PR firm had given me. Most importantly, I promised that from now, there wouldn’t be a whiff of a scandal around the Sanford brothers.

“I’ve got Cara Younger from Younger and Sons,” I told Joe. “She’s developed a five-point response plan. Laying low is”—I pictured the dry-erase board in my home office—“phase two.”

Joe snorted. “What was phase one? Go back to living like a monk?”

“One was to distance himself from his pink scammer,” Xan chipped in. He’d seen the board. “But she went back to New Zealand, which took care of that.”

I was trying very hard not to think about Caroline. About the soft hollow where her neck met her shoulder that smelled like roses in the park on a rainy morning, or the way she threw her head back and laughed when people were looking, but snort-laughed when it was just us. The way she licked her lips and dragged her eyes over me when she wanted us to get naked, and the way she couldn’t go to sleep before scrolling through pictures of rabbits.

“You want another virgin drink, Fixy?” My brother asked. “Or something stronger? You look like you need it.”

“No, thanks.”

Something Caroline had said about Joe and I being inept at sharing our feelings came to mind.

Clearing my throat, I looked Joe in the eye and said, “Sorry for being so overbearing, Joe. You’re in charge of your life, and I want to be in it. I’m going to be more understanding.”

Theatrically, Joe stumbled backwards, clutching his chest and feigning some kind of heart episode. “Has hell frozen over?” he asked Jemima, who shrugged. “An apology? From Fixy himself? Damn. Apology accepted, Chase. It’s twenty years overdue, but I’ll take it. And I’m sorry about the recycling comment.” Jemima elbowed him. “Also about breaking your yucca, or whatever.”

“Cape blanco succulent,” Jemima said. “Sedum spathulifolium.”

Joe grinned at her. “Stop it, you’ll get yourself excited.”

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