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“A bit.”
“Want to raid the kitchen for snacks? I’ve been dying to nose my way around Ben’s lair. Where does he hide the corpses of his countless discarded minions?”
The gleeful words—in reference to Ben’s many failed personal assistants—startled an irreverent giggle out of Lilah, who immediately covered her mouth in horror.
Blake squeezed her forearm in reassurance, “It’s okay to laugh, Lilah. Uncle Cyrus always loved your laugh.”
Lilah gave her friend a watery smile and waved her arms expansively. “This place is your basic bachelor pad, really. Three rooms upstairs, one spare converted into an office and the other stuffed to the gills with gym equipment. Kitchen, scullery, living area down here. Private infinity pool on the terrace, with panoramic ocean and mountain views from just about everywhere. And best of all, a roof garden.”
“Ooh, right up your alley. You going to have your hoes over to overhaul said garden?”
Lilah’s smile faded like mist on a summer’s morning and she wondered if she’d be here long enough to start a garden project here. She would love to. It was all very basic up there, a serviceable, succulent garden with zero pizzazz. If she had her way, she’d turn it into a lush, but water-wise, wonderland.
“I don’t know,” she said, recognizing the wistful note in her voice. “Maybe.”
Blake didn’t push her, instead hooking her arm through Lilah’s and smiling at her. “Show me around and tell me about the Maldives.”
“Only if you tell me what the hell happened between you and Rhys at our wedding.”
Blake laughed, the sound warm and genuinely amused.
“We were both nicely buzzed after the toasts, had a hot and heavy snog through a couple of slow songs, and happily went our separate ways soon after you and Ben disappeared on us.”
“That’s all?” Lilah couldn’t conceal her disappointment and Blake chuckled again.
“That’s it, sorry it’s not quite the juicy gossip you were hoping for. I mean, the man is hot, but he’s carrying waaaay too much baggage, even for a one-night stand.”
“Oh no, I really hoped he was finally moving on,” Lilah said with a sympathetic wince and Blake lifted a shoulder nonchalantly.
“Yeah, all that brooding is hot from a distance, but the whole still in love with his dead girlfriend thing doesn’t work for me at all.” Even though her voice was light, her eyes were somber.
“That’s understandable,” Lilah said. Rhys’s long-time girlfriend had died nearly a year-and-a-half before and, honestly, Lilah hadn’t seen him with any other woman aside from Blake since then.
“And how was the honeymoon?”
Lilah’s silence was so heavy and loaded after that breezy question, that Blake’s gaze immediately sharpened on her face.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Lile…”
“I mean it, Blake. Nothing’s wrong, I was just constantly worried about Gramps, because he wasn’t returning my texts, I should have known then that something was wrong and insisted we come home early.” Not quite a lie, yet not entirely the truth either.
“You can’t know what people keep from you, Lilah. You just can’t. You’re not a mind-reader and you’re not responsible for anyone else’s decisions.”
“He left me a letter, you know,” she confessed on a whisper and Blake stared at her for a long moment.
“Your grandfather?”
“Yes.” They’d wandered into the kitchen and Lilah moved away from her friend to take a bottle of apple juice from the fridge. Anything to keep her face averted from her friend’s probing stare. She grabbed two glasses and busied herself pouring the juice into the tall glasses.
“When?” Blake asked, taking the proffered drink from Lilah.
“His attorney gave it to me,” Lilah said, placing the bottle back in the fridge with more care than it needed. “After reading the will.”
The will had been read the day before the funeral. And while Lilah hadn’t really been interested in attending—knowing that her grandfather’s will would hold little surprises—Ben had still dragged her out to the attorney—Mr. Newcombe’s—office for the reading.
It had all gone pretty much as expected, with Lilah inheriting the bulk of his estate, and a few generous settlements for long-standing staff including Gretchen and Lucille. Ben had been the beneficiary of a few very generous insurance policies, several holiday properties, as well as Cyrus’s extensive fleet of exotic sportscars, and the old man’s much-loved luxury yacht. And Ben and Lilah now shared ownership of the house in Bantry Bay. The letter had been for Lilah alone, and she had sensed Ben’s concern and curiosity when Mr. Newcombe had drawn her aside to hand it over.
“What did it say?” Blake asked.
“I haven’t read it yet.”
“Why not?”
“It’s the last words I’ll ever read from him. And I’m not quite ready for that final farewell yet.”
Blake gave her another sympathetic smile, her eyes reflecting her understanding.
But Lilah hadn’t been entirely honest with her friend. While it was true that she was delaying that sense of finality reading Gramps’s letter would give her, she was also not ready to be confronted by whatever his reasoning had been in keeping his disease from her. She suspected he would attempt to explain it in his letter and part of her feared understanding and even agreeing with him, while an even larger part was terrified that she wouldn’t get it and the hurt and betrayal she still felt would never quite go away.
