Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I stay quiet as he sighs. Upstairs, a door shuts quietly, and then I hear my mom rolling her suitcase down the hall.
“Your mom and I came down hard on you this week. I regret it. I regretted it even as I was doing it. Lita’s older than I realize, and it scared me when I got that phone call from her doctor. It scared me even more to realize I had no idea where you were. I handled it poorly,” he admits sheepishly.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad look so humbled. “So did I,” I rush, desperate to make things better between us. “I should have just told you and Mom my plan from the beginning.”
He nods in agreement. Then he takes a hesitant step toward me and I rush forward, squeezing him around the middle. My mom finds us like that, and she hugs me from the side.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispers into my hair. “It’ll all be okay.”
Two days pass, and the house is quieter without my parents. Jean and Lita and I take long walks around the property, roving through the garden and deciding what to plant. Jean teaches me to play piquet on the back terrace in the afternoons, hiding from the sun beneath a thick canopy of vines. I visit the farmers’ market near Lita’s house and pick up toasted baguettes and cheese, fresh vegetables, and fruit. I make pasta salad for us all, and I convince myself I’m happy even while I’m not. Alone, at night, I barely sleep from missing Cristiano. I want to call him, but I don’t know what to say. It would have been easier if I’d answered his calls in the beginning, when I first came to France. As the days continue to pass, memories of our time together start to feel less real and more like a fever dream.
Tuesday morning, I’m at the sink cleaning dishes, mentally planning out the rest of my day to keep my thoughts from straying, when Lita walks into the kitchen. Jean helped her into a pale blue sundress. Her white hair is twisted up in a neat chignon. She’s applied makeup and she’s as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her. You could almost forget how she looked in the hospital.
She eyes my pajamas with disapproval. “You should get dressed. We’re having company today.”
“Company?” My curiosity is piqued. Other than Jean, we’ve been isolated here since my parents left. “Who?”
“Friends,” Lita says with a devious wink before I rush through the rest of the dishes and hurry upstairs to my room. There’s a white minidress hanging in my closet that I never wore for Cristiano. I shower and dry my hair, taking forever with it, wanting it to be perfect. I apply my makeup and go back and forth with my lipstick shade for a ridiculous amount of time. My hands are shaking with nerves, and when a car pulls up after lunch, I don’t wait. I fling open the front door and hurry down the stone steps onto the gravel drive.
The back door of the sleek black car opens, and Simone and Annika step out, their eyes wide at the sight of Lita’s house sprawled out behind me. It’s huge, I know. It takes some getting used to.
I hate that I look around them, trying to see into the vehicle. There’s no one else besides the driver.
Cristiano didn’t come.
Disappointed, I look down at the ground, swallowing, blinking, burying my hurt. When I look up again, it’s with a wide smile for my two friends. I wanted to see him, but I’m still so happy they came to see me even though I left Ibiza so suddenly.
“I can’t believe you two are here. How?”
“Oh, simple,” Simone says with a sarcastic flick of her hand. “We were whisked onto the private plane Cristiano arranged for us, and then a car service brought us here from the airport. We didn’t have to lift a finger, did we, Annika?” Without waiting for her reply, she rushes on to say, “You should have seen the food options on the plane. You would have died, though actually… maybe not, seeing as you’re ungodly wealthy. You probably fly private all the time…”
My smile drops as I glance between them, waiting for the accusations and anger.
Annika’s still staring at my grandmother’s house, her blue eyes wide with wonder. When she glances at me, she frowns. “You are. Aren’t you?”
There’s no annoyance in her tone, just curiosity.
“My family is.”
“You’re Isabel De Vere of De Vere Diamonds. That’s who you are. Cristiano told us,” Annika says.
“Yes.” Even knowing apologies will follow, I’m relieved the secret’s out. “And you both have every right to be annoyed with me for keeping it secret.”
“Annoyed?” Simone bursts out laughing as she looks to Annika. “Oh, poor us… finding out our mate is a retail princess.” Her gaze lights up with excitement as she continues, “I bet you know honest-to-god celebrities! I bet you’ve been to fashion week!” She suddenly points past me. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to clear her thoughts. “I can’t get over this, this, mansion behind you. Is this truly your grandmother’s house? Her estate? It took us ages to get here from the front gate. I think I even dozed for a bit.”