Lilly comes back over, standing next to me with her daughter in her arms. I peer to the side, meeting Audrey's big hazel eyes. "Hey, Baby McG." I boop her nose, and she giggles.
"May I give you my honest opinion?" Lilly begins, then shifts Audrey to her other side before eyeing me again.
"I'd prefer you to give me yourdishonest opinion," I state blankly, and she gives me a dirty look. I grin at my boss, the expression genuine. It feels good.
"Asshole." The laughter in her wannabe insult makes warmth spread through me. "I think you like D but have spent so many years hating her and her family that you won't let yourself see all the good you both could have."
"Could we?" I challenge. "What kind ofrelationshipwould we have?"
"One that could heal both of you."
I let her words sink in. Would it? I can't form a response. The ever-present cockroaches when I picture Denielle Keller crawl up my stomach walls, beginning to feel more like the dreaded flutter of…hope?
"Just…think about it." She has to lean away from Audrey's hand patting her face. "You've brought the Denielle back to the surface that disappeared years ago. And you…you seem...I don't know. Lighter? Less driven by hatred." She peers at the ceiling. "Sorry, that sounds terrible." She starts rambling. "You're a good friend. I just want you to—"
"I get it, Lilly." I drop the whisk into the bowl of over-scrambled eggs and turn toward the two females. Wrapping my arms around both, Audrey wriggles against her mom and me. "You're a good friend, too."
I spentthe rest of the night overthinking things. I almost went back to the hospital but then changed my mind. I replayed the last few weeks in my head over and over. The night I first saw her at the pool. The denial over accepting that everything changed in that moment. Denielle's pushbacks had become an addiction—an itch I needed to scratch. Witnessing the strong-willed woman I met six years ago reemerge whenever she was in my vicinity. The urge to wrap her in my arms when she crumbled in front of my eyes. The need to figure out what made her so self-conscious when she should be the opposite.
What was the one secret she kept close?
When Oliver bringsDenielle back to the house in the early afternoon, I am sitting in the living room of the guesthouse, following her on my phone. Ethan had left the G-Wagon at the hospital when J picked him up on his way this morning. Watching Oliver navigate the Mercedes up the driveway and toward the garages, my leg bounces so hard I can't keep the small screen steady. I switch to the next camera, which is positioned over the door leading from the garage into the house. Lilly and Rhys have made sure to have all entrances covered and the windows secured with sensors, but inside their home, there are no cameras—unlike the vineyard where one can't take a shit without it being recorded.
Denielle gets out of the passenger side door. She's dressed in leggings and a loose-fitting tank top, the duster cardigan I've seen her wear around the house draped over her arm. She looks pale, and a knot forms in my stomach.
Who did this to her and why?
Ethan and I discussed our two prime suspects: cheating frat orgy ex Charlie York, and cheating coke whore of an ex, Collin Liberman. But what's their motive? Scaring her into getting back with them? Charlie appearing everywhere Den went was certainly a red flag. Liberman was supposed to have left last week, but there he was yesterday. Why did he stay? I've considered asking Denielle if either of them has made advances or comments that would point in one direction or another. My jaw tenses. The thought of her back with either of them… My hand tightens, and the case of my phone crackles.
Denielle disappears into the house, Oli slowly following with a plastic bag and Denielle's purse in one hand. I have the urge to switch to the foyer camera to see if I can catch her there, but I shut down the feed instead. My behavior is ridiculous. I'm acting like a stalker, all because I can't figure out what I want—to resent and blame her or fuck her until she screams my name. I'm too old for this. That's why I have avoided emotional relationships my entire life. If you don't get attached, you have no problem walking away.
You've always been attached to Denielle.
The truth. I've been fixated on Denielle Keller.
I get up to get a bottle of water from the fridge. With every step, thoughts slam into me. Dad using Ken and me as his personal punching bags for his fucked-up life. The times his fists would descend on me while I'd scream for Ken to run. I told her to climb out the window that night. Me. Not Denielle. The driver going too fast when Ken ran into the road in the pitch dark. Not Denielle. A blood vessel bursting in Ken's brain when everyone thought the surgery was pretty much over. Denielle had no hand in that. She ismypunching bag. I channeled my anger and rage at all the things I could not control in my first eighteen years of life on her—a five-year-old girl at the time. None of this was Denielle's fault. My fingers clench around the water bottle, the plastic about to burst. I whirl around and fire the bottle like a missile against the wall.
"FUUUUUCK!"
When I walkinto the kitchen the next day, Rhys and Lilly are in the middle of preparing lunch—something they started doing a few times a week while Audrey would nap to spend some alone time together. I'm on second shift, and Ethan texted that he is downstairs in our little command center room off the gym.
Rhys is standing behind his wife, nuzzling her neck as she stirs something on the stove. My chest constricts at the sight. I picture a certain brunette in front of me, nothing but my shirt on while my hands roam her body.
"You guys need a moment?" I quip, mentally wiping away the vision, and they both turn.
Rhys grins. "Feel free to watch and learn."
I flip him the bird while Lilly elbows him in the side.
"Jesus, Calla. I'm joking. I'm sure Marcus has it all covered."
That makes me halt. "What are you talking about?" Suspicion slowly rises in my core.
"Nothing, man." He turns back around, and I meet Lilly's gaze. She averts her eyes, and I have my answer. She discussed Denielle and me with her hubs.
Guess there is no point in beating around the bush, then. "Where is Denielle?"
Rhys steps to the side, leaning against the counter next to the stove. He snatches a piece of sautéed veggie from the pan in front of Lilly, chewing it with a grin that makes me want to clock him.