Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,2
say as she turns toward the doors.
“Nice to meet you,” she replies with no indication that I will see her again. In a split second, she disappears.
Like a damn fool, I don’t move. I just stand and watch her, breathing in the remaining notes of her perfume. It’s a second too late before I realize I don’t even know her name.
When I shove my hand into my pocket, it nudges my phone. As if on cue, it begins to ring. Again.
“Yeah, Ollie?” I ask, my voice filled with a level of frustration equal to the pulse in my temple.
“Where the hell are you?”
“On my way.”
Two
Blaire
I jerk the curtains back and swing the sliding glass door open, filling my lungs with wonderful, salty air. The sea a few stories below sparkles in the sunlight. The sandy beach is spattered with sunbathers and kids building castles.
Standing at the window, I watch the activities below. I’m reminded of summers at Lake Michigan with my parents and brothers years ago. My middle brother would be reading a book, my oldest brother creating a track for various toy cars he’d made my mom pack, and the youngest holding a drink in one hand and chasing girls or birds, depending on his age.
No matter how much I really don’t want to be here, I can’t help but appreciate that they at least picked a beach. It was undoubtedly Sienna’s decision. Walker, my eldest brother’s girlfriend grew up here, and as I take in the sunshine and palm trees, I have no idea why she ever left.
With another deep breath, I head back into the little condo that my three infuriating, difficult, ornery brothers rented.
I flop on the sofa and take in my new digs for the next few days. The walls are painted white. Decorations in soft pink and seafoam green, most of them seashells and sand dollars, are everywhere. I suppose it’s relaxing to most people, but it makes me want to start stripping wallpaper. In lieu of that, I eye my briefcase sitting by the bedroom door across the living room and wonder if it’s too early in this little getaway to start working.
As if he knew I was about to grab my client files, my phone rings. Walker’s name appears on the screen. I pick it up. “Hello?”
“Did ya make it?” His voice is gruff on the other side.
“Yes. A couple of hours ago.”
“I told ya to call when ya landed, Blaire.”
“This is not the first time I’ve taken a trip by myself, you know.”
“Of course not. Just the first time in, what, a decade?”
“Why do you really care how often I take a vacation?” I ask for the millionth time, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m just going to sit here and dwell on how far behind I’m falling at work.”
“I care because I heard you go batshit crazy on a man through the phone the other day. And because you were telling me you were afraid your assistant was going to quit over your workload.” He sighs. “I know you feel all fancy and shit in that corner office in the city, but fuck, Blaire. You can’t live to work.”
He’s right. Of course, he’s right. But that doesn’t mean he’s … right.
“You’re wrong.” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “I absolutely can live to work. I find it fulfilling.”
“Whatever. How’s Georgia? Sienna said it’s nice there this time of year.”
I turn my head and peer out the window. Palm trees sway in the sea breeze, and birds loop lazily through the air, highlighted by the cloudless blue skies.
“I can’t imagine it ever not being nice here,” I say. “I’ll never understand why she moved to Illinois.”
“You have met me, you know.”
“My point remains.” Pulling my legs up under me, I rest my head against the pillows. “Sienna made you a sap.”
“I’m not a fucking sap,” he cuts back. “I’m just saying. Been thinking a lot lately …”
The way his voice trails off hits me right in the heart. My face falls, and I fight the urge to lecture him or mother him in some way. This happens every summer. I think all my siblings start to think of our parents and their accident. It’s the time of year Walker is a bit less cantankerous. Lance drinks a little more. Machlan calls in the middle of the night with philosophical questions that I never can answer.
Before I can figure out what to say, Walker changes the subject.
“Can I ask