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His personal driver zipped past lush golf courses and gigantic beach houses stretched across acres of white sand.
I stared out the window, hugging my duffel bag to my chest, my face undoubtedly bone-white. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered much after my conversation with Andras two days ago.
The gray skies cracked like an egg, rain pounding on the windows in thick sheets. Mother Nature was bawling her eyes out. I wanted to do the same, struggling to keep my stoic expression intact.
Zach flicked the A/C vent, so it didn’t blow on my bare arms. “Is there anything you’d like to see in the Hamptons, Octi?”
He’d made it a point to sit as close to me as possible.
Still, I’d ignored him the entire duration of the trip, plane ride included.
“Yes,” I hissed out. “I’d like to see your mansion from the rearview of my Prius after this is all done and dusted.”
If the rain bothered him, he didn’t show it.
He is healing, day by day, while your dreams slip further and further away.
Zach reclined in his leather seat, stretching out on the leg rest. “What did I do now?”
“Bringing your side piece to a vacation with your fiancée is low, even by your standards.”
“You’re not my side piece.” His eyes clung to my face in a way that made me happy and miserable at the same time. “And you need to stop with the Eileen thing.”
“Why?”
“Because… it’s complicated.”
“Seems pretty simple to me.”
“I need time.”
I snorted, whipping my head to look at him. “For what?”
“To figure things out.” He tugged the silky strands of his hair. “With you bymy side.”
I averted my gaze to the window again, shaking my head. I wasn’t even mad at Zach. He’d made the rules clear from the start, and I’d agreed to them.
No. The object of my anger currently sat three-hundred plus miles away in Potomac.
Andras.
Andras Horvath with his ridiculous, bizarre ultimatum.
“Octi.” Zach grabbed my hand and deposited it in his lap, toying with my fingers. The gesture hurt more than it soothed me. It reminded me this would all be over in a few weeks, maybe even days. “What’s eating at you? Is it Andras? I can find you a better coach.”
“No. I sobered up from that fantasy,” I admitted as the car pulled past towering hedges and approached a French limestone mansion. “I’m going to continue fencing for the fun of it, but that’s it.”
“And coaching?” His fingers curled over mine in his lap as the car rolled along the pebbled path to the front door. “Would you still consider coaching me? You’re wonderful at it.”
His compliment licked my skin like a ray of sun.
“I suppose you need the practice.”
“Brat.” He brought the back of my hand to his lips, giving it a lingering kiss. “Stay close to me, okay?”
Eileen stood at the doorway in an impeccable burgundy dress and matching coat, her hands gloved and clasped before her.
I swallowed, slipping my hand from his. “Okay.”
