Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter Book 2) Page 9
“The accident, the baby… It belongs to the past. You have to focus on healing now.” Her tone is so empathetic and caring that I can’t help but revel in it.
“Thank you, Julia.” I plunge into her embrace again, a bit devastated at the memories. And I know I will need time to heal from all of it, but her energy and words have such a healing power that I can only be grateful to have her in my life.
“My brother loves you a lot,” she says in a whisper. “Those five months without you were not easy for him.”
I’m about to answer, but we are promptly interrupted by another female voice. “Can we say hello?” His mother, Margaret, asks, stepping in with his other sister, Maud.
“Margaret,” I greet as we exchange three kisses. She looks just as radiant as last year, sporting a black jumpsuit and a gray silk shawl over her shoulders. My attention then goes to her second daughter. “Hi, Maud.” And I also give her three kisses.
“Alex told us about your coma,” Margaret informs me. And I wonder if he also told her about the baby, but I’m definitely not the one who’s gonna bring that up. The fewer people that know, the better. “What a miracle you are awake. Doctors thought you’d never recover,” she says, taking my hand between hers.
“Thank you.” Pausing for a moment, I then add, “I’m really lucky.”
“Damn right.” She gives me one of her warmest smiles, and, before either of us get emotional, she asks, “Well, shall we?”
As we step onto the terrace where dinner will be served, everyone marvels about the setting Emma has prepared, and my eyes fill with joy as I take in my surroundings—strings of fairy lights are cascading overhead, creating a wonderful romantic vibe with a gold-colored glow, then at the center lies a long dining table covered with candles, lanterns, and bouquets of white jasmine. My heart flutters in excitement at seeing those flowers; after all, they are my favorite. I see Julia already recording the setting on her iPhone and asking her husband, Sebastian, to take a picture of her and Maud. “It’s so beautiful,” I hear her praising. Then a bit farther down, I see a live music band, including a violinist and a pianist. They start playing the beginning of a new song, and after a few notes, I smile, recognizing it—“Everlasting Love” by Jamie Cullum.
“Do you like it?” Emma asks.
“Oh, Emma, it’s perfect.” I pull her into my arms and squeeze her tightly. “You’re the most amazing friend I could ask for,” I whisper in her ear.
With tears in her eyes, Emma clears her throat and does her best to keep them under control. “Alright, let me show you where I placed everyone.” She brings me to the table, and, showing me the names written on each placement card, she explains, “So, I have you here. Alex on your left, me on your right, Julia in front of you, her husband in front of Alex.”
Before she can finish, Julia and her husband Sebastian are already taking their seats, followed by Yara and Elliott, and everyone else does the same. “Oh, I see that everyone likes to seat quickly.”
“I think everyone is hungry,” I tease in a low voice. “You did a fantastic job.”
As we sit, I notice how Emma keeps gazing discreetly at Yara, which is understandable as she’s the only one sporting equestrian attire for an evening event. And for those who don’t know her, it might come off as a pretty weird fashion statement. A side smile escapes me at thinking I was not supposed to see that.
“I’m so glad you guys could come,” I praise as I look at Julia now sitting in front of me.
I notice how a waiter is already behind them, filling Sebastian’s glasses with red wine and water.
“Me too,” Julia says, before declining the wine.
“It was really perfect timing,” Sebastian points out. “We were about to come here to New York anyway.”
“Oh really?” I ask in surprise. “For what reason, if I may ask?”
As Julia looks at her husband with a twinkle in her eye, she says, “Well, it’s our twentieth wedding anniversary, and since Sebastian has always wanted to go bear hunting…”
But my joyful expression switches into a perplexed one. “Bear hunting?” I repeat, nearly out of breath. “What do you mean?”
“Um,” Sebastian mumbles, glancing at Alex. “I mean, tomorrow is the opening season in the Hudson Valley. You know, for black bear hunting. We don’t have bears in the Netherlands, so I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? What is he talking about? I look at Alex, trying to understand what the hell is going on, but he’s talking to Maria. And just like me, Emma can’t stop glaring at Sebastian as he casually tries to justify the killing of animals for pleasure.
