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It’s not like she’s been told the lies Dad concocted for everyone else about my upcoming marriage. He’s been touting the story that Hunter and I have been dating secretly for years.
Layla knows the truth because I told her. I even left a voice recording on her Facebook messenger telling her about my embarrassing story. I did all of that, yet all she could send me was a postcard.
I already felt like shit, but damn…
Reading such an emotionless message from my sister made me realize I’ve been carrying a lot of emotional baggage for years. The confusion over Hunter and Ryan is part of that.
I decided that Hunter threw me off the other day because I'm not used to men like him. Men who are blatant, arrogant, cocky and demanding.
And Ryan… I feel like his declaration to not give up on us couldn’t have come at a worse time.
When I told Emily about that she firmly insisted that I shouldn’t entertain his craziness.
My heart may be sad, and I’m finding it difficult to unravel my feelings for him, but I'm inclined to agree with her. She reminded me again that Ryan had his chance and blew it.
Now's not the time to play the wedding crasher. Especially when his future is
entwined with my marriage.
I can’t begin to imagine what my father would do if I messed things up with Hunter. It was bad enough that Hunter saw Ryan and me together. And so close.
As the days went by I realized that I have to focus more than ever before.
But I’m finding that everything is so fucking hard. And Layla has just abandoned me.
Emily is always there for me and I couldn’t be more grateful, but there are just some things that only your sister can make better.
I get lost in my sea of worries, trying to wade my way through until minutes later the car stops in front of a tall and wide wrought iron gate.
Looking like something that was pulled from a Gothic fairytale, the beauty captures my attention.
The gates open for us and we drive through. My gaze slides ahead to a picturesque landscape full of trees, rows of red roses, and the lush green grass meeting the blue of the sea.
“Wow,” I mutter.
“It’s truly something, isn’t it?” Richard glances back at me, seeming glad to hear my voice.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I’ve worked with Hunter for eight years and this always gets me.”
I notice the way he speaks so fondly of Hunter and hope that’s a good sign for me. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be okay here.
“How many people work here?”
“There are ten members of staff. Maids, groundsmen, security, then two drivers including me. Some of us live here; others, like me, work shifts.” He glances back again and smiles proudly.
“It’s a full house.”
“Indeed, and the house is massive.”
As soon as he says that the castle-like structure he’s referring to as a house comes into view and my mouth falls open. I want to correct him and say that a house is the place I shared on Harvard’s campus with my roommates. Or even my parents’ place I just left.
This—what I’m looking at—isn’t simply a house.
Constructed of gray stone walls, a pitched roof with decorative gables, and tall, narrow windows, the stunning home I’m looking at evokes an air of mystery reminiscent of medieval Europe.
Hunter lives here.
