Love Redesigned (Lakefront Billionaires, #1)

by Lauren Asher

To those whose love language is words of affirmation. Your praise kink is safe with me (and Julian Lopez).

JULIAN

Stop overthinking and do it. The rosary my mother hung from my rearview mirror spins as I turn my wheel toward the shoulder and slam my foot against the gas pedal. The engine revs as it switches gears, and my tires squeal. My heart lodges itself in my throat as the other vehicle veers to the right and blocks my clear path. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Time seems to speed up as our two cars collide. My headlight shatters and metal crunches as the front of my car smashes into the rear bumper of the other. I’m propelled forward, only to be shoved in the opposite direction as my seat belt locks in place. Thankfully, the airbags don’t deploy, although my relief is short-lived as whatever spark of hope I had of making it to Nico’s show fizzles out, leaving me with nothing but a desire to yell at the reckless driver.

I’m hit with an early October breeze as I walk toward the other car. The driver is hunched over the wheel, her dark, shoulder-length hair obstructing my view of her face. I reach out to tap on the window, but a high-pitched shriek coming out of the car’s speakers stops me. “Don’t worry! I’m on my way!” The call cuts out after two beeps. The woman’s panicked breathing becomes more obvious with each rapid rise and fall of her back. “Hey.” I knock my fist against the window when she doesn’t acknowledge me. “Are you okay?” She lifts a trembling finger to the glass while keeping her head down. “One second.” Her voice wavers. My stomach muscles clench. “Do you need an ambulance?” “No! I’m fine!” Her head snaps in my direction. Vete a la chingada. 3 “Julian?” My name leaves Dahlia Muñoz’s parted pink lips in a hoarse whisper.

She stayed at Stanford all year round, including the summer break, while I kept my distance because I was a coward. A coward who was blindsided when she showed up with Oliver, my ex-roommate and her new boyfriend.

Dahlia has only cried twice in the thirty years I’ve known her—once when she broke her arm trying to beat me in a tree-climbing contest and the other while at her father’s funeral. Like the tide with the moon, I’m unable to resist Dahlia’s gravitational pull as my gaze follows the length of her body. The plain white T-shirt she wears complements her golden skin and wavy brown hair, while her ripped jeans appear more fashionable than functional with how her knees pop out of the large, gaping holes. Her curves perfectly balance out her sharp cheekbones and pointed chin, creating the best combination of soft and sultry.

Leave it to Lake Wisteria to turn a fender bender into a community crisis. It’s not the cars they’re concerned about. It’s her. Dahlia is more than my childhood rival. She’s Lake Wisteria’s Strawberry Sweetheart who is finally returning home after years spent away living out her California dream. And you’re the cabrón6 who nearly drove her into a ditch.

For the first time tonight, Dahlia’s eyes twinkle brighter than the stars above us. “Julian crashed into me.” That little brat. Rosa stares at me as if I committed a felony. I bristle at my mom’s voice as she storms over to us. “Julian? Tell me that’s not true.”

“What were you thinking by trying to run Dahlia off the road?” “That it’s a shame I failed.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve spent all these years plotting my murder only to fail now?” “Trust me. I won’t make the same mistake again.” She flips me off. “Dahlia Isabella Muñoz!” Rosa tugs at her daughter’s hand while my mother whisper-shouts, “Luis Julian Lopez Junior!”

Dahlia and I sigh at the same time, and our gazes collide, scattering my thoughts until I’m left with only one. Her.

Memories I spent years erasing surge to the forefront of my mind, flashing before me like a haunted movie reel. The way her smile grew wider whenever I got flustered and spoke out of turn. Her sparkling eyes looking up at me as we—no, I stiffly moved us around the dance floor during her quinceañera. How she had a similar expression during her valedictorian speech as she thanked me, the salutatorian, for putting up a good fight throughout high school.

DAHLIA

If I had known my return to Lake Wisteria would include a panic attack, a car accident, and a trolley full of townspeople waiting to greet me, I would have stayed in San Francisco. Turns out my plan to run away from my problems had a few major flaws, starting with the man who has spent the better part of his life making mine impossible.

But despite his pristine suit, perfectly trimmed dark hair, and fancy designer loafers, bits and pieces of the rugged Julian I knew peek through. The slight bump in his nose after I accidentally broke it with my elbow. A thin, white scar running across his stubbled cheek from when we thought it was a good idea to compete for who could jump the highest from a swing set. The firm press of his lips whenever someone speaks to him—a habit he picked up when we were kids to stop himself from talking out of turn. As if he senses me staring at him, Julian looks in my direction. The dismissive pass of his rich brown eyes over my body should annoy me more than anything, but the goose bumps scattering across my skin show it has the opposite effect.

