Mine by Mary Calmes Page B

never seen such opulence in my life. To say I was overwhelmed was an understatement.
    “Fuck.” I shook my head, turning to look at my boyfriend over the roof of the car. “What are you doing hanging out with me?”
    His eyes were locked on mine. “The only thing I see that’s real here is you.”
    “That’s a good fuckin’ answer.” I smiled, waving him over.
    He was pretty happy with himself and strutted around the car for good measure, diving at me when he was close, arms around my neck, kissing me happily, hungrily. I grabbed him tight, kissed him back, and when we parted he looked good, solid, content.
    “Come on, you guys,” Chris called over to us, gesturing at his driver. “Juan will bring in the luggage, don’t worry.”
    “Juan,” I called over to the driver, “we’ll get our own stuff, man, no worries.”
    He nodded as I walked around to the trunk of the car.
    Landry got his garment bag and his rolling suitcase—the man had brought enough clothes to stay for a week—and I grabbed my bag, whipped it over my back, and followed after him.
    Once we went through the outer door, we entered a courtyard with a tile sort of path and a garden on each side, patio furniture, an outdoor fireplace, and what could only be called a grotto, complete with frescoes. Following Chris, we walked over a stone footbridge that crossed over water, and on the other side, there were wide steps covered in grass and wildflowers, and then it looked like you entered a cabana. The porch was huge, all wooden planked and carved and solid. There were chairs every five feet or so, and tables. You could have a party just on the front deck.
    It was all windows, floor to ceiling, like the house was just made of them, and we walked into a huge space that was a living room, I guessed, but the doors were open on the other side, and there was the biggest pool I had ever seen in my life, a back deck, and stairs.
    I trailed after Landry and Chris. Outside, the stairs descended to a bigger deck where there was a Jacuzzi and a covered area. Down those stairs was another pool, long and skinny, that emptied into a backyard that was lush green grass and tennis courts—two of them—and buildings that were probably for the servants. All I noticed, everywhere I looked, were huge trees. It was like a movie set; I expected dinosaurs at any second.
    I did not belong there. I was uncomfortable, so far out of my comfort zone that I was seriously ready to bolt, and every drop of confidence I had just shriveled up and died. It was like a siren blaring in my brain. I was in way over my head.
    “Landry!”
    I looked, and there was an older woman, and you knew as soon as you looked at her that this was Landry’s mother.
    Cece, short for Cecilia, Carter. Landry looked just like her. They had the same delicate, fragile features, same short little upturned nose, and the same dimples when they smiled. They also shared wide, symmetrical almond-shaped eyes that were almost but not quite the same color. Her hair was blonde; he had inherited the color from her, but the thickness and the waviness, he got from his father. Neil Carter had also gifted him with the breadth and strength of his shoulders, long legs, and a square jaw. His parents were both gorgeous, but that followed, since their son could stop traffic. Landry was like a perfect melding of both of them.
    Other people hovered around, a couple and two men. As I followed after Landry, I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. I really wished I was still carrying my duffel, but Chris had had us leave the luggage beside the couch in the big room that we had walked through.
    “Landry!” She bolted for him, the mother flying to her son, and he let out a breath and opened his arms to receive her.
    I thought she was going to knock him down with how hard she hit him, but he absorbed it, holding her tight as her arms wrapped around his neck and she hugged the life out of him.
    “My baby,” she chanted, kissing