He laughs. “I never forget beer.”

  But as we head to the pub, I soldier myself for the advice I actually need. “What would you say if I told you that you were right about mixing business with pleasure?”

  He laughs as we turn the corner. “Of course I’m right. I’m an excellent judge of many things.”

  “So, this woman I’m married to . . .”

  “Wait. Nooooo. No, you didn’t.” He stares at me with wide eyes. Points accusingly. “You did. You fell for her.”

  “Want to remind me that you warned me about this?”

  “If I were to, I’d remind you quite specifically that you said, ‘We aren’t mixing business with pleasure. We’re uniting for two mutual goals.’”

  “That sounds like something I’d say.”

  Oliver claps me on the back. “So you did it. You mixed business with pleasure. And I presume you’re about to give men a bad name and crush her heart?”

  “No. Remember when I said she’d break mine?”

  He stops. His voice drops lower, etched with concern. “Has she?”

  “Seems destined to happen. She doesn’t want anything serious. She’s made that clear.”

  He frowns. “She has?”

  “Crystal clear from the start.”

  “And you do? Want something more?”

  I nod. “I want so much more.”

  “Then I clearly owe you a pint because that’s a sad story.”

  We walk in silence for a bit till we reach my favorite pub. As he pulls open the door, Oliver says, “On the other hand, you could lay it out there for her.”

  I knit my brow.

  He grabs at his chest as if reaching inside. “Take your heart and serve it up on a platter—and hope to hell she doesn’t chop it into mincemeat.”

  I laugh, but it’s a sullen sound. Knowing Elise, that’d send her scurrying over her fortified walls into a whole new kind of retreat.

  But as my cousin heads inside, I stop at the door, thinking of the other night, the things we said.

  What if she feels the same? What if she’s starting to figure out that this marriage of convenience has turned, unexpectedly, into something more?

  I need to give her time. I need to give her the chance to figure out what I’ve already learned: we could be more than a deal.

  That’s what I need to do for the rest of the arrangement. Treat her like a queen and listen for any sign that she might be on the same page as I am.

  Then, seize the chance.

  Later that evening, I’m working late at my home. Erik and I have finished a new deal, and it’s coming together beautifully. But it requires a fine attention to detail, and I’m this close to exhausted from reading contracts most of the day.

  Erik jumps up from the table where we’re working. He paces the living room, muttering.

  I glance up from the screen on his fifth lap across the carpet. “You okay?”

  “I can’t believe she tracked you down at the game the other day,” he says, disgust thick in his voice. I’d told him what happened at the match. “I can’t believe she’s inserting herself into everything.”

  “Don’t let it get to you,” I say gently, as I tap the screen. “Let’s try to finish this off.”

  He shoves his hands into his hair. “I can’t focus. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I’m so bloody ticked off.”

  His jaw is tight, and his eyes are fiery. It’s a look I hardly ever see on my brother. “Erik, come on. Let’s focus on this, order some takeaway, and watch a stupid show.”

  He shakes his head vigorously. “I can’t. I need to go for a run.” He darts into the guest room where he’s been staying and emerges a minute later with running shorts and trainers on. He heads to the door in a flurry. “I’ll work when I come back. I need to clear my head. See Elise, or whatever you want to do.”

  He leaves, and I hunker down, finishing the read-through. When I’m done, I decide seeing Elise sounds brilliant, especially since she’s leaving for New York soon.

  I text her, but she writes back and tells me she’s busy tonight.

  Somehow, this bothers me more than it should.

  33

  ELISE

  What does one wear to have a drink with her former sister-wife?

  That’s a question you won’t find in most etiquette guides.

  As I peruse my closet, I opt for a skirt and a sleeveless top. It’s July, and it’s hot in this city.

  I stare at my reflection. Should I wear my hair up or down? What’s the proper hairstyle for having drinks with the woman who shared the same man with you, unbeknownst to each other?

