Easy Fortune: A Boudreaux Series Novella

“The love they shared is remarkable.”


I nod, feeling tears threaten. “The story she told was beautiful, and so sad.”

“You brought it with you.”

I nod again. “I thought about leaving it, but he insisted that he wanted me to have it, and honestly, this is the only thing I have to remind me of the trip. I left all of the stones we found with him.”

“It’s sad that it ended this way,” she says with a sigh.

“Why? Why is it sad?”

“Because Aunt Claudia wanted you two to fall in love again and get married and have a happy life.”

“Can you feel that?” I ask.

“Oh yeah. There are so many emotions tied to this necklace it’s mind-boggling. But they’re all good. You should wear it; it’ll bring you peace.”

She sets it aside.

“Well, it’s not sad. She was an old woman who wanted her favorite nephew to fall in love, but I knew the score from the beginning, Mal. I knew that we would have a good time, and that we would have crazy amazing sex, and at the end of it, we’d go our separate ways.”

“And you’re okay,” she says.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

I turn to her, ready to deny it, but stop myself. This is Mallory. I can’t lie to her.

“I’m not okay,” I admit and bite my lip. “But I will be. I got over him once, I can get over him again.”

“I think that’s a lie too,” she says. “But I understand.”

“I’d like to take you up on your offer of using Beau’s place in Italy, if that’s still okay.”

“Perfectly okay,” she says with a nod. “I think it’s a good idea. You can clear your head, explore Italy.”

“Write a book.” I smile at the look of surprise on her face. “I’ve been thinking about writing a book for a long time, and I refuse to be one of those people who just says I’ve always wanted to write a book for the rest of my life. I’m going to write the damn book.”

“Awesome,” she says with a smile. “Is it a love story?”

“Probably.”

“With lots of sex?”

“Maybe I’ll find a hot Italian that I can do research with.” We both laugh and Mallory stands up to hug me.

“I’m sorry you’re sad.”

“I’m sorry that you can feel that I’m sad. I’m going to be okay. Really.”

“I know.” She kisses my cheek. “I’ll have Beau make sure the house in Italy is ready for you. When would you like to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

She nods. “I’m going to come visit. I’ve never been, and I’d love to see it.”

“You’d better come visit.”

“Are you going to be lonely?”

Being lonely isn’t new to me.

But I shake my head. “Nope. I’m going to be great.”





Chapter Ten



Lena

I could live here.

I’ve been in Italy for three weeks, and if I wasn’t so damn homesick for my Gram, I could absolutely move here.

The Boudreaux house is on the coast, not far from a bustling city that I can’t pronounce. I’ve been pretty secluded, but have gone to town a few times a week for supplies, and just to see other people.

While at home, I’ve managed to write two hundred pages of a book. I have no idea if any of it makes sense, but it’s been fun to use my imagination and invent make believe characters. The scenery has been a wonderful inspiration. I’ve spent many hours out on the deck, overlooking the sea, with my laptop in my lap, typing furiously long into the night.

Coming here was the right thing to do. My mind is clear, and I know without a doubt that I did the right thing when I left Mason. And he must agree because aside from the first call on the day I left, he hasn’t tried to reach me.

The breeze is blowing today, keeping me cool in the hot Italian sun. I have a wide-brimmed hat on my head, sweet tea beside me, and my laptop open with my document pulled up.

It might be the best day ever.

The ocean is a bit choppy because of the wind, but there are still plenty of sailboats to watch.

My doorbell rings, making me frown. I wasn’t expecting Mallory until the end of the week, but maybe she decided to surprise me.

I jump up and run to the front door, excited, but stop in my tracks.

“Hi,” Mason says with a tentative smile.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

I blink rapidly, looking him up and down. Jesus, he’s a tall drink of water.

And he’s here.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you’re here.” He smiles again, widely, and I narrow my eyes. “Can I come inside?”

“No.”

He nods. “I’m sorry to hear that. Does it help if I mention that I’ve come a very long way to see you?”

“You wasted the trip,” I reply and move to shut the door, but he shoves his hand out, stopping it.

“No. I didn’t. Please let me talk with you. Ten minutes, fifteen tops.”

I sigh and step back. “Ten minutes.”

I turn and walk away, certain he’ll follow me, returning to the deck. I sit in my lounge chair and motion for him to sit next to me, but instead he sits on the foot of my chair. He’s watching me closely.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re tan.”

“Did you come all this way to discuss my tan?”

He laughs, surprising me. “That’s right, you’re sassy.”

“Every day.”

“I didn’t come here to talk about your tan. I came here to find out why the woman I’m in love with left my bed in the middle of the night and disappeared.”

“I have no idea. Did you put out a missing persons bulletin?”

“Now you’re being difficult,” he says and rubs his hand over his mouth.

“I’m really bad at this,” I admit with a sigh. “Look, I thought I was doing us both a favor, Mason. Your aunt’s letter was beautiful, but it didn’t change anything. You’re still you and I’m still me, and we both knew that at the end of the trip we’d be going back to our own lives.

“So, I left before it could get awkward and weird.”

“I see.” He stands now and leans on the railing of the deck, looking out at the water. Finally, he turns to look at me. “I’m sorry that I was so quiet that night. After I had a chance to think about it, it occurred to me that you probably thought I was an ass.”

“No, you had a lot on your mind.”

“I did. And you should know that when I need to think, I do get quiet. It doesn’t mean that I’m angry, or avoiding you, or that it’s even about you. I’ve just climbed inside my own head.”

“Okay. That’s actually good to know.”

“And you should also know that you couldn’t have been more wrong. When I woke up the next day to find you gone, I was a crazy man. Poor Sandra.” He shakes his head and shoves his fingers through his hair. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t a very nice guy that morning.”

“You shouldn’t have taken it out on Sandra. It was my decision.”

“I know. I was angry.”

“Now you know how it feels,” I reply. “At least I left you a letter.”