Page 82 of Casita Casanova
I can’t fix it. Can’t unbreak what Eddie destroyed.
Can’t fill the cracks in the vase with gold and pretend it’s art.
And I can’t take Arabella back in time to when she was blissfully ignorant.
With a deep breath, I lift my head as something occurs to me, and with it, a sense of relief.
In protecting Ari, I was protecting Eddie.
And now I don’t have to protect him anymore.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ridge
After my shower, I dress quickly in black joggers and a loose sweater. The evenings are cool here, and Maryn mentioned something about eating on the patio.
I’d like to eatheron the patio.
My phone beeps with an incoming text. I glance at it quickly, my stomach sinking even though the flight confirmation was to be expected. I have to get back to New York. Empires don’t run themselves and kings don’t let peasants take the reins.
The knowledge that Ihaveto leave doesn’t make it suck any less. I like Maryn. I like this little routine with her, the easy way I fit into her life.
But she wouldn’t fit into mine.
There’s nothing that can be done about that.
My cell rings and I clench my jaw.
I went four days without that sound and hadn’t realized how much I liked the silence until a replacement arrived and hasn’t stopped making noise all afternoon. From text alerts to incoming emails and phone calls off the hook, I haven’t stopped working since I got home from the brewery.
I glance at the iPhone and shake my head. It’s Friday night in New York, so it’s probably not anyone from the firm calling.
Nah, I’m not answering.
I’ve got a date with a hot mom.
Scanning my shoes lined up beneath a pink tapestry hanging on one wall, I decide to skip putting anything on my feet. One less thing to hinder me when I get naked with my landlord later.
And Iwillbe getting naked with her tonight. No excuses. No interruptions. I’ll lock the damn doors this time, just in case that schmuck she used to be married to shows up again.
I’ve never wanted to spend so much time with one woman, especially when actual sex wasn’t involved, but even after working with her and living near her all week, I’m excited to see her again.
It’s new, this need for connection.
I don’t hate it.
Look at me, maturing and shit. If the old man could see me now.
I stride across the yard and up the steps quickly, pausing when my eyes catch on a hot pink note taped to the back door.
Come to the beach.
I raise my eyebrows as I pull the Post-It off.
Following the roar of the waves, I make my way around the puddle Maryn calls a pond, then toward the back gate among the overgrown trees and bushes. It’s even worse back here than it is out front, an actual forest. Did Maryn plant all of these trees? I smile at the thought of her in her gardening overalls, digging in the dirt and humming a song from a time long past.
Once I’m through the jungle, I step out of the gate and onto the first of the stairs that lead down to the beach below.
