Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter Book 2)

by Melanie Martins

  “What about this dress?” she asks as she takes one out of the wardrobe. “Not bad, huh?”

  I smile at the color; it’s the same as my engagement ring. The dress is vintage, fresh, and summery, with a blue-and-white porcelain print. It looks like Alex did some shopping in that vintage shop, and I wonder if that was his way to cope with my being in a coma.

  “Looks good,” I tell her. Cynthia then opens another drawer. As I peer over, I see many different shapes and colors of bras and panties, all matching sets and perfectly folded and aligned like on a store shelf. Letting out a quick chuckle, I can tell they are all brand-new. They seem to have come straight from a catalog of a fine, high-end lingerie store. I don’t see any basic cotton knickers though—which is what I use the most at home. Here, all I see are delicate thongs and G-strings made of sheer tulle or lace, some with bows and others with embroidered floral details.

  “Beige is okay with you?”

  “It’s perfect,” I reply.

  They all look so thin and fragile that Cynthia takes out the matching beige set with just the tips of her fingers as if it were some sort of invaluable masterpiece.

  And I can’t help but say, “It’s just lingerie, Cynthia.”

  “Well, I checked out this brand online after it was delivered. This set is made in Italy from a brand created in the fifties. I was not even born back then.” Her discovery makes me laugh. She then leans closer to me and whispers, “And it’s three-hundred and ninety dollars.”

  “Three-hundred and ninety dollars for this?” I repeat.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’d never heard of this brand before. But damn, I can go down the street and get something similar for thirty bucks.” A quick chuckle escapes me as I observe her. “Oops,” she utters, reaching for her mouth. “Sorry, ma’am, I know it’s none of my business. I…”

  “It’s all good, Cynthia.” And with curiosity tingling on my tongue, I ask, “Are you from here?”

  “Yes. Born and raised in this great state.”

  I glance around, making sure we are all alone. “Um, can I ask you something else?”

  “Sure.”

  Keeping my voice just as low, I do so. “How he has been doing?”

  “You mean your fiancé?”

  “Yes…”

  Her head cocks to the side as she ponders my question. “Well, um… I’m not sure if I can talk about it.”

  “I won’t tell him,” I assert. “I promise.”

  Considering me for a few more seconds, Cynthia leans closer to me and, adjusting her tone to mine, says, “He was very, um, gloomy, most of the time, very serious. I don’t think I ever heard him laugh. And he tends to drink every day.”

  My brows lift in surprise. I know Alex enjoys drinking a glass of whiskey every night, but is it more than that? “Really?”

  “I mean…” I see Cynthia hesitating, her gaze going down.

  “You can trust me,” I remind her. “I won’t tell him.”

  I know it’s hard for her to open up. After all, she doesn’t know me. Yet I keep my eyes pinned on her. Cynthia finally looks back at me, and, keeping her voice just as low, she says, “Your dad had to move in, you know. He was afraid Mr. Van Dieren had become an alcoholic or something.”

  My heart tightens at her words, and, matching her tone, I ask, “And, um, did you hear him speaking with my mom?”

  “Not much, no. When Ms. Hagen comes here, they barely talk. Most of the time it’s only Maria who lets her in.” She pauses, thinking something through. “Oh, but they had a fight once.”

  “About?” I ask immediately.

  “Um, I think it was regarding someone leaving you in peace, not sure who though.”

  The more I hear Cynthia talk, the faster my heart seems to beat. “Was it my mom who said that?”

  “I’m not sure, ma’am. I just heard a few words here and there. It was a long time ago. But I think so.”

  I feel so tense and nauseous at the idea of it that I simply say, “Thank you,” and leave the conversation at that. After all, Cynthia has just confirmed what I already knew—my nightmare was not only an unconscious fear, but also a glimpse into my future reality if I don’t prevent it from happening.

