moved though he didn’t look entirely dissatisfied. “The pink one puked on me.”
“They’re both pink.” Adrian grinned.
“Okay, the loud one puked on me.”
Roxie began to cross to the Jeep. “What’s wrong, James? You don’t like babies?”
“He loves babies,” Adrian said, patting his arm. “He’s just never been around them. Go. If you change one of them, I’ll give you a cookie.” Her brows quirked. “A very...hot...cookie.”
His brows rose over the rim of his glasses and he reached over to put the Jeep in gear. “I heard that.”
She leaned up to plant a kiss on him. Roxie found herself sighing a little as the man kissed his wife with all the abandon of a person still completely and hopelessly lost over another. Apparently the romantic in her hadn’t been completely ripped up from the roots. Perhaps she did still believe in love. Being surrounded by committed couples that had managed to find happiness despite daunting odds—Briar and Cole, Olivia and Gerald, Adrian and James—certainly helped.
She wasn’t a quitter. She never had been. And she’d never not been a romantic. It was natural, even inevitable, that she’d reached the point of questioning whether she needed to explore an alternate ending for the marriage she’d desperately wanted in the first place—the marriage she’d idealized.
Olivia’s voice pealed over the newlyweds’ exchange. “Hey!” she said to Roxie. “Where’re you going?”
Roxie dodged around the Jeep’s grille. She wasn’t a quitter. Nope. She wasn’t a sprinter either. “Somebody’s gotta ride shotgun.” Lowering her voice through the passenger window, she added to James, “I change the diaper, you get the credit. Just get me out of here.”
“I heard that,” Adrian pointed out.
James reached over the passenger seat to pop the lock. “Hop in, sugar.”
Roxie felt her phone vibrating on her hip. Holding up a finger for James, she pulled it from the waistband of her leggings. The caller ID was listed as unknown. She answered it anyway. “Hello?”
“Is this Roxie Honeycutt?”
“Speaking,” Roxie replied.
“Hi! This is Vera Strong. I believe you know my son, Byron.”
Oh, what fresh hell is this? The blood drained from Roxie’s face. “I did not sleep with him!” she blurted then clamped her hand over her mouth.
There was a slight pause then a friendly chuckle. “I’m happy to hear it, dear. I’m calling because he’s under the impression that you’re looking for a new place to live.”
For a moment, Roxie was confounded. Then she remembered the brief exchange she’d had with Byron before he left her apartment yesterday morning. He’d admired the view from the windows. She’d admitted that she was looking for a change of scenery. He’d had a hard time imagining better scenery than what she had already. Roxie had told him about her new mantra—New Year, New Roxie. Which all started with finding a new place to live. Something that might begin to erase the hollow feeling that had moved into the apartment with her and refused to depart despite repeated attempts at eviction.
What was wrong with the old Roxie? he’d asked.
That had stuck with her. And the kiss.
It was difficult to forget a kiss, especially a kiss from someone...well, someone like Byron. She’d spent more time than she’d like to admit trying not to think about how sweet it was—she’d forgotten kisses could be so sweet. And she’d tried especially to forget how his lips had lingered. And how in lingering he’d awakened starbursts. Small starbursts of eternity.
Roxie frowned deeply. Being touched... It had been so long since she had really been touched. The emptiness in her had turned into a resounding ache at his contact, and for a few moments, she’d considered bringing Byron’s mouth back down to hers. For a few moments, she’d craved more than his companionship. She’d craved the contact. The promise of heat that came with it.
But had she wanted it for the single reason that his heat could erode her loneliness? There was trust there. There was affection. For those small starbursts of eternity, there had been longing and the promise of flame. It had been so long since she’d felt the sheer electrical pulse of new chemistry.
But why did it seem like so long since she’d felt the flame? The passion?
Had she wanted Byron for the promise of passion? Had she wanted him because she was lonely—because she missed someone else?
She dispelled the riot of confusion left over from that night. Byron wasn’t the guy. He wasn’t her guy. He’d admitted that there was only one great love in life. His words and the experience behind them had even gone so far as to convince her to give Richard another chance.
Of course, that was before the kiss. But that was beside the point.
“Hello?” Vera said.
“Yes,” Roxie said, giving herself a quick, discerning shake. “Sorry. Yes, I am in the market for a new place.”
“That’s great,” Vera said. “My husband, Constantine, and I are in the real estate business. We own a dozen or so homes in Baldwin County. Several of them are in the Fairhope and Point Clear area. Most are lease houses with a twelve-month contract. If you’re interested, we could arrange a few showings. I understand you’re a busy woman. We would be happy to meet you at your convenience.”
Her heart began to beat a bit faster at the possibilities. New Year. New Roxie. This was exactly what she needed to get her life back on track. “I’m interested,” Roxie told Vera. “Are you free late this afternoon?”
“Sure. Does five thirty work for you?”
“It does,” Roxie said. She’d have to rush from the Hamilton wedding. It didn’t start until three thirty, but she had her assistant, Yuri, to fall back on. And Adrian would be there to help. “Text me an address and I’ll meet you.”
“Fabulous,” Vera cheered. “I’m looking forward to meeting the woman who didn’t sleep with my son.”
Roxie ended the call on a nervous chuckle. She stared at the screen for a moment, wondering if she should give Byron a call. As a thank-you.
No, Roxie. Nix the Perseus and Andromeda.
“Come on, Rox,” James said. “Let’s get goin’.” As she hopped in, he flipped Olivia and Adrian a salute, shouted “Race you!” and with a mash of the accelerator, they were off.
* * *
“THE ONE ON Nichols wasn’t so bad.”
“None of the Strongs’ houses have been bad so far,” Roxie pointed out as she steered her Lexus through light evening traffic. “What I’m looking for, though, is something a little more... I don’t know. Special.”
In the passenger seat, Briar Savitt nodded. “You’re waiting for something to jump out and take a bite out of you.”
Roxie’s lips twitched. “If Liv were here, it’d be Euphemism City. Though you’re right. I want something I can be excited about coming home to.”
At the sound of a squeal from the backseat, Briar turned and smiled at her daughter, Harmony, who was strapped into a car seat. “Almost there, baby girl.” She groped for a toy Harmony had dropped on the floor and stretched to hand it back to her. “What do you think of Vera?”
“She’s marvelous,” Roxie said and meant it. “I don’t know why I was worried.” She had asked Briar to tag along. Vera and her husband, Constantine, had invested in Briar’s bed-and-breakfast. The Strongs and Savitts were on first-name terms, and Roxie had hoped that having Briar around would help make the introduction to Byron’s mother less uncomfortable after her awkward outburst over the