“So are you.”
“Flatterer.”
They find the turn, and are almost back when Perry says, “I do have to go back to work. Maybe you’d consider coming with me?”
“To where?”
“I’m based out of London. I have a flat in Kensington Gardens. You’d like it. Lots of color.”
“And if I don’t want to go to London? You aren’t there often. Would I need to follow you all over the world on your shoots?”
“Maybe? Maybe I’d change things up.”
“Would you stay here?”
“Well, I haven’t done a lot of work on US soil, and there’s plenty around to capture my attention.” He stops, pulling her to him. “I want to be where you are, Olivia.”
They stand together for a moment, but Olivia hears the slam of a car door and pulls away.
“Park’s here.”
Perry shades his eyes as he looks toward the drive, which they can see from this spot on the beach, through the outdoor living room by the pool to the street.
“So he is.”
Park looks good for a man who’s driven all night. He’s wearing jeans and a polo she doesn’t recognize; his beard is growing in after several weeks without a razor. She doesn’t care for beards; she almost smiles to see this new independence flouted in her face. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Perry in shorts and no shirt, Olivia in workout gear, looking like they’ve just taken a walk together, intimately, as they have.
“Is there coffee?” he says, in lieu of physical contact.
It really is over, she thinks, heading for the cabinet. Perry excuses himself for a shower, promising to be back in a moment, leaving them alone.
“So, my brother, huh?”
She plugs in the coffee maker. “We were just taking a walk.”
Park gives her a wolfish smile and points to her neck. Frowning, she goes to the guest bath. A love bite, clear as day, just under her ear. At least he isn’t foaming at the mouth. Maybe they will be able to do this well. Separation. Moving on with others. There must be scar tissue building in her heart.
Park has finished making the coffee and poured himself a cup. He’s leaning against the counter.
“We should probably talk,” he says, and she nods.
“Probably.”
“Is that what you’ve brought me down here for? To tell me you’re with Perry now?”
“Not at all. It’s about Annie Cottrell and Melanie Rich.”
She can swear he flinches at the names.
“I just need to hear you say it.”
“I didn’t kill them,” he replies automatically.
“That’s what I told Perry. But he’s pretty upset by some new information he’s found out.”
Park pours another cup, cool as can be.
“Like what?”