  Then she walks me slowly back to the bedroom, where I sit on the bed. There she helps me put on my beige bra and thong. After I raise my arms, Cynthia pulls the dress down and closes the zip on the back. To my surprise, she brings me a pair of flat camel sandals, the type I love, the type that goes well with everything. Once I’m fully dressed, she asks, “What do you usually do with your hair?”

  “Um, I just let it dry.”

  “Any makeup? I’m not a certified artist, but I’ve followed many tutorials on YouTube.”

  I laugh at her comment. Cynthia is such an amazing woman. No wonder they chose her to be my nurse. “I’m all good. Just gloss if you have any.”

  She goes to the bathroom and comes back with the exact same gloss I used to have. “Here.” This one, though, hasn’t been opened yet, but it’s exactly the same.

  All of a sudden, we are promptly interrupted by a knocking on the door and Maria coming in. “Miss? A certain Emma is downstairs waiting for you.”

  Oh my God! I gasp instantly. “Emma?” I repeat, barely believing it. I try to stand up, but my body holds me back just as fast. Cringing, I look at Cynthia, who takes me by the arm and helps me up again. “Dr. Jade said you’ll need a couple of days before you can walk on your own,” she reminds me.

  Holding the walker, we leave the bedroom, and as we slowly cross the corridor, I can’t help but wonder how I am gonna walk down the stairs if I can barely bend my legs. But Cynthia stops in front of two glass doors instead. “Oh,” I utter. “That wasn’t there before.”

  She presses the button and smiles at the little ding when the doors open. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  As we get into the lift, she presses the button for the ground floor, which is where the dining room, kitchen, lounge bar, and outdoor terrace lie. Jeez, I can’t believe Alex installed a lift here. The idea that he has been so obsessed with all these details, from clothes, underwear, and shoes to the medical treatments and the lift, brings a wave of unanticipated emotion, leaving me almost on the verge of tears. He never gave up on me—even after so many months in a coma and with little to no chance of ever waking up again. And that’s something I will never forget.

  “Babe!” I hear as the doors open. “Fuck! I can’t believe it!”

  A big grin settles on my lips upon recognizing the familiar voice. “Emma!” As soon as we step out of the lift, Emma plunges me into a hug that nearly leaves me out of breath, but it feels too good to say something. “Oh, Emma…” With my head resting on hers, I close my eyes, treasuring this moment as much as I can.

  “I missed you so damn much,” she whispers in my ear.

  Matching her low tone, I say, “I missed you too.”

  Once she releases me, Cynthia helps me walk toward the lounge.

  Emma promptly asks, “Um, what happened? You can’t walk?”

  “Not much, no. My muscles are still very weak,” I tell her. “But in a week or two, I should be fine. I’ve got an intensive training including aqua gym and electrotherapy.” And as I look at her, I can’t help but ask, “What happened to your long hair?” I realize she is now sporting a short bob with bangs. “Why did you cut it so short?”

  “It’s been a rough year,” she confesses before pressing her lips against my cheek and embracing me tightly in her arms again. “I’m so happy you’re finally awake.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, reveling in her hug. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  Afterward, I observe her for a moment and notice how she has started to cover her chest, neck, and shoulders with new tattoos. A big butterfly with open wings now covers her décolletage, and as we reach the lounge room, I can’t help but also ask, “So your parents are finally okay with them?”

  “Yeah… A small reward for me getting out of jail.”
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  “Always the same, huh?” I tease.

  She gives me a big, bright grin. “Always the same, babe.”

  “What have you been doing this year?” I ask her as we sit on the sofa. “Dad told me about the pandemic. I might not be able to go back to Columbia because of it.”

  “Yeah. The world is going nuts. I just came back to New York two weeks ago,” she tells me. “Fucking cunt I was. I should’ve stayed in Saint-Tropez. But Laura was planning an underground concert for her birthday party and I wanted to attend. As soon as I landed, those motherfuckers started asking me to wear a mask. Heck, even on the street, and then someone at her party called the cops! I’ve got no idea how they found out.”

  “And the police put you in jail because of that?”

  “Well”—Emma lets out a quick chuckle—“I also told them to fuck off and shove their masks up their—”

  “How was Saint-Tropez?”

