Our secret summer, p.1
Our Secret Summer, page 1
Contents
Special Offer from the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
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Chapter 1
Raffo parked the car in front of the garage and cut the engine, silencing the music she’d been belting along to. She inhaled deeply and examined the house in front of her. Connor wasn’t the kind of person who understated things—quite the opposite—but that’s exactly what her best friend had done with this property. It looked vast and luxurious from the outside, more like a year-round home than a weekend getaway place.
She got out of the car and stretched her limbs. Raffo hadn’t stopped on the road from Los Angeles to Big Bear Lake. It was only a two-hour drive and she just wanted to go-go-go. Away from LA and Mia and their open relationship that had failed so spectacularly, it might be funny if it didn’t hurt so damn much. The temperature dropped several degrees at this elevation, a welcome relief from LA’s smoggy summer heat.
Raffo grabbed her backpack from the car. She’d fetch her suitcases and painting materials after she’d explored the inside of this swanky house she’d be occupying for a while. It was up in the air exactly how long—as long as it took, she guessed—but Connor had told her she could stay as long as she wanted. The property belonged to his mother who was on a spiritual ‘Eat-Pray-Love journey’—Connor’s words—through Europe and she wouldn’t be using it this summer.
Raffo walked to the front door and put the key in the lock. As soon as she opened the door, her gaze was drawn to the massive windows overlooking the lake. Oh yes, this would do nicely. Raffo might have to go on her very own spiritual journey to get her groove back, but she didn’t have to travel all the way to Europe for it. A two-hour drive might be all it took.
When she was able to look away from the magnificent view, she scanned the living area. There was a half-full glass of water on the coffee table and the couch cushions were propped together at one side, as though someone had recently rested their head on them. And was that a used coffee cup on the kitchen counter?
“Hello?” Raffo shouted. Was Connor playing a prank on her? He was supposed to be on the way to New York to visit his long-distance boyfriend, but maybe it had just been a ruse. But why would Connor want to stay here with her when Raffo had been sleeping in his spare room for the past month?
No answer came. Still, it was becoming glaringly obvious that someone was staying here. Maybe there had been a mix-up. Maybe Connor’s mother had rented the place out for the summer while she was in Europe. Surely Connor had checked with her whether Raffo could stay here?
Raffo advanced farther into the house.
“Anyone here?” she yelled, a little louder this time.
She headed toward the stairs and listened carefully for any noise coming from the second floor. She thought she heard something, but couldn’t quite make out what. Or maybe she was just imagining sounds now. She ascended the stairs, trying to make as much noise as possible, continuing to announce herself until her repeated hellos felt too silly and awkward.
She cast her gaze around the landing. The door to the bathroom was open. So was the door to the master bedroom. Raffo’s eyes were drawn to a shape on the bed. She froze. Her heart hammered in her chest. She definitely wasn’t alone. She felt like an intruder—she was an intruder. What should she do? Call Connor or approach the stranger? Raffo wasn’t someone who scared easily and her curiosity quickly got the better of her. She peered into the bedroom. Oh, damn. Raffo withdrew. Not only was that person a naked woman with the sheets thrown off her chest, but that was also Connor’s mother. What the hell was going on? Raffo did panic now. Because why wasn’t Connor’s mother responding to her calls?
Raffo tried to remember her name, but it escaped her. She’d only met Connor’s mother a few times at the gallery. Was she really sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t heard Raffo’s many hellos?
Raffo didn’t want to, but she looked a little closer. She did her utmost to ignore her best friend’s mother’s bare breasts and focus on her ears to check for ear plugs, but they were covered with her tousled, honey-blond hair.
Raffo stopped thinking and shot into action mode. She knocked on the half-open door while trying to remember if, perhaps, Connor’s mother was hearing-impaired.
All of a sudden, two bright blue eyes stared right back at her. Connor’s mother inhaled sharply as she sat up, covering herself. Then she removed a pair of stark-white AirPods from her ears.
“Raffo?” she said, her face a mask of confusion. “Is that you?”
“Mrs., um, Hart.” Raffo still didn’t know where to look, even though Connor’s mom had wrapped as much of the sheet around her chest as possible.
She shook her head. “Hart is Connor’s father’s last name. I’m Dylan French.” Somehow, she managed to send Raffo a zestful smile. Maybe she’d just had an ultra-rejuvenating nap. Or what she’d been listening to through those AirPods was something extra special.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. French,” Raffo mumbled. “Did you not know I was coming here? Did Connor not tell you?”
Connor’s mom expelled a deep sigh. “It’s complicated,” she said. “And please call me Dylan.”
“Why don’t I wait for you downstairs?” Raffo needed to get her bearings as well, and she was sure Dylan could do with some time to regroup—and put some clothes on.
Dylan nodded. “Pour us a glass of that chablis in the fridge, will you?”
