Page 21 of Pretty Heartache

She shakes her head and looks down at her plate. “I don’t really have the time or money for a trip like that.” She looks up and smiles. “Maybe one day.”

“If you ever had the opportunity”—I swallow another bite—“where would you want to go?”

She doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “The cliffs of Moher.” She’s clearly been dreaming about this for a while. “And don’t tease me, but the Blarney Stone.”

I roll my eyes. “Such a touristy thing to do.”

“I know, I know.” She sweeps her tongue across her lip to collect a dot of jam. “I just think it would be fun.”

“I assumed you would have had time to travel.”

“Why would you assume that?” Her perfect eyebrows pinch together.

“Don’t models go to Paris and London? Places like that.”

She considers my question while picking at a crumb on her plate. “I didn’t quite make it there yet.” She gives me a weak, unamused smile. “After I left home and headed out west, I tried my best to follow in my mother’s footsteps. She refused to help, not offering me a foot in the door or connecting me with anyone in the industry. I guess because she didn’t want me to end up like her.” Her eyes shift, avoiding looking at me as she mutters under her breath, “Whatever that means.” She inhales a deep, cleansing breath, finally bringing her gaze back to mine. “Anyway, after I left home, I fought tooth and nail to get to where I was.”

I raise my eyebrows. “And where are you now?”

She cracks a smile that stretches all the way to her eyes. “Now, I’m sitting here eating peanut butter and jellies with you.”

I laugh, and after that, we sit in silence, taking a few more bites of our sandwiches before drinking sips from our sodas.

“It’s funny.” She eyes me over her sandwich as I take another bite. I hadn’t noticed the way her eyes shimmer under the dim light. A mixture of caramel and brown, with flecks of sage green.

“What’s funny?”

“Watching a billionaire eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” She giggles.

I chuckle, too. “I may be a billionaire, but my mom raised me to never take the small things for granted. Although she wanted it to be known I was my father’s son, she never shied away from raising me as normal as possible. You didn’t exactly grow up in a modest household,” I point out. “Your father was district attorney. I’m not sure what the lifestyle of a model is like, but I’m guessing it isn’t too far off from the life you had here, right?”

Her eyes shoot to her right. They soften, and from where I’m sitting, I can see liquid building along her dark lashes. The curves of her cheeks blush with pink again, but this time it isn’t embarrassment. There’s sadness in her expression. She looks down at her plate as pieces of her hair slip from behind her ear, shielding parts of her face from me.

I resist the urge to reach out and tuck them back.

She sniffs, turning her head back to look at me. “No, it wasn’t much different.”

I consider my next words. I didn’t question Archer when he asked if his sister could stay here at my house, but now that she’s sitting in front of me, and she’s gotten my mind off my own shit, I decide to ask her.

“So, what brought you back here?” I ask. “What brought you back home?”

She sighs and looks down at her plate. She’s only taken one bite out of her sandwich. “I needed a break, that’s all.”

The irony isn’t lost on me.

I didn’t choose my break from work.

Adeline chose this.

Somewhere deep in my chest, I know her reason runs deeper than what she’s willing to divulge, but I don’t press her for more information.

“I guess you could say I’m on a break as well.”

“Oh.” She blinks, seeming unsure of what to say. “I hope it’s a break you wanted or needed.”

“Maybe.” I glance out the window overlooking the backyard. It needs a lot of work. Lennon was right when he suggested I needed to fix this place.

But the claws in my mind remind me why I haven’t yet.

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