Page 159 of South Beach Bodyguards

“No. How are you? Is everything okay?”

“I need to apologize to you. Can you come over?”

“Of course. And you don’t need to apologize. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. What the hell does it even matter anymore?”

“Oh, it matters. I’m at Lola Brandy’s house in North Beach. How soon can you be here?”

“I get to hang at a pop star’s house? Shut the fuck up.”

That made me laugh. “Yes.”

I gave her the address and while I was waiting for her I went to sit by the pool, slipping off my sandals so I could dip my toes in. I could see Alejandro everywhere here, smiling at me. But then Max’s face would appear in my thoughts, his eyes crazy and intense. I shivered.

Impulsively I went and deleted my screen saver shot of him. Then I scrolled through the pictures I had of him. I had always thought he was smiling at the camera, or in one particular picture, staring adoringly at me. Now as I studied it, I interpreted it differently.

My hair was straighter and flatter than the style of the time and I had on a neon pink crop top. Which in hindsight wasn’t a fabulous fashion choice but I had been maybe twenty-three in the picture. I could get away with it. We’d been at a bar in the Grove because Max didn’t go to clubs. He hated South Beach. That was more Alejandro’s scene. Max didn’t like people. But he would go to a bar with me if it had dark corners and sticky floors.

In this photo I was staring out at the camera, smiling broadly, so happy he had agreed to accompany me for a night out. Max wasn’t looking at the camera at all. He was looking at me. I had always thought it was a romantic moment captured. He had been gazing down at me, the woman he loved beyond measure.

Funny how having him wave a gun in my face could change that.

Now it looked predatory.

I suddenly felt anger bubble up inside me and burst forth. I hurled my cell phone across the patio, feeling a sick satisfaction when it made contact with the concrete wall of the house. It dropped to the tile floor.

When I went and retrieved it, my phone was fine, but the screen was shattered. Max’s face was splintered. My smile was sliced in half.

That seemed about right.

“Max is alive,” I told Zoe, after we sat down by the pool in chaise lounge chairs. I had given her a quick tour and she had gushed over the house and how cool it was to be there, but then she had told me to tell her what was up.

There was no sense beating around the bush.

Her eyes widened. “What? How do you know?”

“Because tonight he was in the apartment next door to me and he pulled a gun on me.”

“Oh shit.”

Basically. “He’s been watching me. He wants me to help him steal from my celebrity contacts. When I said no, the gun went in my face.” I shivered, just not quite able to wrap my head around what had happened.

Zoe had brought a bottle of tequila and she held it out to me. “Jesus. Take a swig.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. I might be pregnant.”

Her eyes widened. “What the hell happened in the last nine days? You don’t waste time, girl.”

“I had sex with Alejandro.” My cheeks burned at the memory. “Actually, I had a lot of sex with Alejandro. Like maybe fifteen times.” I thought about it. “Or twenty.” I put my hands on my cheeks to cool my skin.

“That’s a lot of sperm.” She sipped the tequila. “I’m sorry, I need to wrap my head around all of this. So like what, you guys are dating?”

I shook my head. “He thinks that I had some evil plot going with Max this whole time so he was pissed at me, then I got pissed at him for thinking I could be a jerk like that.”

“But that aside, how do you feel about him?” She eyed me, cradling her booze bottle against her chest. “I mean, he’s potentially the father of your child. Was it all just baby-making sex, or was there something more?”

I took a deep breath, prepared to give the answer on the tip of my tongue—that of course there was something more, that I cared about Alejandro, and respected him. But then I pictured him watching me, with deep admiration and love, and I knew it was more than that. He was a good man, who made me laugh and who always had my back. Who would stick. If I let him. Love swelled up inside me, deep and unhurried and mature. “I love him,” I whispered, tears appearing out of nowhere. “I really do. Is that bad?”

Zoe laughed. “I mean, it’s only bad if you don’t want to love him.”

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