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“Beg your pardon?” he asked, linking his fingers together and resting them on his stomach.
“I mean, thank you. Thank you for letting me inside. Was there anything else he told you?” she asked, desperate to know when he would be arriving.
“Unfortunately not, but I’m sure he won’t be much longer if he knows what is waiting for him,” he said with an encouraging smile.
Liz laughed, feeling lighthearted and free for the first time in a while. She dumped her bag on a chair and walked through the living room to the back of the house. She found a latch on the far wall, switched it to open, and pushed the entire glass wall sideways. It slid easily into a thin seam encased in the wooden wall.
She walked forward onto a wooden deck twice as wide as the house, where a speedboat and two Jet Skis were docked. An outside stone fireplace mirrored the interior, and wicker deck furniture faced the lake. A sturdy hemp hammock swayed between two support beams. A set of stairs led down to a rocky beach, where a pier extended out to a swimming platform with a stepladder. The lake house was almost completely secluded from the rest of the lake’s inhabitants. Land curved into the lake to the right and then bent back away from them so that it formed its own little cove. It felt isolated and homey.
Liz loved the water, but she was used to the ocean. The lake looked so calm and serene next to the choppy Gulf of Mexico she was accustomed to back in Tampa. She had grown up on the water, and it made her feel at home.
She spent a few minutes exploring the deck, beach, and pier, but was soon perspiring from the humidity. She returned to the house, where she retraced her steps and found a set of stairs to the second floor. Liz’s mouth dropped open. It opened up to a full-size loft with its own smaller sitting area and sliding wooden doors that were currently open to reveal a four-poster king-sized bed. The bedroom itself was so massive it had its own fireplace.
She took a few tentative steps, feeling in some way as if she were intruding. Greg had told her that the swimsuits were upstairs, but she hadn’t been expecting upstairs to look like this.
As she approached, she saw a note with her name on it on the bed. Her heart accelerated and she picked it up. She felt as if she was in a bizarre world. People didn’t do these things. Guys didn’t leave handwritten notes at their massive private lake houses or have a driver pick you up in a town car just so they could see you. Whose life was she living?
She opened the card and read the contents.
Suits are in the closet on the right, but you don’t have to wear one. It’s just coming off anyway.
—B
Liz traced her fingers over the words. She could not fucking wait. Tucking the card into the back pocket of her shorts¸ she made her way into the closet to search out a bathing suit.
She left the room wearing a gold bathing suit with a slight shimmer. It accented her complexion and highlighted her blond hair. The suit was a basic triangle top, but it held her in as much as any of the other ones. She loved bikinis, even though her breasts were generally too big for most styles, and she felt a bit too curvy for the string tie bottoms that she loved.
Walking down the stairs, she reached into her purse for her phone and checked her email. She yawned, still tired from waking up so early, and padded back outside. It was too nice to be cooped up inside.
She thumbed through the news articles absentmindedly. She wasn’t really paying attention to what they said. She stretched out on the hammock as a call flashed on her screen.
Victoria.
Liz didn’t want to talk to her friend right now. She was in paradise, and she couldn’t even tell her about it. Even if Victoria would keep her secret, she didn’t feel comfortable risking it. What if they were found out? She would rather tell no one and know that she wasn’t to blame.
She ignored the call with a sigh and curled up on her side. A couple minutes later her phone beeped again with a voice mail. Liz pressed it to her ear.
“Hey, bitch! Answer your fucking phone. I hopped on a plane to London yesterday and I’m fucking tanked. Do you remember that hot-ass TA I was fucking at the end of the semester? He’s doing some kind of study-abroad teaching thing. ”
Liz cringed. This sounded like trouble.
“He invited me to stay at his place, so we’re basically living at the pub and in his sweet suite that the university actually fucking paid for. I’m living a dream right now. I should have fucking invited you beforehand, and now I feel like an ass. There are about five million gorgeous Brits with accents here. ”
Victoria was living the dream? Liz looked around the lake house and shook her head. She was on cloud nine.
“You should totally hop the pond and all that. Either way, I’m coming back to Chapel Hill instead of Jersey. We’re going to get your nerdy ass out of the office. Anyway, call me back, bitch. Love your face!”
Liz couldn’t help but laugh. Victoria was utterly ridiculous in the best possible way. Only she would hop the pond, as she said, to sleep with a TA for a couple weeks.
She stared out across the expansive lake. The temperatures hadn’t yet heated the air to an uncomfortable degree, and a slight breeze was rolling in off of the lake. It was peaceful. She felt comfortable here even without Brady.
Her phone buzzed again and she saw Brady’s name flash on her screen.
On my way to you.
Liz smiled and jotted back a text. Good.
It’ll be good when I’m with you. Can’t wait to see which suit you picked.
