on the plane ride to California, leaving my friends, my family even many of my most prized possessions behind.
We pulled up near the garage instead of the front as Julia had indicated, in order to stay away from prying eyes. She smiled and thanked me, then she did something strangely surprising and also endearing.
She reached out and touched my shoulder. “I love your hair. It’s such a gorgeous color. You have a costume for the Gatsby theme party?”
I nodded.
“I’ve been hyper focused on the theme and all the details—to get my mind off the partying part. My makeup artist and hairdresser are coming over in the afternoon. Can I send them over to you? I want to do something nice as a way to say thank you for today.”
I smiled. “Julia, you really don’t have to buy my silence. I promise—”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, I know you won’t say anything. I just… I’d rather you benefit from their expertise than my unsupportive friends. Let them do their own hair and makeup.”
And with that, she opened the door and was gone. I watched her go, confused and even a bit overwhelmed by her.
And by her brother and what she’d casually revealed to me about his mental health after the divorce. It was so hard to tell what went on beneath the surface of my husband’s very calm exterior. He kept everything inside—except maybe the gruff and grumpiness.
Jeez. No wonder he’d been so upset with me about going over his head to agree to attend this reunion. I swallowed a big ball of guilt. I owed him an apology. And I owed him some openness, because it wasn’t fair for me to expect it from him and not give it in return.
When I got back to the guest house, I had a throbbing headache, a frighteningly grumpy attitude. In addition, I was in bad need of a nap despite the long hours of sleep the night before.
And very little time to attend to any of the above.
Chapter 19
Lucas
I slept in too late at the villa and when I woke up, she was gone. I got up, brushed my teeth and went through the usual morning routine. Workout on the rowing machine in the gym room downstairs. Breakfast from a selection of fruit, pastries and coffee left for us by the butler.
Still no Katya.
I checked my phone but there was no text from her. So I sent her one.
She walked in the front door about five minutes after I hit send without having answered my message. With an exasperated sigh, she flopped onto the couch in the front sitting room. I found her there, sprawled out on the couch, her long copper hair splayed out around her beautiful face.
“Hey,” I said as she kicked off her tennis shoes and put her feet up on the glass coffee table. “Where were you?”
She rubbed small circles into her forehead. “It’s already starting to get hot out there. I went for a walk earlier and ran into your sister. She needed a ride to Napa, so I took her in our rental car.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shopping emergency or Instagram photo op?”
She straightened and looked at me, already appearing tired and it wasn’t even noon. “You should cut her more slack than that.”
I frowned. “Uh oh, were you two bonding?”
She sighed and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes as if she had a headache. “Do we have any aspirin?”
“I’ll check.” I looked in both of the bathrooms—the downstairs one and the one off our bedroom—and both medicine cabinets were empty. So I texted Deleon asking to bring us some. She had aspirin and a cold bottle of water in her hand less than ten minutes later.
“Do you need to lie down for a bit? I can get us out of whatever is on the itinerary this afternoon. A tour or wine tasting or something, I’m sure.” She hesitated for a moment. I sank down on the couch beside her. “I’ll text my mother to let her know you aren’t feeling well.”
She straightened and turned to me, her face inches from mine, as if she were looking for something in my eyes. Or my nose, chin or the rest of my features up close and personal. She smelled like sunshine and warm coconuts.
“Tell me honestly, Lucas. Is being here with your family for a week going to trigger you?”
I blinked. “Trigger me into doing what? Wearing black and listening to Barry Manilow?”