  “Oh, it was great. The beach clubs, the vibe, the food, everything was dope. I’m thinking of flying back there ASAP.”

  “Do you mind staying until my engagement party?”

  “What?!” Emma finally looks down at my left hand and grasps it. “Fuck! I can’t believe it! Damn, girl.” She then observes the ring more attentively. “That’s a beautiful ring. When did he propose?”

  “Um, actually, I did it when I woke up.”

  “Oh, wow. You don’t waste time.”

  “I don’t want to,” I tell her. “I… I had a terrible nightmare…” As I look her in the eye, I announce, “I’ve got a feeling he’s gonna leave me sometime soon.”

  Her jaw drops just as fast. “Huh? Why? Like, after everything you went through? Why on earth would he do that?”

  “Mom told me Alex promised her that he’d leave me and move to Singapore.”

  Her eyes widen like a startled owl. “You already spoke to her?”

  “In my nightmare, yes.” Then her brows crease in confusion, so I add, “And I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

  “Then why did he accept your proposal if he intends to leave you?” she asks, perplexed. “That doesn’t make any sense. And why would he even promise that to your mom? I don’t see Van Dieren making such a promise to her.”

  “Neither do I, but I’m sure this nightmare didn’t come out of nowhere.”

  “You guys have to talk. I’ve always told you that. You must confront him, and you need to have an open conversation with each other,” she lectures, even though she’s right. “Hiding that pregnancy was fucked up.”

  “I know…” My gaze goes down to my lap at the embarrassing truth. “Well, now it’s gone.”

  Emma presses her hand to mine. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Her voice is unusually low and serious. “I know it meant a lot to you.”

  “It’s alright.” I take a deep breath, silencing the sadness that my heart can hardly bear. “I’m sure she is in a better place looking after me.” As I close my eyes, I recall the loud honk of the truck I was about to crash into and the moment I pressed the brake as much as I could. But it had been too late. “I…” My head begins to pound, my heart speeds up, my breathing becomes fast and shallow as I remember the impact that made me lose her. “I just loved her so much already…” A sob bursts from my lips, and I reach to cover my mouth before it gets worse.

  “Hey…” Emma wraps me into a hug as I try to recover from my unwanted emotions. “I’m sure she is.” Her thumb goes to my right cheek, where she wipes away a tear. “I’m here for you, alright?” I nod at her, trying to prevent further tears from falling. “Look, I will stay here for the engagement party, but make sure you speak to your fiancé about your nightmare. You guys need to clear up all of this.”

  A knock on the terrace door brings our attention to Cynthia. “Ma’am, sorry to disturb you, but lunch is ready.” She emerges into the lounge and helps me to stand again and get back to my walker. Then she escorts me at a turtle pace to the terrace. I feel pathetic walking so slowly and making Emma wait for me as she walks at my pace, but each movement feels like climbing a mountain. My muscles can barely support my body weight, and I couldn’t imagine myself without Cynthia or this walker.

  As we reach the outdoors, I let my eyes take in the beautiful setting Maria has prepared: green plants and white lilies bloom in a milky glass vase at the center of the table. I love the white linen tablecloth she’s chosen—it gives a great summery vibe to the table. Closing my eyes for a second, I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air of the gardens. Sunshine is on my face and eyelids, covering my cheeks with heat as I listen for a moment to the familiar birds and grasshoppers singing. Ah, summer in Bedford Hills truly has a special aroma. “Janine?” I call, recognizing the familiar voice I hear.

  Standing beside Maria, Janine looks over at me, a big grin on her face, and promptly walks over in my direction. “So good to see you back, Ms. Van Gatt.” She gives me a warm embrace, although not too strong so as not to hurt me.

  “Ah, here they are!” Dad and Alex stand up from their seats to welcome us. Dad greets Emma with a friendly smile followed by two cheek kisses. “Glad to have you back among us.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Van Gatt.”

  “Emma,” Alex mumbles when she turns to him.

