Chapter 34
I sit in the back seat of my Uber for another minute, afraid the real homeowners are going to come out of their mansion to see who’s parked in their driveway. I’ve rechecked Google Maps at least three times to make sure the driver has gotten the right address, but this can’t be Dom’s place.
There’s no way a young, thirty-something-year-old bachelor lives here.
I take a photo of the front of the house and text it to Dom.
Is this it?
He responds right away.
I left the gate to the right of the driveway unlocked for you. Head on back
I feel like I’ve died and woken up as Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman , minus the whole prostitute thing. I expected to see a shabby little bungalow when I pulled up, maybe one or two bedrooms, with a row of surfboards lining the wall of a rugged man cave, just grateful he doesn’t have roommates. However, I’m looking at what appears to be a sprawling Italian-inspired villa set against the highly desired North Shore beach. Creamy stucco walls — topped with layers of individually molded terracotta roofing tiles — span a roomy courtyard leading up to the double-wide mahogany doors. The home is nestled into a beautifully manicured tropical paradise, with bold orange and pink blooms lining the driveway. Three ancient banyan trees shade the property, with dozens of roots sprouting out of the ground toward the branches, as if pulling the tree slowly back into the earth.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess we’d driven right into the state’s botanical garden.
Grabbing my laptop and solar charger from the seat beside me, I thank the driver and get out of the car slowly, my head on a swivel.
Lush, leafy ferns and palms with blooms of every size and shape spring up around me, lining the walkway that’ll hopefully lead me to Dom’s backyard. Birds chirp overhead and the sound of waves hitting the shore beckon me to continue down a meandering path flanked by orange Birds of Paradise flowers fanning out along the walkway, each bloom nearly as tall as my hips.
A stark white note card comes into view, taped to a heavy teak wood gate, lined in black molded iron.
Enjoy, Liv. Make yourself at home
The blocky chicken scratch matches the note that was tucked in with the gift I opened earlier.
Okay, if Dom is this loaded, why was he so insistent that I finish out my reservation at first?
And what is he running from back home in California?
Dozens of bangles clink down my wrist toward my elbow as I reach up to push against the gate. It swings open wide enough to reveal the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen. A collection of birds in the palms overhead — all yellow, red, and black — chirp loudly as if to say hello in their own cheerful way when I walk inside.
I think I’m falling in love, and not just with Dom. This garden is incredible.
A flock of koi fish rush to meet me in a wide, bean-shaped pond, speckled with lily pads topped with purple flowers. Tripping over one another in a frenzy of orange and gold flashes under the water. I bet they think I’m here with a snack for them.
“Not unless you like Swedish Fish.” I pat my purse full of snacks.
Their bodies rush around each other in a dizzying dance, somersaulting and diving, then boldly breaking the surface of the water, all lips and scales. A waterfall trickles down the side of the pool, then drops into a second lower koi pond with another half-dozen black and gold speckled fish, the largest as wide as my thigh, poking its nose out of the water. The ponds are cushioned on either side by a collection of lush green fronds.
The whole effect feels like a fairytale come to life.
I imagine Dom feeding these fish every day as I make my way around a bend, staying on the gravel pathway, anxious to see what’s coming next.
After wrapping around a hand-laid stone wall, the roar of waves against the empty shore greets me. The garden’s tree line gives way to an open beach, where turquoise whitecaps roll onto soft white sand.
There she is. The ocean, framed by my view of thick, tropical greens, under a sky filled with puffy white clouds.
A hammock wide enough to fit two or three people is strung between two enormous tree trunks, with a stone bistro table nestled beside a smooth river rock wall. I take off my shoes to feel the cool, wet earth and velvety moss between my toes.
What the hell does Dom do besides rent townhouses? There’s no way my nominal rental fee affords him this level of luxury. Even if he owns fifty of them.
My phone pings, startling me out of a trance-like daydream, bringing me back to reality.
His text is only four words, but it makes me smile.
Find your way in?
I settle myself onto one of the bistro chairs, surrounded by carved rock and moss, then take a selfie to send back as my answer. Before hitting Send , I bring the screen up to my face to study it more closely, not surprised by what I see.
I look happy.
Genuinely happy. Lighter than I have in months. No filter needed. Wrapped in my new cobalt-blue kaftan, holding up my wrist to prove that I’m wearing at least six inches of thin, gold bangles down each arm, which make me want to dance when I move. I smile at myself on the screen.
I love it here.
Every awful thing that happened in my life the last few months had to happen in order for me to be here. To experience this exact moment right now.
I add a line of text to my selfie before hitting Send .
I think I’ve dreamed of this place a time or two ? ? Thank you
Writing here, in a place that looks plucked from my dreams, is everything I ever hoped it would be. Periodically I look around, feeling like I’ve stumbled into paradise, knowing my dream man is the owner of everything I see around me.
I sit down and start to write, losing track of time from the words flowing onto the screen.
I have no idea what time it is when the smell of something sizzling on the grill pulls my focus from my computer screen. But it must have been a few hours based on the pages and pages of words filling my laptop screen. It’s the most accomplished day of writing I’ve had yet.
Whatever that smell is makes my mouth instantly water with hunger. Garlicky seafood and some type of grilled meat.
I sit up taller, my stomach rumbling.
Dom must be home.