Love Redesigned (Lakefront Billionaires #1) by Lauren Asher

Watching him battle his demons is like staring at my reflection for the first time.

Goose bumps spread across my skin, and the hair on the back of my neck rises as I come to grips with my biggest fault.

I love Rafa, but I don’t want to end up like him, blaming myself for a failed relationship years later while struggling with trust issues.

God no.

Heavy pounding in the distance startles me.

“Are you expecting someone else?”

Rafa stands. “No, but you are.”





CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT


Julian


When Rafa texted me ten minutes ago, letting me know that Dahlia stopped by his place, I headed straight over. Something about his cryptic message made me worry.

I lift my fist to slam it against the door again, only for it to swing open before my hand makes contact.

Dahlia steps outside and shuts the door behind her. “Rafa texted you?”

“Yes. Are you okay?” I scan her face for any telltale signs of distress.

“Umm…yeah?”

“He told me you were crying.”

“Crying?” She sounds as confused as she looks.

“Or not?”

“He was goading you.”

Damn him.

“You came all the way out here because you thought I was upset?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah.”

Her unreadable expression has me speaking up again. “So you’re okay then?”

“Yeah. I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask him.”

“About what?”

She tucks her hands in the pockets of her winter jacket. “Mind if we walk and talk for a bit?”

“Sure.”

“Could we check out the animals? It’s been a while since I’ve seen Penelope.” Dahlia tilts her head in the direction of the barn.

The sound of our boots crushing the grass beneath our feet fills the quiet, although it only lasts a minute before I ruin it.

“Does he know about your test?”

“Yeah.” She stares straight ahead.

“For how long?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Since I came back.”

While I respect him for keeping her news a secret, I selfishly wish he’d told me. “He never said anything.”

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “I’m kind of surprised he didn’t.”

“He’s trustworthy.”

“Funny, seeing as he said something similar about you.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I want to believe you.”

I stay silent as we walk into the barn. Dahlia stops by the first stall and holds her hand out.

“Hey there, pretty girl.”

Penelope, a retired racehorse Rafa saved a few years back, nuzzles her head against Dahlia’s palm. I stand behind her, trapping her between my body and the gate to the stall.

“I don’t want to end up like Rafa.” Her whisper can barely be heard over the horse’s heavy exhale.

I stop breathing.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life bitter and questioning everything and everyone. I want to trust. I want to love. I want to live freely without worrying that I’ll get hurt, left, or betrayed.”

I turn her around. “My cousin will get better, and so will you.”

She leans against the stall. “I’m scared.”

I kiss the top of her head. “I know.”

She wraps her arms around herself. “How can I be sure you will be happy adopting a child?”

“Because I always admired my parents for adopting Rafa.”

Her sniffle is the only reply I get.

“They treated Rafa and me equally. Attention. Discipline. Love. Not once did they make either of us feel like we weren’t both their kids. But deep down, I knew Rafa filled a void in my mom’s life that I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. Something inside her changed after years of struggling through miscarriages and a stillbirth, and Rafa became that missing piece in her life. In all our lives.”

She blinks up at me with glassy eyes.

“Adoption will never be a second-best option for me. Never has been and never will be, because to feel that way would go against everything my parents believed in and what made our family whole.”

The seconds tick by painfully slowly, and I nearly give in and say something to fill the dreadful silence until Dahlia stops me.

She places her palm against my cheek. “I believe you.”



After last night’s talk at Rafa’s place, I know Dahlia and I are moving in the right direction, despite her flying back to San Francisco to meet with Archer Media later this week.

I have some pent-up energy to kill, so I head to my dad’s woodshop to start working on a new project. My Saturday is nothing but a rush of cutting, shaping, and sanding different pieces of wood. My phone buzzes every now and then, but I ignore the incoming messages, knowing Ryder will handle whatever needs to be done come Monday.

I immerse myself in my task, easily losing track of time until loud banging against the door has me nearly slicing my finger open on the circular saw.

“Julian! Open up!” my mother yells before slamming her fist on the door again.

I rip off my safety goggles and mask before unlocking the door. “What are you doing here?”