Rebound (Boomerang #2)(78)

Once again, I scan the party for her. Where is she?

Arms wrap around me from behind and squeeze. “Found you,” she says.

I pull her close, wrapping my around her. “What took you so long?” I see what she’s wearing—a black miniskirt and a tight tank top—and bend by her ear. “How about you show me your bedroom?”

She smiles and brushes a kiss on my lips. “Later.” Her gentle blue eyes are surprisingly serious and focused. “First, there’s something we need to do.”





Chapter 45



Alison


What’s that?” Adam asks, giving me a warm, inviting look. It makes me smile to see him relaxed and joking with the Boomerang staff—who remain nearby, having fun but with the vigilance of bodyguards. They’ve rallied around him.

“Come with me,” I tell him, and take his hand.

“So, you are going to give me the bedroom tour?”

I grin back at him. “I’m going to give you something even better.”

He lets go of my hand and seizes me around the waist, pressing in close. His fingers skim the band of skin between my tank top and the waist of my skirt, and I shiver. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing better than last night.”

“And this morning,” I remind him.

“And tonight.”

“Come on,” I say, and tug him along. We wind through pockets of partygoers, and I grab a dodge around a caterer carrying a tray of mimosas, running into another with a tray of Bloody Marys.

“Take one,” I tell Adam. “You’ll need it.”

“What about you?”

I shake my head. “I’m giving it a rest for a bit. But you go ahead.”

“You know what? I’m fine. I’ve made peace with all this.” And I can see he has, that he’s made peace with so many things. He still has the bright intense energy of the boy I faced off with in the offices of Boomerang, but without the sharp edge to it. I realize we’ve become the people we pretended to be on Halloween night, and I stop and give him a kiss to celebrate.

“We do have a destination, right? Because at this rate we’ll be old before we leave your patio.”

I laugh and pull him over the threshold into the house. People have gathered in the kitchen and in the family room. I say my hellos, anxiety swelling in me. This has to go just right.

Before we enter my dad’s study, I turn to Adam and kiss him one last time.

“What’s up, Ali?” he asks, his gray eyes searching mine.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “With everything.”

“All right, then. Come on.”

I push open the door. Inside, my mother and father sit on opposite ends of the sofa. My father, who should be basking in his victory, looks edgy, uptight. And my mother, who is about to do the bravest thing of her life, looks twenty years younger—almost glowing in a trim navy sundress with dangling silver earrings.

My father glances up, and his gaze levels at our joined hands, at what must be the unmistakable energy between Adam and me. His expression darkens, but it doesn’t reach me. It’s like one of those days on the water, when the sky is overcast and foreboding but the rain never comes. And even if it does, I won’t mind, and I won’t be afraid.

“Now do you want to tell me what’s going on, Vivian?” my father asks. “Are we putting on some kind of show here?”

Adam looks at me, equally confused.

“Sit down,” I tell him, and lead him over to the leather wingback chair by the fire—my favorite.

“We need to get back outside,” my father says, eyes darting between us. He’s calculating, I think, working on damage control, though he doesn’t know yet what form the damage will take. “We have eighty guests here.”

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” my mother says. “This won’t take a moment.” She looks at me and gives me a subtle nod.

“So, here’s the thing, Dad.” I take Adam’s hand. “You’re not going to take ownership of Adam’s company.”

My father crosses his over his chest and regards me with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not?”

“No. Because you know those partnership papers you signed?” He and Adam both nod. “Well, your shares are about to be cut in half,” I tell him. “Which means you’ll only own twenty-five percent of the company.”

“And how the hell do you plan to pull that off? Some kind of magic trick?”

“No,” my mother says and reaches beside her for a fat package of documents. “More of a legal trick.”

She pulls the papers from the envelope and lays them on my father’s lap. He glances and then looks more closely. His mouth gapes.

Plain for all of us to see are the words “Dissolution of Marriage.”

“A divorce?” my father says, tossing the papers onto the coffee table before him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’ve never felt less ridiculous in my life,” my mother says, and I know the feeling. To Adam she adds, “This legal trick being what it is, I’ll own half of my husband’s—my ex-husband’s—shares in your company. And I’d be willing to sell them back to you at cost.”