Trillion(61)

“Likewise,” I say, our eyes holding for one knowing second. The inner teenage me wants to glare at him, but I won’t. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.

Anabelle checks her watch. When we disembarked the jet earlier, it was nearly four o’clock. “Should we start with some drinks? I make a mean margarita …”

“That would be amazing, Anabelle. Thank you,” Trey says.

“Why don’t you all have a seat here.” She points at a zinc-topped table beneath a stained-cedar pergola. “And I’ll be right back.”

Anabelle disappears inside, her brightly patterned sundress loose on her thin hips as it sways in the breeze.

“How was the flight?” Nolan makes small talk, his laser-intense stare flicking between the two of us. Something about it weighs on me, hard, intrusive. But I offer him a smile each time, a silent “fuck you.”

“As expected,” Trey answers. He hates small talk, so I imagine this is torture. “How long are you staying here?”

“As long as the wife would like.” Nolan chuckles. “Lately I’ve been letting her call the shots. She’s the one pushing for me to retire. The kids aren’t getting any younger, and neither are we. Sasha will be graduating high school in ten years and Enzo will be right behind her. I’m sure that time will fly.”

He peers at me from across the table. It was a directed jab, I know it. He probably thinks I’m here on purpose, that I’ve leaked the details of our NDA. And in a way I did, but I kept his name out of it. After all, that’s what mattered most to him. As long as “Nolan Ames” is detached from that scandal, his secret is safe.

The sliding door whirs and Anabelle returns with a pitcher and four empty margarita glasses. “I hope you don’t mind agave for the sweetener. I used fresh limes, but I’ve got strawberries inside I can puree if you’d like?”

“Lime is fine,” Trey says. “No problem with keeping it traditional.”

“Wonderful.” She places the tray on the table, pouring and passing out drinks.

“So how’d the two of you meet anyway?” Nolan asks.

“At work,” Trey answers, looking to me. “We bumped into each other in the hallway and I was immediately smitten with her. Called her into my office and we hit it off.”

Nolan sips his drink. “Psh, come on. I think you can do better than that.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey squints but keeps his tone jovial.

“No offense to you or Sophie, but that doesn’t exactly scream love at first sight,” Nolan says.

“I guess you had to be there,” I say, taking Trey’s hand. He rubs the top of it with his thumb, offering me a loving half-grin. “When you know, you know.”

“Exactly,” Trey says.

“Have you set a date for the wedding?” Anabelle asks, taking a seat next to her husband.

“September,” I say.

“Can’t come soon enough,” Trey adds.

“That’s wonderful.” Anabelle’s arched brows rise as she smiles. “September is a beautiful time of year, perfectly straddling summer and fall. Have you planned your honeymoon yet?”

“Florence,” Trey says without pause. “Sophie’s always wanted to visit, and I haven’t been since childhood. Should be a treat seeing it all over again through her eyes.”

The sincerity in his words blankets the tightness in my core. I exhale, more relaxed than a moment ago. And while I never wanted to see Nolan again, with Trey by my side, it’s not as unpleasant as it could’ve been otherwise.

The faintness of a child’s scream passes through an open kitchen window and Anabelle chuckles. “Sounds like there’s a fire I need to put out. Probably arguing over magna tiles again … Excuse me for a minute please.”

She doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by this, and I take comfort in witnessing her patience. Nolan claimed she was a pediatrician. Whether that was a lie or not remains to be seen, but her love of her children is evident in the serene smile on her face and her unhurried walk inside.

“She’s amazing with them,” Nolan says, watching Anabelle disappear inside once more. “Truly.”

My heart breaks and mends at the same time, two sides of a conflicting coin.

Trey squeezes my hand. “We hope to have a family of our own someday. Soon, God willing.”

Nolan peers at me, gaze heavier than before. “Yes. God willing.”

I haven’t seen my daughter’s face since she was born, and I’ve never seen a picture of Enzo. It wouldn’t surprise me if Nolan knocked up some other poor, unsuspecting girl and did her dirty too, but I’ll never know. If he did, I’m sure she signed an iron-clad NDA. But that’s none of my business …

I sip my lime margarita, the organic aftertaste lingering on my tongue.

Anabelle returns, breathless. “There is once again peace in the valley.”

Nolan grazes her backside as she sits down. Intentional, I’m sure. While he wears an agreeable expression on his face and colors his tone with gentle cordialness, his eyes flash with irritation.

“I’m making lobster for dinner,” she announces. “My grandmother’s recipe.”

“Anabelle makes the most amazing lobster,” Nolan adds. “You’ll never have any better than hers.”