Page 12 of New Year's Day
We have our apartment and a house in the Hamptons that belonged to West’s parents. Plus, we have a home in Napa that has been in West’s family for generations. We’re not interested in living in California though. That’s too far from our family here.
“I actually don’t mind the idea.” My answer makes my husband smile. “We should schedule an appointment with the realtor and see what the house looks like inside.”
“Already done.” West is grinning. “We have an appointment on the second.”
“Oh, you.” I swat at his chest and he catches my hand, bringing it up to his mouth and delivering a kiss to my knuckles. “What if I told you that I wasn’t interested?”
“I would’ve canceled the appointment.” He shrugs. “But I know you, Carolina. I had a feeling you’d want to at least see it.”
“You’re right.” I watch as he rubs his thumb across the ring he gave me so long ago. The one I still wear on my middle finger. “You know me so well.”
“We have been together for a while,” he says wryly.
“A few years,” I say with a giggle.
And I never giggle.
He yanks me into his arms, delivering a sound kiss upon my lips. “I can’t wait to count down the end of the year with you.”
“Why?” I smooth my hand over his chest. He’s wearing a suit like the rest of the men, but no tie, his shirt unbuttoned a little farther down than the rest. I like that he still does that. The man has swagger and it still catches my attention all these years later.
“I have a feeling the new year is going to bring plenty of good things,” he murmurs, his head descending, his lips drawing closer to mine.
“Oh, it always does,” I whisper, just as his lips brush mine. “Especially when we’re together.”
“Truer words were never spoken.” He kisses me, stealing my breath. “I love you, Carolina.”
“I love you too, Weston.” My husband kisses me, swallowing whatever words I planned on saying.
They didn’t matter anyway. What we just said to each other was enough.
SIX
IRIS
I watchMarta move about the room along with our butler Jerry, the both of them carrying trays laden with glasses full of champagne or sparkling apple cider. Marta is in charge of our glasses, and when she approaches us, handing off one to me and one to Willow, we both bow our heads to her with a smile, ourthank-you’sringing together in unison.
Willow stares at the amber liquid in the glass so hard it looks like her eyes are crossing. “I sort of wished I could’ve sampled the champagne.”
“No, you don’t,” Row pipes up as he joins us, clutching his own glass already. “It was kind of gross.”
“How was it gross?” I ask, curious. I’m still thinking about what my father told me. How I shouldn’t snitch on my brother all the time and I need to try and unite with him instead.
I just don’t know how. When I tried to approach August earlier, he told me, and I quote, to fuck off.
Ugh, he’s rude. Always cursing at me and Vaughn. I have a feeling he knows I’m the one who told on him sneaking the champagne and giving some to Rowan.
Oh well, I can’t worry about it. Augie is always mad at me. I’m used to it by now.
“It was bitter.” Row screws his face up, making me giggle. “And it sparkled on my tongue. Like bubbles.”
“That sounds…nice,” Willow says, a wistful expression on her face.
I don’t remember life without Willow, and I like it that way. I asked Mom a long time ago if my cousin could be my best friend, and she said of course.
“Having someone you’re related to who’s also your best friend is the best. You can connect on so many levels,” Mom said, her eyes glowing with happiness. “I’m just thrilled you two get along. When you were toddlers, you’d fight all the time and make each other cry.”
I love hearing those stories about me and Willow making each other cry, I don’t know why. They make me laugh.