He stopped, his grin vanishing, and made his way back to where her gourmet kitchen used to be. It was unrecognizable. Only the hollowed, skeletal remains of cabinets and blackened,melted appliances indicated a kitchen had ever occupied the space.
“When can I send someone down to start pulling those permits?” Paula asked, after several quiet moments of observing him, check off boxes on his clipboard.
Her voice was pure business. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
“I’ll still need to sign off with the fire chief on the damages, but you should be able to start pulling for permits as soon as tomorrow,” he answered, not bothering to make eye contact with her.
“We’re still gonna have to go upstairs to check for smoke damage and structural integrity, ma'am," Mason added, looking up at the staircase. "I think everything should be okay, but we have to be sure.”
The bottom stair was charred, but everything else seemed untouched, at least from here. The family photos still clung to the walls of the stairwell, a ghostly gallery now veiled in thick, black soot. That was as far as any visible damage appeared to have gone. Paula decided against arguing with him; she'd rather be safe than sorry.
She looked back at the living room, still unable to process the sheer carnage. Where her beautiful, custom-designed couches once sat were just blackened, empty frames, the stuffing vaporized by the fire. The massive TV that was once mounted on the wall was now a melted heap on the floor, surrounded by a mess of shattered glass.
A cold, brutal fury settled in her stomach. Paula had already been unable to access remote security footage of the outside of her house, indicating the system had been deliberately tampered with. Every camera, inside and out, was backed up to the server room—hidden behind a false panel in the wall next to the staircase. That, too, was burned to hell.
But the security company that installed themhadto have off-site backups. She intended to request them, not just for insurance purposes, but to nail Kim’s vindictive ass to the wall. She wouldnotget away with this. Josh and Mason began to ascend the stairs, and Paula followed immediately behind them. She didn’t trust Josh as far as she could throw him. Hell, after the last few months, she didn't trustanyonein her private space. Besides, quite a few expensive pieces of jewelry were in her bedroom, and she wanted to ensure that they stayed exactly where they were.
They turned left towards her main bedroom, the one Kayden had been using. It was, as she'd suspected, physically untouched. But the pungent, eye-watering odor of old smoke was overpowering, clinging to every surface. She was sure all the fabrics—the bedding, the curtains, all of his clothing and hers—would have to be tossed. That was usually the case with smoke and house fires.
Josh exited the room and headed towards her second bedroom, the one Lana had used. Paula shadowed them in as well. Again, no visible smoke damage, but the same invasive stench permeated the air. When they were satisfied with their assessment, she followed them back downstairs, her every step feeling heavier than the last. They all exited the property, and she took a deep, soothing breath of the fresh air.I hope this doesn’t affect the baby,she thought.
The yellow caution tape still circled the perimeter, fluttering in the breeze. All the glass in the home was blackened and broken, making the structure look less like her beautiful mountain retreat and more like something out of a horror movie.
Josh and Mason got into their respective vehicles, offered curt nods, and started the slow descent down the hill. Paula stood alone, watching them go. She still hadn't heard fromKayden or her mother, but she knew she would soon. A part of her was surprised they weren’talreadycalling every five seconds, but they were lost in their own New York drama.
She jumped into her own car, her destination set: the Spence Hotel for the duration of this debacle. Renovations were still ongoing there, but she was sure she could get a room regardless. Kayden’s new house wasn't finished, so that wasn’t an option. If by some act of God there were no rooms at the Spence, she’d have to go into Shelby.
A cold dread settled in her stomach at the thought. Shelby. That meant being in the same city as Kim. Paula sighed, her hands gripping the steering wheel, and said a silent prayer, hoping to God that Arthur Spence had a room for her. Any room.
KAYDEN AND LANAstood in the controlled chaos of the airport terminal, the din of rolling luggage and tinny announcements a dull roar around them. His arm was looped around her waist, a possessive, desperate anchor; his other hand held his own carry-on. He leaned down and gave her a deep kiss as she stood in the slow-moving line to check in her flight bag. He was going to miss her—a physical, gnawing ache was already starting in his chest. He wished, desperately, that they had more time just to sit andbe.
But they were late getting to the airport. Rushed. Now they were heading to completely different gates in different terminals. Hers was international, his domestic. There was no time to soak each other in, not for a second longer. They had to separate and take off in opposite directions, a cruel, physical metaphor for their entire relationship.
“You know, as soon as I can, I’m coming to visit you,” Kayden said, his voice low and gravelly, his lips brushing her ear.
“Of course. I’d be pissed if you didn’t,” Lana replied, her voice shaky.
She stared up at his insanely gorgeous face, trying to memorize every line, every shadow.
His expression hardened, the familiar fear creeping into his eyes. “You be careful, you hear me? Keep your eyes open. People in foreign countries are targets. Don’t get comfortable.”
“I won’t, I promise. I love you,” Lana said, her hand coming up to cup his jaw.
“I love you more,” Kayden replied, his good hand covering hers.
“Impossible.” She smiled, but tears were already welling, blurring his image.
He bent down then, and it wasn't just a kiss. It was an occupation. He planted the longest, most passionate, and soul-deep kiss he’d ever given her, a kiss that wasn't a goodbye but a brand, a promise, a desperate attempt to imprint himself on her. It buckled her knees. A river of anonymous people surrounded them—some giggled, some looked uncomfortable, some pointedly looked away—but Lana and Kayden couldn’t care less. They were the only two people on earth.
After the embrace finally, agonizingly, broke, Lana grabbed the handle of her checked bag, her knuckles tight. She turned, her whole body screaming in protest, and walked towards the international security line. As she walked away from him, a cold, slithering dread coiled in her stomach.
It felt strange, uneasy,wrong. She wasn't sure if it were guilt for not being there for his surgery, for leaving when she’d promised she wouldn't again, or just the gnawing certainty that Kim was, at this very moment, up to no good. She heaved a few times, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat.
Turning her head, she looked back at him one last time and managed a wink, a pathetic attempt to be brave. She regretted it instantly, the forced levity shattering when she saw his utterly crestfallen, broken face.
Kayden’s eyes followed her, and his heart gave a painful, violent jump in his chest, as if it would rip itself out and tumble to the polished floor. After all they’d been through, here they were. Separating. Again. He couldn’t stand the realization. But he would do this.
He would give her the space she needed, as long as she came back home to him for good. He reminded himself of everything they had talked about, of their promises to each other, and stuffed the roiling emotions down. He’d be on the private family jet in a week’s time to see her. Everything would be fine.
