3. Chapter Three

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, with dark 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.

It’s very country chic, though I doubt Layla’s brother would appreciate me using such a feminine way of describing the place.

Everything is in neutral colors with precisely placed green plants, giving a subtle pop of color. I never considered the possibility that Eric could be gay. There’s no way any straight man has this good of taste. Honestly, it would be a breath of fresh air if he were gay.

I wouldn’t have to worry about walking around in my underwear if I wanted a late-night snack.

Speaking of snacks, the kitchen is unbelievable. The white brick continues throughout as the backsplash, paired with plain white cabinets, creating such a clean look. The best part, though, is a light wood treated countertop sitting on top of the island in the middle of the room. It’s massive and my brain begins to think of all the meals I could cook in here.

Being Italian, and growing up in Cleveland’s own Little Italy, my dishes are more Italian inspired. But I could see buying some southern cookbooks and beginning a new journey of food pairings with some of our finest wine.

“Wow,” I say on a breath of awe. “This kitchen is just…wow.”

Layla looks around. “I know. Eric doesn’t really cook though. A shame, isn’t it? What a waste.”

“That’s a sin of the highest order. You shouldn’t be allowed to own a kitchen this nice without being required to cook in it at all times.”

She smiles brightly. “I’m so glad you’re here. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

“Who are we talking sense into?” Josh joins us at the island. “I put your stuff in your room upstairs.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I reply graciously. “Thank you so much.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s the least I can do since you’re staying with Eric. Good luck.”

My skin breaks out in goosebumps. What the hell does that mean? I look to Layla with eyes wide open.

“Josh, don’t scare her.” She turns to me. “He’s joking. Eric is a great guy. He’s just been stressed at work lately. He likes his alone time.”

Yeah, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when I’m about to crash in this man’s home. Awesome. When they described him months ago, I got the impression he was more shy and awkward. Now I don’t know what to think.

Layla opens the fridge and pulls out a glass pitcher. “Want some bourbon peach iced tea?”

“Yes, I may need liquid courage now that Josh just scared the crap out of me. Plus, that sounds delicious.”

Josh looks slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That was supposed to come off as funny. Eric is a great guy. He’s one of my best friends.”

“Yeah, I think I missed the humor in that,” I say as I try to force a smile.

It’s not too late to just head back home. This is starting to feel like a crazy idea.

“Here,” Layla slides a glass to me. “This should take the edge off. I know this is a lot for you. It would be a lot for anyone.”

We all raise our glasses together. “To Josh never trying to become a comedian, since he most certainly would fail miserably,” Layla says loudly.

He rolls his eyes but gives a final salute before taking a sip. I chuckle at how direct they are with each other.

I take a sip then look down at my glass in shock. “Damn, Lay. This drink is awesome. The peach is so fresh.”

She smiles. “Welcome to Georgia, Mia. Where the peaches grow.”

“Come on,” Josh starts. “Let’s give you a tour of the place before she starts on a tangent.”

The house really is beautiful. There are five large bedrooms, all on the top floor. The guest bedroom, my room, is at the end of the long hall, opposite end from Eric’s.

He turned one of the bedrooms into a little reading room. It overlooks the backyard which has views of the trees. I hope he isn’t weird about sharing the room, because I would love to read a good book in here.

The backyard has a huge pool with a stone waterfall cascading into it. It’s October, so I didn’t think I’d be able to use it, but apparently, it’s heated. I’m sure he won’t mind if I use it. From what I hear, he is a workaholic. It’s going to be like I have my own private little getaway.

Just as Layla is pouring us all another drink, I hear a car door shut outside.

“Oh, that must be Eric,” Layla looks up with a smile.

My stomach does a couple of somersaults at the thought of meeting the man I’m going to be living with for a while. It just feels kind of awkward, like I’m invading his space.

The door opens and I feel my fingers clutch my drink. When he appears in the kitchen, I suck in a breath as my heart begins to race.

