She rushes us the moment we park. My feet barely touch the gravel before her arms are already around me.
“I was so worried,” she says breathlessly into my hair, crushing me into her. “But it’s OK now. Everything will be fine. We’ll have the best time.”
“Kitten,” Carter says gently from the other side of the car, laughing. “I think she needs to be able to breathe.”
“Oh, sorry.” Eliza steps back, hands still clasping mine. “Come on. I made some tea.”
The light breeze lifts the loose strands around my cheeks. I squeeze her hands. “I hope you’re ready to get sick of me,” I tell her honestly. “Because I don’t know how long this is going to take.”
Her answering laugh melts away some of the resentment simmering beneath my ribs. “Perhaps living so close to nature will change your mind about the outdoors.” Her warm brown eyes brighten. “Maybe we’ll even go camping.”
“If you suggest that again,” I grimace, “I’ll take it as my cue to pack and head back to New York. Threats or not.”
Inside, light pours in through the wide ground-floor windows, making the open space warm and homely. Themuffled echo of our footsteps on the hardwood doesn’t disturb the tranquility. Every detail of this house bears Eliza’s touch, weeks of careful work, long before she knew it would become the home she’d share with Carter.
I’ll never forget her face at the housewarming party, when the realization finally dawned on her. Carter had taken a massive gamble with that risky move.
But as I glance back and watch them holding on to each other, whispering how much they missed one another… it’s clear it paid off.
“I’ll be upstairs unpacking,” I toss over my shoulder as I climb the stairs, not bothering to wait for a reply. Their mouths are too busy for that.
From the guest room window, the backyard stretches wide, with large trees framing the property, their reflections rippling across the crystal-clear water. A long dock reaches toward the center of the lake, ending in a boathouse weathered just enough to know it’s been here since the house was built. Unlike the new barn Carter built for Eliza’s restoration projects.
It feels like a place where nothing bad is allowed to follow you in.
It’s an illusion I’m willing to cling to, if it means surviving the next few weeks here without losing my mind.
I trail my fingers along the white painted wood, my skin catching the ribbons of color cast by the crystal figurines now lining the windowsill.
Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. It would feel like throwing away that bubbly feeling in my chest the morning I woke to find the red elephant nestled on the pillow that still smelled like Adam. Between its tusks, there was a rolled-up note.
Coffee run. Your elephantastic boyfriend. ??
How am I supposed to reconcile that floating, weightless happiness with the leaden reality that it was all built on a lie?
The laptop I set up on the corner table pings. A notification window pops up on the screen. My mental health is safe for now; Robertson has set up a virtual meeting for tomorrow.
At least there are still some things in my life I can count on.
Work has never failed me yet.
“I freaking love this couch,” I mumble into the plush cushion, sprawled out on my belly. Very undignified for the Rawlings heiress, but luckily, there’s no one here to badger me about it.
A week in, and it’s starting to sink in that I’ve been made obsolete.
The PR team handles all communication.
As hekindlyexplained a few days ago on the video call, Joseph’s got the business side covered. The old fox waited till I was hours away to let me know most of my tasks have been redirected toward him. With Carter’s approval, of course.
Derrick and the FBI are still hammering away at the investigation.
Everything I fought for, everything I built, swept out from under me in an instant, leaving me to drift in some surreal purgatory.
No plans. No meetings. No to-do list.
It’s like my entire identity was erased with a single decision. That wasn’t even mine.
Basically, I’m getting a crash course in what early retirement looks like.
