With everything going on, I completely sidelined my research on Victor. As soon as I’m done with Baptiste’s case, I’ll shift my focus back to him. I wave obnoxiously at the car, then hurry toward the subway station. The late July heat clings to my shirt, and I wish I could already be lounging on a beach in the Hamptons instead of scurrying into a crowded train.
Half an hour later, I’m sweaty and out of breath as I stand in line at FedEx, mailing the same-day package to Helen. When it becomes clear I’ll never make it back to my apartment on time,I call Baptiste, asking if he can pick me up at the FedEx building instead. Soon enough, the package is shipped, and I’m stepping outside to find his sleek car idling at the curb.
“Hey,” he says when I get into the passenger side. “What’s up? Went to work this morning?”
“Yeah. Something urgent came up.” I smile. “All taken care of. We can go.”
A smile pulls at his lips. “Great. I’m excited, and just look at this great weather.”
We make small talk as we drive out of the city, and I try to ignore the guilt building in my core. I hate doing all this behind his back. Sneaking a sample of his DNA and sending it to the lab—it feels extreme and wrong. But I’m doing it for him. I don’t want Baptiste to lose the chance to meet his family. My parents have been gone for years, and I’d do anything just to talk to them again.
At least this way, he’ll know for sure. And then he can decide whether he wants to move forward.
We finally arrive at the address we’ll call home for the weekend, and the property is gorgeous. The two-story house is a blend of modern and coastal charm, with white clapboard siding, expansive glass doors, and clean lines softened by dune grass and hydrangeas.
As soon as I open the car door, it smells like the ocean—salt, sun, and summer.
“Wow,” Baptiste breathes out, taking off his sunglasses. “They weren’t kidding when they said this place was huge.”
Three other cars are parked in the driveway, which means we’re the last ones to arrive.
Sure enough, when Emma welcomes us in, I can already hear the booming laughter of James and Aaron echoing through the house.
“Ah, there they are,” James says when we enter the vast living room.
The interior is as beautiful as the outside—high ceilings, bright wood floors, soft linen sofas, and windows that span entire walls opening to the backyard.
“We weren’t sure you’d make it before nightfall with Snaily’s driving,” he quips.
“Haha,” Baptiste says, shooting him a playful glare. “Very funny.”
Emma shows us the house—the others were too impatient and already took the tour—and I’m perpetually in awe of every room we step into. The living room opens into a massive kitchen and dining area, with sliding doors to the patio. There are also six bedrooms and bathrooms, a large office, and a home theater tucked down a quiet hallway.
“This house is incredible,” I say when Emma wraps up the tour. “Thanks for having us.”
“Yeah,” Baptiste agrees. “It kind of makes me want to invest in real estate now.”
“And since we’re missing two couples, no one will have to sleep on the couch tonight,” James says as we round back to the living room.
“Although, to be fair, itisa huge couch,” Marissa says, chuckling.
We follow Auston and Emma out to the patio to grab drinks from the cooler. And true to their word, the beach is practically in their backyard. There’s a stretch of lawn dotted with red maples and a large swimming pool, but beyond that, it’s just sand and the endless blue of the ocean.
We grab some patio chairs and gather around the table. Auston fires up the grill, and soon enough, we’re all deep in conversation, laughing, teasing, talking over one another.
Aaron, James, and Baptiste gather around Auston while he and Deacon man the grill.
The girls and I stay at the table, chatting about everything, from traveling with the guys for away games to funny customer interactions at the coffee shop and the bookstore. They ask me more questions about my life, and it’s nice—easy, even—to get to know each other a little better.
“Oh, I love your necklace,” Marissa says to Beth. She’s wearing a pink beaded necklace that complements her dress.
“Thanks! I got it at the retirement home, of all places,” she says with a smile. “One of the residents makes them.”
I pivot toward her. “Uh, yeah. I saw them selling stuff yesterday. What’s up with that?” I say. “You’d think that at their age, they’d be glad for some well-earned rest and relaxation. It’s like they don’t want to retire.”
“I know,” Beth laughs. “It’s recent, though. I think some of them are struggling with the new pricing structure.”
“Yeah, that’s what my grandma said. I need to take a better look at that contract,” I say, guilt settling in the pit of my stomach. If only I’d finished my search this morning.
