25. Chapter 25 #3
Up a winding path that could only be regulation-safe in Spain, we stopped at a gate.
Mark fumbled around for a moment before pulling out a small remote and opening the iron gate.
Up a hill, lined on each side by leafy trees, was the El Huerto del Sol farm and estate.
My heart launched into my throat as we pulled into the gravel parking lot.
The burnt orange house with its slanted roof was massive.
Fifty of my studio apartments could fit inside.
“Not to piss off my boss, but this house and the estate land was refurbished back to the original state from the 1800s. El Huerto del Sol is truly a kiss to the sky.” Mark blew a loud kiss at the air.
“Amazing,” I breathed.
“This is the main house where you’ll be staying. There’s a group of 2 smaller guest houses on the right side of the hill near the tennis courts. On the far side of the hill is the barn, staff offices, the olive field, and the beehives.”
“Beehives?”
“Yes. Did boss not tell you he grows honey?”
“You grow honey?” I asked.
“I grow honey.” He shrugged.
Mark laughed, and Moore dragged him out of the car. The gravel crackled under my feet as I hopped out of the backseat. In the distance, a rooster crowed.
“This is amazing,” I said as Summoner rounded the front of the car toward me.
“Thanks. Although I give him shit, I should have Mark give us the tour. It’s been years since I’ve been here.”
A chicken decided that moment to wander in front of us. I giggled.
“So, how long?”
“…Eh, six years.”
“Well, thanks for bringing me.” I wrapped my arms around his waist. Summoner hugged my shoulders and didn’t comment.
Mark gave us a quick walkthrough of the main house.
It was massive, decorated with sparse furnishings and large, stretched canvases on the walls.
There were two kitchens: one industrial kitchen for manufacturing items, such as soaps made with the honey and bee products, and a second (the other much smaller one) for the private chef.
Gold and silver pots and pans hung over the countertops like expensive decorations.
A set of glass doors off the second kitchen led to a patio where vines reached up and snaked in between the cracks in the brickwork.
Beyond the patio, a set of stairs led down to the pool.
The clear blue water glistened in the sunlight.
Back inside, on the second-floor landing leading to the left wing, hung a set of plaques for Summoner’s albums. Platinum and Gold certificates for the number of records sold.
A collection of all his musical accomplishments on display.
A full recording studio took up this part of the house.
Guitars, basses, a drum set, even a full-sized piano filled the room.
The sound-proofed walls were painted a deep red.
Neat and dusted, everything was well-taken-care-of. Untouched, but well-kept.
The master bedroom was the only other room on this side of the house.
Keeping the two rooms together only seemed logical.
In line with the rest of the house, everything was furnished simply and neatly.
A purple velour Victorian-era fainting couch sat at the end of the iron-framed, king-size platform bed.
I couldn’t wait to get fucked on it. I giggled at the thought.
At the head of the bed were two wooden end tables painted white.
By the large, open window sat a matching wooden desk.
It would be a perfect place to get some writing done.
Honestly, the entire house was full of perfect little nooks and crannies for me to hide in and write.
Moore and Mark set our bags in the closet.
“The bathroom is through there.” Mark pointed across the room towards a sliding door. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“You know how to find me, Boss,” Moore said over his shoulder as he followed Mark out of the room.
The bedroom door closed behind them, leaving us on our own.
Summoner turned toward me, “So?”
“This is amazing. How could you stay away from a place like this?” I asked.
“Too busy wallowing in my comfort and self-pity.” His jaw set with a harsh tic.
“I’m sorry.” I held onto the bedpost for support. I wanted to reach for him, to comfort him. His unease floated effortlessly on the breeze.
“It’s okay.” He waved away my concern with a flick of his wrist.
“Don’t do that. You can’t ask me to be open about my shit when you aren’t being open about yours.”
He sighed. “You’re right…I guess I’m a little freaked out. I never thought I’d come back here. El Huerto del Sol was a safe haven until it wasn’t. The mutations of my mind made me scared. But…”
“But what?”
He chuckled, “You. You pushed me outside myself. You wonderful pain in the arse.”
“That’s me.”
Summoner’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “You’re so many things and you don’t see any of them. I could give you a million compliments, and you’d refute every single one.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’d do the same.”
“Not I. I’m an egomaniac. Nothing is better than a pretty young woman telling me how great I am.”
Summoner motioned me over, and I rushed into the comfort of his arms.
I love you.
I wish I could tell you how much I love you.