Page 31 of Terms + Conditions
“Wasn’t here when we got here.” He shrugs. “Georgie said he’s coming later. Had a few things to do first.”
That’s odd. First, we’re staying at a different house, and now Noah isn’t even here? Surely, if something is going on, Elizabeth would have warned me, right?
Georgie and Noah got married two years ago after dating for three years. This is the second longest relationship she’s been in since I met her when Elizabeth started school in Savannah. She was normally a serial monogamist—always jumping from one relationship to another, never leaving much room in between. And before Noah, there was Jonah. They dated on and off for a year before he proposed but he left her a week before the wedding because he found his “true love” and someone “less demanding” at the office. That was two years before she met Noah, and how he managed to win her over was still a mystery to most. While Georgie didn’t like to be alone, she didn’t want to be tied down either.
“Lola is running behind, too,” Elijah continues, picking up one of our suitcases because the girls have run back inside. “She’s bringing her new boyfriend.”
“I met him at New Year’s. He’s pretty chill. Didn’t you meet him at Christmas last year?" I ask.
“Nope.” He pops the “p” at the end of the word as we climb the front steps. “They were supposed to come to the Monroes but never made it.”
Christmas at the Monroes. Our friend Dean’s family had a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina near the Alderidge Estate where Nick and Nina got married last year. Most years a large group of us spent time there during the Christmas season. I met Dean through Nick; they went to Boston University together when Nick went back to school. Dean, Nick, Elijah, and our other college buddy, Daniel, all studied architecture. I was the odd man out studying marketing and economics. They liked to call me the “brains” of the group, but I think their jobs are harder than mine. I’ve picked up on a few things over the years—it’s hard not to when you’re around them and Nina and my sister—but I could never do what they do.
“Guess some shit went down, and they are just now starting to get back to normal,” Elijah says.
“What do you mean? They seemed fine at New Year’s.”
“Elizabeth didn’t tell you?”
Skeptically, I shake my head.
“Lola’s old assistant went like batshit, turned into some stalker.”
Yeah, no, she didn’t tell me that. What the fuck?
“I don’t know much, but Sel said it was bad.”
“When was this?”
“Not long after the new year.”
Holy shit. I can’t remember noticing any tension between them while I was in Los Angeles with Dean and Finn, or maybe they were just pretending. That doesn’t explain why they wouldn’t go to Christmas, though. “Is she okay?”
“Guess so. She got a little banged up but is getting back to normal…whatever that means. I guess we’ll find out this weekend, huh?” Elijah goes inside, leaving me on the porch to figure out exactly what this weekend has in store for me.
From the sound of it, we aren’t the only ones going through shit right now. Stepping across the threshold, I get a feeling deepin my gut that tells me the terms of our contract could never prepare us for what this weekend holds.
The bedroom we’re staying in is bigger than the one I’m used to at the Thompsons. There’s a large bed centered against the back wall with a big, fluffy white duvet, baby blue decorative pillows, and a throw blanket. Various beach and ocean paintings in white frames hang above it. The furniture is all rattan—a rattan nightstand on the right side with a rattan drum table on the other. A rattan dresser opposite the bed with a circular rattan mirror above it. A rattan chair with white cushions occupies the corner next to the sliding door that leads out to a deck overlooking the property and ocean. They thought of everything except a TV…at the Thompson’s, they put a TV in each room, providing an escape when you need one.
“Don’t let Mrs. Thompson see this,” I whistle, peeking into the bathroom. It’s almost as big as the bedroom. This might be the biggest bathroom I’ve ever seen. Holy shit. It has a small sitting area leading into the closet and behind a dividing wall, a glass walk-in shower, a soaking tub, and a dual vanity.
“You can say that again,” a voice says behind me. Elizabeth’s fingers tap against the screen of her phone as she sends what looks to be a long message. A brief thought of wondering if it’s Ryan crosses my mind, but I stop myself. It’s none of my business.
“You didn’t tell me about Lola.”
“What?” She finally looks up from her phone.
“The stalker incident.”
“Oh.”
That’s it? That’s all she has to say? We are literally about to spend four days with this girl, what if I had said something to trigger some kind of PTSD without even knowing…and all Elizabeth can say isOh?
Elizabeth shrugs. “Well, I didn’t think it was any of your business.”
“Might have been helpful to know considering I’m spending the weekend with her.”
Elizabeth starts to argue, but her mouth closes with a resigned sigh. I’m right; she knows I’m right. She falls on the edge of the bed, fingering the fringe of the throw blanket.
