Page 57 of Finding Our Reality

“From what I saw, it looks like her husband has done well for himself.”

“Surgeon?”

She nods, “Yeah, a very well-known and sought-after neurosurgeon. He’s twenty-two years older than Dakota.”

I put away my sunglasses and reach behind me for my vest. “A second marriage for him?”

Lulu scoffs. “You think?”

Handing her my file, I step out of the truck and get my vest secured on my chest. Surprisingly, she waits for me to open her door. She’s actually responding to an email really quick, but I’d like to pretend she’s waiting on me. I offer my hand, and she stares at me for a split second before sliding her fingertips against my palm. Using her notebook and my file folder to cover the exposed skin of her thighs, she climbs out of the truck. I wanna knock the papers out of her hand, just to see more of her.

“Thank you.” She quickly pulls away from me.

Is that because she doesn’t want to touch me? Or is it because she wants to touch me too much? Because I sure as hell know I wanna touch herwaymore than that.

The doorbell is quickly answered by a maid who ushers us past a lavishly decorated living room, through some kind of music room with a grand piano, and down a small hallway. “She’s waiting in the reading room.” The maid pauses at a closed doorway. “Would either of you like anything to drink?”

A beer would be incredible right about now.

We both politely decline, eager to start the interview.

The maid pushes open the heavy wooden door and announces our presence before excusing herself. One thing strikes me right off the bat. Dakota has hadwaymore plastic surgery than anyone her age should have. She’s only thirty-three, like me, and she’s well on her way to having a permanently plastic face and permanently tucked stomach.

“Ella!” Dakota rushes forward, wrapping Lulu in a fake hug. Dakota keeps her at arm’s length, before air kissing both of her cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m actually seeing you again. It’s been so long. Too long.”

Lulu is completely stiff and frozen. A weak smile tweaks on her face.

I glance around the elaborate room. Two walls, including the one with the door we just walked through, are covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, filled with leather-bound books. The third wall is floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors that lead outside to the manicured lawn and infinity pool. And the fourth wall has a huge gas fireplace, crackling with the sound of fake, burning wood.

They actually paid to have sound piped through the fireplace.

Ridiculous.

There’s a wooden desk, a round table with six chairs, and set of four plush, cushioned reading chairs. Dakota points a red-painted nail at the puffy chairs. “Shall we get more comfortable?”

Lulu looks down at her notebook and my file folder in her hand. She wants to speak up and say she prefers to sit at the table so she has somewhere to take notes. But she doesn’t say anything. Her jaw twitches, and she takes a step toward the floppy chairs.

I guess she’s right—some old habits do die hard.

“Actually,” I point to the table, “the table would work better for our visit today.” My tone leaves no room for negotiation.

Dakota likes that. She likes the no-nonsense approach. Her cheeks flush and her eyes widen. She probably pays the pool boy to fuck her and bark orders. She swishes her hips, sashaying back and forth, obviously trying to draw my attention to her small waist and rounded ass.

Lulu rolls her eyes, grimacing in her anger. I hide my laugh, clearing my throat.

Before I have a chance to take charge of the conversation and get clearance for recording, Dakota homes in on Lulu. “You look like you’re doing well, Ella. I was shocked to hear that youand Hudson divorced.” She giggles, pushing a hair-sprayed curl behind her ear. “Actually, I was more shocked to hear that the two of you had married. So young, so quick. It must’ve been quite the whirlwind romance.”

Lulu straightens her spine. “Oh, it was a whirlwind, alright.”

“You never mentioned that the two of you were romantically involved. In fact, you gave the impression that you didn’t quite care for his company.”

“Impressions matter to you, don’t they, Dakota?”

Hell yeah. Score one, Lulu.

Not giving Dakota time to absorb the dig, I interrupt, getting permission to record the interview.

“So, what’s this visit all about? You’re reopening Carrie’s case?”

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