“It’s weird, huh?” he asks me. I give him a quizzical look complete with a raised eyebrow. “Adopting a sixteen-year-old girl when you’re only twenty-six. I get it, most people don’t do that. But… she really needed me, Grace.” He draws in a long breath. “And I needed her too. She’s the only thing that made me good for a while there.”

I take his hand and give it a squeeze. “Why are you trying to justify it, Vaughn? I think it’s awesome. I was adopted at fifteen, so I can appreciate how much you probably changed her life.”

“Bebe?” he asks me. I nod. “Her mother was your lawyer?”

I nod again, but my heart is starting to beat very fast. “How much do you know?”

“Not nearly enough,” he says as he tenderly glides his knuckles down my cheek and then leans in for a small kiss. “I know you were abducted. Felicity is my partner in crime too. She’s a genius hacker and she pulled the police reports.”

I stare at him for a moment. Should I be mad about that? It would be very easy to be mad. Call it an invasion of privacy, or hell, call it what it is… illegal. Anger is the expected emotion when you find out your boyfriend is spying on your past. I should start a fight to push him away.

But I don’t want to. I don’t feel like being mad. And as much as I really don’t want to talk about it, I figure it’s probably better to just get some of it out of the way early. Put a stop to it, right? That’s what I do when people ask about my childhood. Not the real one. Not the one where my family is murdered and I’m kidnapped by a sick freak and held captive for months.

No. That one is buried.

I tell them that fake story about living in Highlands in Denver. I tell them my parents died of carbon monoxide poisoning. I never admit to a brother at all. I tell them I was homeschooled, which is not even a complete lie.

I’ve only told Vaughn part of this lie, so I don’t have much explaining to do. That’s a nice perk. It’s too late to tell him that other story anyway. Obviously I didn’t grow up in Highlands and he surely knows this by now if this Felicity girl has been poking around enough to get police reports. So I feed him some truth to make the questions stop.

“I was taken,” I say as I look up at him. And even though I know he knows this, his face falls. His whole expression changes. This is the part I hate the most. When I see that sadness in the eyes of people who love me. I can’t take it. It breaks down my walls and makes me sad and depressed. In that one look I see all the questions running through his mind, so I address the most obvious one first. “I was not molested or abused sexually. Ever.”

He gives me a small smile as if to say, Thank God.

“But I was not treated well either. And even though you think you want to know what happened—everyone thinks they want to know what happened—you don’t, Vaughn.” My chin starts to quiver and I hate myself for letting that freak of a monster make me cry ten years later.

Vaughn reaches out but I pull back and see the hurt on his face. I put a hand up and shake my head for a second. “Please, don’t feed it. Don’t feed those feelings. Don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t say, I can’t imagine… because it gives him power over me. And I don’t want him to have that power.”

He stares at me, his eyes searching for more. But then he nods and says, “OK.”

I walk to the window and look out onto his back yard to distance myself from the feelings this conversation evokes in me. We are up in the hills, looking down on the city. “It’s beautiful,” I say, not really meaning to change the subject, but OK with the fact that I did. “Your pool looks amazing.” The underwater lights must be blue, because the color of the water is pure turquoise. “It reminds me of the water around Saint Thomas.”

Vaughn comes up behind me and slips his arms around my waist. “Wanna go outside and look around? In here it’s pretty nondescript. Homey and comfortable. But outside is where all the movie star in me comes out.”

I laugh, I can’t help myself. “Is that right?”

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you.” He slides the doors open, and then he folds them away, making the house merge with the outdoor patio.

“Wow,” I say, amazed at the folding glass wall. “I’ve never seen that in real life before.” I look between the living room and the pool area and yes, that is very movie star.

He takes my hand and leads me over to the water, and then he kicks off his shoes and steps into the beach entry pool. I do the same and follow him in. The water is surprisingly warm as it folds over my feet in little lapping waves. “There’s a current in here?”

“I own five lots on this hill,” he says, pointing over to a thicket of lush greenery on either side of the pool. “Two on either side of my house.” His smile is surprisingly boyish and it charms me for a moment. “And the only reason I needed to take up so much prime LA real estate was so I could build my own lazy river. I fucking love those things.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “Do I get a VIP invitation?”

“Baby,” he whispers as he leans down. “You are the new owner as far as I’m concerned. You can do whatever you want on this lazy river.”

“Is it too late to take a spin?”

“Never. We’re open twenty-four seven, sweets.” And then he leads me off to the side of the main pool, between two palm trees that are acting like a gateway to another world.