“How was the flight?” Ray asks.
“It was very nice,” I say.
“My plane has a bed,” Lucas adds.
Ray’s eyebrow cocks. “A bed?”
“We, um, flew private,” I say, while giving Lucas a “what are you doing?” look.
He pointedly ignores me. Instead he mouths, Call me tonight.
I nod, then turn to Ray. “So where’s Darcy?”
“Home. She couldn’t come. She was disappointed, but I told her she could wait an hour.”
Charlottesville isn’t a big town, and its traffic isn’t as terrible as some of the larger metropolitan areas in Virginia. Finally, we drive through the gates manned by old Mr. Jackson—the “security guard”. The community is immaculately maintained, all the autumn leaves ruthlessly gathered up and disposed of, shrubs trimmed and lawns mowed.
Ray and Darcy live in a three-story house with a sizable two-car garage and a shed in the back. Darcy told me they bought it because of its proximity to the golf course—in Ray’s universe, no day is complete without a round or two of golf.
I don’t see Darcy’s Infiniti in the driveway, but there are lights on in the house. Ray parks out front, and Lucas helps me step down. The black SUV stops, engine idling, and the driver comes out to grab my suitcases and take them all the way to the porch.
Lucas cups my face and gives me a hard but brief kiss. “Don’t forget to call.”
My mouth tingles, and I nod, my fingertips brushing my lower lip.
He inclines his head at Ray. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Have a good drive home.”
Lucas climbs into the car. The SUV gets smaller and dimmer down the tree-covered road before the taillights vanish around a curve.
Ray squints. “So. That’s the man.”
“Yeah.”
He just grunts, which is slightly surprising. I expected him to have more things to say about Lucas.
The door opens, bathing us in warm light coming from inside the house.
“Ava!” Darcy cries out. “My goodness, you’re finally home!”
I spin around. “Darcy!” I run over and hug her tightly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, love.” She pulls back and cradles my face between her hands. “Let me look at you.”
I smile. Her sleek bob has more silver in it, and her skin is paler now that the weather’s colder and she isn’t playing tennis as much. But her bright gray eyes are the same—warm and twinkling—and she’s in the same simple sort of clothes I remember: a light blue sweater, denim jeans and white tennis shoes. You’d never know she’s a trust fund baby.
“You look lovely, but tired. The travel must’ve been horrendous.” She squeezes me again. “Come on in. My goodness, Ray, help with her bags, will you?”
He laughs. “Yes, dear.”
She herds me inside, an arm around my waist. She’s only five-four, and it isn’t easy for her to reach up to my shoulders. “I wanted to go to the airport too, but Ray didn’t think it was a good idea.”
She doesn’t have to say more. It’s about Mia, and neither Ray nor Darcy is sure about what’s going to happen now that Lucas is back in my life.
Ray helps me drag my two suitcases into the house and closes the door. The high-ceilinged foyer is bright, and Darcy’s put up fall decorations: pinecones, miniature pumpkins and acorns, gold and silver ribbons. She adores holidays and all the festivities.
She leads me to the living room with its comfortable couches and a fireplace, not yet lit.