Chapter 6
6
ZARA
One Week Later
“W elcome aboard, Ms. Petrov,” the flight attendant says when I walk up the steps to the plane.
“Thank you.” I smile at her as I enter the plane and head for the single seat on one side. I’m shrugging off my jacket when my phone rings. “Hello.” I put it to my ear, not even looking to see who it is.
“Hey,” Sofia says, “just calling to wish you a safe flight.”
I smile, sitting in the seat and buckling my seat belt before looking out the small window. “Thank you.” I take a deep breath in.
“Just a heads-up, my grandfather is going to meet the plane, but he’s under strict instructions not to tell anyone you are there for at least three days.” I smile. “But then I’ll have to tell my mother.”
“That sounds good. I don’t think anyone is going to bother me anyway.”
She laughs. “Oh, you poor, poor child. Keep telling yourself that. I’ll call you tomorrow and give you tonight to settle in.”
“Thank you so much,” I tell her, “for everything.”
“Hey, anytime,” she replies before she disconnects and the door of the plane is shut.
“Well, no turning back now,” I tell myself, ignoring the way my chest is tight as we start moving slowly. Only when we are taking off and my back is pushed deeper in the seat do I let go of the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
The past week has been like I was in a daze, really. After my aunt and mother left Zoey’s place, I refused to let everyone hover over me, so I forced everyone to get back to their lives. The three listened and headed back to get ready to leave, since that was their original plan. Zoey, of course, didn’t listen to me and is the only one who didn’t. She worked from New York all week long, leaving only this morning when I was leaving.
Once everyone left Zoey’s place, I got dressed and went to my house. The house was dead quiet, and even when I was walking in, I felt like my skin was going to crawl off my bones. Nash came with us, opting to stay outside and watch to make sure we were okay, letting only Zoey come in with me. I walked through the house like I was a stranger, like I didn’t spend the past two years making this my home. I walked to the kitchen finding it full of red roses, with a note in the middle of each bouquet. I ignored them all and left them untouched as I walked up the stairs, exactly how I did the day before, wondering if he was going to be in there.
The door was open, and I noticed the bed had been stripped and all the blankets had been changed back to what I put on before I changed it out for Christmas. I thought I was going to throw up, but I avoided looking at it longer than I had to. Instead, I walked to my home office, grabbing my backpack and putting my computer in there, along with my notebooks and planner. I then grabbed the suitcase in the hall closet and ended up going to my closet and packing literally everything. I packed every single piece of clothing I had in four suitcases and five garbage bags. Something my aunt would cringe over if she saw the way I just shoved shit into them. By twelve thirty, I was walking out of the house with all my things, which were now in the guest room at Nash’s New York apartment, minus the luggage I took for my stay at Sofia’s place. I still have no idea how long I’m going to be there. It could be four days, or it could be a month. Everything is still up in the air. I’m going to be working remotely, which isn’t going to be that much of a stretch since I did everything remotely anyway.
I try not to think of the fact the only time Daniel texted me was to tell me Sarah told her husband, and then because I didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth, I decided to text him. It consisted of two texts.
Me: Hey, it’s me. How are you doing?
Jason: How do you think I’m doing, considering my wife just broke my heart, and now I have to take two DNA tests.
Me: I’m so sorry.
He didn’t answer me after that because what was he going to say. The whole thing was just so fucking surreal, and the more I thought about it, the more I saw all the flags but just fucking ignored them, I guess. I also second-guessed everything he said to me, why he couldn’t join me for whatever reason. I made myself sick, wondering if they fucked in my house when I went away. Fuck, I went on my family vacation, and he didn’t come because he couldn’t just take off during a big merger. Was that code to them, and they fucked every day in my bed? Just the thought made me ill. Luckily for me, the results came back negative, so I am free and clear for now, I guess. Who knows really?
I spend the whole flight just looking out of the window. When we land, I smile and thank the flight attendant before stepping off the plane and seeing a black Range Rover with Sofia’s grandfather standing beside it. He’s wearing an old pair of jeans with a sweater and a cowboy hat. His boots look like they are ancient, and if you took one look at him, you would never guess he’s a billionaire with security contracts with the government, among other things. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets me when I walk toward him, and he gives me a smile.
