You know I’m smart enough not to fall for a guy like Vaughn.
Now more than ever, she needed to remember that.
Which meant her next move was clear. She would avoid Vaughn at all costs for the next couple of weeks—no more joking, flirty conversations; no more sexy scruff; no more talking to him about personal stuff or cozying up with him on the couch while looking at her parents’ wedding albums. That was all done. She needed to get through this wedding, and then she and Vaughn could go their separate ways. Yes, they would still run into each other occasionally via Isabelle and Simon, but she could handle that. She just needed some space right now, some time away from him, so that these “feelings” or whatever could abate.
And abate, they would. She’d make sure of it.
Twenty-nine
AFTER BREEZING PAST the Shedd Aquarium, Vaughn ran through the Lake Shore Drive underpass and followed the sidewalk to Columbus Drive. One more turn, and then it would be a straight shot to the finish line.
A large crowd cheered from both sides of the street—over a quarter million spectators had gathered to watch nearly 11,000 athletes race in the Chicago Triathlon. Shortly after seven thirty A.M., Vaughn, Cade, Huxley, and the other 150 people in their wave had started out with a brisk 1.5 kilometer swim in Lake Michigan. After exiting the water at the Chicago Yacht Club, they’d hightailed it barefoot and in their wetsuits along a carpeted path to the first transition area, where they’d stripped down to their bike shorts and had thrown on jerseys, helmets, and shoes. Spirits had been high as Vaughn and Huxley had mounted their bikes for the forty-kilometer course, and even higher as they’d caught up with Cade, who had been swimming for years to help with a college football shoulder injury and had garnered a slight lead in the first leg.
Now they were in the homestretch, nearly about to finish the 10K run. Huxley had dropped back a little, but Vaughn was still fighting it out for the lead with Cade. They’d been pushing each other hard throughout the race, which was exactly what Vaughn needed: something to keep his mind focused. Being on the course and pushing his body to its limits gave him a place to channel the restlessness he’d felt all week.
“Second place buys lunch?” he huffed.
“You’re on,” Cade panted, matching him stride for stride.
They’d been far more loquacious with the trash talk earlier in the race, but after swimming, biking, and running thirty-two miles, they were out of breath and keeping it short and sweet. They rounded the corner onto Columbus, and the finish line at Hutchinson Field in Grant Park came into view. They heard a female voice cheering them on from the left.
“Whoo-hoo! Go Cade! Go Vaughn!”
Cade grinned. “That’s Brooke.” Suddenly spurred on, he picked up the pace even more.
Then a second female voice called out. “Come on, Roberts! Keep going!”
Vaughn’s head whipped to the left, his heart pounding as he saw a red-haired woman cheering alongside Brooke, and for a split-second he thought—
Oh. Of course—it was just Huxley’s fiancée, Addison.
He paid the price for the momentary distraction. He looked ahead and saw Cade cross the finish line a few feet in front of him. They both trotted to a stop amid the cheers of the energized crowd.
Breathing hard, Vaughn walked over and stuck out his hand to Cade for a job well done. “Show off,” he said with a grin.
They moved off to the sidelines and grabbed some water, just as Brooke made her way through the crowd. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and with her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, she walked over to Cade and threw her arms around his neck in congratulations. He scooped her up as she kissed him.
“How’s the shoulder holding up?” she asked.
“Shoulder? Oh, shit.” Cade feigned dropping her, then caught her with a grin.
“Still, with that?”
He winked at her. “That move once helped me get very lucky.” He pulled her closer, kissing her again.
Vaughn stepped away to give them some space. He looked over at the finish line just as Huxley ran through. He made his way over and congratulated his partner, then once again had to give space to a happily-in-love couple after Addison showed up and planted a kiss on Huxley that undoubtedly would’ve fogged his glasses had he been wearing them.
Feeling a bit like a fifth wheel, Vaughn took another swig of water while catching his breath. He stood in the grass along the sidelines, alone, as thousands of people hugged, kissed, and high-fived their loves ones all around him.
Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I’d give you a hug in congratulations, but, man, you are sweaty and kind of funky-looking right now.”
Vaughn grinned at the sound of the voice. Turning around, he was touched to see Simon. “Aren’t you supposed to be in wedding-planning lockdown right now?” Although he’d told his brother that he was training for the Chicago Triathlon, he hadn’t asked him to come watch the race. Frankly, he’d assumed that Simon would be too busy since the wedding was only six days away.
“Well, apparently, one can apply for a brief furlough from wedding-planning lockdown when one’s brother is racing in a triathlon,” Simon said. “How are you feeling?”
“A little pissed that I owe Morgan lunch, but otherwise pretty good.”
“Mind if I join you guys?” Simon asked.
“That’d be great,” Vaughn said. “Brooke and Addison are coming, too—the more the merrier.”
Simon followed him back to his place, where Vaughn quickly showered and changed. When they arrived at O’Malley’s, Brooke and Cade were already seated at a table for six.
“Let’s see . . . what’s the most expensive item here?” Cade mused, perusing the menu. “I need to make the most of my free lunch.”
