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We chat about everything and nothing while Hudson snores peacefully beside us. I drink my tea while Elle sips on her coffee, sneaking glances at her little brother. It feels good to talk to someone who is not involved in my drama, and despite her initial recognition, she doesn't ask me anything about the case or Rhys. I almost feel normal—like making a new friend.
When my phone begins to buzz in my pocket, my heart stutters at the sensation. My initial thought is Rhys, but as I pull it out, Nate's number scrolls across the screen. My gaze skips to the top, and the clock on the screen tells me I've been sitting here for over two hours.
Shit, shit, shit!
I look at the girl across from me apologetically and answer the call. "I'm so sorry. I lost track of time. I'll be home in a few."
"What the fuck were you thinking?" my brother hisses into my ear. "George is not back until this afternoon, and I was on my way to the airport when I got the movement alert. Damn it, sis. We have no fucking idea where Turner is. Why would you put yourself at risk like this?"
Airport?
I sit up straighter, but instead of admitting that he is right, I lash out. "I’ve been stuck there for a week. I needed a break."
The elongated silence makes my guilt level rise even more. Finally, Nate exhales audibly. "Please get back to the house. I’m not getting on this damn jet until I know you’re safe."
My eyes start to burn, and I blink several times. When the rest of his words sink in, my forehead wrinkles. "Where are you going?"
"There is a problem with one of the new hotels in Europe. Several of the local investors are freaking out, and I need to make an appearance and calm their rich asses." He sighs, exasperated.
"Why didn’t you call sooner?" I keep my voice low, but it's clear by Elle's expression that she can hear my side of the conversation.
"Because you seem to be having a good time, and that Elle girl checked out clean."
No way.
"How do you...never mind," I trail off as I spot the camera in the corner above our table. Of course my brother hacked into the café's security feed. He probably got her name from tapping into the line verifying the credit card transactions or following her on traffic cameras back until he caught the license plate. Nothing would surprise me.
I sigh. "I’m leaving, okay?"
"Thank you, Lilly," Nate says gently before hanging up.
"Family trouble?" Elle inquires with a raised eyebrow.
I snort. "You could say that."
She smiles at me in understanding. "Hey, I really enjoyed talking to you. Why don't I give you my number, and well, uh...we can touch base when you have your stuff sorted out."
She waits for my answer, and after a moment of deliberation, I pull out my phone. Why the hell not? She rattles it off, and I put it in my contacts. I could use another friend. Worst case: I don’t call her. Other than saying she has seen me in L.A., she can’t do anything.
My life has taken on a status of utter insanity.
After we exchange numbers, I say goodbye, and as I walk out, I hear a slap on the table behind me, followed by, "Wake up, fucker. It's time to get on the road. I want to get back to San Diego before Hazel blows up my phone!"
San Diego?
