Falling into Forever Read Free Page B

pocket of his brown-and-green camouflage pants to reassure himself that her sketch was still safely tucked inside. After the silver convertible turned right at a stoplight and disappeared from his view, he tucked his guitar into the case resting at his feet.
    He also had not gone unnoticed.
    â€œHe is so cute,” said Taylor, watching his figure fade from view in her rearview mirror.
    â€œWho is so cute?” Alexandra asked, trying to concentrate on the gnarled traffic.
    â€œThat guy playing guitar,” said Taylor, turning around in her seat for a last look at him as their car sped down the street. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
    â€œI’ve seen him before,” revealed Alexandra. “He plays that guitar in the park every day. I always see him when I take Jack out for a walk.”
    â€œSo why don’t you talk to him?” Taylor asked.
    â€œHe’s a stranger,” Alexandra pointed out. “I’m not going to walk up to some random guy and introduce myself. What’s if he’s some kind of psycho or something?”
    â€œWhat if he’s not?” asked Taylor. “You’ll never know, will you?”
    â€œWe might still make it to my grandmother’s house in time for dinner,” Alexandra said, trying to change the subject.
    â€œCool,” said Taylor, suddenly preoccupied with rummaging through her bulky handbag for nail polish. “Check it out,” she said, pulling a CD case and bottle of pink polish from her bag. “Antonio sent this CD to me from Rome.”
    Horns blared as Alexandra barreled down the access ramp toward the interstate. Taylor’s long, blond hair whipped into her face and stung her eyes. “Maybe we should put the top up?” Taylor shouted.
    â€œNo time now,” yelled Alexandra. “I want to get there before dark.” She maneuvered into the far left lane of traffic and pressed her right foot down harder on the accelerator. “Who is Antonio?” she asked.
    â€œHe was my tour guide in Italy,” explained Taylor. “I told you about my dreamy Antonio. He must be in love with me. He sent me this CD so I can learn to speak Italian.” She popped a silver disc into the CD player and turned the stereo’s volume up as high as it could go.
    â€œCiao!” boomed a husky male voice with a heavy Italian accent through the speakers.
    â€œCiao!” Taylor repeated, giggling, as she brushed bright-pink nail polish on her big toes.
    Alexandra rolled her eyes and glanced at the rearview mirror. The smoggy Atlanta skyline fell further behind her as she sped east toward the South Carolina coast. Next stop, Peyton Manor, Alexandra announced to herself.
    â€œWhere exactly are we going again?” Taylor asked, plugging a GPS into a socket in the dashboard.
    â€œEdisto Island,” Alexandra explained. “And I don’t need that,” she said pointing at the GPS. “I know my way with my eyes closed.”
    â€œI thought you said we were going to Charleston,” said Taylor, hesitant to unplug the digital navigator.
    â€œWe’re going to be about an hour south of Charleston,” Alexandra told her, “where there are not as many tourists.”
    As Alexandra settled into the soft leather driver’s seat, she kept her eyes on the road ahead. She was looking forward to the feeling of sand between her toes. Her grandmother had been begging her to visit all summer. Granny June’s parents, her brother Joseph, and her husband Thomas Peyton had all passed on. So except for Patrick, the cook, Granny June lived alone in the rambling beachfront home. The estate had been built by the shipping fortune earned by Granny June’s father, a business that had been continued by her husband. It was a grand home, lodged between forest and ocean in the hamlet of Edisto.
    Alexandra was always welcome at Peyton Manor. June had the time and money to lavish on her