“Hi,” I say, getting on my tippy-toes and kissing his cheek. “Thank you for picking me up. You didn’t have to.”
“Oh, please,” he says, ready to take my carry-on bag in his hand. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”
“Please,” I reply, suddenly feeling exhausted.
He opens the door for me. “It’s the Southern gentleman for me,” I make a joke, and he just laughs at me.
“It’s just a gentlemanly thing to do,” he reminds me, “Southern or not.” He closes the door and loads my suitcase in the back before he gets into the car.
“So how are you doing?” he asks as the car drives away from the plane.
“Good. Glad to be here and,” I tell him honestly, “get away from the constant?—”
“Questions,” he fills in for me.
“Something like that,” I reply, looking out at the trees as we make our way toward Sofia’s house. “How crazy is it that there is this sense of peace here?” I ask him.
“There are no honking horns, no police sirens,” he jokes. “You either love it, or you hate it. Your Uncle Matthew lasted a whole six days,” he says, making me laugh, “which made me lose five hundred dollars because I said he would be gone after three.”
“He did that on purpose, just to get under your skin.” I smile. The two of them compete to decide who will be the better man on the playing field. It’s scary and fascinating to watch. They could take over the world with each other, but the two of them are so hardheaded they refuse to admit it.
“You bet his fucking ass he did.” He chuckles. “In the end, I won because he was fucking miserable being here.”
He turns down a street as I see some horses in the distance. “There are horses.”
“Yeah, that’s where Quinn trains his new horses, away from everyone to get them used to the land.” He mentions his son, who has an equestrian rehab farm.
“They look so pretty,” I admire, watching them run free.
“When the cat is out of the bag and we can tell people you’re here, I’ll take you out there and get you on one of them,” he offers, and I smile.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him as we approach Sofia’s house. The house is exactly like I remembered it when she got married in the barn next to it. This house was her great-grandfather’s and he left it to her mom, who gave it to her when she was eighteen.
The front of the house looks like it’s a log cabin, but once you get inside, it’s totally been updated. “I would tell you to go ahead and let yourself in,” Casey says, taking out the luggage from the trunk, “but this house still has a lock and key and not a key pad.” He walks up the four steps to the door, opening up the white screen door before unlocking the door and turning and handing me the key. “Here you go,” he says. “It’s got an automatic lock system, so make sure you have the key with you all the time.”
“Got it.” I palm the key and put it in my jacket pocket. I step into the house, and the smell of fresh flowers hits my nose.
“I’m going to leave the truck with you and go home in the golf cart,” he explains, handing me the key to the Range Rover.
“I got some flowers from the garden,” he says as he walks farther inside between the dining room and to the kitchen that is right off the front door and points at the flowers in the middle of the big wooden table. The exposed wooden beams make the house look so rustic, along with the furniture. “I also picked up a couple of things at the store to tide you over and brought over some of Grandma Charlotte’s stuff from the barbecue today,” he says, and I shake my head.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” I say and let out a huge sigh, “but thank you.”
He puts my bag down. “If you need anything, you call me, no matter what time it is.”
“Just you doing this,” I reply, “is more than enough.”
“I’ll let you be.” He smiles and then kisses my cheek before walking back out the door, making sure it closes after him. I shrug off my jacket and put it on the back of the chair for now before I walk to the back of the house, where the living room looks out into the darkness. The three dark blue couches bring a touch of color to the room, but I love the wooden crate in the middle the most. It feels like it’s over a hundred years old, and you can just imagine the history of it.
“You need a bubble bath and bed,” I tell myself, walking to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water before going over to carry my luggage up the steps to where the two bedrooms are. As soon as I make it to the top step, there are three wooden doors. I open the first one and see it’s the bathroom. The slanted ceiling makes the bathroom even more homey with the big clawfoot tub. All I want to do is light some candles and sit in it.
I make my way over to the bedroom at the end of the hall and open it, seeing it’s the big bedroom. The king-size bed takes up most of the room, with a white quilt on it and a plaid green throw blanket at the end of the bed. A long wooden bench in front of the bed faces a long dresser. I wheel my luggage to the corner of the room where the chair is and dump my bag there before I walk back to the bathroom and run a bath.
When my phone rings, I run back downstairs to get it out of my jacket. I see it’s Zoey. “Hey,” I answer, walking back upstairs.
