“You’ve got to be shitting me. Tell me you didn’t drive in those.”
My attention drops briefly before settling on her again, thoroughly unimpressed.
“Obviously I did. I don’t downgrade just because I’m operating machinery.”
“One day that attitude is going to get you in trouble.” She exhales through her nose, already regretting engaging with me.
I push my sunglasses higher along the bridge of my nose, a small, polished gesture that makes it clear her opinion ranks somewhere beneath the dust on my windshield.
“The cleaning team just left,” Tess says, nodding toward the house. “Everything’s done. Exactly how you wanted it. They didn’t miss anything.”
“They better not have.”
“They didn’t,” she replies a little too quickly. “I checked after they left. Every room.”
I give a slight nod, the kind you give staff when they’ve managed not to disappoint you. “Good. At least someone here can follow instructions.”
Her jaw tightens, like she bites the words back before they can leave her mouth.
“My bag’s in the trunk. Bring it inside for me.” I adjust the strap of my top and look back at her. “I’m not exactly dressed for lifting things.”
“Of course you’re not.” She lets out a short, disbelieving laugh.
I keep moving without bothering to look back, my heels striking the pavement in a steady, unhurried rhythm while she stays behind to deal with the bag. I push the door open and step inside, my eyes moving slowly over the space ahead.
The house is exactly the same. Nothing moved, nothing changed, nothing touched without permission.
The same massive windows line the walls, dressed in heavy, expensive curtains that fall in perfect folds to the floor, shutting out most of the light and keeping curious eyes where they belong—outside.
The living room opens in front of me exactly as I remember it—polished surfaces, carefully chosen furniture, and that cold, expensive feeling my father loves. Beyond it, past the wide-open space, I catch sight of the pool room enclosed in glass walls. The oversized pool still gleams under the low lights, untouched, like it’s been waiting all this time for me to come back.
To the side, the bar is exactly where it used to be, lined with bottles that probably cost more than most people’s rent, all arranged neatly, labels facing forward, the kind of display that makes one thing obvious—I don’t settle for cheap.
I cross the room and open the cabinet door, my hand already moving toward what I want.
“Do me a favor,” I say, glancing at Tess. “Go to the kitchen and bring back two glasses. We should celebrate. I’m back, afterall, and it feels wrong to mark an occasion this important with empty hands.”
She rolls her eyes but turns toward the kitchen anyway without arguing.
I take my time opening the bottle, listening to the quiet settle around the room, then look up just as she returns with the glasses. I pour as soon as she reaches me, filling them both halfway before setting the bottle aside.
I hand one to her and lift mine slightly, letting my eyes drift around the room, taking in the space, the way everything looks exactly like it used to, clean and untouched and just a little too silent for my taste.
“It’s been way too quiet around here,” I add, turning my attention back to her, my voice calm, almost amused. “I think it’s about time people had something to talk about again.”
She lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head like she already knows where this is going but doesn’t bother stopping me.
“You’ve been back five minutes.”
“And it already feels boring,” I reply easily. “So let’s fix that.”
The corner of her mouth lifts, and she raises her glass to meet mine without hesitation.
“God help this town,” she mutters under her breath.
I take another slow sip, letting my eyes drift around the room like I’m already picturing it full of people, music, noise, something that actually feels alive.
“Anyway,” I add after a moment, glancing back at her, “I’m pretty sure they’ve missed one of my parties.”
