Page 5 of Everything We Found

While the prospect of seeing Thomas for the first time in four years fed into her guilt about the past, as a former client, she had a professional obligation to meet with him and consider the job offer. At least that was what she was telling herself.

Thomas approached the car, his head tilted and eyes squinted against the late morning glare and she turned off the engine. He held the door open as she got out.

“Hey, Tom.” She smoothed the creases in her pant legs, his gaze tracking the movement, lingering a beat too long before he stepped back, giving her space.

“Hi, Nadia,” he said cautiously—probably because he was shocked she actually showed—and shut the door. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

He didn’t move to embrace her, which she appreciated. She flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder and gripped her keys so she didn’t rattle them against her thigh as the familiar ache settled in her chest whenever she saw him. She’d gotten good at ignoring it over the years, boxing the sensation away with everything else she couldn’t afford to feel. Not when Aimee would see her interest in Thomas as the ultimate betrayal, and especially not when he still looked at her like she was someone to protect rather than someone to want. So she met him with cool confidence like she did with every other client.

She lifted her chin with a subtle, composed smile. “You look good.” Healthier. That pleased her. For a while there, she’d worried about him. The six years he’d spent coordinating James’s disappearance and reemergence into society, facing Phil’s imprisonment and early release, appeasing his mother, and cooperating with the FBI, DEA and whatever other agency had raided Donato Enterprises, leading to the eventual arrest of the leader of the Hidalgo Cartel, had taken its toll on him.

Thomas had gone gray in his thirties. He was forty-two now, and the silver coloring and its carefree styling suited him. He’d regained the muscle mass he lost from a lifestyle of chain-smoking cigars, washing his meals down with whiskey, and carrying ungodly loads of stress. He was about six feet in height, Nadia recalled, the top of her head reaching the underside of his nose when she wasn’t in heels, and from the look of things, he still filled out his white linen shirt and dark wash jeans nicely. Then she looked at his feet. House loafers. The corner of her mouth twitched. That was unexpected. She couldn’t remember when she last saw him dressed so casually. It sent an unexpected flutter through her chest which she immediately tamped down, focusing on the juniper-scented breeze rather than the way the sunlight caught the silver at his temples.

“Thanks. I’m trying.” He flashed an unassuming smile and she was reminded of the boy she used to spend hours facing across a Monopoly game board. They had both been competitive. Nobody liked playing against them, and it seemed every game ended in an argument. But it had always been good fun. Those were some of the best summer afternoons she’d spent when she needed to escape from her house. She loved her parents but they argued nonstop before finally divorcing.

They watched one another, the air between them taut. She noticed his chest rising slightly further, as if he too felt whatever current hummed between their polite distance.

“Thanks for coming,” he said after a moment.

“Of course.”

His hands went into his pockets. “Want to see the house?”

“I do.”

She’d been here twice before to measure and take pictures before drafting her plans to convert the kitchen and family room into an open-concept living space. His housekeeper had met her on both occasions to let her into the house. This was her first visit with him here and she was curious how her plans had turned out and what other work he had done. She was also curious about where he spent his time. What did his safe space look like?

He led her through a massive iron pivot door into an open-air atrium with a custom water feature.

“Are you hungry? I had lunch delivered,” he tossed back to her, entering the house through another pivot door, this one glass framed in wrought iron and wood.

“I am, but…” She deliberately looked at the time on her phone. “I can’t stay long. I have plans tonight and want to beat traffic.”

“Noted.” The glimmer in his eyes she noticed upon her arrival faded a degree. She’d just set the tone. This was business.

Thomas closed the door behind them and Nadia stopped to just look. Take it all in. The wood plank ceiling and recessed lighting. The polished wood flooring and modern mid-century furniture in shades of blue and beige with drops of burgundy. The walls of glass. Everywhere there were floor to ceiling windows that looked out to the kidney-bean-shaped pool and brushed concrete patio framed in juniper bushes and low-lying cypress trees, all immaculately pruned to showcase the valley below.

Everywhere there was light. Bright open space for the energy to freely flow.

This house was his sanctuary.

Thomas watched her curiously as if waiting for her to say something.

She smiled pleasantly. “Your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you. Means a lot coming from you.”

“I’m dying to see my kitchen.”

“It isyourkitchen.” He smirked, tilting his head. “This way.”

He took her down a wide hall that felt like a breezeway with the windows cracked and into the open-concept kitchen/great room combination she’d designed. The stone fireplace was bookended with more floor to ceiling windows that opened to breathtaking views and an outdoor seating and dining area. Nadia wondered if Thomas ever entertained guests. She knew nothing of his social life or whether he kept in touch with friends. His house was remote from the Bay Area and at least a twenty-minute drive to the nearest shopping center.

Aside from the beauty surrounding them, the thing she noticed most was how relaxed she felt in this space. She could breathe without the usual tightness in her chest.

“The energy here is amazing,” she said offhandedly.