The party was not at Grandpa Thompson’s house, but at Brandy’s parents’ house. Which meant that despite my leaving early for the anticipated twenty-minute drive, it took forty minutes to get there, and Brandy sending out the address last-minute didn’t help.
Brandy and Daniel’s childhood home was a large house on a massive lot, pushed back from the street for added privacy and space for more than a dozen cars along the wide and generous driveway. There were plenty of cars here already, and I didn’t want to get trapped between any, since my plan was to get in and get out. I parked farther down the winding drive in exchange for a longer walk.
The gravel walkway crunched beneath my steps and a slight breeze swept through. Japanese maple trees with the most gorgeous shade of maroon-purple-tinted leaves mixed dramatically with oaks on a manicured lawn.
I texted Brandy to let her know I’d arrived, just now seeing her earlier text telling me to let myself in. I took a few breaths to steel myself in preparation for seeing her parents and Daniel.
I opened the opaque-window-paned front door to a hum of conversations, light classical music, and a banquet of scents, some delicately floral, some luxurious perfumes, some decadent food.
The living room appeared to the right, speckled with oil paintings and a floor vase of silk flowers.
I maneuvered through chattering groups, feeling more and more out of place. Women in cocktail dresses and pearls and men in suits and watches that caught every glint of light like diamonds made me feel plain and simple in my blouse and slacks. But this was the norm for the Thompson family. They were Southern royalty, and I had no idea what was going on, nor an ounce of belonging, as I searched for Brandy and her grandparents.
“So good to have Daniel back,” I heard someone say.
“Wonder if he’s taking over the business now?” another asked.
Others chuckled. “Think his dad is going to hand things over like that?”
“What are we thinking? He’s much too possessive to let go of control.”
“This’ll all be…so interesting.”
Was Daniel back for good? Not just for a few weeks while we shared an apartment? Had Brandy lured me into a homecoming dinner for the brother I’d dumped?
The hairs on my arms stood up, warning me it was best to hurry.
Daniel’s family didn’t play it small and quiet. The backyard, visible through large windows covering the entire back side of the house, was set up with tables underneath blue and gold tablecloths for catered appetizers. A bartender was making all sorts of drinks. The living room and yard were decorated with vases of flowers and ribbons wrapped around pillars.
“Everything is an opportunity for the future,” a man said.
I would have recognized Daniel’s father’s voice anywhere. It was deep, like Daniel’s, but stern and level, whereas Daniel’s was more soothing. Mr. Thompson was an intimidating man, to say the least. Tall, handsome, commanding, poised, intelligent, and capable of speaking his mind with just a glance.
Could I slip by without his noticing? Should I say hello? No. Of course not. He wouldn’t want to see me after having told me to leave Daniel alone all those years ago.
“Right. Because a quiet meal with the family was too much to ask for,” Daniel replied.
My heart fluttered. My chest filled with rampaging zombie butterflies gnashing around. Daniel had his back to me, but there was no denying exactly who he was from the mere sound of his voice, throaty and sexy.
I couldn’t help but eavesdrop from the other side of these tall plants, drinking in his voice. My legs wouldn’t move.
Mr. Thompson was decked out in a finely tailored tan suit while Mrs. Thompson stood nearby with another woman.
“It’s time to work hard, Daniel,” his father said.
“Harder, you mean?” Daniel retorted. Then he eased out of the conversation with an “Excuse me, Dad.”
“Trying to make a quick getaway?” a tall, beautiful woman asked as he walked off. “Welcome home, Daniel,” she said with a bright smile.
As I watched her lean in to kiss his cheek, I felt a nasty stab in my guts, like someone had prodded my insides with a red-hot poker.
After all this time, of course Daniel would’ve moved on.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone tapped my shoulder. I spun around to face Jackson, Daniel’s best friend and Brandy’s boyfriend. He grinned. “Preeti! You made it!” He gave me a side hug that lasted the entire two seconds he was allotted by my touch aversion.
“Jackson! You scared me.” I put a hand to my chest.
“Were you eavesdropping?”
“Uh, oh,” I stuttered. “I didn’t mean to. Seeing Mr. Thompson is usually cause for freezing up.”
“I’m just joking with ya.”
“Who are they?” I cocked my head toward the small crowd around Daniel.
“Frank Peterson. Best friends with Daniel’s dad. Future business partner. Owner of a real estate empire. Alisha Peterson, his daughter, following in her mother’s footsteps. Part of the next generation of board members of local charities and the organization founded by Daniel’s grandmother. Powerhouse businesswoman. Set to take over the Peterson legacy.”
So she was even more formidable than she appeared.
“Let me introduce you around. Brandy is taking care of some things out back.” He led me to a few small groups, making introductions and joking and being his charming self. All the while, Daniel moved from Alisha to others and passed us from behind. I could detect him the way bees detected flowers, alluring and delectable. I called it the Daniel Effect.
Jackson led me down the hall. “Grandma’s in the kitchen. I’ll be back. Just need to check on a few things. You okay?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
I turned from him and emerged into a room with a kitchen big enough to feed a school to the left and a dining table for eight to the right. I sidestepped to stand behind a dining chair as I searched past the small group of caterers in black-and-navy uniforms.
Grandma Thompson spotted! Her perfect crown of salt-and-pepper hair was twisted into a bun and locked in place with a subdued purple hair pin. She tossed her head back and laughed, her cheeks dotted plum with joy as she nudged Daniel with an elbow.
