Painted

Chapter 15

A/N:

Merry Christmas everyone 🎄🎁🤗

This is my 16,5k present to you, with the promise that it is a chapter of happy indulgence, since we're in the festive mood!

*******

Rebecca stared out the car window as they pulled into the long, tree-lined driveway of her parents’ home, her thoughts tangling and retangling themselves into an unmanageable knot. The weekend retreat was over, but the effects of it—of Sarocha—lingered, etched into her skin and mind like permanent ink. Her heart hadn’t stopped racing since she and Richard left the resort.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Sarocha. How the woman had looked at her, touched her, whispered her name. Rebecca’s body felt like it was still humming, attuned to every memory of the weekend, from the quiet moments to the all-consuming ones.

But then there were her worries, sharper than she wanted to admit. Sarocha was magnetic, irresistible, but Rebecca couldn’t shake the doubt. Was it all just fun for her? A weekend of indulgence?

Richard parked the car, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. “Home sweet home,” he said, stepping out and stretching. “You coming?”

Rebecca blinked and nodded, shaking herself free of her haze as she followed him to the front door.

Their mother greeted them with an enthusiastic smile. “There they are! My two hardworking darlings!” She pulled them both into a hug. “How was the retreat? Was it productive?”

“Very,” Richard replied smoothly, giving Rebecca a sly glance. “Some of us might have even been too productive.”

Rebecca shot him a warning glare. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” the shorter Thai lady asked, frowning in confusion as she led them inside.

“Nothing,” Rebecca said quickly, her cheeks heating. “Richie's just being an idiot, as usual.”

Richard smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, you seemed to be enjoying yourself a lot, Becca. I’ve never seen you so… engaged.”

Rebecca clenched her fists, forcing a tight smile for their mother. “Let’s drop it.”

But Mom wasn’t one to let things go. “Engaged? What does he mean?” she asked, looking between them.

“Nothing,” Rebecca said firmly, giving Richard a sharp kick to the ankle when he opened his mouth again. He yelped, but she ignored him, turning to their mother. “How’s Dad? Is he in his office?”

She sighed, still looking suspicious, but she let it go. “He’s in the garden, setting up the table. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Rebecca nodded and headed towards the kitchen, needing a moment to herself to collect her thoughts. But Richard, predictably, followed her.

“So,” he began, leaning against the counter as she poured herself a glass of water. “You and Sarocha..."

Rebecca froze, her grip tightening on the glass. “Richie, don't. Not now. Not here.”

“Oh, come on,” Richard said, grinning. “You two were practically glued to each other all weekend. And don’t even get me started on the way you were looking at each other during the workshops. It was nauseatingly obvious.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, glaring at him.

“I’m not judging,” he said, holding up his hands. “I just think it’s interesting. I mean, you’re always so… careful about everything. But with her, it’s like you’ve thrown caution to the wind.”