PRESENT
Hugging Audrey tightly, I thank her for saving me the past three days. I’d accepted her invitation for food the night she offered, and we got to talking. Once she learned I was a sommelier, my reality break took a different turn. She’d kept me busy from sunup to sundown each day and taught me everything she knew about growing vines. We laughed like girlfriends and worked ourselves ragged enough to the point I went to sleep at night without much issue.
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“Just promise to come back and see me.”
“Oh, I will, don’t you worry.”
“Then that’s thanks enough.”
We share a smile as I open the door to the SUV and slide in. Sighing, I grip the wheel as she stands with her palm on the frame. “Now back to real life.”
“Make it a good one.”
“Right,” I say with an uneasy nod. “I can do that.”
“Yes, you can.”
“In a way, I feel reborn.”
“But the ache is still there, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Growing pains,” she assures, “good for all of us. Have a safe trip home.”
“Home,” I repeat. “Just have to figure out where that is.”
“You know where it is, Mila.”
Tears threaten, but I tamp them down. “I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”
“Just a decision,” she says confidently.
I nod, and she shuts the door with a wave. After a few backroad turns navigating out of the winery, I’m on my way. An hour into my drive, I find the strength to turn on the radio. I’m relieved when I scan the channels and don’t hear any mention of Lucas. The sun beams heavily into the SUV, and the drive is peaceful. Stopping for gas, I keep my head low and fill up at the pump. I don’t get spotted often but, I have an understanding of sorts with a few paparazzi. They know if I’m in the mood, I’ll chat a little and smile for pictures, but if I’m not, they usually give me my breathing room. I’m relatively safe this far from LA, but with Lucas making so many headlines, it’s anyone’s guess, and I’m sure at this point, they’re looking for me. My only saving grace is that none of them know about the cottage which is still titled to my parents and they’d have to dig deep to find it. Feeling stronger than I have in months, I finish gassing up, and slide into the driver’s seat. It’s only when I turn the ignition, and the song starts to play that I’m transported back.
Your well-hung man: The car will pick you up in thirty minutes.
I burst into laughter when I read his handle. The man is a bit intrusive when it comes to my personal property, but it never really bothers me. I gave him my password after four months of dating because he’d earned that trust and I didn’t have anything to hide. He never demanded it, but I know somehow, he wanted that trust. He’s been asking for it in small doses since we met and as of late, it’s become second nature.
Okay.
Your well-hung man: Dress casual, but don’t do your hair and makeup. I’ve got an appt for you.
Okay. Can’t wait to see you.
Your well-hung man: Missed you, baby.
He’d been doing a lot of pre and postproduction work on his movies, and we’d barely had a day to ourselves the last few weeks. His next project is set to start in a month, and we are stealing every bit of time we can. I’ve been getting more and more jobs, and I know it has everything to do with him, though he fiercely denies it.
Racing to the shower after a day of pruning our rose bushes, I spend fifteen minutes getting the dirt out from beneath my fingernails before I survey my appearance in the mirror. I’m a little scratched up by the thorns, but I’ve gotten a good bit of sun. Sticking to his rules of no makeup, I take careful care to moisturize. It all feels so Pretty Woman. I hope there will be wardrobe too as I slip on a thin black long-sleeve top with a wide neck that I can easily slip off, dark jeans, and boots.
Satisfied with my appearance, I spritz on some clean-smelling perfume and gloss my lips just as the doorbell rings.
Grabbing my purse, I make it to the door on the second knock.
An older man with a British accent greets me.