Chapter 11
Eleven
Sabine
For the next two hours we talk about everything. What happened in the hangar, what happened between him and me. We laugh, we cry, we hold hands.
“Come back with me,” he says, sliding his now-empty whiskey glass onto the table.
I laugh, but when I look at him, his expression is stone cold.
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yes. In fact, I’m not leaving here without you, so you don’t have a choice.”
“Well there’s the demanding asshole I once knew.”
“I’m serious, Sabine. And I know, in your heart, you feel the same. No matter how screwed up the scenario, the universe brought us together and nothing’s going to tear us apart again. Life is tough. Let’s punch it in the face together.”
“Uh . . .” I gesture dramatically around the room. “I own this house, I have a car, I have bills, I have things here, I can’t just?—”
“You’re right,” he deadpans. “I certainly don’t have the financial means to take care of all that for you.”
“Astor, you’re crazy.”
“About you. Pack your stuff. I’ll tell them to have the plane ready in an hour.”
He grabs my hand to pull me off the couch but I yank it away. “Where am I going? To the house you share with your wife?”
“Yes.”
I laugh maniacally. “Oh okay, so we’ll just all live together in one happy polygamous relationship.”
“Sure, let’s take some of the south with us.”
“Stop it, I’m serious.”
“Listen, I don’t know, but I know I’m not leaving here without you. We’ll tell Valerie you’re the new housekeeper or something?—”
“Boyyy,” I mockingly raise my hand to slap him.
“You won’t clean a thing, geez, I’m just trying to think of anything.”
“You have lost your mind.”
“Sabine, she doesn’t know you. Not your name; couldn’t pick you out of a lineup. It could work. Hell, I’ll build you a house next door until we figure it out. Just please, come with me. You can’t stay here another minute. Your hair obviously can’t take it.”
“I like my curly hair.”
“I love it. I’m just trying to say anything to get you to stop spinning.”
“You need therapy.”
“I’m not arguing with that. And stop deflecting.”
“Why can’t I be the cook?”
His eyes sparkle. “You are an incredible cook.” He chews on his lip. “But . . . if I tell her you’re the new cook, she’s going to actually order things for you to make for her.”
“I do make a mean rat-poison pancake.”
We both grin.
“Okay, so no on the cook.”
“I’m telling you, Sabine, housekeeper is the way to go. It makes sense and you won’t have to do anything.”
“I can’t even believe I’m considering this. . . . but . . . the lake house in Tahoe does have multiple bedrooms on the far end of the house, and one even has a separate entrance, so I wouldn’t even have to go through the main house.”
Astor clears his throat.
“What?”
“We’re not going to the lake house.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the beach house.”
My brows pop. “You mean the teeny-tiny two-bedroom cottage on a cliff you told me about? The one that she lived in?”
“Yes. The doctor said it would be best for Valerie to be in familiar surroundings for the time being.”
I shake my head. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
“It’s temporary, Sabine.”
“Your marriage better be temporary.”
“Everything is temporary,” he pulls me in, “besides me and you.”
“It’s going to be tough, Astor.”
“Life is tough, let’s go punch it in the face together, my beautiful butterfly.”