Page 31 of Unravel You

“I’m glad you lovebirds patched things up.”

Derek didn’t slow down. He walked into the house through the kitchen, the foyer, and headed upstairs to the bedroom at the end of the hallway where the french doors had been left wide open.

The room was beautiful with textured wallpaper in blue and gold tones. A huge poster bed sat in front of stone fireplace that looked very old. The upholstered furniture had that seventeenth-century feel to it, but it was brand new.

“We can change anything you want.” He pushed the hair away from my face, hiding his concern behind a smile, as his eyes surveyed every inch of me.

I was fine. “No, this is gorgeous. I could never do this room justice.”

“Come see.”

The view from our room was a blue sky lined by trees with a stream running through them. Gravel paths led to the pool on my right, and Ana’s house on my left. Some trails steered toward either water features or oversized garden sculptures and had no way out.

“There are two separate creeks. The one where we were separates our property from the Copenhavers’.”

“This house is like out of a storybook. The paintings in the hallway, are they real? I mean, originals.”

He lowered his gaze. “They are. Mom and Ana acquired them. Took them a year. And I don’t think they’re done yet.”

“Of course.” Why couldn’t Derek’s neighbor be a mean witch like his ex? Why did she have to be so damn perfect?

“Hey. How about that shower?” He kissed my neck, and the expensive paintings and surreal view beyond the balcony fell away. None of it matter without Derek here.

“Mom can think whatever she wants. Maybe in her eyes, Sweet Ana is the perfect wife. But there’s one thing she’s missing. And that’s something that’s nonnegotiable for me.”

“What’s that?”

“She’s not you.” He kissed me, walking me back toward the bed and undoing the buttons on my top.

I fell on the bed, and he followed. His skilled and oh so determined lips never left mine. When he pulled back, I propped myself up on my elbows and watched him as he reached behind him to remove his T-shirt. God, I missed him, us. I ran my hands over his stomach.

“I live for that look in your eyes.” He buried his hands in my hair and kissed me hard.

“The fuck.” A female voice yelped as the door to our bedroom shut closed behind us and then open again. I turned over on my belly to find perfect Ana flushed against the one side of the double doors, peering through the small gap.

“Excuse me.” Derek got off me and donned his T-shirt.

“Oh my God. I didn’t know you’d be in this room. Lilly said you’d be in the other master.” Ana turned bright red. “I mean, your brother Zack is here. Your mom sent me up here to let you know.” She glanced down at her top, smoothing out the collar. “I’m Anabelle, by the way.” She stepped toward us, then stopped when I sat on my heels on the bed.

“Nice to meet you.” Did she really not know we were in here? If she was going for mortified, she looked it.

“Um, so. How do you like the room?” She gestured toward the art with a nervous smile. “I helped Lilly with it. I wasn’t sure about using so much gold, but it works, right?”

The perfect wife. I did a mental inventory of all the people I knew. None of them would have the ability to pull this room together, but Sweet Ana did.

“It’s beautiful. You did an amazing job.”

“Thanks.” She glanced over her shoulder to the entrance, fidgeting with the silver locket hanging from her neck. “You can see my house from here.”

“She saw.” Derek walked around the bed. “How ’bout we meet you downstairs?” He extended his arm toward the hallway.

“Yeah, oh my God, of course.” Ana nodded, gripping her flow-y skirt. She placed her hand on the doorknob and exhaled, steeling herself as if she were facing a storm.

I jumped off the bed and placed my hand on his chest. A part of me was touched that he was willing to kick Ana out of the room for me. But it was obvious she didn’t want to go out there. I got the impression she was in here hiding from someone.

“You know, I don’t recognize this painting.” I pointed at the frame over the bed. “I mean it could be a Picasso, but not really.”

“Oh yeah. This one is from a local artist.” She walked up to it. “The artist has a lot of Picasso influence in her work. I fell in love with the piece immediately. The lighting is perfection.” The more she spoke of the painting, the less tense she seemed.

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