She nods and her brown eyes look into mine. “We love each other, Aunt Edie.”
“Rowan,” Meredith calls to her daughter. “Come here. You know that’s Aunt Edie’s dog. He doesn’t belong to you.”
Rowan hangs her head and walks back to her mother. The little dog gives one last snarl and follows.
He doesn’t belong to me either. I rise to my feet and look around. None of this belongs to me. It’s foreign and uncomfortable and I miss Momma and Daddy. I miss Marfa, and the Do or Dye, and knowing where I belong. My heart is so homesick, my chest aches. The beautiful glass room is suddenly stuffy and the scent of citrus is heavy in my lungs. I excuse myself with the pretext of taking Magnus outside before bed, but no amount of coaxing can persuade him to stop barking at me, let alone follow.
I step outside without him and shut the conservatory door behind me. The chilling lake breeze tousles my curls and invades the loose weave of my sweater. I pull in my shoulders and cross my arms over my chest. The house casts wide swaths of light and shadow across a stone terrace and concrete banister. The railing runs the length of the house and is lit up every ten feet or so with lampposts that continue down the stairs and into the garden. I walk to the railing, and the sound of my boot heels joins the rhythmic clang of metal hitting the flagpole. Beyond the garden, moonlight cuts a path across the lake’s surface. It’s like The Great Gatsby out here minus Leo. Breathtaking and beautiful, and I can’t wait to leave.
These people don’t want me here any more than I want to be here. I’m uncomfortable and they’re uncomfortable, and I don’t know what they expect or how long I have to stick around. Marv and Claire and I are meeting with Dr. Barb in the morning. I guess we all need to discuss an aftercare plan and my life going forward. I don’t know about them, but all my life needs is money, a cell phone, and a one-way airline ticket.
The breeze brushes my hair across my face and carries the scent of lake water and damp garden and a cigar. A flash of orange catches my eye and I turn and look into a corner of the terrace hidden in inky shadows. The orange flash fades to a red glow. I gasp as a dark outline pushes away from the railing, and a man walks through a trail of weak light, shifting across him with the breeze. I glance at the door and then back at him. I don’t think I could make it to the house if he decides to grab me, but I can scream really loud.
He’s dressed in a black sweater and black jeans. Patches of light slide across his dark hair and the side of his face, and I think this is probably the man who brought Rowan and Magnus. Either that or he’s waiting around to rob the place or kill us all in our sleep. “Howdy.”
He stops within the variegated shadows, and I can’t get a clear look at him. “Howdy, Sunshine.”
Sunshine? “I don’t think we’ve met.” I don’t offer my hand for obvious reasons. “I’m Edie.”
“I didn’t recognize you with all that puffy hair.”
He doesn’t give his name and probably assumes I know it. “I added dimension and volume.”
“You look like you’ve been in a beauty pageant. Down south where big hair seems to be a competitive sport.” He raises his cigar to his mouth and his cheeks get sucked in as the end glows red.
Well, that’s true enough. “Thank you.” I’ve styled pageant hair and I know.
He tips his face up and blows a thick cloud of smoke that lingers in the light above his head. “It wasn’t a compliment.”
I feel my brows lower. “Are we friends or family?”
“Neither.”
I guess I can add him to the list of people who don’t like Edie. He can get in line behind Magnus. He steps further into the light and I get a better look at his face and shoulders. Now he makes me nervous for a whole different reason. He’s hot as hell and all of Tinder. He’s big. The kind that comes from lifting weights and rescuing women from burning buildings. I wind a curl around my finger out of habit. “Are we sworn enemies?”
“More like we have a mutual aversion.”
Aversion? “You mean I don’t like you?” I ask, because I can’t imagine having an aversion to a man who looks like Mr. February in the Houston Firefighters Calendar.
“I don’t lose sleep over it. You don’t like anyone.”
That’s probably true of Edie, but not me. “I take it you don’t like me.”
“No, but you don’t lose sleep over it, either.”
There’s an obvious history between him and Edie that didn’t end well. It’s like that saying about heaven having no rage like love turned to hate. “Were we lovers?” I ask, because getting hot and steamy with this guy would be one memory worth recalling.
He chokes on cigar smoke. “Jesus.”
Jesus doesn’t have anything to do with it. “Were we?”
“No.” He coughs and clears his throat. “This is the most we’ve spoken to each other in over ten years.”
You don’t have to talk during sex. Sometimes a man can open his mouth and ruin the fantasy you got going in your head, but I get what he means. He’s not friend or family but he brought Rowan and Magnus. “I get the feelin’ that no one around here wants to speak to me, either.” I think of Marv and Claire and our short conversation before dinner. “Just my parents,” I say, because maybe they’re trying.
“Your parents are stuck talking to you.”
That’s not nice, but it might be true.