Page 24

CHAPTER 24

Skye

T he guesthouse is located in the rear of the vast property and has a view of the ocean. It’s a lot older than the main house. A charming Craftsman bungalow. With its gray-blue siding, white trim, and gabled roof, it resembles the house we lived in years ago. A garden of lavender and succulents surrounds it. The scent of the wild purple flowers mixes with the salty sea air, creating an intoxicating perfume. Finn escorts me up the four steps to the porch, then turns the knob of the front door; it’s unlocked. Pushing it open, he ushers me inside, his fingers still splayed on the small of my back.

I step straight into a narrow entrance that separates a cozy living room with a fireplace from a dining area. A staircase in the middle leads to a second level. The dark hardwood floors glisten and the white paint on the walls smells fresh.

“I hope you like it,” he says. “It’s the original house that sat on this property. One of the oldest in Malibu. It’s what drew me here. It dates back to the early twenties. It reminds me a lot of the house I shared with my late wife.”

It more than reminds me of the house we shared. It’s furnished with all the furniture we bought from Crate & Barrel along with our flea market finds and some of Finn’s early paintings. Memories of our old life swarm my mind. I mentally try to swat at them, but they buzz like a circle of flies in summer. I can’t make them go away.

“It’s small but functional,” Finn continues as the buzz in my head overwhelms me. “Your bedroom and a small study are upstairs.” I briefly glance up. “Rosita stocked the refrigerator with food. I hope you’re not a vegan. And I bought a Keurig for you to make coffee.”

“Thank you,” I mutter. “That’ll be fine.”

“Of course, you’re always welcome to share meals with us in the main house.”

I thank him again.

“Rosita brought your bags up to your bedroom, so unless you need anything more, I’m going to split.”

I need you. I practically choke on the thought and gasp for air.

“You’re sure you’re okay, Scarlet?”

I nod. “Yes. I’m getting over something, but I’m perfectly fine.” Who am I kidding? I still feel sick to my stomach. Worse than before.

Finn looks concerned. “Will you be able to start with Maddie tomorrow?”

“Of course.” I pause. “I just need a good night’s rest.”

“Excellent. If you’re up for it, why don’t you join us for dinner?”

The temptation is great, but I need to get away from him. Gain clarity. Gain composure.

“Um, uh, thank you, but I want to settle in and go over your daughter’s first day of school. I want to personally evaluate her reading and math levels with some testing. We’re going to start with an integrated unit on food groups and nutrition. And I plan to introduce her to French.”

Finn’s face lights up. “That sounds perfect. I have a good feeling things are going to work out. My daughter has already taken a strong liking to you.”

And me to her. Understatement. I already love her so much. I always have. Even in my bleakest times. She’s born from my flesh and bones . Our flesh and bones. Our love.

As I reflect on what my wise savior, Sister Marie, once told me—love never dies—Finn glances down at his watch. The vintage one I bought him for his thirtieth birthday. The worn leather band is now covered with paint flecks. A small victory for me. He still wears it!

“Hey, let me know if you need anything. Rosita left the keys on the kitchen counter. Please lock the door at night.” His cell phone pings. A text. He slips it out of his pocket and looks down at the screen. His dense brows knit together. “I’m sorry. I need to get back to Kayla.”

At the mention of her name, the nausea that subsided rushes back full force to my chest. I desperately need to get to a bathroom. Without another word, I dash up the stairs, hoping it’s en suite with my bedroom. Behind me, I hear the front door slam shut. Finn’s gone.

Gripping my gut, I find the bathroom and dart inside it. Falling to my knees on the cold tile floor, I fold myself over the toilet and do what I’ve needed to do since finding out Finn now belongs to another.

I vomit.

Except I don’t wretch my guts. There’s nothing inside me. Sobbing, I vomit tears. Tears upon tears.

I watch as they drip into the bowl, making tiny starbursts as they collide with the water. I cry and I cry and I cry. The tears endless.

My husband lost me. Now, I’ve lost him.

The tears still spilling, I flush the toilet and watch my old life whirl away.