“So you came here just for the sake of killing black bears?” Emma unleashes.
“We came here first and foremost for the engagement, of course,” Julia interposes in the sweetest and most polite tone to rescue him. “Black bear hunting is not illegal; it’s actually an extremely regulated sport.”
“Sport?” Emma repeats, nodding sarcastically, but I know she is doing her best not to enter into a bloody debate against them. One thing is for sure: if this were happening at Loyola, she would’ve gotten really aggressive, maybe even violent. Meanwhile, Alex avoids eye contact with me by keeping himself engrossed in conversation with Margaret and Dad. Well, if my fiancé thinks he’s gonna kill a black bear tomorrow with Sebastian, then he’s in for a big surprise. But I’ll take care of him and his hunt later. For now, and for the sake of a good evening, I try to lead the conversation to a lighter subject. “So, it’s your twentieth wedding anniversary?” I ask Julia, my tone enthusiastic. “Congratulations. You guys are such an inspiration.”
And keeping her smile just as big, she says, “Yes, unbelievable how time flies so fast.”
“Wow,” Emma utters, playing along. “That’s impressive. And you look so young…”
“Well, I’m just thirty-nine.”
Emma nearly chokes on her wine. “Wait, what? You got married at nineteen?” Then she looks at me and says in a lower voice, “I understand now why you like her so much.” Still under a wave of shock, Emma seems to be thinking something through. “But, like, you dated other guys before him, right?”
“Nope. I knew he’d be my husband the day I met him,” Julia replies, her tone laced with pride as she gazes for an instant at Sebastian. “I was sixteen at the time, and we dated until I finished high school. Then he proposed, and a year later, we were married.”
Emma makes a mental effort not to gape again, but her expression says it all. “So, Sebastian was your first and only boyfriend?” she asks, nearly in outrage. And we can’t help but giggle at her astonished face. It feels like two worlds discovering each other.
“Yes,” Julia replies amid the laughter. “When it’s the right one, one is enough.”
“Oh…” I swoon as Julia gives her husband a quick peck on the cheek. Sebastian then takes her hand and gives it a kiss. Letting out a sigh, I picture Alex and I doing the same after twenty years of marriage. Then my gaze goes to Emma, who is still blinking in total shock.
“I think Julia had more important things to do than fooling around,” I whisper in her ear for the sake of teasing her. Then I reach for her hand, and, imitating Sebastian, I give Emma’s hand a kiss.
“And what about your friends? Were they like you?” Emma continues inquiring.
“My friends, yes,” Julia replies with a big grin. And my amusement keeps growing. “But some girls at my school were obsessed with boys, like everywhere else.”
To my surprise, Margaret jumps in. “I’ve always said to my daughters, if you find yourself in a group of friends who only speak about boys, then you are in the wrong group.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Dad interposes, and I’m not surprised by his statement.
“With all due respect to these fine gentlemen who are here, my daughters had better things to do than waste their mental energy on a bunch of dicks.”
“Mom!” Julia exclaims. “What was that?” But
we all break out in laughter. I’ve never in my entire life imagined Margaret saying the D-word. Oh gosh, this must be the funniest dinner I’ve ever been to.
“I totally agree, Margaret,” Emma replies. “Dicks are a waste of time. At Loyola, girls were constantly swooning over a bunch of jerks. It was pathetic. Right, Petra?” I huff at her blatant sarcasm. After all, Emma knows I had a crush on James since the first day he spoke to me. And it was, as she said, pretty pathetic.
“Right,” I mutter.
Then my attention goes to Julia, and, after exchanging a look, she asks Alex and me, “So, do you guys have a date in mind for the wedding?”
Alex doesn’t waste time saying, “We haven’t—”
But I cut him off just as fast. “Yes, we do.”
“We do?” he repeats, squinting at me.
“Yep,” I tell him. And putting on my most innocent face, I add, “I’ve been thinking about it, and, um, I’ve got the perfect date for our wedding.”
“Oh…” Alex is left speechless. “And what date is that?”
Then I look at Julia and announce, “The fifth of December, on my nineteenth birthday.”