He chuckled and reached around her, hugging her as he rocked back and forth.
Oh. My. Lord.
I knew I’d have to face him sooner or later, but being in front of Daniel was always a jolt to my system. As if I’d been walking around half-dead and his closeness was the lightning bolt that brought me back to life. Exhilarating. Dangerous.
Six years. Six years since I’d left him, since I’d last loved him with all of my being, and yet the reaction to him was as immediate and strong as if it’d been just yesterday.
My breath hitched and my gut sank.
There he was. The smoothness of dark brown skin glowing like the sun itself. Those perfect lips that had once devoured me. Thick black hair grown out just a little into short twists, shorter and clean-cut closer to his neck. Sparkling brown eyes as rich as honey. A firm, square jawline like brushstrokes from a master painter. Six feet, one inch of delightful, powerful height. One could tell from the way his clothes hugged every contour that he probably didn’t skip the gym for three months at a time like I did.
He was as immaculately and demurely dressed as his parents. He wore dark blue slacks, a black dress shirt, and a tie with speckles the color of bluebonnets.
I loved bluebonnets. He knew that, because I’d forced him to take bluebonnet pictures with me when we were both in Houston. He’d grumbled like he hadn’t wanted to, but it was a Texas spring tradition. He’d asked me to get dressed up, so I’d worn this little dark-blue-and-purple outfit that I’d thought was so cute. Then he’d shown up, decked out to the nines in a suit very similar to what he wore now. We’d driven out to some seemingly random place off a highway, when in fact he’d scoped out the best places to get a picture packed with wildflowers, without a bunch of people or traffic. And he’d found the perfect spot beneath a lone, towering oak tree. He’d put out a blanket and a full picnic and taken lots of pictures of us in a sea of bluebonnets mixed with red-and-yellow wildflowers below the setting Texas sun. It had been magical.
Daniel stabbed a fork into one of five pies and shoveled a bite into his mouth.
“Daniel!” Grandma Thompson rebuked him, but then smiled and rubbed remnants of crust from his chin.
“That one’s mine now,” he declared.
“Son, you’re going to waste your appetite,” Grandpa Thompson playfully scolded, but then he got sidetracked by a glance at three pitchers filled with amber liquid that seemed to glow in the fading sunlight.
Grandma Thompson had made her world-famous iced tea, as sweet as honey with a certain kick at the end that was sure to leave anyone feeling good and heady. She carried a pitcher out but didn’t see me.
Grandpa Thompson tore away from this nectar of the gods, as Brandy called it, to pile food on a platter. The kitchen smelled of sweet baked fruits, aromatic spiced meats, and buttery breads.
My mouth watered. Hard. My stomach growled as if I’d neglected my body for weeks with starvation.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Daniel said to his grandfather. “Dad catered.”
“He can keep that fancy food for his business associates, son. My grandchild deserves some home-cooked food,” he replied.
“Mm! Can’t wait to eat!” Daniel rubbed his hands together and glanced up, his chin a little high, his gaze finally meeting mine. His smile slipped and his lips parted like he wanted to say something. But then he pressed his mouth into a tight line, flashing that dimple, and I knew he was less than happy to see me.
My heart pounded out of control and my breathing turned erratic, harsh. It was like my lungs had forgotten what they were made for, and my skin flared hotter than ever. Thoughts careened through my head, making me all sorts of antsy, bombarding me with memories, flashbacks, raw emotions.
All signs of an oncoming anxiety attack. I was too close to the edge.
There was a sense of urgency and betrayal in Daniel’s features, a reaction that fragmented my insides and reminded me of what a terrible coward I’d been, running off the way I had. His jaw hardened and his body tensed for the quickest of moments. I expected him to rush toward me and demand answers.
When Grandpa Thompson finally saw me standing off to the side, his gaze following Daniel’s, he gave me a wink. We met partway across the grand kitchen, his arms extended. He hugged me. “Oh, baby girl. You made it. Let me take a look at you.”
Grandpa and Grandma Thompson, much like my inner circle, didn’t aggravate my touch aversion. Their hugs felt like sunshine.
He pulled back, his hands still gently on my shoulders as he took in my face. “As pretty as ever. Been too long, though.”
I tried not to look at Daniel, because the truth was that I saw his grandparents every couple of months. Despite the breakup, they had insisted on having me over for brunch regularly.
“You’re too sweet, Grandpa Thompson,” I said, relaxing in his presence.
He batted away my words. “You can call me just Grandpa, you know? Thought I told you that.”
He had. But that felt weird, considering the situation.
“Come sit. We’re ready to eat.”
I shook my head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t intrude. I was supposed to take something to go?”
“You’re never intruding,” he insisted. “And you still have a bag to take with you. Don’t worry. Did you honestly think we’d invite you and not insist on you joining us?”
“This sounds like a homecoming, and I had no idea.” I finally glanced at Daniel apologetically. The edge to his features had gradually softened. The rigidity of his jaw, shoulders, and hands relaxed. Even more so when his grandfather nodded at him with his notorious, infectious grin.
“Nonsense! We have plenty of food and seats, and you can still go home with a bag of goodies. Daniel, son, do you mind?” Grandpa Thompson asked him.
Daniel stuffed his hands into his pockets, casting a cold and silent, albeit fleeting, look at me. He shrugged at his grandfather and shook his head, adding a slight, soft curve of the lips like he had no choice.
