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Forbidden Boy
out of her chest, with her stomach in hot pursuit.
Instinctively, she reached for Chloe’s hand and was relieved to feel her sister squeeze back. A few feet away, tiny beads of sweat were forming on their father’s forehead.
Remi seemed to have gotten his second wind.
Crouched on the living room floor, hunched over his pile of papers, he was busily sorting and shuffling and occasionally clearing his throat. Finally, after what felt like years, Remi scooped up some blueprints, transferred them to the coffee table, and turned to his father with shaking hands.
“Dad, I know that you’ve spent a long time, and a lot of money drawing up the plans for your house.” Remi’s voice had gained the tiniest edge of confidence.
Remi’s father nodded severely. “You’re absolutely right. This project has been years of work in the making.
Years.”
Remi pressed on before his father could elaborate.
“But, bearing all those things in mind, I have something I’d really like you to consider.” Remi took another deep breath and smoothed his blueprints out across the table.
“I’ve been working with my boss at Dawson and Dawson on this all summer, and I think it could really work.”
The room was completely silent as everyone held their breath, watching Mr. Moore lumber forward to leer 227
Hailey Abbott
down over the blueprints. Julia
“I know it strays from your original vision, Dad,” Remi pressed on. “But I think it’s still viable. Living on this beach is a dream you share with a lot of people—I know it was a dream for Mrs. Kahn, too. I, um, I think we have that in common. We all deserve to build our dreams with our families, and no one should be able to take that away from us.” He paused, shyly looking over at his father. “Maybe, this way, we can all have our dream houses.”
Mrs. Moore raised her aristocratic—if slightly Botox-ed—
chin toward her husband and then gestured back toward Remi’s new blueprint. After what seemed like a lifetime, she said, “I, for one, think this is lovely.” Mr. Moore slipped his hand around his wife’s waist and clapped his son on the shoulder.
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Nodding toward the blueprints, he said, “Well, Remington, the way you’ve worked solar panels in with the existing glass is very impressive. And turning that wing inward to create a contained beach garden that will be visible from the gym is a solid i
The room, collectively, exhaled.
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Chapter Twenty-five
!
Julia
Her sister was holding a brilliant orange Gerbera daisy.
“Oooh! What’s this?” Julia
“Nope, this one’s for you.” Chloe handed the flower to her very surprised sister. “It arrived this morning,” she said with a wink, before walking away.
Julia
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Julia
Julia
By 8:30 that evening, Julia
In retrospect, those had been some great afternoons.
As she approached her destination, she noticed an easel—almost exactly like hers—set up where she used to paint. The top was draped in a sheet, and another note was attached. Julia
Staring at the mysterious gift, though, Julia
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She lifted the cover off to find a wrapped package.
Then she went to work, gingerly peeling off the wrapping paper, layer by layer. At the end of all the unwrapping, Jules gasped. She squeezed her eyes shut and held them closed for a very long moment, breathing in and out slowly. But when she opened them again, Julia
sitting securely on the easel, restored and good as new.
Except it wasn’t the same landscape she’d painstakingly finished all those weeks ago. It was totally new. Much of the warped oill paint had been expertly restored, but in other parts, the mangled oils had been completely replaced. All along the painted beach, someone had worked in fragments of Julia
“Do you like it?”
Jules turned around to find Remi standing there. He slid down in the sand and wrapped his arms around her.
“But . . . but, how did you?” Julia
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Remi smiled, his dark eyes shining at Julia
Julia
“I know a guy who restores fine art for some of Dawson and Dawson’s clients,” Remi continued. “Chloe gave me duplicates of your photos,” he added. “I hope it’s okay. I hope I didn’t ruin it.” Julia
“Oh, Remi, it’s gorgeous!” she breathed, settling back into his embrace. “It’s a million times better than I ever could have hoped for!”
“Well,” Remi demurred softly, his voice sounding shy all of a sudden. “I just thought that maybe—the same way the original painting was a combination of you and your mom—maybe this painting could be a work of art that you and I are both part of.” He paused. “Something beautiful that we’ve worked on and struggled with and built together.”
Julia