“Hi, Auntie!” I kiss her cheek and she cups my face in both her hands.
“You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you,” she grins, then brushes one hand through my hair. “Oh, sweetie, I do love this teal. You should show it off more. Anyway, come along. Come inside. I’ve made daiquiris!"
Chuckling, I move to grab my bags again and follow her inside the house.
The foyer opens into a two-story living area with floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Everything is white and gold and soft sand tones, with clean lines and ocean views from nearly every angle. A grand piano sits by the windows, its black lacquer shining in the afternoon light. I smile, remembering how whenever I visited here as a little girl, Delilah used to play while I dancedaround the room, practicing my ballet routines as she showered me with praise.
The air smells faintly of jasmine and saltwater. I love that smell. It always fills me with an instant sense of calm… like I’ve walked into an oasis where nothing and no one can bother me and get into my head. Every surface gleams—white marble floors streaked faintly with gray, glass railings that curve along the staircase, soft recessed lighting tucked into the ceiling so the glow feels natural, like golden afternoon sunlight.
The living room is wide and open. One side has a conversation pit sunk slightly below the main floor, with a massive white sectional wrapped around a marble fire table. Beyond that, a wall-mounted screen disappears seamlessly into the paneling. A few art pieces decorate the space. There’s an abstract painting that looks like an explosion of ocean spray that I actually helped Delilah pick out at a local gallery a few years back, and a tall bronze sculpture of a naked muscular man poised by the glass doors.
Out back, massive windows look out over the Pacific. There’s a cluster of white lounge chairs, a firepit surrounded by cushioned benches, and a staircase that leads down to the beach.
My shoulders relax and I release a long sigh. “God, I’m so glad to be here. You have no idea…”
Delilah holds up a finger and stops me with a little grin. “No, no! Remember my rule, darling.”
Chuckling, I nod. “Right, right…don’t let the problems stop your fun. They get solved better when you’re in a positive mood.”
“Exactly.” She claps her hands together, excitement sparking in her eyes. Grabbing a prepared daiquiri from the kitchen island, she hands it to me. “I’ve got a day of shopping and a trip to the spa planned for us. You’ll relax, rest up, and then tomorrow, we’ll dive into everything else. Deal?”
I can always count on Aunt Delilah to know exactly what I need to take my mind off all the bullshit swirling through my life.
Smiling, I say, “Deal.”
A few hours later, I’m much more relaxed after more drinks, being thoroughly pampered, and enjoying some retail therapy. I’ve pulled my hair into a high bun so my teal is on full display. Delilah, who’s always enjoyed cooking for herself, unlike Mom, prepares us dinner out on the back deck. It’s so peaceful out here, the soft sound of the ocean water lapping against the beach relaxing me further. I breathe in the salty air and sigh.
This place is heaven.
As Delilah pours us more wine to have with our dinner of seared tuna and salad, I stare wistfully out over the water. I’m feeling a little buzzed. Comfortable. Happy.
My usually anxious, swirling thoughts have calmed somewhat, which is a welcome relief.
As Delilah hands me my wine, she says, “Okay, darling. So, for nearly an hour you’ve been telling me about this strange reunion between your mother and Aubrey and how insistent she’s been about you being with Leon. Do you think your mom’s pushing him on you because of the connection withAubrey,necessarily… or maybe because of the potential business opportunities between your companies?”
“Their connection definitely has something to do with this,” I state. “I don’t really know why, though. It’s not like Mom hasn’t tried setting me up with her friends’ sons before, and sure, the business opportunities of a merger are significant, but I don’t getwhy marriage is necessary for that.” I let out a long groan and let my head fall back against my chair. “God! I wish I could just be honest with her about how much I hate, hate,hatethe idea of marrying Leon! Not that she would listen, but I’d at least feel better standing up for myself. Instead of … whatever it is I’m doing.” I gulp down some wine.
Delilah sighs and nods. “Yes, that sister of mine is stubborn. She latches onto an idea and doesn’t want to let it go, no matter how unreasonable she’s being. You know all she does is worry about you, though.”
“I know. Sometimes her worry makes me feel like a little kid. Like she doesn’t think I can do anything on my own and need my hand held at all times.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Your mother is just protective of you, but I know she can go overboard sometimes. She just doesn’t want you to ever have to struggle, but sometimes that causes her to get in your way.”
It’s sometimes hard to believe that Mom and Delilah are sisters. They’re so different from each other. Mom is the perfect Upper Westside housewife. She’s button-upped and polished, without a hair out of place. She likes her material comforts and never has much of a desire to go beyond the neat and tidy borders of her carefully constructed world.
On the other hand, Delilah is much more of a free spirit. She loves to travel and wear flashy clothes. She’s not obsessed with propriety or tradition like Mom.
Delilah takes a sip of her wine, and then her eyes go wide and she flaps her free hand excitedly. “Oh! That’s it!”
I blink. “Huh?”
She grins. “You just need a chance to prove yourself without your mother and father being right at your side, watching your every move. A project that gives you a little space so they can’tintervene or keep you from meeting your full potential. And guess what? I may just have an idea for such an opportunity!”
Surprised, I stammer, “What? How? What do you mean?”
She grins. “My latest boytoy is Jackson Romero. He has a huge media company that owns dozens of stadiums, arenas, and performing art centers across the country. He just purchased a brand new convention center in Denver and needs someone to come in and basically knock it down and rebuild it, modernizing it. You could put in a bid for the job. Pitch him an idea for the project. If you land the gig, that would mean a full partnership between Romero Holdings and Holloway Architecture. Your parents wouldn’t be able to deny your skills then!”
My jaw drops and I stare at Delilah in disbelief.