Mom inspects my shoulder-length hair. “¿Y qué pasó con tu pelo?2” “I cut it.” “But why?” she moans. I can only muster up a long, exaggerated sigh. “I love it, especially because of why you did it.” Josefina winks. A haircut was what the doctor ordered after my heartbreak, along with a bottle of Zoloft to keep the sadness at bay.

There was nothing I wanted more than my mom’s hugs and her unwavering belief that Vicks VapoRub will cure everything, including a broken heart.

The sheriff interrupts our reunion by clearing his throat. “Dahlia.” “Yes?” “Julian wants to keep this off the record and pay for both repairs himself.” “So he’s not going to get a ticket or mandatory community service for hitting me?” The sheriff chuckles. “Do you want him to?” “Only if you can promise he gets the kind that requires him to pick up trash on the side of the road for hours.” I snap my fingers. “Scratch that. Days.” “Mija3,” Mom warns as Josefina laughs. “How else is he supposed to learn his lesson? Someone could have gotten badly hurt.”

“To be fair, you should have pulled over if you were having car trouble rather than continuing to drive like you did.” My brows scrunch together. “Car trouble?” “Julian explained everything already. If you ever struggle with the engine again, pull over and call for help.” Why would Julian Lopez make up a cover story instead of telling the sheriff I was too busy crying to properly drive? Perhaps because he plans on blackmailing you later. My mom gives my hand a knowing squeeze, and the tension in my muscles bleeds away. “I’ll do that.”

“Julian is right.” The words slide across my tongue like daggers, and the bastard has the audacity to stand taller at the admission. “I’m pretty shaken up with everything that happened, and after spending the whole day driving, all I want to do is get some rest.” “Oh.” Josefina’s smile dies, earning me another scowl from her son. “What if Julian takes you home on his way to the show and Josefina and I can drive your car to the auditorium?” Mom suggests. My right eye twitches. If this woman hadn’t spent my whole life raising me, I would never speak to her again. She knows Julian is my sworn enemy, right up there with midnight snacking on pan dulce and driving in California rush-hour traffic. “But…” My protest dies when my mom shoots me a look. “All right.”

While I had huge success with my interior design company and home renovation show, Julian struck gold after he helped his genius cousin and computer coder Rafa create Dwelling, the most popular real estate search engine around, at the ages of twenty-three and twenty-five, respectively. The idea might have started out as another one of Rafa’s crazy, unsuccessful attempts at creating the next best app, but then it evolved into a billion-dollar company with investors, a board of directors, and the Lopez cousins securing a spot on the coveted Forbes 30 Under 30 List.

His hand brushes across the back of mine, and a spark of recognition flares to life. The smell of his cologne—clean and expensive—invades my nose. It twitches before a sneeze shoots out of me. I jolt, and my butt brushes against Julian’s front. Oh God. He yanks the door open. “Salud4.” “What a gentleman,” I reply in a dry voice. His grip on the door tightens until his golden skin turns white. “Can’t have your mother thinking I’m anything but chivalrous.” “No need to try so hard. She thinks you’re the first person since Jesus to walk on water.”

In the past, I would fill the silence with questions to annoy Julian, but tonight, I draw back into myself. Just another way you changed because of Oliver and his family. Silence eats at me as we catch up to my car, and I take in the damage from the crash. Besides my bumper resembling a crushed pop can and the taillight being knocked out of place, the rest of the car appears fine. Your therapist would be proud of you for noticing the positives. After losing my wedding venue deposit and my new agent informing me that the media learned about my broken engagement today, I need all the wins I can get. “You’re too quiet.” Julian’s rough voice cuts through my thoughts a few minutes later. My fingernails press into my palms from how hard I clench them. “Shouldn’t that make you happy after all those times you begged me to stop talking?”

“Believe it or not, I wanted to lie low for a bit.” “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not like I enjoy all this attention.” All I want to do is disappear and pretend my life in California isn’t falling apart. “Says the woman who has her own television show and décor brand in stores all across America.” He loosens his chokehold on the wheel. I fake gasp. “Julian Lopez, are you a secret fan of my show?” His face remains unreadable. “I have better things to do with my time.” Ouch. “I’m sure spending every night with your mother takes up a lot of it.”

As time ticks by, I’m left with the grim reminder of how tortuously tense things are between Julian and me. Once upon a time, we were friends with a healthy competitive drive. Then puberty hit during middle school, and a new rivalry was formed, driven by hormones and immaturity. But now, we’re nothing but strangers.

I struggle against the heaviness threatening to consume me, only to fail as I spare a glance at the first man who broke my heart. It took him nineteen years to earn it and only six words to obliterate it. And I don’t plan on forgetting that.