Vaughn ignored the jab. He introduced Brooke to Simon, and then gestured to the ring on her finger. “I hear you’re finally going to make an honest man out of Morgan.”
She looked at Cade, feigning surprise. “Oh, is that what I agreed to? I just saw a diamond and shouted ‘Yes!’ to having a new piece of jewelry.” She turned back to Vaughn. “Oops.”
“That’s cute,” Cade told her.
“So what’s your version of the story, Morgan? You never said how you popped the question,” Vaughn said.
“Nothing too crazy. I just made Brooke breakfast that morning.” Cade looked at his fiancée, and they shared an inside smile. “A Denver omelette.”
“He had everything all set out when I walked into the kitchen—the omelette, coffee, and orange juice,” Brooke explained. “And when I flipped over my coffee cup, there was the ring box, sitting on the saucer.”
From the private way the couple was looking at each other, Vaughn gathered there was more to this Denver omelette story. But neither of them said anything further.
Huxley and Addison arrived shortly thereafter. Simon asked Vaughn, Cade, and Huxley which part of the race had been the toughest, and that spawned a long, testosterone-fueled conversation about how they all could’ve kept going for several more miles, that maybe they needed a bigger challenge, like an Iron Man triathlon, or maybe they needed to try something even more adventurous. Like climbing Mount Rainier.
“Now you want to climb a mountain?” Brooke asked. “Why, exactly?”
“Because we can,” Cade said, matter-of-factly.
“Oh my God, you are such men,” Addison said.
Simon pointed. “Hold on—if you three are doing this, I want in, too.”
Huxley already had his phone out, Googling what time of year was the best to climb. The discussion went on from there, with everyone joking and kidding around long after they’d finished their food.
As the rest of the group was leaving the pub, Simon pulled Vaughn aside. “Let’s stay for a beer.”
Vaughn was instantly suspicious—presumably, his
brother was supposed to be making a seating chart right then, or practicing his first dance, or doing something else wedding-related. “Why?”
“Do I need a reason to grab a beer with my brother?” Simon asked, looking offended. “I’m getting married in six days. I’m going to have a baby soon. Who knows how many chances we’ll get to hang out after this, just the two of us?”
Hmm. Vaughn remained suspicious, but nevertheless followed his brother to the bar.
They grabbed two seats, and Simon waited all of about five seconds after the bartender slid a couple of bottles of beer in front of them before getting down to it.
“So. This thing with Sidney,” he led in.
Christ. Vaughn shook his head. “I knew it.”
Simon tapped his finger emphatically on the bar. “Hey, I’m your brother. Something’s obviously been bothering you these past couple weeks, so we’re going to talk about it. That’s what we do.”
“Oh, right. That’s what we do.” Vaughn feigned confusion. “Remind me—how long did it take you to tell me Isabelle was pregnant?”
“Okay, that’s what we do now.” Simon studied him, as if debating where to begin. “I saw the way you were looking at Sidney that night at Rosebud, when we had dinner with Mom and Dad.”
Vaughn simply took a sip of his beer.
“See, it’s called a dialogue. That means you speak, too,” Simon explained.
Vaughn merely gave him a look.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think this is great brotherly heart-to-heart,” Simon said.
Knowing that his brother wasn’t going to give in, Vaughn finally acquiesced. “What do you want me to say? That I’ve been thinking about Sidney? Tell me something: what would be the point in admitting that?” He gestured with his beer bottle. “She’s dating that Tyler guy now.”
“Speaking of that, she came over to Isabelle’s the other day to talk. They banished me to the living room, but when I walked by the bedroom to get something out of the office, I caught a few words.”
“I don’t want to know,” Vaughn said.
Simon gave him a knowing side-eye.
“All right,” Vaughn acquiesced. “What’d you hear?”
“I heard Sidney say that she kissed him.”
Vaughn said nothing at first, then turned back to his beer. “Well, now I feel so much better. Thanks for the pep talk, bro. We really should do this more often.”
“So that’s it? You’re going to just give up?” Simon snorted. “That’s a real bad-ass move.”
Now that got Vaughn a little worked up. “Hold on—I think you skipped about five steps in the dialogue here. Take this Tyler guy out of the equation for a minute. By saying I’m ‘giving up,’ you’re assuming that I want to pursue a relationship with Sidney. And there’s one problem with that—I like my life. It’s easy, it’s fun, and I don’t have to deal with any of this . . . confusion and this . . . restlessness and this pit in my stomach every time I think about her being with another guy. ‘Cuz let me tell you something I’ve figured out about those feelings: they suck.”
He saw Simon open his mouth, and held up his hand. “Nope, not finished. You wanted me to share, so that’s what I’m doing. And let me share something else. If we take the Tyler guy out of the equation, and we assume—hypothetically—that I’d want to give up my nice, easy, fun life for the confusion and the restlessness and the suck, we still have the small problem that Sidney doesn’t want to be with me.”
“You don’t know that,” Simon said.
