The Lost Recipe for Happiness - By Barbara O'Neal Page 0,64
in her French toast that made it so amazing.”
Julian chuckled.
“How about you?” she said quietly.
He shook his head. “I’d be afraid to ask the things I really want to know.” He paused. “If she suffered.”
Elena thought of Isobel. Blinked a rush of emotion away. “Yeah.” They were pulling into his driveway, a light shining from the tower like a beacon, snowflakes falling through the beam of light. “Fairy tale,” she murmured.
“That’s how I feel sometimes, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He braked before he went into the garage so that he could gesture at the house. “I mean, Jesus, look at it. I’m used to it, mostly, but if I remember to stop and think, it’s amazing.”
Elena liked him for admitting that. He pulled the Rover into its bay and the garage door went down. The garage was clean, everything organized by unseen minions, no stacks of stereo boxes or discarded toys or athletic equipment, the floor swept, the concrete clean beneath their feet. She picked up the box with the baklava and followed him inside.
They entered a family room area with a pool table and a bar in one corner. A bank of windows with French doors looked out to a patio with a hot tub. Elena felt disoriented. “Are we in the basement or something?”
He nodded. “This is where Portia’s room is. Let’s get your dog.”
Oh, yeah. She took a breath and resolved to pretend to be sober, and followed Julian down the quiet hallway to an open door. The light from the hallway showed a big bed. Portia’s blonde hair tumbled down the side of the bed, and her slim white arm was flung over the furry red body of Alvin, who snored contentedly, his head nestled on the pillow.
Elena couldn’t help it—she laughed. Quietly, covering her mouth. Whispering, she said, “Even I don’t let him sleep right on the pillows!”
The dog heard her, raised his head. “Come on, honey,” she said, and made kissing noises to call him to her.
His tail thumped against the covers, and he licked his lips, but he didn’t get up.
“You traitor!” she said quietly, putting a hand on her hip.
Again his tail thumped, but as if he was absolutely too exhausted to hold up his head another second, he fell back to the pillows. In seconds, he was snoring again.
Elena rolled her eyes, but she was laughing. Waving her hand toward Julian, she went back down the hall. “Obviously, he’s not suffering from the loss of me.”
“Oh, I’m sure he missed you. It’s just that Portia has a way with dogs. They all love her like that.”
Elena touched the middle of her chest where a certain emptiness bloomed all of a sudden. “Well,” she said. “I guess you can just take me home, then. I’ll come pick him up in the morning.”
“You don’t have to go, Elena. It’s a giant house. I have seven bedrooms. I’m sure there’s one you’d find comfortable.”
It seemed perfectly logical. Ordinary, even. “I was going to get in the steam shower,” she said, mostly irrelevantly.
“Try the hot tub.”
The light was ordinary, falling from overhead lights in an upscale but still rather plain family room. Julian wore a knit blue hat and a blue scarf and a leather bomber jacket that was really quite sexy. She looked at him for a long time, thinking he had the best face, so subtly carved, a little too sharp, showing its age a little bit, but still just so good to look at.
He looked at her mouth.
A whirl of images blazed through her mind—his kiss earlier, the musky purple scent of that moment, heavy in her breasts and thighs and lower belly; Ivan kissing her scar; Edwin speaking through Ivan’s mouth. “I think I’m probably crazy,” she said suddenly.
“A little drunk, maybe?”
“Is it obvious?”
“No,” he said.
“Your eyes are saying yes.”
He laughed softly, showing his teeth, and that made her like him even more. “Crazy how?”
“Oh,” she sighed, “a lot of ways. But right now, I think you should make me a cup of coffee and you can taste this baklava, and then, yes, I will sleep in one of your bedrooms. But not yours.”
His eyes stayed slightly crinkled in a smiling way. “Okay,” he said, taking her hand. “Come with me. I’ll give you your choice.”
Up and up they went, to the first floor, and then the second, curving around the strings of waterfall, lit at night with very soft blue spots that made the water shine beautifully. Elena reached out and cut the