  But it doesn’t matter how I wear my hair. Tonight isn’t about the odd connection we share. Tonight isn’t about him.

  It’s about what she found of mine, and I can’t wait.

  I’m laughing so hard I’m crying.

  “Oh God, stop. You have to stop,” I say between breaths at the café. “I can’t take it anymore.”

  My one-time sister-wife runs a hand through her thick brown hair as she tells me a story about a book she just acquired at the publishing house she oversees in Barcelona. It’s a collection of essays about men who love cats. It’s absurd and the sheer absurdity is cracking us up. “And the best thing about men who love cats is they have learned to respect your moods. What could be better training for moods than a feline?”

  I chuckle as I lift my glass of red, returning to the last time I had drinks with her. It was like discovering I had a long-lost twin. We’d compared notes about all the strange things we’d had in common our whole lives. Now, we’re talking about cats, and work, and life. Diana feels like she could be a friend, if she lived in town. “So, how are you doing? Are you well?”

  A smile spreads on her face as she takes a drink of iced tea. “Yes, and I’m getting married again.”

  My jaw drops. “Seriously?”

  She pats her belly. “The reason I ordered no wine tonight? I’m three months pregnant.”

  I reach across the tiny table and give her a hug. “Congratulations! I'm so happy for you. What’s he like?”

  With a wry smile, Diana lifts a brow and whispers sardonically, “He’s honest.”

  We both crack up.

  “He also likes cats, but not so much he’d write an essay about them.”

  “That’s excellent. That’s all you really need.”

  She raises her index finger. “Honesty, chemistry, and a loyalty to felines that’s in line with my own. We have all those in spades.”

  “I’ll drink double for both of us, then.”

  “What about you? Have you met anyone? I see you have a ring,” she says, as if it’s a secret I’m waiting to spill.

  And it kind of is.

  I stare at my wedding band, and on the surface, the story is too crazy to tell. But those details aren’t what matter most. It’s what’s behind them. “I met someone, and he’s wonderful. He makes me happy in a way I didn’t think I could be happy again. But sometimes I’m scared to fully surrender to the way I feel for him,” I admit, taking a deep breath. “How did you let go of the fear?”

  She brings her hands together and imitates diving. “You jump off the cliff.”

  “That’s it?” I ask. She makes it sound so simple.

  “You let go of it by letting go of it. It’s hard, and it’s easy at the same time.” She dips her hand into her purse. “And here is this little item. I’m glad it’s returning to its rightful owner.”

  I rub my palms eagerly. I never thought it would find its way to me again. I still won’t believe it till I verify it with my own two eyes. “Yes, come to mama.”

  Diana laughs. “I was sorting through my old boxes, and I came across it in one of his jackets. I remembered you had worn one that was similar last time I saw you, and that’s why I reached out. I thought you might want it.”

  She opens her palm, and I gasp. My heart cartwheels as I reach for the cheap, faux-silver chain with a taxicab charm on it. “I can’t believe you found it.” I stare at the necklace in wonder. It means nothing, and it means everything. It’s just a thing, but it’s a thing that’s come home. “My brother gave this to me years ago. I had it for most of my life, and I never knew what happened to it.”

  Diana shrugs happily. “Maybe fate wanted you to have it again.”

  There’s that word again. Fate. Does fate have anything to do with the whereabouts of a necklace my brother gave me when I was six? Does fate have any role in anything?

  When I put it on, I don’t think of my brother. I think of Christian, and I want to tell him that maybe I do believe in fate. Just a little bit. Maybe I do believe we were meant to meet again. Maybe this necklace was meant to come back to me. Maybe everything in my life has led me to this moment. To the realization that all I have to do to find happiness is step off the cliff.

  When we’re done and it’s time to say goodbye, I hug her tightly. “I’m glad you found this, and I’m thrilled to have it again.” I tug her closer. “Good luck, Diana. I want you to have a beautiful life.”

  “I want the same for you.”