Chapter 2
Dylan crashed back onto the mattress. That her son’s best friend had just walked in on her half-naked was the very least of her worries. She had a lot of explaining to do, most of all to Connor, but she would have to start with Raffo—and hope that Raffo could keep a secret.
She took a breath and hopped out of bed. She found her discarded clothes from earlier and quickly slipped into a pair of jeans and light-blue T-shirt. She must have fallen asleep while listening to her podcast. Dylan ran her fingers through her hair, decided not to consult a mirror—Raffo had seen her asleep and half-naked already—and hurried down the stairs for a conversation she wasn’t ready to have—about the very reason why she was here without anyone knowing.
Raffo was gazing out of the window. Behind her on the kitchen countertop stood two glasses of wine. She turned around as Dylan approached.
“It’s so gorgeous here,” Raffo said.
Dylan took her in. Connor talked about Raffo a lot, so Dylan felt like she knew her better than she should—she doubted her son talked as much about his mother to his best friend. Raffo was tall and broad-shouldered and exuded an intriguing energy with her long, black hair but decidedly masculine clothes. Dylan had also witnessed firsthand what Connor had been saying all along: Raffo Shah was the Connor Hart Gallery's most extraordinary talent to date.
“Yeah. I’m so lucky.” For now, Dylan thought.
“I did as you asked.” Raffo nodded at the generously filled wine glasses. “It’s the least I can do after walking in on you like that. Again, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Dylan grabbed the glasses and handed one to Raffo. “Shall we sit on the deck?” Difficult conversations were always made easier by sitting shoulder-to-shoulder overlooking the water.
They sat in two sun-bleached Adirondack chairs. Dylan took a sip of wine, swallowed slowly, then said, “Connor doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m on a silent retreat in a Swiss forest, unreachable by phone or email.” Lying to her son had been more awful than the reason for the lie—her own stupidity. “I can’t tell him the truth yet. I came here to work up to it, to get myself ready.”
“Are you okay?” Raffo fixed her coal-black eyes on Dylan. “Physically, I mean?”
“Physically, I couldn’t be better. Well, for a fifty-nine-year-old woman, at least.” Dylan chuckled despite herself, to lighten the mood. “I did something really stupid and I’ve been so mortified, I haven’t been able to tell Connor about it. I haven’t told anyone. I lost… a lot of money and I came to Big Bear to hide out. I can’t afford a trip to Europe any longer.” Dylan tried to un-hunch her shoulders, but they remained glued
“I’m so sorry.” Raffo shot Dylan a gentle smile. “You must feel really bad if you didn’t tell Con. Surely, you know he thinks the absolute world of you.”
Warmth blossomed in Dylan’s chest at Raffo’s words—so Connor did talk about her to his friends?—but it was quickly obliterated by a sharp pang of guilt.
“Thanks for saying that. That’s really kind of you.” Dylan huffed out some air. “I hate to keep a secret from him. It’s horrible to be hiding out here, lying to my son about where I am.” Since she’d arrived in Big Bear two weeks ago, Dylan had picked up her phone to call Connor several times every single day, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Then, as time passed, and the lie she’d told her son had stretched and stretched, it only became harder to come clean.
“He’s going to be such a drama queen when he finds out,” Raffo said so matter-of-factly, it made Dylan burst into an inadvertent chuckle.
“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “He gets that from me.”
Panic seized her as a thought jumped into Dylan’s head. “He’s not going to show up here, is he? To meet you?”
Raffo shook her head. “He’s in New York with Murray until next week.”
Dylan’s shoulders loosened a fraction. She hadn’t talked to her son in two whole weeks, which was the greatest agony of all.
“He’ll probably call me, though,” Raffo said.
“Oh, fuck.” Dylan couldn’t ask Raffo to lie to her best friend.
“It’s okay. I’ll text him to let him know I’ve arrived safe and well and my cell service is spotty or something like that,” Raffo said.
“Thank you.”
Raffo shuffled in her seat. “I should probably also come up with a reason why I can’t stay here after all.”
“Oh, no, no. You can stay. Really. You’re very welcome here.” Dylan was relieved to have someone to talk to. To get out of her head. To stop spiraling and succumbing to doom scenarios. “If you want to. You probably didn’t come here to spend time with a woman in crisis. I get that. But you should at least stay the night. Let me make you dinner. Sleep on it.” She tilted her head. “Why did you come here, if I may ask?” Dylan rolled her eyes at herself. “I’m sorry. I’m just rambling now. I’m just…” Dylan didn’t continue because she didn’t know what else to say.
“It’s okay. It’s a lot.” Raffo had a very calm, soothing voice. “I’ll stay the night. We’ll see in the morning.” She didn’t elaborate on her reason for coming to Big Bear. She probably wanted to escape LA for a bit. Have some time to herself. That’s why Dylan had bought this place.