This is her brother?

I had pictured a tall, lanky guy with no sense in style or people skills. The man standing in front of me is certainly tall, but lanky he is not. He is wearing a blue suit that you can tell has an incredible physique underneath by the way it hugs his biceps. His brown hair is short on the sides and longer on top but looks kind of wild and messy, like he may have been pulling at it on the way home.

I smile at him, waiting for him to reciprocate the sentiment but it never happens. He pulls at the back of his neck, and I wonder if maybe he is lacking people skills despite being extremely handsome.

“Eric,” Layla runs over and gives him a hug, “this is Mia.”

“Hi, Mia,” Eric replies flatly.

I stand up from my seat at the island and meet him at the edge of the counter . I extend my hand. “Nice to meet you, Eric. Thank you so much for letting me stay here. I know it must be extremely inconvenient. If you need me to stay in a hotel or something just…”

“No, no, no. You’re not staying in a hotel by yourself. It’s safe here. And you don’t need to be eating takeout for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” Layla interjects.

Eric looks at her then at me. “I have a headache. Did you give her a tour already?”

Layla seems a bit taken back but recovers with a smile. “I did. She is all set in her room.”

Eric nods then turns to me. “Help yourself to anything you need. Nice to meet you.”

With that, he walks away. I hear his footsteps ascend the stairs while I’m left in the kitchen trying to figure out what the hell that was about.

Josh rolls his eyes. “If we haven’t explained it already, Eric is a grump. But he is a good guy. I promise that you will warm up to him or learn to ignore it.”

“Um, are you sure about this?” I ask right before I chug down the rest of my drink.

“I wouldn’t let you stay here if I didn’t think that it was a good idea. This is about your safety. Eric has a great security system installed. No one will hurt you when you’re under this roof. It’s not about whether or not he’s a grump, which he is, but whether or not you’re safe.”

I sigh as the reality of her words hit me. She’s right. This is the situation I’m in. I can’t be picky that the man I’m staying with isn’t some warm, genuine guy. It’s not about having fun and being on vacation, it’s about being safe.

“You’re right. I know I should be worried about my safety. I just don’t want to be an inconvenience to him.”

“Everything is an inconvenience to him. It’s part of his charm,” Josh jokes, though I find it hard to laugh at the moment. “Sorry, I suck at the humor today.”

“He wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time he was a happy guy,” she says with sadness evident on her face.

“What happened?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

“A woman,” she replies. “But it’s not my story to tell. He’s never really opened up about it anyways, so I don’t know all the details.”

“I see,” I reply. All of a sudden, the drive and events of the last few days seem to have caught up with me and a huge yawn takes over.

“Let’s get out of her hair, babe,” Josh nudges Layla. “She’s tired and probably wants to settle into her room.”

Layla looks over at me as she bites her bottom lip. “Are you going to be okay? I don’t want to leave you here if you don’t feel comfortable. I can spend a few nights here with you until you get used to Eric and your new environment.”

Even though my body is slightly shaky from my nerves, I don’t want to burden anyone. Of course, it would make me feel better if she stayed, but I could never ask her to do that.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine,” I lie. “You guys get out of here. I need to shower and go to bed. I’m beat.”

I walk them to the front door where Layla proceeds to give me several hugs and tells me that she will stop over in the morning. That eases some of my anxiety…until the second they leave and the door closes.

I turn around and look at this strange place. I don’t even know if I should be closing it all down before I go to bed. Should I lock up and turn off the lights? Is Eric in bed for good?

It’s only seven. Does he really have a headache?

I walk up the stairs to my room, where I close the door and take a seat on my bed. It’s dark and quiet, and I’ve never felt more alone in my life.

For the first time in years, I cry for myself. The tears spill over in quick succession as I fall back onto the comforter and let all my emotions that I’ve pushed down for days, weeks—even years come to the surface.

It ends up draining me to my core, where I end up falling asleep on top of the covers.