It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(21)
“Danny, let me call you back.”
“Sure. Just promise you won’t forget. I mean,” she chuckled, “it’s not every day my best friend’s hot exboyfriend opens the nicest cosmetics store I’ve ever seen in tribute to her. Did I tell you it brought tears to my eyes?”
None of this made sense.
“I’ll call you right back.” I hung up and dialed Max, but it went to voice mail. “Max, you already started this new company? Why would you not tell me?” I drew a breath. “Call me.” I hung up and grabbed a mug from my cupboard, my mind a mess of emotions. This was so like Maxwell Cole. He did what he wanted. And why had he not said anything? He’d had every opportunity to mention it.
It all made me wonder, though, if his return to my life wasn’t part of some bigger plan, because starting up a new company was big, big news, and I hadn’t heard a word, which meant he’d been keeping it a secret from everyone.
Why?
I glanced at the clock on my microwave. Crap. I was already running late. I opened the store at nine on Fridays. I scrambled to the bathroom to get myself together, trying not to think about how badly my heart hurt—the pictures of Patricio with that other woman, Max keeping secrets from me. I simply couldn’t understand why they behaved like this.
A half hour later, I pulled into the back lot behind my building. My boutique was one of five shops that occupied the quaint little block filled with art galleries, souvenir shops, and small restaurants. Even though people came from all over the world to vacation in Santa Barbara or go to college, this section still had that small-town charm.
I walked down the narrow driveway, out onto the sidewalk, and to my store. The moment I shoved the key into the lock, my shop neighbor LaSandra called my name. She was a silver-haired woman—not sure from what country—but she made the best fudge and caramel apples in the world. She also sold magazines and newspapers. A very strange combo.
“Good morning, Lily!” she said with an unusually chipper tone. Normally, we’d bump into each other after closing when she looked exhausted and ready to call it a day.
“Hi, LaSandra.” I twisted the key and popped open the door.
Wearing a bright yellow summer dress, she walked over, grabbed my free hand and sandwiched it between hers. “Our prayers have been answered.”
What is she talking about? “Prayers for…?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Nope.” I’m far too busy getting face time in the Enquirer.
“There’s a new owner who’s generously offered to lower our rents by ten percent.” She unexpectedly wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “It’s a miracle, Lily. I was considering closing my shop after my lease was up—I just couldn’t afford the increase.” She released me. “But a decrease? This is wonderful! I can advertise for the holidays and make a profit this year!” She hugged me again and then trotted off to her shop.
Meanwhile, my mind buzzed, trying to understand it all because no one ever lowered rents. Not in California. And the owner happened to buy the place right around the same time Maxwell Cole walked back into my life?
I slid my cell from my pocket to call Max again but paused. Now was not the time to get into it with him when I needed to open the store. Our next conversation would require a solid hour of talking. Okay—screaming.
I flipped on the lights and set my purse behind the counter as the door jingled.
“Ciao, Lily.” My head snapped up to find Patricio—wearing black slacks, a red button-down shirt, and a gray fedora—standing in the middle of my front door, holding a coffee.
“Patricio, what are you doing here?” I didn’t know how much more of their drama I could handle.
He shrugged his brows and smiled. “Am I not allowed to visit you?”
“Not when I’m trying to get my shop ready and your presence will do nothing but give me the urge to commit murder.”
“So you are upset?” Patricio approached me and set the coffee on the counter. It had “Lily” written on it, so I knew it was a white mocha.
Dammit. I love those.
“Lily, listen to me. I was not with that woman. You know not to believe the garbage they print in the tabloids, si?”
I narrowed my eyes. What I knew was that Patricio used to be a world-class player and might not have hung up the ol’ love gloves like he’d claimed. “The tabloids might lie, but pictures don’t.”
“It is like I told you, Lily—or was it Max I told?” He shrugged. “No matter. It is like I said; I was with Adeline a few years ago. The pictures are old. We are simply working together now.”
I stared at him with one raised brow. “Then why keep it a secret?”
“I did not wish to remind you of Max.”
I wasn’t buying it. Yes, Adeline was Max’s sort of ex—they’d been casual lovers—but Adeline was a movie star. I saw her picture all the time—magazines, on Netflix, and at the checkout stand. Patricio had to know that.
“So,” I crossed my arms over my chest, “you want me to believe that you had a fling with Adeline many years ago, but kept it a secret from the world. And then you also decided to keep it a secret that you’re doing a movie with her—a movie that I would see eventually when it comes out.” I hoped he saw the flaw in his bullshit “secret” excuse.