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“I’m not the one in charge of the backyard. Vanya is.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my face when Vanya Mulliez joins the circle of ladies. She’s a supermodel. Anactualcelebrity. It blows my mind that she’s here to do grunt work for Maggie’s house.
Vanya sees my shocked look and explains, “I dabble in landscaping, but I’m really just here to boss Hadyn around.”
“She does that at home, so it’s nothing new,” Hadyn Mulliez jokes and gives his wife a besotted smile.
Nova touches my arm. “I’m the project manager.”
“Because she’s so good at managing projects,” says a man with a Southern drawl. He’s sitting on the stairs, staring at Nova like she hangs the stars and moon.
“Yes, Adam. It’s in the name.” Nova’s voice sounds put-out, but there’s a smile flirting with her lips. She motions to me. “Dejonae and Yaya aren’t here yet. They’re making giant pots of chai and coffee for everyone.”
“Chai?” Vanya pipes up. “Did you say chai?”
“Onlyafteryou work,” Dawn teases.
“Someone hand me a power tool!” Vanya yells.
I smile.
Sunny shows me her drawings. It’s incredible. “You did this in thirty minutes?”
“It’s areallyrough draft.”
“Sunny, it’s amazing.” My eyes glitter.
“While everyone is de-cluttering, I’ll order the furniture,” Sunny says.
I check my watch. “Will you have enough time? Most of the stores will close soon.”
“They’ll keep the doors open for me. Trust me.” She winks. “Would you like to pick out furniture with me or would you rather stay here?”
“Oh, I trust your judgement way more than I do mine.”
Sunny takes out a clip and shoves her hair into a ponytail. “Sounds like a plan. Darrel baby?”
“I’m here,” Darrel says. He’s a man with giant shoulders and the upright bearing of a soldier. He and Alistair don’t look as eager to be here as Hadyn and Adam.
“Can you take me to the furniture store? Kenya, can you come with?”
“Sure.” Kenya loops her hand through her husband’s. At once, Alistair’s stony facade cracks and he leaks a small smile for her.
Another fancy car joins the line of expensive, limited-edition vehicles parked on the grass.
“It’ll take a lot of elbow grease to turn this dump into a good home,” someone says.
I recognize that voice.
Two car doors thump and Island walks into view. She has in long pink braids and an oversized military-themed sweatshirt that definitely belongs to Clay.
Cody stiffens when he sees his brother.
The two share a tense nod.
Seeing Clay reminds me of what happened earlier tonight. My mind flashes back to that horrific moment when Hatchen’s hands were around my throat. Fingers digging into flesh. The putrid stench of alcohol. The fear that it was the end for me.
I shake my head and step forward, eager to run away from those thoughts. “Has anyone been inside? We should probably start by de-cluttering. We can’t paint or bring in furniture until we clean this place.”