Page 4 of The Rehoboth Retreat
Not here.
Not when everything was falling apart.
I drained the last of my wine, the red liquid dark and full-bodied. It felt like a momentary reprieve from the agony of the evening. For now, it was all I could do—nurse my wounds over this beautiful meal and this magnificent bottle of wine. I could escape the chaos for even just a little while.
But I couldn’t go home. Not yet. Owen would be following me soon, surely, with his excuses and hisapologies. I wasn’t ready for that. Not tonight. I needed more time to digest this, away from it all.
The world outside was still out there, but for now, at least, I could find comfort in this. At least for a few hours, I could pretend everything was still the way itused to be.
Cecilia
The soft warmth of the early morning sun stretched across the back patio, casting a golden hue over my estate. It was 10:30 AM—a little early for me, though most people would still be rushing around, consumed by their mundane routines. But not me. Not today.
I took a moment to simply breathe in the beauty of my surroundings, allowing the serenity of my vast backyard to settle into my bones. From here, I could see the entire expanse of my garden, which, of course, was immaculate. The in-ground swimming pool shimmered in the sunlight, its water an inviting, clear blue. The fountain gurgled softly in the distance, sending ripples through the air like gentle music. Every blade of grass was perfectly mowed, the lawn stretching out like a lush green carpet, evenly trimmed and pristine. And the flowers,oh, the flowers. My roses were in full bloom—rich shades of red, pink, and white, each petal meticulously arranged by the careful hand of my gardener, who followed my every instruction. Lilies, orchids, and dahlias burst with color, framed by neat hedges and topiary sculptures that added to the overall elegance of my backyard sanctuary. This view, this perfect slice of tranquility, was mine to enjoy each and every morning.
I sighed in contentment as I sat at my favorite spot, the cushioned chair facing the fountain. The air was warm but not too hot, a slight breeze rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees. It was the pinnacle of scenes. And, of course, I was dressed for the occasion. A jade green Tom Ford caftan draped over my frame, flowing gracefully as I moved, its luxurious fabric catching the light and making me feel like a goddess. My large white Prada sunglasses perched stylishly on my nose, hiding the slight remnants of my beauty sleep that, thanks to my dear friends Valium andKlonopin, had lasted a full ten hours.
I glanced at the pristine glass table beside me, and with a practiced hand, I reached for my favorite morning cocktail—a Bloody Mary. I could practically feel the weight of the vodka and tomato juice in my hand as I poured the vibrant red liquid into the crystal glass. The glass was heavy, thick, and just how I liked it. I added a dash of horseradish and Worcestershire sauce, a sprig of celery, and a slice of lime.
Perfection.
With a soft, satisfied sigh, I took a generous sip. The sharpness of the vodka hit my tongue first, followed by the spice of the horseradish and the subtle tang of the tomato juice. It was the optimal combination of refreshing and bold, the ideal way to start the day.
I leaned back in my chair, letting the warmth of the morning sun bathe my skin as I admired my home. The large, sprawling mansion that I had built—and earned—over the course of my long career. After all, I had worked hard for this. I had built an empire. I had worked as the Chief Marketing Officer for multiple successful wine companies, a career that took me to the highest echelons of the industry. I was a woman who knew how tomakethings happen. And I had earned everything in my life, including this stunning mansion that could easily be considered an estate.
It wasn’t just the house. It was the life I had created—the success, the luxury, the ease. Now that I was of a certain age, a certainmaturity, I could afford to step back and relax. My ex-husbands—three of them, all incredibly wealthy, all incrediblybeneathme in their own ways—had been stepping stones, each marriage a chapter in my book of success. I had learned something from each one, and through those lessons, I had come to this place.
As I sipped my Bloody Mary, my gaze drifted across the meticulously manicured lawn, my mind contentedly floating, when suddenly my phone buzzed on the tablebeside me. The sound was sharp, an intrusion on my otherwise golden morning. I glanced down at the screen, my eyes narrowing slightly when I saw who it was.
It was Miles.
I quickly picked up the phone, my voice smooth and sweet, just as it always was when I spoke to him.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite son,” I cooed, my tone warm and affectionate, although I only did have one child. “How is my darling boy today?”
There was a long pause on the other end, and then I heard him sigh deeply. “Mom… I need to talk to you about something.”
His voice was strained, hesitant—an obvious sign that whatever he was about to say wouldn’t be easy. But, of course, that didn’t faze me. I’d been through far more than my fair share ofdifficultconversations. I smiled gently, settling back into my chair, feeling the plush cushions beneath me as I took another sip of my cocktail.
“Darling, you can tell me anything. I’m your mother, after all. What’s on your mind?” I said, my voice a soothing balm, as I wanted it to be.
“I… I don’t really know how to say this, but… Owen and I…” Miles’s voice cracked slightly, and I could feel the weight of his words before they even left his mouth. “We’re getting a divorce.”
I paused, though I barely needed to. My heart didn’t even skip a beat. Owen had always been a thorn in my side—self-absorbed, too flashy, tooshowyfor my taste. He was of an era where he thought money talked, while Miles and I were of a more sophisticated lifestyle, where we knew that wealth whispered. Plus, Owen was so dull and boring, and his lack of intelligence was quite apparent, based on how he could barely hold a conversation without discussing material things. And now, finally, the truth was coming to light. Miles, my wonderful son, was waking up to the reality I had seen from the very beginning.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I said, letting my voice catch in justthe right way, feigning the sadness I knew was expected of me. “I am so sorry, darling. Divorce is never easy, especially when there’s so much history. But you know what? You are so strong, Miles. You’ll get through this. You always do.”
There was a slight pause, and I could almost hear the weight of his sadness through the phone. “Yeah,” Miles said quietly. “I… I found out a few days ago. I caught Owen in an affair. We argued. I wanted to work on things, but Owen… he doesn’t want to. He wants out.”
I pressed my lips together, carefully composing myself as I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Well, I’m sure this is painful, but you know what? Maybe this is for the best. You deserve someone who truly appreciates you for who you are, not someone who is so caught up inhisown image.”
I took another sip of my Bloody Mary as if to punctuate my point. “Owen was always so…flashy. Too concerned with appearances. He didn’t deserve someone like you, darling. Not really.”
Miles let out a small, tired laugh. “Yeah, well, I guess I knew that deep down. But it still hurts. It’s all just a lot to process.”
“Of course, of course,” I said, my voice soft and motherly. “But sweetie, youwillcome out of this stronger. I’ve been through three divorces myself, and I’m living my best life now, aren’t I?” I let out a light, airy laugh, my words dripping with false humility. “You just need some time. Time to heal. And when you’re ready, you’ll find someone who deserves you, someone who sees you for all the wonderful things you are.”
I paused, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “But dear, I want you to know something. You’rebetter offwithout Owen. I always knew he wasn’t the right one for you. And now, you get to start fresh. Isn’t that a relief?”
