Fuck. Me.
Talk about a come down after a vacation.
Guess the only thing to do now is unpack.
Chapter 10
Hugo
The sharp rap of the judge’s gavel seals my fate. For the next two years, I will pay the price for what I’ve done, having defrauded millions of dollars from billionaires all over the world.
It is less time behind bars than what I deserve.
As the guards take me away, my head bowed in shame, I reflect on the fact that I could have escaped if it hadn’t been for her. I could be with my grand-mère by now, hiding out from the authorities for at least another couple of years before anyone caught up with me. But it’s better this way.
I laugh when they cart me off to my prison cell.
What is a measly two years for everything I’ve done? Two years is nothing for the money I’ve stolen. Two years behind bars is too lenient for my crimes, and a small price to pay for one night with Laney.
Chapter 11
Laney
Boy, when I blow up my social and emotional life, I really know how to do a number on it.
For the next week at work, I stare out the window of my office at the spa, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. After seeing Fabian’s face on the news—and finding out his real name is Hugo Westphall, wunderkind art dealer turned mastermind scam artist—I am barely able to eat, sleep or work.
My conscience told me I was not equipped to handle a one night stand. My heart told me the same thing. My body betrayed me. That man ensnared me for one night, but left me destroyed.
For a brief moment, I thought there was something. I thought for sure he would reach out some time in the coming months. The way he acted, there was no way he wasn’t into me. I felt certain he felt what I felt. The connection was instantaneous, undeniable. I could see myself falling for this man, and I saw the same in him.
For all his charms, he had a hidden realness in his eyes whenever he looked at me that broke my heart right open.
I could love that man, I had told myself in the twenty-four hours between him leaving me satisfied and feeling safe, and the news blowing up my entire world.
Well, not my entire world. I still have Stella.
“I’m not up for lunch,” I say when her silhouette appears in my office door frame while I’m staring out the window.
“I didn’t ask you to go to lunch. I ordered lunch in, and you are going to eat something.”
I register what she’s said after I see the spread she’s set out on my desk. Fried chicken, biscuits, and mac-and-cheese.
“This is a mess,” I say.
“Yes, and you haven’t eaten since when?” Stella asks.
“I ate a spoonful of peanut butter and a multivitamin this morning.”
She opens up all the takeout containers, places a spork in my hand, and tucks a paper napkin into my collar as a bib to protect my outfit. “That’s not breakfast. You need your strength because after this, we’re going for a walk outside because I need to get this baby out and I’ve heard that helps. Also you’ve been indoors so much that you’re going to lose your vacation tan if you stay inside a second longer.”
Over the next couple of weeks, I gain my emotional strength back. I eat actual meals. I begin running again. The baby comes and I’m overjoyed and distracted by the little bean. I throw myself into helping watch the two older girls along with Lucille,.Luke's former neighbor who's like a mother to all of us.
On one visit, Lucille and I spend a Saturday prepping freezer meals for the family. As we’re cleaning up, she looks me over and sees right through what I’m doing with myself: keeping myself as busy as possible so I don’t have to think about Fabian. Or Hugo. Or whoever the hell he is.
“Honey, the best thing for you to do is get back out there and get yourself some more action,” Lucille says, handing me a plate and a cup of tea and gesturing for me to sit down at the kitchen table.
I sigh and stare at the huge pat of butter on her homemade banana bread that she sliced just for me. “I really don’t need all this butter and bread on my hips.”
“Don’t talk like that, not in my house.”
I nod and I don’t correct her that this isn’t her house, technically. She’s here enough that it might as well be. I just dutifully eat the banana bread. She doesn’t have to twist my arm too hard. It is delicious and makes me feel warm and alive for the first time in weeks.
Lucille may know how to bake banana bread, but she’s crazy if she thinks I’m ever going to risk my heart again.
I just don’t see that happening.
Chapter 12
Hugo
Enjoying my morning coffee at a small beachfront cafe while watching the sun rise over the turquoise water of Fiji, I admire my boat that's anchored offshore. It's not a yacht, and it's not quite seaworthy enough to get me all the way to the South of France, but it's good enough for now.
Laney said Fiji was her favorite vacation spot, so this is where I came. I may never see her again, but the island makes me feel closer to her, in a way. It's a peaceful, simple life. I try not to ponder too deeply on the one thing that could make it better. One person, rather. Her.
I left prison with just enough money tucked away in my Swiss bank account to make it to this tiny island and buy that floating barnacle bucket masquerading as a sailboat. I couldn’t bring myself to
