Page 6 of The Only Time

The drive home feels like it lasts a millisecond. I drove slower than usual, trying to drag it out. I pull into my driveway and spot Josh’s truck along with a black Range Rover. Not exactly the car I would think someone struggling financially would be driving.

When I step into the house, I hear laughter coming from the kitchen. It’s an odd feeling to hear those sounds in my house. When Kim lived here with me, she would greet me much differently.

“Why are you so late?”

“I’m going out with my friends.”

“Did you make reservations for us tonight? I told you I wanted to eat out.”

“Gretchen got the new Birkin bag.”

I remember the argument we got in that night when I told her that a purse that costs thirty grand is ridiculous. With my line of work, we are surrounded by wealthy people, but that doesn’t mean we have to spend an inordinate amount of money on a bag just for appearances.

She told me I was being insensitive and didn’t understand how it makes her look like in front of these women that she doesn’t have a man who will spoil her like theirs will.

I ended up buying her the damn bag.

I take a deep breath as I prepare to walk in the room. The fact that I need to pump myself up to walk into my own home just because there is a guest sends a wave of guilt through my body. What the hell is wrong with me?

Chapter Three

Mia

If I was unsure of whether or not this would be a good place to escape to, the trees alone have sold me on it.

The live oak trees have branches so long and thick that it looks like they are trying to reach out and grab you. They stretch above the streets like a canopy covering you from the southern sun. The Spanish moss drapes off their branches like cobwebs.

It’s breathtakingly beautiful and makes me instantly feel like I’m in a secret forest that only I know about. It feels magical.

I pull into the driveway and my breath is stolen from my lungs. The entire driveway is lined with these trees. The house is massive. Its low country design features white brick with large white columns that start at the front deck and rise up to the second story, anchoring a full second story porch.

The lower-level front porch is made of red brick, which contrasts nicely with the house’s white brick. It’s massive, withdark wood swings on each end. The porch also has expensive-looking Adirondack chairs. I can only imagine how calming it is to have a morning cup of coffee out there while taking in the enchanting trees.

After I park my car and cut the engine, the front door swings open, followed by a beaming Layla. I match her grin despite the messed-up reason for my visit.

I met Layla years ago at a wine conference in California. She was there to learn more about the wine industry for her restaurant and I was there to network. We hit it off, and the rest is history.

She’s the kind of friend you want in your corner. She is fiercely loyal but will give it to you straight even if it’s not what you want to hear.

She offered to get her brothers involved with Don, but I told her I have my own overprotective set of brothers and can’t deal with another set. I made her promise not to tell anyone the reason I’m here. I’m still trying to come to terms with it myself and don’t need the pity party that would come with some poor, helpless woman who apparently has bad judgment in men.

“You’re here,” Layla screams as her arms wrap around me in a giant bear hug.

I can’t move my arms, so I just let her squeeze me. Her fiancé Josh joins us at my car. “Babe, I don’t think she can even breathe right now.”

He winks at me with a smile on his face. I’ve only ever met him through video chat, but he seems so genuine and in love with Layla. I’m so over the moon happy for them.

“Shut up. She can breathe,” Layla replies. She pulls away and grabs my hand. “Get her bags,” she calls over her shoulder to Josh. Ever the gentleman, he opens my trunk and starts pulling out my luggage.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t help him?” I ask hesitantly.

“No, he’s got it. You just drove over eight hours. I’m sure you’re exhausted and desperately need a drink.”

I shrug my shoulders and follow her up the brick steps. She isn’t wrong. A drink right now would help take the edge off of my stiff muscles and creeping anxiety.

I’m running from someone who could be a killer or, at the very least, a stalker. On top of that, I’m moving in with a man I know next to nothing about. Ok. I desperately need a drink.

Stepping into the house is like stepping into my dreams. The foyer has a large light wood circle table with a vase of green and white flowers. Don’t ask me the names of them—I’m terrible with flowers. The wooden floors are slightly darker than the wooden table. As we walk further into the house, I see the white brick fireplace, cream couches, and light wood end tables.

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