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“Be ready in fifteen minutes out front.”
Alexandra walked out the front door at fifteen minutes on the dot, wearing an indigo wrap dress that stopped just above her knee topped with a loose white shirt knotted at the waist. A straw hat with a white band shaded her face. After their evening together, and the days spent dancing around the growing tension between them, he found himself both relieved and gratified that she had once again worn one of the outfits he’d picked.
Of all the clothing he’d selected, there had been one that had stood out from the rest—an evening gown, a green creation with a full skirt that had made him think of leaves dancing in a summer breeze. He’d told himself the purchase was so she would represent the Pearson Group well at the Met gala, that his guests would see he had selected the best, and ignored the images playing on repeat in his head of sliding his fingers beneath the straps wrapped around her arms, sliding the gown down her lithe body...
An image that, if they could talk, if she would tell him what had happened in the library nine years ago, could become reality.
His chest clenched. He’d kept his distance all week, vacillating between anger and something that resembled the grief he’d experienced in the immediate aftermath of their breakup. But the more he thought of the pain he’d seen in Alexandra’s face that night, the fear in her eyes, and the more he’d revisited her comments about her father, the more he’d known he needed to stop letting his own fears keep him from pursuing the truth.
Alexandra took one look at the cherry-red convertible and smiled. A big smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“You remembered.”
“I did.”
David had gifted her a red convertible for her nineteenth birthday. Not out of any paternal love but because it had given him the opportunity to show off his wealth that summer. He had encouraged Alexandra, if she wasn’t taking the limo somewhere, to drive the convertible. Alexandra and Grant had made the most of it, driving up and down the coast at all hours of the night after he’d gotten off work, parking on the beach and listening to music as they’d lain on the hood and gazed up at the stars.
And once they’d given in to temptation, they’d made love in the backseat more times than he could count.
With the memory of Alexandra splayed across his lap, her naked body rising and falling above him as she’d ridden him to exquisite release, he started the car and drove off down the lane.
The farm was an hour’s drive east of Billionaire’s Lane. Soft music played as an amiable silence settled between them. Alexandra spent most of the ride gazing out at the summer homes and ocean views. He resisted the urge to push her for answers. He’d been fast-tracking so much of his life the past nine years, always focused on the goal of more money, that he’d stopped enjoying the little things like a ride along the coast.
They were five miles outside East Hampton when a wooden sign advertised the aptly named Hydrangea Farm. As Grant steered the convertible down a tree-lined gravel driveway, he watched Alexandra out of the corner of his eye.
“Oh!”
A white farmhouse with a long front porch greeted them, along with another sign with arrows pointing guests off to areas like the gift shop, coffee shop and beehives. But Alexandra wasn’t looking at that. Her attention was riveted to the field off to the side.
Rows upon rows of towering hydrangea bushes covered the fields. Some of the blooms were so thick the branches bowed down to the ground, showering the green grass with petals in various shades of pinks, creams and blues. Ash trees grew here and there among the bushes, creating welcoming pockets of shade as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
“Grant,” Alexandra breathed. “This is incredible.”
She turned to him, her smile even wider than when she’d seen the car. For something as simple as bringing her to a flower farm. How had he ever thought her spoiled and selfish? How could he have been blind to the fact that something else had obviously been going on behind the scenes when she’d broken up with him?
They parked the car and Alexandra took off toward the fields. He quickened his pace to follow her before she disappeared among the flowering bushes.
At this hour of the morning, the farm was mostly empty, save for the gentle buzzing of bees as they flew from bloom to bloom. Alexandra mimicked them, flitting from bush to bush.
“This is a Golden Crane Hydrangea!” she cried, cupping a bunch of white flowers in her hand and closing her eyes as she inhaled. “You have to smell this. They’re unlike any other hydrangea.”
Grant followed her directions and lowered his head, pleasantly surprised by the jasmine-like scent.
“They should sell perfume.”
Alexandra shook her head.
“It wouldn’t be the same.” She spread her arms wide and turned about in a circle. “This is just incredible.”
He watched, entranced by the sheer happiness radiating from her smile. He’d seen her like this before, so many times over their summer together.
“What happened, Alexandra?”
The smile disappeared from her face. He wanted to make it reappear, to pretend like they could just move forward and never discuss what had happened.
But he needed to know. He had no idea what he was picturing for them or if there would even be athemafter the gala. He did know, though, that unless they finally crossed this hurdle, whatever had started to grow between them would shrivel and die.
She turned to one of the bushes, her fingers reaching out to gently stroke the petals. He waited.