JULIAN

Dahlia unbuckles her seat belt as I pull up to her childhood ranch-style house. It holds many memories for our families, including my dad and I working on remodeling it together when I was a teen. While the flowers and decorations change depending on the season, the light blue paint and white trim have remained the same since the redesign. The house might be a far cry from my current projects, but it still represents everything I love about construction. It was during the Muñoz renovation project that I realized how, like my parents, I have a passion for fixing things. Houses. Problems. People.

“Thanks for the ride.” Her chest rises and falls with a long exhale. “And I’m sorry about your car.” The small scrunch of her nose has me biting back a snarky reply. “I should have pulled over and waited things out.” “Is everything okay?” The earlier edge in my voice is gone, replaced by something far worse. She shakes her head. “Just tired.” “Keeping up false pretenses must be exhausting.” “Do you have something else you want to ask me?” A beam of light from the porch bounces off her monstrosity of an engagement ring, nearly blinding me. How’s Oliver? I want to ask with every ounce of vitriol I have toward my ex-roommate. Have you picked a wedding date yet since you’ve been engaged for two years already? Out of curiosity, did he admit to stabbing me in the back by pursuing you? Questions linger on the tip of my tongue like poison arrows. “Nope.” “Perfect. Now if you don’t mind, I have a date with The Silver Vixens and don’t want to be late.” The Silver Vixens? Shit. Things must be worse than I thought. Dahlia only saves binge marathons of The Silver Vixens for the shittiest occasions, like when her dad died or when that asshole football player she liked called her a prude bitch when she didn’t have sex with him after their first date.

I’m not sure what possesses me to speak again, yet I can’t help myself as I ask, “See you around?” My heart hammers against my rib cage while I wait for her reply. She stops at the stairs leading up to the porch. “Why?” “I’m curious.” “I hope you’re not planning all the ways you can torture me already.” Her half-hearted tease lacks any oomph. “Torturing you is my favorite pastime.”

she sees me. The real me. The self-conscious me. The me I have spent the last ten years loathing because he represents everything I hate about myself. He was weak, shy, and too damn prideful to do anything but suffer in silence while he fumbled his way through life.

“Remember when we got drunk at that cabin in Lake Aurora?” “Which time?” His smile only grows wider. “The weekend Dahlia got engaged.” Somehow my strides remain steady. “I’m struggling to recall.” He pokes me in the back. “That’s probably because of all the alcohol you consumed.” “A good cousin would have gotten drunk with me.” “And risk you dying in your sleep after choking on your own vomit? No way. Your mother would have never forgiven me.” “I’m sure you would’ve been happy stepping in as my replacement.” His dark brown eyes roll. “Anyway, I’ll never forget what you said that night.”

“You wouldn’t shut up about how if you got a second chance with Dahlia, you’d do things differently.”

“I was drunk.” “And?” “She’s engaged.” “According to your mother, not anymore.” Mierda1. “How did she find out?” “How else? Rosa told her.” “And so the chisme2 begins.”

“It’s hard to keep it a secret when it’s all over social media tonight. Dahlia has her own trending hashtag and everything.” My stomach churns as questions bounce around my head, making it impossible to come up with a reply. Why did they break up? Is there any chance they will get back together? Was Oliver the reason Dahlia was crying earlier today before I crashed into her? Rafa shoots me a look. “No.” I blink. “What?” “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” “You’re the one who brought her up.” “Because I wanted to be the one to break the news before your mom started whispering in your ear about how now is your chance.” “My mom whispers a lot of things into my ear about who I should date, yet you don’t see me giving in to her.” “Dahlia is different, and you know it.” “Doesn’t matter anymore, because whatever feelings I had for Dahlia are no longer relevant.”

DAHLIA

She clasps her hands together, making her gold Cartier bracelets jangle against her deep brown skin. “What made you stay with Oliver for so long?” Her never-ending patience is put to the test as I sit and think. I’ve been asked this question before, but at the time, my view on life was tainted by bitterness, self-loathing, and a thick cloud of depression. “Things were good for a long time.” Which made the loss that much harder. Her tiny nod gives me courage. It takes me another sixty seconds to come up with five words. “He made me feel special.” He never deserved you. Oliver pulled me into a hug after I broke out in tears while packing up Julian’s dorm room, for which I never received even a simple thank-you text. I like you…a lot more than any friend should, Oliver told me right before the holiday break during our junior year after we spent a year keeping things platonic.

“Was it always like that?” Dr. Martin probes. “Before we got engaged, we had seven years of typical relationship stuff. There were plenty of good moments mixed with some bad ones. He made it seem like he was the misunderstood black sheep of his family, only for me to realize he was actually the wolf.” If Dr. Martin is surprised, she doesn’t show it. “He made it seem like we could do anything together, but when we were finally put to the test, we failed.” I failed. Instead of valuing myself enough to walk away, I stayed because I stupidly didn’t want to quit a relationship that I had invested so much time into. But it didn’t matter anyway because little by little, Oliver pulled away, leaving me to grapple with my grief over never having a child of my own.