  A lump rises in my throat. I never thought I’d be here today, on the other side. The side of letting go, of being free. But as I walk away, touching my taxicab charm, I’m sure that’s exactly where I am.

  I’m heading to New York tomorrow, and tonight I want to see Christian. I call him.

  “Hello?”

  I flinch at the voice on the other end of the line. “Erik?”

  “Sorry, yeah. I answered his phone. I just returned home from a long run and he’s sound asleep.”

  “Oh,” I say, my heart plunging into disappointment. “He must have been tired.”

  “He’s zonked. How are you?”

  I cross the street, doing my best to table my desire to see Christian. “I’m good. And you?”

  “Brilliant. Never been better. In fact, I was going to call you.”

  “You were?”

  “I need your help with something, and I know you’re already helping with so much already, but I hope you won’t mind.”

  He tells me what he needs. I like Erik. I care about him. I also want to do right for the brother of the man I love.

  I say yes, and he tells me he’ll swing by early in the morning to pick me up.

  34

  ELISE

  Erik picks me up in an Uber at seven on the dot. I send Christian a text letting him know I’m helping his brother with a project. But I don’t hear back from him. “Where’s Christian?”

  “Griffin convinced him to run six miles or something this morning. He’s insane.”

  “Totally mad,” I tease, but a seed of worry gnaws at me. “Is he okay?” It’s odd that I didn’t talk to him last night, but then again, he went to bed early. Maybe I’m reading something into nothing.

  “He’s busy at work,” Erik says absently, staring out the car window. His mind is clearly elsewhere, and I don’t know where that elsewhere is. Erik didn’t tell me much. He simply said he wanted a woman’s company to pay a visit to Jandy.

  “Do you think she’s going to listen to me? She didn’t seem too fond when she showed up at the match.”

  He turns back to me. “I’ll do the talking. I want you there because she has issues with men, due to a poor relationship with her father. I’m now the man on the outside, so I don’t want to set off those subconscious issues.”

  “I understand,” I say, though I don’t entirely. But I’m impressed Erik has such a strong read on the woman’s psyche.

  “I called her sister last night after I finished my run.”

  I arch a brow, curious. “What did she say?”

  His jaw is set hard in anger. “Jandy’s story about Lillian being ill sounded dodgy, and I was right on that count. Lillian said she was in a car accident and took a few days off work. She had whiplash. She’s not having hundreds of thousands of euros in medical treatment, like Jandy made it seem.”

  “That’s good. It’s good she’s not ill.”

  “It also means Jandy is off her trolley.”

  “Well, yes,” I say softly.

  When we arrive at the café, Erik thanks the driver, and we snag a table inside. A minute later, the woman who confronted me at the soccer field arrives, stopping in her tracks when she sees me. She points. “What’s she doing here?”

  “It’s easier for me this way, and I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say,” Erik replies.

  “Hello, Jandy,” I say, doing my best to be civil, though I’m sure she wants to throttle me as much as I want to throttle her.

  “Hello,” she says, but her voice is wobbly, and her eyes look tired, as if she hasn’t slept in days.

  Erik stands and pulls out a chair. Jandy pauses, regards it, then sits.

  Erik takes a deep breath and looks straight at her. “I get that you’re not in love with me. I truly get it. It hurts like hell, but I’m not going to dwell.”

  My heart aches for him, and I want to tell him it gets better. Instead, I simply listen.

  Jandy murmurs a thank you.

  Because listening to her husband talk about his feelings would be oh-so-hard. I resist the urge to slap her—mostly because I’ve never slapped anyone. I’m sure I’d botch it.

  “But I need this to stop.” Erik’s tone is crisp and clear. Dominant, even.

  Jandy flinches. “What do you need to stop?”

  He slices a hand through the air. “All of it. You coming up to me at lunch, you seeing my family at matches, you making up stories about your sister. It has to stop.”

  Jandy breathes out hard through her nose. Her top lip quivers. “And you think coming here will make it stop?”