“Hey,” she says, breathless, “are you there?”
“I’m here,” I confirm. “Just got here.”
“What are your plans for the night?” she asks, and I look at the water running in the bath.
“Bubble bath followed by a face-plant into the bed.”
“No,” she snaps, “absolutely not.” I laugh.
“What?” I ask, not sure what the hell she is saying.
“You need to put on a fresh pair of pants and go out.”
“Where?” I ask, looking back out into the darkness.
“The bar in town,” she states. “It’s Sunday, so chances are no one is there that you know since they are all staying in from the family lunch.”
“I’m not going to a bar,” I tell her.
“Why not?” she asks, and I look back at the tub. “Give me one reason.”
“It’s Sunday.” I think it’s a great excuse. “I have to get ready for the week.”
“You need to go and put on a cute pair of jeans and a sexy top and get out there.”
“I don’t want to,” I almost pout.
“Well, maybe you need to?” I look at the clock.
“It’s, like, almost eight o’clock.”
“And you aren’t sixty-five,” she counters. “Get your ass out there.” I don’t say anything. “At least go for, like, one drink.”
“Fine,” I say, getting up. “You’re right, this is my time to live it up.”
“Yes,” she encourages me, “live it up. Suck dick.”
I snort. “Okay, let me change, and I’ll text you when I leave.”
“You aren’t just saying that so I leave you alone, right?” she prods, and I laugh because that sounds like something I would totally do.
“No,” I say, unzipping the luggage, “I’m going to go out for a drink.”
“This is what I’m talking about. Do it.”
“I will,” I agree, hanging up on her and going through my outfits. I pick out a pair of blue jeans that I know cling to every single curve and make me look like I have a perfect ass. I grab a white V-neck shirt that goes low in the front, showing off just the right amount of cleavage. I quickly change and grab a brown pair of booties that make me look like I’m a country girl. I fluff my hair before grabbing the green jacket and rushing back downstairs, making sure I don’t forget the key to the door, before sliding it into my purse and walking out the door. “You can do this,” I tell myself, getting into the Range Rover and putting in the address to the bar.
My stomach lurches and tightens as I make my way closer to the bar. Even pulling up, I spot just two trucks in the parking lot, and I still have to literally give myself a fucking pep talk before walking in. I pull open the door and take a look around. To the right side looks like pool tables, to the left looks like a restaurant, and because I don’t want to seem like I stick out, the only thing I can do is walk toward the bar on the other side.
I spot maybe five people in this bar, and if they weren’t all staring at me, I would turn and walk the fuck out of here. Instead, I pull out a stool and sit down, texting Zoey.
Me: There is fucking no one here. I’m never listening to you again.
“Hi.” I look up to see the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life, literally. His black hair is pushed back away from his face. The sides are cut a bit shorter but it looks like it’s longer in the back. His blue eyes light up, even in the dimness of the bar, and his beard makes him look rugged and wild. “What can I get for you?” I swear to God I lose all the words in my vocabulary.
Think of something flirty to say, my head screams at me. “What does one drink when we want to forget about everything?” I put my phone on the bar.
He raises his eyebrows at me and tries to hide the smirk. “I have Jim or Jack?”
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” I joke with him, trying hard not to look and sound like an idiot as I smile at him. “Dealer’s choice.” What the fuck, I groan inwardly, why would I say dealer’s choice?
He nods, turning to the bottles behind him and grabbing a glass. “On the rocks or neat?”
I tilt my head to the side and think about it briefly. “I’m going to go on the rocks so I don’t taste how gross it is.” He laughs at my joke, making his eyes crinkle at the sides. He walks over, throwing a round ice cube into the glass and then pouring two fingers’ worth. I take the time to check out his arms flexing when he picks up the bottle, and I swear my mouth waters.
He walks back to me. “Here you go.” He tosses the coaster onto the bar before putting the glass on it.
“Thank you.” I nod at him, opening my purse and pulling out one of my credit cards to hand to him.
“First one is on the house,” he says and turns to walk away.
“Then charge me for the next one.” I put my card down before I pick up the glass, looking at the amber liquid, regretting not ordering a girlie drink. “Cheers to new beginnings”—I bring the glass to my lips—“and making bad choices.”