  “Van Dieren,” she replies just as dryly. “Congrats on the engagement. You won the jackpot.”

  Smiling back at her, Alex gives me a quick glance and says, “I know.”

  While they are already pulling out their chairs and sitting, I’m still slowly making my way toward the chair beside Emma’s.

  “I hope they treated you well in jail,” Dad prompts to change the subject. “I’m sorry you had to spend a week there. The judge was not really the most sympathetic. But as you may understand, sharing live videos of an illegal concert and tagging the singers was not really the smartest move.”

  Emma grabs a slice of bread from the basket and starts dipping it in olive oil. “It’s okay. It was not smart, but it was fun. I’ll be leaving New York soon anyway.”

  “Any place in mind?” Alex asks as they wait for me to sit.

  “Um…” Emma garbles around her bite of bread. “Saint-Tropez was dope. I’m thinking of going back there. Jean-Pierre is a longtime friend of my parents, so I should be fine. He said he’d give me diplomatic entry if needed.”

  “Who’s Jean-Pierre?” I ask as I proudly sit down without Cynthia’s help.

  “The mayor,” Dad replies. “A fine gentleman indeed.”

  My eyes go directly to Alex, who’s sitting in front of me. It looks like he’s finally gotten some sleep. I notice he’s changed clothes, sporting a slim white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and three buttons wide open at the collar, leaving his sun-kissed neck and upper chest exposed. Oh boy, I miss running my hands over his chest so much, tasting, kissing, and nibbling his smooth skin…

  “Have you guys thought about a date yet?” But Emma’s question shuts down my fantasy, bringing me back to earth.

  “A date?” I ask.

  “Yeah, for the party. Like, no pressure, but the earlier, the better. I don’t want to stay in New York for much longer.”

  I can’t help but chuckle at her comment. “Um, it depends when his family can come over.”

  “Mom and Julia suggested in two weeks,” Alex replies. “It might be better to wait until you get back on your feet though.”

  “Oh, wow. They already know? I see news travels fast.”

  A smile settles on our lips as we look at each other, and I can’t help but feel the heat on my cheeks rising. This time, though, it’s not from the sunlight. Jeez, I still can’t believe I’m engaged to him. And Dad being okay with it? It feels almost too good to be true. “I think in two weeks I should be fine. Who’s attending?”

  “Everyone,” he says.

  My eyes widen at his response. “You mean everyone everyone?”

  “Yes, everyone you saw at Christmas is attending.”

  “You can also invite your pa
rents,” I say to Emma. “They have always been so kind to me.”

  “Alright, I will.”

  Alex starts checking his iPhone and asks, “Should we host the gathering on the eleventh, around six p.m?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Emma mumbles as Maria puts some grilled vegetables on her plate.

  “Dad?” I ask, looking at him. “Is the evening of the eleventh okay for you?”

  “Huh?” Dad looks back at me a bit dazzled, as if he was somewhere else, engrossed in his own thoughts. “Yes, the eleventh is perfect.” After taking a sip of his sauvignon blanc, he adds, “Don’t forget the eighth is the beginning of the fall semester at Columbia.”

  “Does that mean I will have classes on campus?” I ask instantly.

  “No, unfortunately. I just received an email from the president, and there won’t be classes on campus this year. Everything will be done online.”

  “But what about my group? Does that mean I won’t see them the entire year?”

  “Do they live in Manhattan?” Dad asks.

  “Hmm, I think so.”

  “Well, why not invite them over to our place so you can attend the online courses together? Might be better than spending your entire college year studying alone.”

  Our place? So does that mean I will have to return to Park Avenue once my classes start again? I can’t believe after everything Alex and I have gone through, Dad wouldn’t agree for me to live with my fiancé. After all, Alex also has a condo in the city.

  “It’s a great idea. I can pick you up once you’re done,” Alex replies, which basically confirms what I was thinking. And the fact that he doesn’t even suggest to my dad for us to remain living together shouldn’t surprise me. “What do you think, Miss Van Gatt?”