“What?!” Dad blurts out. “Are you sure?”
“Are you sure about that?” Alex asks me in a discreet, low voice, repeating my dad’s question.
“Why not?” I match his low tone, and, wetting my lips, I add, “Don’t you think it’s a meaningful date?”
His lips part in astonishment, and I know he’s picturing exactly the same as I. “Of course it is.”
As we smile at each other, his gaze drops to my lips, and I wish for once he’d kiss me in public.
“That’s a wonderful date,” Margaret praises, breaking our intimate moment. “A winter wedding is perfect. We have less than three months, but I’m sure we can manage.”
Alex’s attention shifts back to his mother, and, letting out a sigh, I do the same. At this rate, I guess he will only kiss me in public at the altar.
“We can speak to Bishop De Korte and have the ceremony at St. John’s Cathedral,” Sebastian suggests. “That’s where we got married. It’s the most beautiful cathedral in the Netherlands.”
“That’s a great idea,” Julia praises. “I’m sure you’re gonna love it. We can organize the whole wedding for you if you want.”
My eyes widen instantly. “Really?”
“Of course. We will hire the same people who planned ours. They are super professional—you just have to tell them what your preferences and wishes are, and they’ll make it happen.”
“Um, as long as the groom attends, I’m good,” I tease, looking at my fiancé.
“Not sure if they can make it happen, but they will try,” Sebastian replies back.
A quick laugh escapes us, and, thanks to Sebastian’s comment, my fiancé puts an arm around me and gives me a kiss. I just wish it would’ve been on the lips, not on the head.
Chapter 7
Bedford Hills, September 11, 2020
Emma Hasenfratz
Over the past nineteen years, very few people have managed to make an impact on my life. When you have a fifty-million-dollar trust fund, believe me, most people you meet are quite shallow, boring, clichéd, and devoid of any interesting personality. All they care about is your money or the lifestyle you can provide. Petra was the exception. She’s always been weird and reserved enough to keep me—and everyone else at Loyola—interested in getting to know her.
Today, though, I’ve met someone else: a noble woman.
A married noble woman.
Yara Van Lawick.
She’s stern and formal, like a general in the army. And unlike her sisters, I haven’t seen her either laughing or giggling during the whole dinner. Her presence is unmistakable though, and her pale face is as immaculately cold as the marble walls standing in my parents’ house.
“How did you two meet?” Yara asks. And her Dutch accent makes my lips curve up.
“Oh, we went to the same school together,” Petra tells her.
“I kind of figured that out. But how did you become best friends?” she insists. “You two seem to be quite the opposite.” Petra and I share the same complicit smile as we recall memories that only we know. “Who spoke to whom first?” Yara asks again.
“I did,” I tell her. “Petra was always alone with her books and so quiet. After a couple of months in the same class, she had, like, zero friends. She was such a weirdo that I had to introduce myself.”
But Yara doesn’t stop there. “And then?”
And then I fell in love. “And then…” I mumble, looking at Petra. Words remain stuck in my throat as we smile at each other. “And then she was like a mystery that I wanted to solve.” I’m sounding cheesy as fuck, but Petra seems to like it. Choosing my next words more carefully, I add, “And the more I knew about her, the more I liked her.” Blinking twice, my focus remains on Yara, and I aim for a steadier tone. “She used to talk about shit I couldn’t care less about, but she was so passionate about it. And that was”—hot—“dope,” I say instead.
“Like what?” Petra asks with her big blue eyes pinned on me.
“Oh jeez, from artists to philosophical bullshit. You always had something weird to talk about,” I tease her. “She wanted to drag me to every museum and gallery in the city, I swear,” I tell Yara, before taking a sip of my Primitivo.
Petra giggles and says, “Okay, I plead guilty on that one.”
But Yara remains just as serious. “So Emma is your only friend?”
“The only one I trust enough to invite here,” Petra replies, putting a hand on top of mine. Her touch squeezes my heart, reminding me of the deep shit I’m in. “She’s even the one who organized this beautiful gathering.”
