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Tracy Carrington stood in the foyer of the Spanish villa, her eyes sweeping up the curved staircase and landing on the grand chandelier suspended from the high ceiling. The villa, both outside and in, was distinctly Spanish with its whitewashed walls and terracotta accents, but when Ada had described the venue for their wedding, Tracy never imagined that it could be this luxurious.
Ada’s voice drifted down the stairs, and it sounded like she was talking with the wedding planner from the few words that Tracy could make out, so she kept wandering through the house, her small suitcase rolling across the marble floors behind her.
Tracy rarely thought about what might have been, what her life might have looked like if she’d stayed in the business long enough to have a career like Ada’s, but it was hard not to think about those things when she was spending the next week here, in this amazing villa, with Ada and Sydney picking up the tab.
Tracy couldn’t even begin to imagine what this place must cost to rent out for the week, and they’d rented it for two, because up until about a month ago, their schedules were still changing, and they weren’t sure which dates they’d actually be here.
And then there was the honeymoon they’d just planned the other day, the two of them renting a yacht to sail around the Mediterranean.
Tracy left her suitcase inside the doorway of one of the downstairs bedrooms. She’d planned to keep exploring the house, but the French doors that opened up from the bedroom onto the back garden drew her towards them.
