Our Little Secret Rachael Stewart (best novels to read in english .TXT) 📖

and Tyler. Instead, I’m here, collecting my mother from the arms of her latest lover before she can bring this humiliation to my sister’s wedding.

Not a great start.

I scowl at her back as she fawns over him now and says goodbye.

What I wouldn’t give to have a normal mother. Not some ex-model with a non-existent heart and delusions of grandeur that well surpass her own income. Not to mention her string of lovers...

Seven days. She just needs to go without for seven days.

I certainly am. No plus-one. No distraction.

This week is all about Dani.

Keep one woman under control and the other happy.

Simple.

Or so it should be...but the emerging headache and our family history tell me it will be anything but.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been outside, but I have no wish to go back in. Not even the distant rumble of a car on the private driveway some time ago could pull me away from this little oasis, with the buzzing cicadas and crickets in the air, and the pool lapping over its infinity edge just beyond my feet.

I could lie here all night on the linen-draped cabana, a mattress as big and as soft as the one inside beneath me, the starry sky peeking through the latticed, vine-covered roof above. There’s just something so peaceful about the music of nature and the gentle ripple of the water, all softly lit and glowing aquamarine. The temptation to dive right in and cause ripples in the calm water, swim until my muscles ache, until I’m fatigued enough for sleep, calls to me.

I trail a lazy hand over my front. I really should have worn my bathers. I doubt the chlorine would be kind to my silk lingerie...but there’s always skinny-dipping. It’s what Dani would do for sure. Me...?

It’s what I would have done. Pre-Bobby. Pre-marriage. Pre-grief.

I roll onto my front and force away the melancholy. I want to keep hold of this magical moment. This feeling of freedom, of just living and enjoying the world. I look at the water still calling to me and my lips curve up. I could so do this...

You haven’t got the nerve.

My smile dies. It’s Bobby’s voice in my head now.

When did you get so boring?

Hell, I don’t know, Bobby, maybe when my mother died and I realised life wasn’t made of roses. Maybe when you told me to wear the high-cut dress and the opaque tights, to downplay the make-up and the attempts at seduction, effectively killing off everything that was sexual about me. Maybe then!

I suck in a breath full of the Tuscan air: wildflowers, herbs and the distant sea.

Am I boring, though? Would the old me really have stripped off and dived right in? The one that existed before Mum died, before I got the promotion that set me above Bobby, before our hasty marriage took a turn for the worse...?

Yes! Bloody hell, Faye, yes! You were that woman. You were fun, you were adventurous!

And, Christ, it’s Dani in my head now. Telling me to forget Bobby, to be me again...and I’m going to start right now.

I push up off the bed and pad to the water’s edge, letting my robe hang loose. The breeze coaxes it off my skin to the floor. I toe the water. It’s balmy. Inviting.

I glance up towards the castle and see only darkness, save for the subtle lights that weave through the many paths that feed down the hillside. Spikes of blackness reaching up into the moonlit sky as the cypress trees separate the pool area from the rest of the grounds and help to create a secluded little oasis. A sheltered, private oasis.

And, right now, it’s all mine.

The castle is quiet now that Marianna has enjoyed a nightcap—the best she could find in the bar, having turned her nose up at my grappa—and hastened to her room.

I’m finally alone with my thoughts and the place I call home surrounding me: Tuscany. I don’t get to come here as much as I should, and I miss it. I miss the sense of belonging that comes when I’m standing amongst the vines, breathing in the Tuscan earth that I spent my childhood exploring. It gave me what I needed—a place to run to, a safe place to avoid the chaos at home.

I stroke my hand over the rough stone wall that surrounds the veranda on which I stand. It grazes my fingers—rough, solid, safe. I look out at the castle’s grounds and the rolling hillside beyond; yes, this is home. And this castle is now mine. A purchase I wouldn’t have made so soon if not for Dani’s wedding and her dream to marry in a venue such as this.

Am I mad to buy it and then live in it for seven days with a family as messed up as ours? Who even does that?

I sip at my grappa. Seems the answer is me, thanks to Dani’s disillusioned view. She would have been better off eloping than insisting on even this small, intimate affair. But then Dani never did suffer the same reality as me. She didn’t have to grow up with our parents at each other’s throats. Their failed attempts at living together in harmony followed by bouts apart. But they never could stay away. They loved each other regardless and, if that’s what love does to you, then frankly they could keep it. It’s a fate worse than death.

Not in my little sister’s eyes, though. To her marriage is all roses and happiness, love and laughter, and maybe I envy her just a little for having that outlook.

I throw back the remainder of my drink and push away from the wall. A restless energy floods my veins that even a day of travel can’t rid me of, and I know it stems from unease about the whole affair and keeping a lid on my family.

I place my empty glass on the long mosaic table fit to host a real Italian family. Large,