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I want to puke.
“I thought it was his dream home,” I murmur.
Hugh steps into my line of vision. “You should listen to Sienna. She’s right. She always is,” he says and raises his eyebrows. “Her ability to see beyond emotions interfering with business decisions keeps me grounded. And you know me…” he squeezes my hands, “… I was an emotional fruit box in college.”
“Right.”
His eyes are wide, perhaps searching for understanding.
I try not to let the tears build. My thoughts go to the time when Daphne and Franklin were together and how she didn’t like the décor. “Do you think he hates it and doesn’t want to live there? Is it too… well, me?”
“Nooo,” my friends say in tune.
“It’s freaking amazing,” Zara says.
While I work with wealthy people and take pride in my work, my ideas are not about the best and most expensive remodeling, and I don’t pretend to think on the same level as a billionaire. What I offer is unique and thoughtful. I’m still working on my skill in reading people’s body language to help me gauge their reactions to my remodeling ideas. The joy I witnessed in Franklin when he walked through his Malibu home wasn’t fake. We talked about nights in his bed and days on the balcony, listening to the sound of the ocean.
“Pass me the bottle,” I say to Hugh.
The listing has cemented how I don’t know Franklin at all.
Why didn’t he tell me?
“While we have come a long way since college, tonight I’m reverting to old ways.” I chug down several mouthfuls of champagne straight from the bottle. I rub a circle over my chest. “Tonight, I don’t want to feel any of this emotion.”
My cell dings with a message.
Zara reaches for it and reads the screen. “It’s Franklin,” she says dryly. “He misses you.” She rolls her eyes and hands me my cell.
I read the message to my friends, hoping for any hidden clue in his words.
“Miss you, Pen. I wish you were here with me. This could take another month to wind up, then I’ll be home.”
Home?
My friends wait for me to say something. “Why is he avoiding telling me about the house?” I tap on his digits. “I’m calling him…” I wait for the connection, only it rings and rings, then goes to his voice message. I don’t finish listening to the whole message before I end the call and toss my cell onto the table.
Sienna stops the cell from sliding off the table. “May I?” I give her a nod. She scrolls through the messages. “Pen, he adores you. If he didn’t, it’s fair to say he could get any woman to his penthouse with one call. I can see all over your face you think he’s with you for the sex, but it’s not what the two of you are about.”
Hugh stands beside Sienna, wraps an arm around her, and kisses her cheek.
I want to believe Sienna.
“We all know billionaires can get sex anywhere, anytime, and be discreet about it,” Zara adds, and the truth in that statement kills me.
“How do I know he’s not doing that? I get one short text every night.”
“And he doesn’t have to send it, does he?” Sienna’s eyes plead with mine. “I’d be thinking what has happened for him to list the property, especially if he loved it and knew how much work you’d put into the renovation.”
My mouth dries.
Has something happened that he’s not telling me about?
“He could’ve warned Pen.” Zara’s words are lined with frustration. She picks up the bottle from the tiles and hands it to me, and I take a few more mouthfuls.
Sienna grabs her purse. “I need to go as I have an early start tomorrow.” She comes over and kisses my cheek. “Give him time to explain, and in the meantime, don’t beat yourself up.”
Hugh hugs me. “I’ll take Sienna home. If you need me to come back, I can.” He looks to Zara. “Are you staying?”
