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I close the fridge. “Just a sec Dalia,” I hold my hand out for her to wait, then go to peep out of the kitchen window.
What I see I makes me blink a couple of times to clear my vision of any mirage.
“Drew?” I whisper. Then screech. “Drew!” In seconds I’m out of the door and flying across the yard and into his arms.
"Bree, darling!" His joyful, rumbling laughter soothes me.
“What the hell? Drew, how are you even here?” I wind my arm around his neck.
“I know, in New York no less.” He’s hugging me back just as tightly.
“Uncle Ben, did you know about this?” I turn around in Drew's arms, eyes narrowing at my uncle. He only smiles.
“No seriously, this is amazing. I missed you so much." I embrace Drew again.
"Me too kiddo" Drew holds me at arm's length and gives me a once-over. "You're a sight for sore eyes. Lovely you are, although could do with more sleep. Those art gallery folks working you too hard eh?"
I shrug, "It's good work." I've not slept in two nights straight, but I took extra care with my makeup today and was satisfied with the results before leaving Dalia's. But there's no fooling Drew.
“What on earth happened to you 'never stepping into the Tri-State area' Drew?”
“I'd say fate happened.”
“Say what?” I draw back in surprise.
“Jordan Farrington came to see me.”
I gape at him then slowly school my face into a mask of indifference. Did he now?
“He’s turned into such a sound and decent man. And the way he loves you—”
Shock widens my eyes into saucers.
“Um, Drew. Drew,” I put my hand up, then look around. I must be hallucinating.
“Look, I don’t really want to talk about him, not right now.” What the actual fuck?
Jordan was one of the highest on Drew’s shit list and now he’s singing the man’s praises and crossing the country at his bidding. In what universe does that happen?
“Sure kiddo." Drew puts his arm around my rigid shoulders. "But we do have a lot to talk about. Now who is this gorgeous young woman?” He says, referring to Dalia who is standing a few feet away and watching us with a smile.
I introduce Dalia to Drew, Uncle Ben, and Aunt Bea. True to form, Aunt Bea goes to give Dalia a big hug, welcoming her to the ‘family’. Dalia tries not to laugh. Within minutes I can tell Aunt Bea has taken to Dalia. Of course, she'd presented the woman with a truckload of scented candles so there's that.
Once the first round of steak is done, we sit on the benches and Uncle Ben dishes out servings with the potato salad and lemonade. Dalia is happily chatting with Aunty Bea about candle making, and Uncle Ben’s putting on the second round of steak while speaking in hushed tones into the phone nestled between his ear and shoulder.
Drew and I are silent. I’m bursting with questions about his one eighty-degree turn but also don’t want to touch the subject with a ten-foot pole. Because I don’t want to talk about Jordan. The cheating asshole. To think he actually accused me of cheating, when he was guilty as hell.
“Bree, that meat was already dead before it was roasted you know? Because you’re attacking it like you’d like to kill it again. Poor Ben’s going to think it's overdone and too tough.”
I chuckle. “Drew, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”
“You mean you’ve got a lot you’re refusing to let be on your mind?”
“Drew, I don’t know what he’s told you—”
“He came to ask me what happened on that night.”
I break out in a cold sweat. “What do you mean?” What is Jordan’s problem with that night and why won't he let it go?
