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She doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by this, and I take comfort in witnessing her patience. Nolan claimed she was a pediatrician. Whether that was a lie or not remains to be seen, but her love of her children is evident in the serene smile on her face and her unhurried walk inside.
“She’s amazing with them,” Nolan says, watching Anabelle disappear inside once more. “Truly.”
My heart breaks and mends at the same time, two sides of a conflicting coin.
Trey squeezes my hand. “We hope to have a family of our own someday. Soon, God willing.”
Nolan peers at me, gaze heavier than before. “Yes. God willing.”
I haven’t seen my daughter’s face since she was born, and I’ve never seen a picture of Enzo. It wouldn’t surprise me if Nolan knocked up some other poor, unsuspecting girl and did her dirty too, but I’ll never know. If he did, I’m sure she signed an iron-clad NDA. But that’s none of my business …
I sip my lime margarita, the organic aftertaste lingering on my tongue.
Anabelle returns, breathless. “There is once again peace in the valley.”
Nolan grazes her backside as she sits down. Intentional, I’m sure. While he wears an agreeable expression on his face and colors his tone with gentle cordialness, his eyes flash with irritation.
“I’m making lobster for dinner,” she announces. “My grandmother’s recipe.”
“Anabelle makes the most amazing lobster,” Nolan adds. “You’ll never have any better than hers.”
“You’re too sweet,” she leans over, gifting him with a tasteful peck on the cheek. “Isn’t he the best?”
If she gets excited about a compliment about her lobster, I can only imagine all the other ways he snows her over.
“I got a sitter for the children. Thought we could do adults-only tonight since it’s your first night with us,” Anabelle says. “Tomorrow Nolan’s taking us boating. There’s this beautiful private enclave with a little beach. We just happened upon it the other day. Thought we could let the kids play and soak up some sun at the same time.”
Anabelle places her hand over her husband’s.
“Sounds lovely,” I say before remembering Trey’s parents died in a plane crash over the Atlantic. I can’t imagine tomorrow will be easy for him. “Will be a new experience for the both of us.”
Anabelle finishes her drink before rising. “I hate to leave you, but I should get started on dinner …”
“Anything I can do to help?” I ask.
In a petty flash of a second, my heart swells at the chance to see him sweat. His former girlfriend and his lovely wife in the same room together … it’d make him sweat bullets, I’m sure. Not that I’d do anything, of course. But it could be fun (for me). The thought alone sends a smirk to my lips, but I bite it away before anyone notices.
“Oh, Sophie. You’re sweet to offer, but I’ve got it. Please, relax. And if you need another pitcher, send Nolan to fetch me.” Anabelle heads in and I get the sense she doesn’t sit down much. It’s probably how she keeps her svelte figure. That and she has the lean build of a marathon runner. Strange how Nolan used to worship my curves and yet he married a woman without a single arc on her body.
“Have you seen the guest cottage?” Nolan asks, though he must know the answer already.
“Not yet.”
Nolan rises. “I’d be happy to give you a quick tour. I’m sure you’d like to put your feet up for a bit before dinner. I know how exhausting a day of traveling can be.”
Trey and I follow him, hand in hand, down a bluestone walkway toward something more mini-mansion than cottage. The blue shingle siding matches the main house, and window boxes hang from the main floor window, overflowing with pink and blue flowers that drip down the sides, sweet and delicate.
Nolan gets the door and lets us in first. It smells like vetiver and sea salt, and everything is neutral, beige and white. Fluffy pillows flood the sofa. Chic and tasteful coastal décor fills the walls. I’ve walked into boutiques before that weren’t half as nice as this. Save for the vacuum track marks on the rug, it doesn’t appear that anyone has ever set foot in here.
“You’ll be comfortable here,” he says, confident. “If you need anything, please let Anabelle or I know. I’ll leave the two of you to get situated.”
Our bags are already in the bedroom. They must have staff.
The moment the front door closes, Trey pulls me against him, crushing my mouth with a kiss. I leave my lips closed, remembering that I lost the contents of my stomach a couple of hours ago on the ride here.
“I should freshen up,” I say, pressing my hands against his chest.
“Of course,” he says, studying me. His hand cups my face. Funny how less than an hour ago, he was watching me vomit in some random parking lot and didn’t question my air sickness rationale. Not that I’m upset about it. We came here to do a job and he’s focused on landing this deal. I can’t expect him to be tuned into me twenty-four-seven. “You’re doing amazing, by the way.”
