Page 18 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
I should be thinking about regrets and apologies, but instead I’m thinking about kissing her.
A groan rumbles up my chest, threatening to make landfall.
What the hell is happening to me? I’m being taken over by a lust monster, and I’m having a hard time fighting off the horny creature.
Words. I need words.
I grasp the first ones that come to mind. “How in the world are you?”
There. That’s safe. That’s friendly. She won’t know I’m thinking wildly inappropriate thoughts.
“I’m great.” She flashes a winning smile. “How are you? How’s your family?” Her tone is friendly, gregarious, even.
“Mom is great. My brothers are too. Brody has three kids, Jamie two,” I tell her, adding that I saw them the first night I was in town at a get-together at my mom’s house. “And you’re well?”
“Fantastic.” In the blink of an eye, she segues straight into work mode. “I have some ideas for the house, and I thought we could map out a plan for the rooms. There are some great books in the public library here about the estate, and that’s why I suggested to Daniel that we meet when he told me we were all getting together to prep. I thought we could get started right away.”
The words come out like an avalanche, and they give her away.
She’s pissed. That’s her tell.
Some missions you prepare for. Sometimes, you just jump and go for it. “Presley, I get the distinct feeling you’re still mad at me.”
She scoffs. Then she scoffs again. Like that’s the most ridiculous thing I could have said. “Don’t be silly. That would imply I was mad at you in the first place.”
I furrow my brow, because that doesn’t quite compute. “You weren’t mad at me?”
“For maybe five minutes, and then I had other things to deal with. We both did. We were so young. That was years ago,” she says, waving her hand, dismissing those days. “We were kids, right?”
My brow knits tighter, since I’m thrown off once more. “Twenty-seven for me, so not really kids. And you were twenty-five.”
“Practically a generation ago.” She tilts her head. “It’s all good. I’m fine. And so are you, clearly. Look at us, working it, living our best lives.”
Hmm. That sounds like my show’s slogan: live big, live brave, and live your best life.
“Okay. You just seem . . . bubbly and perky,” I say.
She points at me playfully. “I’m a bubbly, perky person. I’m the bubbliest and the perkiest. I’m effer-fucking-vescent.” The smile she flashes is full of fire, and that’s the woman I knew. Strong, bold, determined.
She was also someone who never pretended.
But tonight, she’s pretending she’s fabulous, and I want to know what the hell is going through her head. This woman felt like everything to me during our whirlwind romance, as we savored every second of our ticking-clock affair.
Now, suddenly, I’m starving for all the things I don’t know about the person who was the center of my world ten years ago. What she’s been up to. If she pursued all her dreams. If she’s married. If she’s involved . . . all the things I couldn’t glean online, since there’s no public Facebook profile for her. No Instagram either. Only a bare-bones bio on the company website that reveals nada in the personal department.
But before I can even respond to her “effer-fucking-vescent” (my ass) comment, Daniel returns, sets down the drinks, and dives into some details on the house and the project.
“The Valentinas are a well-regarded family, and this is an opportunity for us to help them go through their legacy and also showcase it to the world.”
“Of course,” Presley says. “You know it’s in good hands.”
“The best hands,” I add.
Glancing at his wristwatch, Daniel turns to me. “I have a meeting with a fellow from London, and I believe Presley wanted to spend a few moments here doing some research. Hope it doesn’t bore you too much, since I’m sure you’d rather be climbing rocks or scaling waterfalls.”
I grin. “I’m all for doing, and sometimes you have to do research.”
“Yes, you do,” Presley says. “There are some interesting books on the Valentina estate in this library, and I thought we could check some of them out.” Then to Daniel she says, “Have a great meeting with Oliver.”
He crosses his fingers. “Let’s hope it’s better than great.”
We say goodbye to Daniel then head to the library, talking about the house, and only the house, as we climb the stairs to the entrance. I’m still determined to hear more about Presley, but maybe time with books will loosen her up. They were her passion, something we had in common.
When we hit the top step outside the library, my phone buzzes. It’s Cammi, so I tell Presley I need to answer it quickly.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask.
“Great. I just wanted to let you know I’m setting up a shooting schedule for the Valentina estate special, and I have a few questions.”