  She sounds as if she’s trying to be tough, but her will is breaking.

  “I have an offer for you.”

  That makes me sit up taller. He didn’t mention an offer.

  Jandy shakes her head, worrying her lip, glancing at me. She lowers her voice. “I don’t want to discuss this with other people present.”

  “Please,” Erik implores.

  She shakes her head and folds her arms.

  “I’ll step outside,” I suggest, since outside is a mere ten feet away.

  “That’s fine,” Erik says.

  I leave and pace on the sidewalk, hoping to hell and heaven and back that he isn’t caving and giving her his share of the company. I text Christian again to see what he’s up to, but he doesn’t respond. I spend a few minutes making sure I’m checked into my flight in a couple hours, then I send a note to my brother, since I’ll see him soon.

  Briefly, I contemplate inviting Christian to join me in New York, and the idea sends a thrill through me. I’d love to show him my old stomping grounds. I’d love to take him around the city, to kiss him in Central Park, along Fifth Avenue, and by the Met.

  But I resist. He’s clearly busy, and I have work to focus on with Nate and the Luxe. The cliff will have to wait.

  Soon enough, Erik steps through the doorway of the café and onto the sidewalk, a gleam of triumph in his eyes.

  He doesn’t look back at Jandy as she walks along the street, her head tucked down, until she fades into the early morning crowds. He simply walks toward me, a few sheets of paper in his hand.

  “You look pleased,” I remark.

  He beams. “I am. I struck a deal, and she said yes. Let me go track down Christian so we can tell him everything.”

  I’m dying to know everything too.

  35

  ELISE

  Twenty minutes later, we walk into another café across the city, and Christian is waiting, drinking a coffee at an outdoor table. He runs a hand through his hair, slick with sweat from his run. A smile seems to tug at the corner of his lips when he spots me, but then it fades. He stands and drops a kiss to my cheek, and I wrap an arm around him, craving a bit of closeness. “Hi.” His voice sounds strained.

  “Hi,” I say, and nerves thread through me. Christian seems cooler than usual. I want to ask him why, but Erik has a bulldog puppy inhabiting him today.

  Erik clamps one hand on my shoulder and the other on Christian’s, separating us as he chuckles like Santa Claus. “And that kind of show won’t be necessary any longer.” Erik grabs a chair and parks his hands behind his head, clearly pleased with himself.

  “What do you mean?” Christian asks as he takes a seat too. I do the same.

  Erik’s grin stretches from Paris to Copenhagen. “She sold me her shares.”

  My eyes widen.

  Christian’s jaw comes unhinged. “What?”

  He slaps the papers on the table victoriously. “I was tired of her games. So I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. I knew when she tracked you down at the match that she was at the end of her rope, so I figured I had a shot at putting an end to this whole ruse.” He gestures from Christian to me, and his smile grows. He is the portrait of a proud man. A man who solved a problem. “The two of you were tremendous. You came through for me, and I can’t thank you both enough. But I’m tired of being the pathetic loser who begged his brother to marry a woman he was merely shagging so I could stay in charge of a company.”

  I bristle at the way Erik describes me, especially since Christian and I weren’t even sleeping together till after we tied the knot. “Is that how you described this?” I ask my husband.

  He slashes a hand through the air. “No. Absolutely not.”

  Erik waves a hand. He’s undeterred. “You know what I’m getting at. The two of you had a deal. You made a deal for me, and I bloody love you for it. But we all know the score. You like each other. But no one is in love here, so you shouldn’t have to fake it, and now you don’t.” He leans back and swipes one palm across the other. “Problem solved.”

  “What?” Christian and I speak the one-word question at the same time, looking at each other, then at Erik.

  I straighten my spine, part my lips, and am this close to asking Christian what his brother means with the whole not in love comment, when realization smacks me hard. Erik knows Christian doesn’t love me. Of course he knows. They’re brothers, they’re besties—they know all the things.