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“He passed away a couple of years later.” I flip the picture over and slide the backing out to reveal yet another envelope. I hand it to Van before I slide the backing into place again.
Van peeks inside the envelope and shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “This was his favorite outfit that my grandmother wore. Didn’t matter that it was ten years out of style; he freaking loved it when she wore it.”
“Back in the day when shoulder pads were an in thing.”
“She used to wear it every year on his birthday. I always tried to be here for that after he passed away, but it wasn’t easy once I started working full time. Getting a day off in the middle of the week could be a pain in the ass, so sometimes I’d have to come here after work.”
“And go back the same night so you could be at work the next morning.”
Van’s gaze shifts from the photo to me, his expression quizzical. “Yeah.”
“She told me about that. I’d always call and have my mom bring her—”
“—an apple pie,” Van finishes for me.
“From Boones,” we say at the same time.
“I could’ve eaten the entire thing in one sitting if I’d been allowed to.”
“But Bee liked to savor it, and you know how she was about sweets: loved them but hated them at the same time, because she didn’t have a ton of restraint when it came to moderation.”
“She’d portion the rest of the pieces out and put half of it in the freezer.” Van chuckles. “Except it didn’t work, and she’d end up digging them right back out the very next day.”
“I really miss her,” I whisper.
“Me too. More than I ever thought possible.” Van’s smile turns sad.
I wrap my arms around his waist, wishing that we didn’t have matching Bee-shaped holes in our hearts. He returns the embrace, strong arms circling my shoulders. He drops his head, lips pressing against the side of my neck. “Why didn’t I know you better when we were teenagers?”
“Because I was too busy with Tucker and trying to cut my roots so I could fly.” I tip my head up. “We were young. We weren’t supposed to know each other back then. And I just wanted something different than what I knew, so I went to the most opposite place I could.”
And in doing so, I left everything that was comfortable behind and tried to build a new life, with new people who were more refined, shinier, and polished. Although now I’m starting to see that the shiny veneer is just that. Underneath the layers of polish are regular people, with the same problems as everyone else; they just have prettier masks to hide behind.
CHAPTER 16
BLEEDING HEART
Dillion
My alarm goes off at what would be a reasonable time the next morning if I hadn’t stayed up until stupid o’clock. My dad and I have a meeting with a homeowner named something Kingston who’s looking to renovate his kitchen this fall. He’s one of the Bowmans’ friends who also happens to be a former NHL hockey player. There seem to be more and more of those guys popping up on the lake.
I roll over and grab the device, silencing the alarm. Before I can slide out of bed, a strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back across the mattress.
“Where are you going this early?” Van’s raspy voice sends a shiver down my spine. Last night, after I showed him where Bee had hidden pieces of her fortune, he took me back to bed, and we got naked again. It was even more intense than the first time and absolutely worth the very limited hours of sleep I clocked as a result.
“I have a meeting at nine thirty.”
“On a Sunday?” I can practically feel his frown and the furrow in his brow against my neck.
“Unfortunately, yes.” I shift so I can face him.
His dark hair is a tousled mess, he has sleep lines etched into his face, and his lips are gloriously puffy, probably from all the kissing. His dark eyes roam my face, hot and searching, and he brushes an errant curl away from my face. It springs right back into place. It must be a terrible rat’s nest.
“Is it a long meeting?” His tongue peeks out, dragging across his top lip.
“I’m not sure.” Sometimes they’re short; sometimes they go on for hours. One thing the people on the other side of the lake seem to have is oodles of time. Decisions on things like paint colors and countertops can end up as long discussions on what colors and materials work best together. And when you’re spending half a million on a renovation, I can understand why it’s not a five-minute decision.
“Hmm.” Van tips his head. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