Oliver might as well have admitted I didn’t have the womb he wanted, but I digress. Dr. Martin bows her head in understanding. “It’s human nature to avoid anything that will cause us pain.” “It was so easy to throw myself into work, but while my business thrived, a part of my soul died.”

I’ll tell my parents you’re not coming. Again, Oliver emphasized with a huff before taking off for the Creswells’ mansion, leaving me to blankly stare at a wall for hours until I cried myself to sleep. It’s not too late to break things off and find someone more suited for your future, Oliver’s mother had whispered to him while she thought I was still in the restroom. Thankfully, someone will carry on the Creswells’ name, Oliver’s dad said as his wife passed their daughter’s ultrasound photos around the dinner table. After my test, it felt like our relationship had taken a gunshot wound to the heart, and I was the only one trying to fix it.

I expect my third day back in Lake Wisteria to follow the same pattern of being left alone, but when I finally crawl out of bed at two p.m. in search of food, I’m startled to find the Lopez family spread around our house for our families’ Sunday get-together.

Nico deserves the best regardless, especially after everything he and Rafa have been through. I didn’t know Rafa’s ex-wife well, and not for lack of trying on my part, but I do know she didn’t make an effort to integrate with our family.

“You’ll have to stop by our house and check out Nico’s drum set.” Nico beams. “Yeah! You can watch me play them, and then we can build that special Lego set you got me—oh! You can meet Ellie too. She’s so nice, and pretty, and the coolest.” “Who’s Ellie?” The crack in my voice betrays my emotions. As much as I want to spend time with my godson, I don’t feel remotely ready. Because being around Nico always made me yearn for my own family one day, and now… “She’s my best friend!” Nico’s eyes light up. “She’s his nanny.” Something dark passes over Rafa’s face before he schools his features.

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, do you want to play a game with me and Tío3?” I’m hit straight in the chest with a burst of anxiety. “Uh…” “Please!” He presses his hands together. “Well—” I choke on my reply. Rafa’s head tilts. Nico tugs on my hand. “Come on. We need another person since my dad doesn’t want to play with us.” Rafa ruffles Nico’s hair. “Only because Julian always wins.” Nico drags me toward the unopened Monopoly box waiting at the kitchen breakfast table while his dad returns to watching the game. My godson pulls out my chair like a gentleman and waits.

“I can’t.” The pain in my heart intensifies with each beat. Nico’s brows crinkle. “Why not? It’ll be fun!” I wrap my arms around myself and take a long step back. The puzzled look on his face adds to his charm and my distress. “Are you okay? You seem sad.” His bottom lip wobbles. Rafa glances over his shoulder. “You good?” “I need to use the restroom.” I bolt toward the hallway with blurred vision. I’m disoriented as I pass my bedroom and rush down the hall toward the guest bathroom my sister and I share. So much for the antidepressants doing their job. Tears fall in a frustrating act of betrayal. I went from suffering with never-ending numbness two months ago to feeling too much all at once now and crying more in the last few days than in my whole life. Be patient with yourself and trust the process.

Someone yanks on my elbow, and I gasp as I’m pulled backward. “You better have a good reason for upsetting my kid.” Rafa’s rough voice startles me. I recoil. “What?” “Are you…crying?” He squints with a frown, throwing me back into the past. I’m so sick of you feeling sorry for yourself. Oliver’s lips curled with disgust. You can fake it for the cameras just fine, but when it comes to me, you can’t be bothered to do the bare minimum. His words were venomous, flooding my system with paralyzing self-loathing and hopelessness. Call me when the Dahlia I fell in love with is back, he texted me later that night, only to come back a week later to let me know we

“Dahlia.” Rafa’s rough voice tethers me to the present. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater. “I’m sorry for upsetting Nico. You know I would never do that on purpose.” Rafa’s harshness melts away. “What’s wrong?” I’m not sure what possesses me to open up to Rafa of all people, but I can’t let him think I made Nico upset for no good reason. “I… You see…” Shit. “I’ve avoided being around kids since I found out I will never have any.” He blinks a few times. “And then you saw Nico…”

“It’s only been a few months since I got the news—” I’m cut off by my sob. Rafa yanks me into his arms like my dad did whenever I got hurt or was sick. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you…” I sniffle. “Will you please keep this between us?” He pulls away with a frown. “No one knows?” I shake my head. “Only Oliver and his family.” “Your secret is safe with me.” My shoulders slump. “Thank you.” With one last parting glance over his shoulder, Rafa leaves me standing alone in the hall.