Page 13 of The Lonely Hearts Guide

He didn’t know what it was about Elliot that latched the man into Alexander’s heart like a fish on the line. It had been five years, but Alexander remembered it like it was yesterday. Perhaps it was Elliot’s innocent nature. Alexander always saw himself as a caregiver, though he’d never had anyone to care for aside from his mother, Professor Plum, and the first automaton he purchased, so maybe it was a desire to protect Elliot. There was also the fact that Alexander had never seen anyone so resigned to their heartache. It was as if Elliot’s lot in life was pre-planned for him. The moment Alexander spotted flashing orange lights in the corner of Elliot’s eyes, Alexander realized it was probably true.

Elliot was an automaton. A man made of steel and corruptible chips of data. Possibly from the same home as Alexander’s former bountiful beau, Gus—now Goose—came from. There were only five automaton manufacturers in the United States after all, and Elliot must have come from one of them.

Gus.

God, Alexander missed him. It had been weeks since they had the chance to chat. Alexander thought back to when he purchased Gus shortly after Alexander Davenport Sr. died. His father ran the largest property development company in Texas, and with his passing, his position at the company went to Alexander. The patriarch’s entire life went to Alexander, and after living a lifetime with an absentee father, Alexander knew the cost of running an empire. Time. Dedication. The forfeiture of a happy home. Alexander was always a romantic, often watching Hallmark movies for days on end during summer breaks as a child. He loved the idea of love. Giving yourself to another, flaws and all, and hoping they wouldn’t hurt you in return. It sounded so thrilling. By taking his father’s place as COO, Alexander ended up making the same sacrifice as his father. Goodbye family dinners. Farewell to all future holiday festivities.

His mother vehemently opposed Alexander taking the role, knowing the cost involved. Alexander didn’t let her stop him, however, and three weeks after his father was laid to rest, he was manning the helm, just as Alexander Davenport Sr. always planned. Alexander thought by purchasing one of Ms. Broussard’s Bountiful Beaus, he might still get to live those childhood dreams of love and marriage without breaking a real heart in the process. Then he met Goose, and he realized just how misguided the notion had been.

Then came the fire, and then came the fallout.

Alexander didn’t like to think of that day. Alexander’s neighbor died, and he lost Goose, the only friend he had.

Entering his North Dallas mansion, Alexander forced himself to smile. What did he have to complain about, really? He had a lovely home, and a job he didn’t entirely detest. His hairline was strong and prominent, showing no signs of retreat. If Goose was to be believed, he also possessed a rather nice backside. Alexander looked over his shoulder, into the floor-length mirror in his foyer, and smiled. A rather nice butt, indeed.

His home was eerily quiet. Too quiet for a Tuesday afternoon. He gave his maid the week off, as Alexander was gone for that long, but the cook should have been there, as well as Alexander’s house manager, Annette. He walked around, looking for employees he sometimes chose to think of as friends, but room after room, floor after floor, the home was abandoned. When Alexander made it to his bedroom, he loosened his necktie and tossed it over his shoulder. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Mom?” Alexander answered, confused. “I just left. Are you missing me that much already?”

“Of course,” Twylah responded. “I always miss my baby. That’s not why I’m calling, though.”

Alexander plopped down on his bed and sunk into the plush mattress. “Go on.”

“Where are you right now?”

“My bedroom.” Alexander looked up at himself in the mirror secured to his ceiling. His hair was teetering into disaster territory, but it hadn’t gone fully frizzy yet, not that it mattered. Who was even going to see it? “Why?”

“Because I asked Annette to leave something for you on your bedside table. Then I gave her the next three weeks off.”

“The next three weeks?”

“That’s what I said. Same with the rest of your staff. They deserve a break, and so do you. You’re taking the next three weeks off work, and you’re going to go live your life, Lexy. You’ve been chained to a desk your entire adult life, and you’re wasting the time you’ve got left. For God’s sake, you’re already a billionaire. How much money does one person possibly need?”

Alexander sighed. For him, it had never been about the money. He’d be happy enough living the rest of his life on Sugarplum Island in a quaint little two-bedroom cottage. Rather, he was keeping his father’s legacy alive, which that was something he refused to let anyone take from him. Not even Twylah Davenport née Bishop. It was his purpose. His only purpose, it seemed.

“Out of the question,” Alexander said, sitting up in his bed. He looked over at his nightstand, and sure enough, a manilla envelope rested on top, along with a plum jam cookie wrapped in cellophane. “Did you have her leave this cookie, too?”

His mother snickered on the phone. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. A woman has to keep an air of mystery about her.”

“Did you ship it here?”

“I had Annette cook a batch.”

Alexander’s jaw dropped. “You gave her the recipe? I’ve been begging for it for decades.”

“Yes, well, I thought my baby needed a treat, so I tossed off the veil of secrecy and handed it over.”

A smile crept up in the corners of his mouth. It had been less than six hours, and Alexander already missed his mother and Sugarplum Island. Now, he had a cookie to keep as a forget-me-not. One he planned to eat the moment the call ended. He could keep the wrapper, he supposed, but it wasn’t the same.

Even if he couldn’t go to Sugarplum Island now, Alexander hoped to retire there one day. Maybe he could finally get that dog he always hoped for. Though, he supposed it would have to be a docile creature who knew to leave Professor Plum well enough alone.

He pulled the pocket on his shirt forward, checking on his friend. The little fieldmouse was sleeping soundly, his little legs kicking like he was chasing something in his dreams. Alexander would need to take a trip back to New Orleans to have him looked after soon. With Professor Plum fast asleep, Alexander grabbed the manilla envelope and pulled out a brochure, groaning when he saw a photograph of Ms. Broussard and a handful of her bountiful beaus.

“Absolutely not,” Alexander argued, though he knew arguing was futile. “I told you, I don’t need a man. I’m fine on my own.”

“You’re not. I see you, Lexy. I’ve always seen you. You have a gentle heart, and it’s so big, it could beat for half the population of Texas. Working as much as you do, you’re letting it go to waste, and I won’t stand for it. You’re going to pack a bag, you’re going to buy you some adorable little Speedos to make the gay boys do a double take, and you’re going to get your butt on that boat. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Alexander eyed the paperwork as resignation settled in his soul. Apparently, for the next two weeks, he would be at sea with a woman he hated with all his heart. A woman he was forced to associate with three times a year to keep the memory of a nearly forgotten friend alive. Alexander pressed a hand over his pocket and gave Professor Plum a delicate squeeze.

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