“I heard her say it pretty clearly when you and I were standing outside her window.”
“What she said was that she was smart enough not to fall for a guy like you.”
Vaughn held out his hands. Hello? “Exactly.”
“Then maybe what you need to do is convince her that you aren’t you anymore.”
Vaughn leaned in. “And if I’m not me, then who am I supposed to be?” he quipped dryly.
Simon stared him in the eyes. “The man she deserves.”
He gave Vaughn a pointed look before turning back to his beer. “You can throw out all the hypotheticals you want. But in the end, I think it comes down to this: do you want to be that man?”
He took a long sip from his bottle, leaving Vaughn to contemplate exactly that.
• • •
WHEN VAUGHN GOT back to his loft, he stretched out on the sectional and leaned his head against the cushions. He had Simon’s words ringing in his head, and the exertion of the race was finally catching up with him. He closed his eyes, just wanting a few minutes where he didn’t have to think.
He woke up to the sound of his cell phone ringing.
He reached over and grabbed the phone off the coffee table, noticing that he’d been asleep for a couple of hours. He didn’t recognize the incoming phone number.
“Hello,” he answered, his voice gritty.
“Is this Special Agent Vaughn Roberts?” asked a female voice.
“It is.” Vaughn sat up, trying to shake off his grogginess as the woman identified herself. It took him a moment to place the name. “Oh, right. I was wondering whether you got my message.”
“I apologize for the delay in getting back to you,” she said. “My husband and I were on vacation last week. We just got back into town this afternoon.”
“It’s not a problem. I realize this is a long shot, anyway,” he said.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have what you’re looking for—but I think I know someone who might. That is, assuming you’re still interested. I know it’s been almost a week since you called.”
This was one thing, at least, Vaughn didn’t have to think about.
“I’m still interested. Very much so.”
Thirty
LATE WEDNESDAY MORNING, Sidney had a video conference call with the customer analytics firm she’d brought on board to help her with the Vitamin Boutique expansion.
“Once we get rolling, the plan is to open one new store each week, and to maintain that pace for two years,” she said. “Now I just need you guys to tell me where to put those stores.”
The consulting team, made up of market and product research specialists, sat around a conference table taking notes. “And the plan is to start with California and Florida?” asked Brandon, the senior VP of business development.
“Yes.” As Sidney knew from working with Brandon and his team in the past, their research would be a two-part process: first, the team members would analyze consumer purchasing preferences and the existing retail density within potential market areas. Then they would travel to the various sites they were eying and evaluate those locations for things like proximity to a major highway, the ease with which customers could exit and enter the traffic flow, and the store’s visibility and prominence.
Once everyone had their marching orders, Sidney set up a follow-up call in two weeks to discuss the team’s research and their recommendations for the first wave of store openings. After her call ended, she grabbed a sandwich for lunch and decided to treat herself to a brownie from the bakery around the corner from her office—the same bakery from which she’d ordered the desserts for Isabelle’s bridal shower.
When she saw the minicakes on display in one of the glass cases, a memory of the first night she’d spent with Vaughn popped into her head.
Any chance you’re going to pull something out of there that comes in an extra-large? I feel like a giant.
She turned right around and walked back out of the bakery. Who needed a brownie, anyway?
She’d been doing a good job of not thinking about Vaughn this past week and a half. Mostly. There’d been that one time, when she’d asked Isabelle how he’d done in the triathlon, but that just had been making conversation, really. Fine, maybe she’d been mildly interested, knowing that Vaughn had trained for eleven weeks and that
he’d wanted to perform well, but it wasn’t like she’d been wishing she’d been there to see him cross the finish line or anything. Pfft, heck no. Then there’d also been that other time she’d inquired about his undercover investigation—Isabelle’s total lack of knowledge about whether he was being careful while hanging out in those dark, sketchy places had been singularly unhelpful—but obviously that was just because she didn’t want Simon and Isabelle to be down a best man at the wedding. That would . . . throw off the symmetry of the bridal party in the photos.
When Sidney got back to her office, the receptionist stopped her in the lobby.
“You have a visitor, Sidney—a Ms. Ginny Gastel.” The receptionist gestured to the waiting area.
Sidney blinked, surprised to hear the name of her mother’s friend, who she hadn’t seen in over fifteen years. She turned around and saw a blond woman wearing beige pants and a light summer sweater getting up from one of the chairs.
She walked over with a smile. “Oh my gosh, Ginny. I walked right by you.”
“Sidney, it’s so good to see you. It’s been a long time.” Ginny set down the large shopping bags she carried and hugged Sidney in greeting. Then she pulled back. “Look at you. The last time I saw you, I think you were fifteen? Sixteen, maybe?”
“Somewhere around there. Here—let’s head this way, to my office, where we can catch up.”
Ginny cast an admiring eye around the sophisticated office as Sidney led her down the hallway. “I see you followed in your father’s footsteps.”
“Sort of. There are some differences between hedge funds and private equity funds, but I’ve found that people tend to get really, really bored whenever I talk about that. So I’ll spare you that part.”