“B!”
“What?”
“Stop it.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Bye, best friend.”
“Bye, best friend.”
Almost as soon as I hang up, my phone rings again.
“Did some inappropriate innuendo about private jets just occur to you?”
“What?”
That’s . . . not Bianca’s voice.
I slap a hand against my forehead. “Sorry, I was just . . .” I trail off, trying to recover, but there’s nothing I can say to Charlie right now that will convince him that Iwasn’tjust talking about him.
“You got a thing for my private jet?” he asks, but I can hear the real humor in his voice. Now that I know how he sounds when he’s actually being suggestive, it’s easy to tell the difference. I ignore the question.
“What’s up?” I ask, climbing onto my bed and leaning back against the pillows, trying and failing to resist the urge to recline completely against them.
Laying down while talking to him feels like a bad idea, like tempting fate or toeing a line or, I don’t know, a special form of masochism.
“I need a real estate agent. Two, actually, one here and one inLA.”
That was not what I was expecting, but the words real estate just sit there in my brain, dancing around, teasing me with the idea thathecould have moved in downstairs instead of Shane and his little family.
Hell, maybeIneed a real estate agent. Maybe I should just move? That would solve the problem for sure.
“Frankie?” he asks, when I’m silent too long.
“Yeah, sorry. The team has a few we work with. I can have Gregory hook you up with one tomorrow. Things getting a little crowded at Javy’s?”
He chuckles roughly. “I might be barricaded in the guest room while I try very, very hard not to hear anything happening in the rest of the house.”
“Don’t they have kids?”
“Their kids sleep like rocks, just like Javy.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m in the same boat. Worse, actually.”
“How is that possible?”
“My ex-husband and his wife and kid are moving in downstairs.”
“The ex you gave your car to at the airport?”
“How many ex-husbands do you think I have?”
“Fair. That’s . . . it has to be on purpose, right?”
“I think so. No way to prove it, though. I’m just dreading becoming the star of their ‘we live downstairs from his ex-wife and look how amazing we are for it’ social media bait.”
