I gasp for air, pointing at him. “Verbatim!”
We both dissolve into giggles.
“That woman is ruthless.” Vincent cackles, clutching his middle. “Subtlety isnother thing. But being unnecessarily mean, brutal, and just straight-up abrasive? Oh yeah, that’s her default setting.”
“Mm-hmm. I took it in stride, but she was definitely on brand.”
“A bad and bougie brand,” Vincent adds, fueling our laughter all over again.
By the time I catch my breath, my happiness meter is off the charts. “Listen, any day that Lincoln Bridges and I can actually manage to pull off our first wedding client meeting is a good day. Trust me. And if a few nitpicky comments are all that woman’s got…”Maybe I’ve blown the whole sabotage thingout of proportion. Maybe, with my resources, my network ofcontacts, and Lincoln’s drive to keep Ellswood’s historyalive, we’ve really got this.
I exhale, sinking into the eerily quiet worksite, breathing a little easier.
Maybe alittle distraction won’t hurt.
“So, all in all, it’s been a good day, then?” Vincent asks, cutting into my thoughts. He walks away, his attention zeroed in on the peeling wall panels.
“Can’t complain.”
He nods as he glides his manicured fingers over the threadbare gold-leaf texture. “Good, good…” But then his hand halts, like he’s still turning something over in his head. Finally, he tosses me a pensive look and asks, “And you’ve been hereallmorning?”
I don’t know whether to focus on the way his voice rises at the end or the question itself—why is he asking? It’s barely a quarter after eleven. The day is just getting started. Where else would I be for the tour?
What isn’t he saying?
“Yeah.” I give a noncommittal nod, slightly weirded out.
Again, he nods himself, like my story tracks with whatever’s going on in his head. “Did you know Cornelia gave the entire crew the day off while y’all were touring the manor?”
That, I didn’t know.
“Uh, no.” Curiosity twists my stomach, leaving me slightly uneasy. “That makes no sense. Why would she do that when we’re going to need every day to get this place in shape before Hailey’s wedding? But also, you’re telling me that she had all these questions for the crew, asking about their whereabouts, when she gave them the day off?”
“Yes.”
I frown. “See, she’s definitely up to something.”
Vincent inhales, sharply, like he’s about to drop a bomb, then plants himself back in front of me. “All right, I’m just going to say this real quick. While you were over here painting visions for her and Hailey, and Linc was busy following you—”
“Wait, what?”
I freeze.
“Oh, you didn’t see the news?” Vincent says, vague as hell.
The world just stops cold. Clearly, there’s more coming, but this right here? I can’t just let it slide. I tilt my head toward him when I ask, “Linc followed me where, exactly?” I glance over my shoulder, still trying to figure out where that man vanished to.
“Ooh, okay, I see you’re one of those post-and-ghost folks.” Vincent continues with his cryptic commentary. He shakes his head and exhales like he’s been holding in a secret way too long. “See, me? I’m messyandpetty, honey. I stay on PopShot. So, as soon as you said ‘divorcétante,’ I followed you. Then I practically broke an ankle running to your comments, and whose name do you think popped up?”
“Nooooo.” My jaw practically hits the floor.
“Yes, honey.”
I’m stunned. Like, genuinely shocked, already unlocking my phone. I glance at the screen, and it’s lighting up with… “Over a thousand notifications?Shit.” I scroll through a deluge of comments, utterly dumbfounded.
In all the fuss trying to impress Cornelia, I forgot I posted the first video forTheDivorcétante Chronicles. But why the hell is Lincoln Bridges following me now? Is he actually interested in my posts? I didnottake him for the messy-blog, piping-hot-tea type. Does he think I’ll follow him back? Is this going to make things even more awkward than they already are? And how the hell did he even know I posted? Does he think I’m desperate now that I’m divorced, like we can just pick up where we left off?
Does he want that? DoI?
