“She’s right,” Nina says. “Ian’s been running because of threats.”
I turn toward Nina and offer a tight-lipped smile. “Take this one step at a time, Nins. Knock on the door and give him the chance to say his piece. It’ll be okay.You’llbe okay.”
She hesitates for a moment before finally moving toward the front door and lifting her hand to knock. The sound echoes through the quiet neighborhood, but there’s no immediate response. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if Ian will even answer.
“Maybe we should come back?” Lanie suggests, but the door creaks open.
Nina’s breath catches, and I know it must be Ian.
In his late thirties, he exudes a sense of maturity tempered with a youthful charm. His light hair, tousled in a casual yet intentional manner, frames his angular face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw. But it’s his eyes that draw you in—bright aqua orbs that seem to hold a world of depth and emotion within them. They sparkle with intelligence and warmth. Despite the passage of time, he clearly recognizes Nina, his expression locked on her in a mixture of shock and something else I can’t pinpoint in the moment.
Nina’s face pales as she takes in Ian’s appearance, the weight of years of separation and unanswered questions hanging heavy between them. “Ian,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
He stares at her for a long moment, his eyes scanning her face as if searching for answers. “Nina,” he finally replies, his voice barely audible.
The air is thick with unspoken words as they stand there,grappling with the past and the memories that bind them together. Lanie and I stand awkwardly, fidgeting in place, wondering if we should do something, say something to help our friend along.
Finally, Nina finds her voice, her words coming out in a rush. “Richard is in jail,” she blurts out, her voice trembling slightly. “Murder. He’ll be going away for a very long time.”
Ian’s eyes close, a pained expression crossing over his attractive face.
When he opens them again, there’s nothing but determination shining back at us. “Good. I hope the son of a bitch rots.”
Nina swallows, bobbing her head more times than necessary. She’s back to staring wordlessly, appearing far too self-conscious for the likes of her.
Nina is smart and incredibly beautiful. She has nothing to be worried about, yet I can tell that’s exactly what she’s doing. I have to help her.
“I’m Alyssa,” I say, stepping forward. “Nina’s best friend.”
Lanie shoots a disgruntled glare in my direction. “One of her best friends,” she says haughtily. “I’m Lanie. The third wheel.” She wrinkles her nose in a teasing manner, smiling at me and Nina.
Ian chuckles. “Nice to meet you, ladies.” He steps back from the door, returning his gaze to Nina. “Would you like to come in?”
We all speak at the same time, agreeing to his offer.
As I step through the grand double doors, I’m immediately struck by how well kept the place is. The foyer boasts towering ceilings with intricate crown molding. A stunning staircase spirals gracefully upward, revealing just a bit of the second floor through the rounded landing.
“Wow,” Nina says, moving in a circle to take the place in. “I can’t believe this is your home.”
He shrugs. “The back of the house is my living space. This partis open to the public certain times of the year. It’s part of the Historical Society’s parade of homes.”
Ian motions for us to follow him.
Sunlight streams through tall windows, casting a warm glow over the polished hardwood floors. Ornate chandeliers hang from the ceiling throughout, their crystals catching the light and casting shimmering reflections across each space we pass through. Antique furniture, richly upholstered in velvet and brocade, fills the rooms, each piece a testament to the owner’s care in preserving the past. The walls are adorned with oil paintings and gilded mirrors, adding to the sense of opulence and grandeur.
He walks us through the stately home to the backyard, where a small carriage house sits at the back of the property.
“This is where I spend most of my time,” Ian says, opening the door to a cozy home that looks far more lived in. “Take a seat.”
Nina, Lanie, and I all take a seat on the couch, our legs touching.
“How did you find me?” he asks Nina.
“I had some help from Alyssa’s boyfriend. He’s a detective.”
Ian nods his head. “I’ve gotten pretty sloppy the last five years,” he admits. “I took a job at Tulane in the history department and couldn’t use my alias. They allow me to work under Connor Fulton, but I knew having that information out there would eventually lead someone to my door if they looked hard enough.” He huffs a humorless laugh.
“I didn’t mean to intrude on your life, Ian. I only wanted to ensure you’re all right and to tell you that it’s safe for you to resume your life.”