And I smile at her answer. It feels good to know I still hold a special place in Ms. Van Gatt’s heart, despite the fact that in three months, she will no longer be Ms. Van Gatt…
Fuck, feeling the urge to smoke, I excuse myself and leave the table.
The only safe place to do so is by the front porch, near the roundabout. There, amid the darkness of the night and few outdoor lights, I stand against the wall and bring a cigarette up to my lips.
But a voice stabilizes me just as fast. “It’s tough, huh?”
“Sorry, what?” I ask, jumping a little, my cigarette locked between my lips.
“Being in love with someone who is not in love with you.” Yara’s imposing figure emerges from nowhere, and I’m surprised to see her holding a metallic lighter. Opening the clasp, she rolls the spark wheel down, igniting the flame, and brings it up to burn the tip of my cigarette. Once the tip is burning brightly, I take a long, steady inhale of smoke. This woman knows her shit. That’s why she was asking so many questions.
“Is it so visible?” I ask, puffing the smoke out of my lungs.
Yara takes a cigarette from my pack and puts it between her lips. It’s a simple move, yet extremely sensual coming from her.
“Not for everyone.” And she brings her lighter up. After burning the tip enough, she quietly pulls the smoke in before exhaling it out. And I notice how classy she looks doing so. “But enough for me.” With her cigarette stuck between her long fingers, she keeps observing me with squinted eyes. “Does Petra know?”
“Not really…” I confess. “Friendship over feelings, ya know.”
“I see…” Yara replies, her eyes meticulously studying me. “And how do you cope with that?” she asks, before bringing the cigarette up to her lips.
“Well, to put it bluntly, I fool around…” I tell her, taking another puff of smoke. “And I pursue many other endeavors…”
“Such as?”
“I’m also an equestrian.” That’s a bit of a stretch, but who cares? “I have a stable at home and ride from time to time.”
“Oh, that’s interesting,” she says with a side smile, her mind still ruminating. “Do you play polo?”
“Polo?” I repeat, a bit perplexed by her question.
“I’ve never played polo, no. Do you play?”
“A bit…” She lets her words trail off as her dark eyes linger on me.
And her tone is suggestive enough for me to ask, “Would you like to teach me?”
Giving me nothing but a smirk, Yara seems to revel in the calculated silence that fills the space between us. Then she finally says, “I like to teach.” But I’ve got the feeling we are not talking about polo. “Would you like to learn, Ms. Hasenfratz?”
I swear, her question gives me goosebumps. No idea if it’s polo she’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter. There’s something about her that draws me in, something I can’t really put my finger on—maybe it’s her sternness, her formality, her impeccable posture and manners, I don’t know, but I’m keen to go down the rabbit hole to find out. Looking straight into her brown eyes and trying to discern the underlying meaning of her question, I offer, “I’d love to.”
And her smirk grows. “Great. I’m staying here until Monday.”
“My parents are out this weekend,” I tell her. “You could come to my place on Sunday.”
She reaches into a pocket inside her blazer, and after taking her iPhone out, she asks, “What’s your phone number?” And now my heart gives a little jump. She seems to be dead serious. But what should I expect? A polo lesson? Or something else? Well, there’s only one way to find out.
Taking her iPhone, I type in my number. “Here. Saved as Emma Hasenfratz.”
Chapter 8
Bedford Hills, September 11, 2020
Alexander Van Dieren
Three months. That’s the time left before we get married. Wow. It feels even more real now that there is a deadline. I knew this day would eventually come, but I never thought it’d come so soon. My thoughts instantly go to Tess and her threats. I wonder how she will react once she knows the wedding is taking place just an hour drive from her house. But my gaze remains on Petra, who is engrossed in conversation with Julia, and I can only hope her mother will restrain herself from interfering with the ceremony. I know how much Petra is looking forward to a perfect day. One she can remember with a smile on her face, not tears. But knowing Tess as I do, this is nothing more than wishful thinking. Then my attention goes to Mom, and as our eyes lock, she beckons to me, and I know it’s time for our tête-à-tête. After all, dinner has already been served and we are now finishing coffees and digestifs.