I peek at my goddaughter. Not that she would understand, but it still feels weird to discuss that part of my life in front of her.
"Yes, let's chat later over a glass of the fancy wine stash you inherited," I joke and force a smile on my face that is as sincere as when grocery store greeters want to know how I'm doing.
By a miracle,my archnemesis is nowhere to be seen. Unfortunately, that does nothing to ease the knot in my stomach. I've been waiting for him to appear in the doorframe, throwing his distaste my way. Distaste is putting it mildly. Marcus Baxter has made it clear over the years that he downright loathes me. I don't blame him.
I settle into the mini-suite Lilly assigned me.
This used to be her father's house—mansion, cough cough—and after her past came out of the dark, it became her home in LA. The second floor used to have two guest bedrooms in addition to the library, her father's office (Lilly's office now), an art studio, and a playroom. Over time, Lilly and Rhys remodeled parts of the estate, updated furniture, etc., and creating this space was part of it. Lilly has never said it, but she holds out hope to one day bring her family together under one roof. She knows her only living blood relative wouldn't want his original bedroom. For now, though, the vineyard is his place of residence, and this space will be my temporary home. When we arrived earlier, Lilly informed me that Marcus had moved out of his bedroom and into the guesthouse. I didn't ask if I was the reason for it. I was.
I'm placing the last pair of my sleep shorts in the bottom drawer of the dresser when a soft knock makes my heart jolt. My hand flies to my chest. I need to get a grip. Marcus is not going to smother me in my sleep—I hope.
Inhaling, I swivel toward the door. "Come in."
The knob turns, and I catch myself holding my breath.It's not going to be him.
Lilly's head appears in the gap, and I exhale with a whoosh.
Good grief, Denielle.
"Can I come in?" Her genuine smile eases my nerves. This is where I belong. Lilly and Rhys are my family in every sense of the word.
"Of course, babe."
Lilly pads across the room and drops onto the sofa set against the wall. The large room contains a small sitting area, desk, and king-size bed with nightstands on either side and a bench at its foot. I stand there like an idiot, unsure if I should plant my ass next to her or on the matching armchair, the bench, the desk chair—Jesus. This girl has been my best friend for over a decade. I mentally slap myself against the forehead and make my way over to Lilly.
Her eyes crinkle, and she turns toward me, tucking her legs under. "I think it's time we talk." The seriousness in her statement catches me slightly off guard, but there is no anger in her tone. She is just Lilly, my best friend.
"Where is Audrey?" I peer over at the alarm clock. It's not nap time.
"Rhys took her out to the pool. She has her weekly swim lesson."
I can feel the wrinkle form between my brows. "But she's not even a year old."
"True." Lilly shrugs. "But we have a pool, and we want her to be comfortable and safe from an early age."
"So, when does the fight-and-weapons training start?" I joke.Not really.This family has the skill and artillery to survive a medium-size gang war. Scratch that, the zombie apocalypse.
"Fighting, probably as soon as she can walk straight without falling over." She laughs. "You know Rhys."
Not surprising.
Her hand lands on mine. "Talk to me."
My front teeth dig into my bottom lip as I peer at the barely existing polish on my nails. Here goes nothing. "Collin and I were more serious than I let on. But not because—"Fuck.I sit up a little straighter. I made the decision. Now I have to stand up for it. "Not because we were in love. Don't get me wrong, I care for him—cared," I correct myself, "but mostly, we complemented each other. He had the same goals, the same interests. And he was good in bed." A smirk pulls on the corner of my mouth.
"Okay," Lilly says slowly, slanting her head so her ear rests on the back of the couch. She cozies in and pulls the throw from the armrest to cover her legs. "That doesn't sound that terrible. I mean, I'm all for love, but if you were happy, that's all that counts…"
"I found Zithromax in his bathroom." My tone is dripping disgust.
Lilly's eyes narrow, and I hold her gaze, elaborating, "He was notsick."
She ponders my words, and I can see when it clicks. Her brows pop. "NO!" The shock is imminent.
I avert my gaze and fight against the rage and humiliation slowly burning its way through my insides and spreading through every cell. I recall the evening, two days ago, while focusing on a spot on the opposite wall.
"I went to his condo. He was working late, and we planned to order food when he finished. I was getting a glass out in the kitchen when it slipped and shattered on the floor. I cleaned everything up, but a tiny shard embedded itself into my finger, so I went to get tweezers. Collin was very much into manscaping." I roll my eyes at the fact. "In the bathroom drawer, where he keeps all that stuff, was a bottle of Zithromax, prescribed not a week ago." I pause, inhaling slowly to calm my thudding pulse. "I thought that was weird because he'd been fine. I'd seen him at work and at night most days."
I'm not necessarily proud of what I did next.