Again.

Except even if I was on the other side of the world, I have a sneaking suspicion my heart would feel just as stomped on.

Because Callie wouldn’t be there.

My torture-mistress digs into my calf again, and I break. I shoot up from the table, grabbing my towel. “Thanks, but I’m all done. Perfectly relaxed,” I blurt, before heading to the dressing room—only to find the spa is a big fan of ice baths.

Dammit.

She’s still screwing everything up for me, I can’t get her out of my head. She’s there when I wake up in the mornings, haunting me with the fact she’s not in my bed. She’s not at the meetings with my business guys, while they tell me about how stubborn she’s being, sticking to her plans to do some good in the world with her company. And she’s sure as hell not just hanging out with me over dinner, telling some wild story, driving me crazy with her infectious smile, and naughty laugh, and incredible, irresistible body…

Yeah, Callie has made it clear by her absence, she’s not a part of my life anymore. Which shouldn’t bother me. Fuck, it was always just an arrangement between us.

So why is this shitty pain in my chest so goddamn real?

Austin saunters in as I’m just pulling my clothes back on. “Well, on the plus side, they’ll never suspect I’m a rival, checking out the competition. No professional would be that rude.”

“I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I’ll tip her.”

“Don’t worry, I covered. Said she unlocked too much trauma in your Achilles Heel.”

“Thanks.”

Austin dresses, and we head out to the healthy juice bar they have up front. “So, what do you think?” he asks, ordering us both smoothies.

“About what?” I ask, still distracted by memories of Callie, and that cute little smile she’d give me, right before she—

“The spa, idiot,” Austin smacks me on the shoulder. “This place is getting a lot of buzz. It could be real competition for me when I open my place.”

“Oh. Right. Uhhh, it’s fine,” I say, looking around.

“Give me a little more feedback,” he urges. “This launch is a huge deal for me.”

He’s right. Austin spent a long time figuring his next move, after retiring from professional baseball. He’s opening his first luxury spa in a few months and the least I can do is help scope the competition.

“Well, the new age thing, it’s been done before,” I say, “I don’t know about you, but I want my massage without a side of crystal bullshit. Science, not woo-woo vibes. And the design… All that organic wood and greenery, it’s not very stylish. Not for the high-end clientele you’re going after.”

Austin nods, looking pleased. “My thoughts exactly.”

“And the food options?” I take a gulp of my green smoothie and grimace. “If I’m kicking back, I want indulgence, not rabbit food.”

“Check, and check,” Austin replies. “Seb’s hooking me up with some contacts of his, adaptogenic cocktails, next-level shit.”