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“Thank you,” I mumble, suddenly too exhausted to function. Before I turn to leave, however, I ask, “What happened between the two of you?”
“It’s… complicated.”
“Is that your way of avoiding answering?”
“We had a misunderstanding,” Hunter explains. “I’ve tried talking things out, but Thomas refused to listen to my side of things.”
“And that’s why you haven’t spoken to each other in over ten years? Over a misunderstanding?” I know there’s more to it than that, but I have a feeling that prying this story from Hunter is like pulling teeth.
“Go home and get some rest,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”
I nod, too tired to argue. I leave in a hurry, avoiding the judgmental stares from the other side of the restaurant’s massive windows.
Chapter 15
Tip #15: Dollhouses are —and always will be— creepy.
HUNTER
Igo straight to my office when I get home that night, locking myself away behind the heavy door. After fixing myself a scotch —neat— I slump down in my executive chair and mull everything over.
It’s been forever and a day since I’ve seen Thomas Halloway. Once upon a time, I would have died for that man. He was my brother in every sense of the word. We were two kids from some small, dumpy town in Indiana with dreams and aspirations too big for our means.
I don’t think I would have made it out to California without Thomas. The only reason I managed to get my foot in the door was because he stuck his neck out for me. In this town, it’s not what you know, but who you know —and I knew Thomas had my back just like I had his.
Seeing him today… he frankly looked like shit. The years haven’t been kind to him. The man I knew was full of light, brimming with confidence and joy. What I saw was a hollow shell with a sickly pallor.
I think back to the medical bills I saw in Eden’s apartment.
You already drank through one liver. Do you really want to destroy a second?
Internships don’t pay. And I need…
I’m starting to get a better picture of Eden now; of the burden she’s had to bear. She’s so mature and intelligent for her age that sometimes I forget she’s only twenty-one. I can’t imagine having to shoulder her parents’ divorce, her mother’s distance, her father’s health, all while trying to figure out her place in the world without a safety net to fall back on.
It pisses me off.
Who’s looking out for her?
That being said, Eden doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who needs rescuing or a hand to hold, but that doesn’t stop this strange feeling of protectiveness from stewing in my chest. I can’t shake the look on her face from my head. A mix of something sad, embarrassed, too strong to cry but definitely getting there.
My fingers itch for my phone. I want to text her, to check on her.
I decide against it. She probably needs some space. She doesn’t need her boss texting her at eleven in the evening.
A soft knock on the door rips me from my thoughts. Mei-Lee pokes her head inside looking…pale.
What’s wrong?I sign.
I was taking the trash out, she explains.And I found this outside on the doorstep.
My housekeeper steps in with a large object. It’s so big that her little frame nearly disappears behind it. Mei-Lee walks over and sets it on my desk for closer inspection.
It’s a scale model of my mansion.
From the number of garage doors to the slope of the driveway and the sliding gates, to the number of windows and the angle of my roof —every detail is painstakingly accurate. The top layer is removable, revealing every single room, bathroom, and even the basement where my film collection is housed. I have no sweet clue how they did it, but they’ve measured out every nook and cranny to a T. They’ve even decorated the dollhouse like my home in real-life, right down to the fake potted plants in the living room and the shelf of awards tucked away in my office.
This is gettingreallycreepy.
