AllFreeNovel
Share Us
By the time we pull into one of the designated parking spaces in front of LR Art Retreat and Retirement Home, the awkwardness is at epic levels. More than him going MIA because of a kiss. More than him saving me from burning cocoa. More than even waking up smooshed against him every morning for a week. Sitting with him in a truck is more awkward than anything possibly ever. Other than me telling him where to turn and what road to take, not one word was uttered. In twenty minutes.
I’m out of the pickup the second he cuts the engine. Brushing the creases from my jumpsuit, I take in my surroundings, and the tension in my shoulders eases ever so slightly. It’s exactly as I remember it to be.
Mylo is there waiting for me at the front of the pickup. “What is this place?” He scratches his jaw, taking in the tidy little lawns dotted with sculptures and benches, flowers, and perfectly trimmed bushes.
“You don’t have to wait. I can take a cab back.”
He scratches his neck where his beard stops and glances around the place. “Or I could save you the cab fare.”
“You don’t nee—”
“I don’t mind.” He cuts me off and folds his arms, scowling down at me.
I glare. At his biceps. Think. Blink. I drag my mind out of the gutter. “Is there any point in arguing?”
He shakes his head, then frowns when he finally spots the welcome sign. “A retirement home?”
“It’s an art retreat too. Rosa used to drag me here on the weekends so she could stalk Lola.” I smile. I can’t help it. Two sixteen-year-olds in a sea of pensioners. The memories are bittersweet. She died the year she should have turned twenty-one.
“Felix’s Rosa?”
My forehead creases when I meet his stare before it clicks. Of course, he’d know who Rosa was. Fee enlisted not long after she died. It’s where they met. I pull my bottom lip through my teeth and nod. “She was an artist, but you probably already knew that.”
His face sobers when he nods. “He didn’t talk about her much, but he did tell me that.”
“Yeah.” My sigh shakes as I release it. “I couldn’t paint for shit, but she still made me tag along every goddamn Sunday morning.”
I step under the hand-carved wooden arch of wildflowers and butterflies and walk up the pebbled walkway that leads to the sprawling estate, and to my complete surprise… or horror… or who the hell knows what, Mylo wanders along by my side.
Up close, it looks brand new. Newer even than it did the last time I was here. It’s just like I remember it, but yeah…new.
“You don’t have to come in.” I frown at the familiar stylized CG stamp on the high-tech intercom system I’m sure used to be a big old bell. It’s been years since I’ve been here. I kept coming after Rosa died. Every Sunday I came, I sat, and I painted really shitty paintings because it made Rosa happy, and so, it made me happy—sort of—not really. But it made me feel close to her, and that was kind of the same thing. Then Lola’s husband got sick, and they had to relocate to the mainland for his treatment. By the time Lola moved back to the island, life had moved on.
Mylo’s big hand appears over my shoulder and presses the button on the intercom, the electronic buzz jerking me from my memories. “If you’re done navel-gazing. I’m sweltering out here.”
He chuckles at my glare.
“What’s navel-gazing got to do with anything?”
“It’s a saying.”
“You’re in Clua now, buddy, keep your belly button staring to yourself.” I almost smirk. Okay, I definitely smirk.
His rough laugh shocks my brows up. Mylo laughing. I’d almost forgotten how the skin around his eyes crinkles and his cheeks curve up, revealing white teeth with an ever so slightly crooked left incisor. And don’t even get me started on the roughness of it.
The security door slides open before I can react, and my bemused frown instantly rights itself as I walk through them.
Okay, this is how I remember it. Stone walls covered in canvases. Some I recognize from back then, many new, but all in Lola Rodriguez’s signature bold colors and abstract strokes. The terracotta tiled floors are smooth with wear. Comfortingly familiar.
And I more than recognize the turquoise mumu-wearing old woman walking towards us.
“Mrs. Devon.” I barely have time to tuck my folder under my arm before I’m wrapped in hers and a cloud of lily of the valley perfume.
She pulls me back, her pale blue eyes fluttering over me, a wide smile on her lined face. “Kenzi Rivas. Look at you.”
“How are you? I had no idea you stayed here now.” I return her smile hyper aware of Mylo behind me.
“Ha. No. Not quite yet.” She pats my shoulder before she drops her hands, the bracelets on her thin wrists jingling. “I volunteer in the gift shop from time to time. What a wonderful surprise.” Her gaze flicks behind me. “Mylo. Lovely to see you too. Did you get the cookies I left with Laia for you?”
