“Also, Sabrina Tate wants to interview you before the party. They’re building a whole set for it. It’s fucking unmissable…”
He kept talking and as he planned my next few weeks, including what I was and was not allowed to say or do, I zoned out. I was tired of being little more than a product, a valuable property managed by the studios and other experts. I was exhausted. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like a real human being…
Well, I could, but those memories came with their own special kind of unbearable hurt.
I closed my eyes. That one Christmas at Gracie House…that one period of heaven before Braden and I had to face the real world and the consequences of our whirlwind romance. I would have given anything to go back to that time.
We drove into the gated community where I lived. My house, a gift from Braden, had been part of the dream we’d had two years ago, a place that would be ours on the west coast—only, during our marriage, I’d spent less than a week in the beautiful modern-design masterpiece. I’d spent so much time on location that I never got to live there with him.
Now, it was a sort of refuge for me, far too big, of course, but sometimes it allowed me to dream of what might have been if we hadn’t…
“I’ll call you,” Matthew said beside me, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m thinking a quick press conference before you go to the spa. Not Europe, I think. Somewhere closer. There’s an excellent place in Nevada—”
“Let me know whatever you arrange,” I said tiredly, getting out of the oversized car. Meredith had already unlocked the front door, so I hurried inside without breaking my stride.
“You look pissed,” she observed.
“I kind of am.” I sighed and looked around me. I’d never gotten around to hiring a designer to oversee the décor of my home, so it was very spartan in the living spaces, beautiful, but lacking the loving touch of someone who actually enjoyed living there. “I’m going to need a plane,” I told Meredith. “Get me a private flight to New York, and a car to take me to Gracie House.”
“Gracie…” She gave me a look. “That’s your…”
My estranged husband’s home. I nodded. Somehow, my thoughts had led me to want to go there, for peace and quiet, for the solitude and the memories. I knew Braden wouldn’t be there as he never spent Christmas there anymore. He never spent any time there at all.
Thinking of him caused an ache to start in my chest. The tabloid coverage during our marriage had been brutal. Whenever I was on location, I was bombarded with insinuations that he was cheating. There was exposé after exposé of my supposed love affair with my co-star. The Guylies flooded the internet picking my marriage apart, demonizing Braden and convincing themselves that Guy Fletcher was my one true love.
The coverage had cooled down somewhat, but it was enough that I knew the previous Christmas, he had been in Switzerland for a party put together by a British billionaire and his actress girlfriend. The year before that he had been in the French Riviera. There was no reason to think this year would be any different. I would have the place to myself if I could keep the press from finding out where I was.
“Are you sure?” Meredith sounded skeptical.
“Yeah. I’ll call the housekeeper. I have no doubt she’ll be helpful. Just get the plane and a utility van or something to come through the back gate and get me out of here without anyone seeing me.
I packed a small bag, and because Meredith was so good at what she did, the arrangements went off without a hitch. I knew she’d keep my location secret too, even from my management team.
It was two days before Christmas when I arrived at the Gracie. As the private car from a local security firm drove me up the drive, I marveled at how beautiful the house looked in the winter sunset. The windows were dark, but still, it was an enchanting sight.
Sam met me at the car. I resisted the urge to hug him and send him into shock. “Welcome home, Mrs. Rhodes,” he said gravely.
My breath hitched, and when I trembled, I knew it wasn’t the frigid east coast wind. I’d been called that name too few times, and hearing it sent a bittersweet ache through my heart.
“Colleen?” I enquired.
“She’s inside.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry for the short notice,” I said quietly.
“It’s nothing.” He smiled. “I’ll get your bags.”
“Bag,” I corrected. “Just one.” We walked into the house and just before we entered, I stopped and turned to face him. “You understand why it’s important that Braden isn’t told I’m here,” I said.
He paused. “Mr. Rhodes doesn’t require a daily report of how we run the house. It’s very likely that there will be no need to alert him of your presence until you have tired of our hospitality.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Sam.”
He opened the door, and I stepped inside the house. As the warmth enveloped me, tears filled my eyes. When Colleen came into the hall to greet me, I couldn’t resist hugging her.
“You’re cold,” she said. “Dressed for LA, not Long Island in the winter. I’ll turn up the heat, and I’m sure you’re hungry. I’ll set out the food then run you a bath.”
I chuckled. Who needed a spa when they had Colleen? “Thank you, Colleen.”