“How so?” I ask.
“Everything is different and in the best way possible—the food, the activities, the rides. And this year, we booked the same company that does the firework shows for Dreamland!”
I blink a couple of times. “Isn’t that…expensive?”
Josefina laughs. “Claro que si, but Julian is our main sponsor.”
Claro que si: Of course.
“By main, she means only,” Lily teases.
My eyes bulge. Everyone knows Julian is disgustingly rich, but sponsoring every event seems excessive.
“He only donates that much because of how happy it makes you to plan everything without having a tight budget,” my mom says.
“I’m not going to complain.” Josefina shrugs.
We continue cooking and talking until the doorbell chiming interrupts Josefina’s story about the latest event-planning mishap with the corn maze.
“That must be Julian or Rafa.” She swipes her flour-covered hands across her apron.
“Dahlia, can you get it?” Mom looks up from her Michiganshaped cutting board and points at the door with the tip of her knife.
“Sure. Would hate for Lily to get off her butt and do something useful today.” I hop off the bar stool.
My sister sticks her tongue out at me before returning to whomever she can’t stop texting.
I readjust my sling before opening the door. Julian stands on the other side with a roll of papers tucked underneath his arm and his phone placed against his ear.
“What do you mean—” Julian’s voice cuts out as his eyes blaze a trail down my body. He blinks twice, which is Julian code for fuck.
Julian appreciating my efforts to look good feels like a victory I didn’t know I needed after spending years squeezing myself into a mold for someone else.
I tuck my hair behind my ear before fidgeting with my dangling acrylic earring.
“Yes, I’m still here.” His deep baritone voice has far too much power over my heart rate.
Here, Julian mouths as he passes me the papers from the attic. He could have easily passed the job off to anyone else, yet he went through the trouble of going back before today’s lunch and retrieving them himself.
I try not to look too much into the gesture, but I lose the battle once he carefully places the papers in the crook of my good arm. The scowl he directs toward my broken arm makes my knees tremble.
“My buyer can’t wait another month for the countertops.” His muscles tense as he runs his hand through his hair, drawing my eyes toward the thick vein running up the side of his arm. Julian might spend most of his days in an office now, but he could still bench-press me and a bag of cement mix on his worst day.
His gaze flicks over to me, catching me in the act. His right brow rises in a silent taunt that makes my stomach flip.
If finding Julian attractive is a crime, consider me guilty as charged.
Haven’t you learned anything after the last time you fell for his looks?
Julian didn’t hurt me when we were in college because he rejected me. Sure, it injured my pride and made me feel like the biggest loser after the passionate kiss we shared, but my dislike toward him is so much more than that. He crushed my spirit when he cut me out of his life like I never existed in the first place.
I thought we had something special after spending a year at Stanford together, with our relationship transforming from friends into something else entirely, but it was all a lie.
While I’d love nothing more than to eavesdrop on Julian’s conversation, I shut the door behind me, although it does a shitty job at keeping out the sound of his soft laugh. My heart does this weird squeeze in response, which only serves to further piss me off.
Instead of heading back to the kitchen, I veer toward the empty dining room and place the three rolls of paper on the tabletop before reaching for the largest one. With one arm out of commission, the task of removing the rubber band wrapped around it proves more difficult than anticipated, so I secure it between my thighs for leverage.
“What are you doing?” Julian’s gruff voice breaks through the quiet.
“What does it look like?” I push the rubber band toward the top of the roll.
“Crushing the paper.” He doesn’t wait before grabbing it.
Paper brushes against the inside of my thighs before sliding over a spot that tingles. Okay, fine, I haven’t had sex in a while, but still…what the hell?
I take a long step back, although the heat in my lower belly remains as Julian’s gaze flickers between me and the roll of paper.
He shakes his head before removing the rubber band and spreading out the blueprint for both of us to see.
“How cool is this?” I lean over the table to get a better look at the blueprint, which dates back to the early twentieth century.
Julian checks out the illegible scribble near the bottom of the drawing. “These are original copies.”
“Gerald Baker.” I tap the architect’s name. “Do you recognize his name?”
Julian nods. “He signed off on a majority of the original houses here.”
“You mean the ones you tore down?”
His hands briefly clench.
“It still looks exactly the same.” I trace over the lines dividing the various rooms.
Julian removes the rubber band from a second roll before opening it up. “Hm.”
“What?”
“Looks like you’ll get to tear down that wall between the kitchen and dining room like you wanted after all.” He points at the structural paperwork.
I rub my hands together with a big, goofy smile. “Nothing gets me buzzing quite like finding out walls aren’t load-bearing.”
His gaze flickers from my eyes to my lips.
“What?”
“You looked…” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“Alrighty then.” I reach for the smallest roll, only to have Julian swipe it from my hand. Our fingers graze, and a tiny spark of recognition flares to life.
With an annoyingly blank face that gives away absolutely nothing, Julian carefully opens the final roll. This one is different from the others, with the yellowed paper looking thin enough to shred at the slightest wrong move.
“This is stunning.” Whoever drew the gazebo thought of every detail. From the roses carved into the fret spindles, to the intricate posts meant to support the roof, it’s a work of art. The artist behind the drawing created a vision, with a view of Lake Wisteria predating Town Square, Main Street, and all the mansions lining the beach.
I lean in closer to get a better look at the illegible scribble at the bottom of the page. A shadow catches my eye, and I flip the paper over.
“Oh my God.”
“What?” Julian’s hot breath hits my neck, making me shiver.
“It’s a letter.” I fight back a squeal.
I waffle between reading and not reading the paper addressed to someone else, but curiosity wins. “My darling, Francesca. Aw! Stop! He calls her ‘darling.’” The secret romantic in me is already buzzing with anticipation, and I’ve only read three words.
“Let me have that.” He steals the paper straight from my hands.
“Hey!”