Page 67 of Bad Boy Crush
“It’s incredible.” Donny rounded the carving, which was eight feet tall with various waves curling out from the center. It was far more modern than Ant’s usual style. “Aless will love it.”
Alessandre D’Paolo, Donovan’s friend and mentor, had requested a custom piece for his East Hampton property. When he’d reached out to Ant, he’d requested it be delivered by this weekend and welcomed Ant “and a guest” to stay. Evidently, the man was traveling in Spain for the month. Ant was friends with Donovan, so Aless had graciously offered his home.
Donny clapped him on the back. “You nailed it, man. Aless wasn’t worried about your abilities, and you shouldn’t be either.”
“He didn’t ask for a photo of it. He said he wanted to be surprised.”
“Sounds about right. Tell me you’re going to stay at his place. Don’t be humble and miss out on a free weekend in a mansion in the Hamptons. He’s got a great view.” Donny knew what he was talking about. He’d worked with Aless for years and had lived in the guest house on the property.
“I asked Lou to make the trip with me. She said she had to check on a few things first.” From where he stood they were doing well, but he hadn’t missed her abrupt change in behavior after the cookout. She’d been wary. Or maybe she’d just been tired. Hell, he didn’t know anymore. Either way, he was giving her space. He wanted to be with her, but he didn’t have a clue what her timeline looked like.
“What’s there to check on? Doesn’t she work remotely?” His friend’s question echoed his own, so he offered up the exact answer Lou had given.
“Yeah, but she also does interviews and attends events in town for the blog.”
“Makes sense.”
Ant handed Donny a beer, and they sat at the picnic table. Despite Ant’s inner dialogue about giving her space, he voiced his concerns aloud. “Does it make sense, though? Or is she blowing me off because a trip to the Hamptons is a big step forward?”
“You’ve known the girl for years.” Donny took a swig of his beer. “I’m sure she knew what she was getting into when she got into it with you.”
“Does she?” Ant said, his tone flat.
“I see.” Donovan rested his tattooed arms on the tabletop, his hands wrapped around his beer bottle. “What’d you go and fall in love with her for?”
“Fuck.” Ant hated how transparent he was. “Is it obvious?”
“To me. Relax. You’ll find your way through. Falling for Sofie was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Everything in my life looked up from there on.”
“Sofie isn’t Lou.”
“Do you remember my and Sofie’s past?”
Ant remembered. It wasn’t pretty. That they’d come this far together was a feat.
“I wasn’t easy to forgive back then, and even after I admitted I loved her, I fucked it up at the last minute. You know, for old time’s sake.” Chagrin played on his sharp features. “I get that Lou had a shitty marriage, but you’re not her ex. You’re you. When she’s ready, she’ll see that. This trip could be the push she needs.”
Those words bounced around Ant’s head for the rest of the week, and during the drive to Aless’s mansion in New York. Lou had been excited when she’d agreed to come. Ant had loaded her bags into the backseat about nine hours ago, and she still seemed eager to be on this trip with him. Maybe he’d worried about nothing.
Once at Aless’s home, it was up to Ant to haul the giant piece of wood from the back of the truck into the house. He’d learned a long time ago that hiring local movers was helpful. He’d arranged for a pair of guys to help him haul it in—no way would he not be involved pack-muling this baby into Aless’s upstairs living room. Ant had spent hours upon hours refining the piece, right down to the water spray droplets—he was going to make sure it was placed unscathed.
“I hate that we have to leave her outside.” Lou pouted. She’d said something similar each time they’d stopped for gas. He’d assured her no one would steal a tarp-wrapped carving weighing hundreds of pounds, but she’d insisted on sitting in the truck to “keep a lookout” while he’d purchased drinks and snacks.
“Fuck me. This place is incredible.” At the top of the stairs, he looked around. The beachfront property was immaculate. White walls and huge windows and modern fixtures. “What do you think it’s worth?”
“Hard to say.” Her voice echoed off the high ceiling. “Some of the houses here are worth sixty million, others are a bargain at around seven.”
“Seven million dollars is a bargain?” He couldn’t wrap his head around a house that cost seven mil.
He carried their bags to the master bedroom, where Alessandre, or more likely his staff, had left a note with their names on it resting on the dresser. Lou opened the envelope and read it aloud, in a butchered British accent that made Ant smile.
“‘On behalf of Alessandre, please enjoy the beach house for the weekend. Should you need any assistance, Miles can be reached in the guest cottage at the rear of the property. Otherwise, you will have your privacy.’ It’s signed Miles and includes a phone number.” She showed him the letter.
The suite was massive, with a giant bed and attached bath.
“Whoa.” She set the letter aside to take in the ocean view out the window. “Reminds me of the house my parents have out here. I always wondered why we didn’t come out more often when I lived at home.”
Right. He’d forgotten her parents had a house in the Hamptons. Ant tossed around the figures she’d mentioned earlier, feeling like a slack-jawed country bumpkin.