“I’ll make up the other room for you and get you some towels.” Dylan pushed herself up.
“You don’t have to do that. Especially if you’re already making me dinner.” Raffo slowly nodded at the chair Dylan had been sitting in. “Just relax. Isn’t that why people come here?”
Raffo had such a quietly commanding quality about her, Dylan sank back into her chair as though someone was pulling her down. She reached for her glass of wine, took a long swig, and gazed into the soothing water of the lake. She’d been doing that since she arrived, but she still felt like the least intelligent person on the planet—a sensation Dylan was decidedly not used to.
Chapter 3
Raffo had made her bed and taken a long, hot shower, letting the steaming water wash away the dust from the drive. She headed down the stairs, her stomach rumbling as she followed the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen.
So far, coming to Big Bear had been the opposite of what she’d expected—solitude and all the space she needed to just be—but life could be funny that way. Like when Mia had suggested they open up their relationship in order to make it more robust, as if the solution to their problems was to invite others into their bed.
Dylan was clearly going through some things—and Connor would have a fit once he found out about this—but she hadn’t seemed too thrown by, firstly, Raffo showing up out of the blue and, secondly, walking in on her asleep and half-naked, all sun-kissed skin and tousled hair.
Dylan was humming along to a Fleetwood Mac song, looking far more relaxed than earlier, her hips swaying slightly to the beat as she stirred something aromatic on the stove.
Raffo caught herself admiring Dylan’s shapely, jeans-clad rear for a tantalizing split second before saying, “I hope you have enough for two of whatever smells so good.” Raffo had planned to get settled and then head into town for some grocery shopping, but this day was not going according to plan at all.
Dylan turned around with a crooked grin on her lips. Her hair caught the light of the evening sun as she moved. Objectively speaking, and for a woman on the cusp of sixty, she was rather stunning. Raffo stopped her train of thought and only managed a strained smile in response. Yet, it was far better than her brain being suffused with images of Mia all the damn time.
“There’s plenty for unexpected guests,” Dylan said. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“What’s cooking?” Raffo settled at the kitchen island opposite the stove.
“Pasta primavera,” Dylan said, her attention back on the task at hand. “Ready in two minutes.”
“Lucky me,” Raffo joked. “If Connor had told me this house came with a private chef, I would have come up a lot sooner.”
It was a true delight to see Dylan’s shoulders shake as she laughed.
Raffo and Dylan sat opposite each other at the weathered wooden table on the deck by the lake. The view was gorgeous, the air was just the right amount of crisp without being chilly, and that chablis was not half bad either.
“I should have seen it coming from a mile away. The distance growing between us, the silences that stretched too long, the way her eyes stopped lighting up when I entered the room. But I had my head too far up my own ass to notice until it was too late.”
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, her voice soft with understanding. “Is that why you came out here? To get away, clear your head?”
Raffo nodded, not trusting herself to speak around the lump growing in her throat. She took a fortifying sip of wine before continuing. “She didn’t just break my heart, she also stole my mojo. It’s like I can’t paint anymore. I still go through the motions, but that thing that makes it special, that makes it feel like the most me I can ever be, is just… gone. And without my mojo, without my art, I only feel like half a person.”
“What you’re feeling is perfectly normal,” Dylan reassured her. “You’re grieving the loss of a relationship, a huge part of your life. You need time to heal.”
“I’m just so scared that she broke something vital in me, something that can never be fixed and that, as a result, I’ll never paint a great work again.” The words poured out of Raffo in a torrent, the anxiety that had been gnawing at her, growing with each failed attempt at painting, with each frustrating day spent staring at a maddeningly mediocre canvas. Raffo had sat on Connor’s couch so paralyzed with this particular fear, he’d practically pushed her into her car in the direction of Big Bear.
“How long were you and Mia together?” Dylan asked gently.
“Ten years,” Raffo said. “Well, minus two months and a handful of agonizing days that felt like an eternity.”
Dylan whistled through her teeth. “Damn. A decade is a long time.”
“Yeah,” Raffo said on a ragged sigh. “God, I loved her. Still do.” She swallowed something out of her throat. “I still think she’s the greatest person in the world.” She scoffed. “Certainly not the nicest or the kindest or the most considerate, but just one of those irresistible larger-than-life characters, you know? Someone who only has to take one step into any room to have all eyes on her.” Raffo shook her head. “Not that she isn’t also nice and kind and all those things. At least, she used to be, but… she fell out of love. Like, it didn’t match anymore.” A fat tear slid down Raffo’s cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. “The love I felt for her and the love she had for me, they stopped matching up. It became completely lopsided, uneven, and it’s the most excruciating feeling in the world when the person you love the most, the one you can’t imagine life without, stops loving you back the same way.”
