She stared at the silky envelope, eyes wide and drowning in emotion. In hope.
“It’s from your uncle’s lawyer.”
She nodded.
I looked across the garden, to where Lottie was standing surrounded by reporters. “I have a plan to get you out of here. There’s a car waiting, in just a few more minutes there will be a distraction.”
She kept nodding, staring at the envelope.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded. “Why are you so quiet?”
She paused, realizing the ugly, barbed truth. “I…down here, I’m getting used to not speaking until given permission.”
I clenched my fist, trying to rein it in. “And you’re still going to sleep in his fucking bed tonight?”
At that, she tore her gaze from the letter. “Somebody has to fight for this. Fight for us.”
“I am!” I screamed, then lowered my voice as some people looked through the trees, searching for the source of the noise.
I gripped her bicep, pulling her deeper into the blossoms. “If I wasn’t fighting for us, I would have used my coins already and shipped you the fuck out of this world, Story. I want happily ever after. I want you in my bed. I want you with me. But I’m not going to apologize for having a contingency plan.”
She inhaled, and breathed out her nostrils. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…I can’t.” Tears filled her eyes and she swiped them away. “I don’t even like imagining a world where we’re not together, much less living in one. I’d rather be—”
I wrapped one arm around her shoulders and thrust her to my chest, muffling her words.
“Don’t fucking say it.”
We stayed like that for far too short. There was a time limit on this moment, after all. Like all our moments together.
Slowly I pulled back, brushing aside stray tears from her cheeks.
“You’re being nice to me,” she said softly.
The happiness in her eyes broke me.
It fucking hurt. Every day. I didn’t know how to deal with it. With the terror and helplessness and fucking pain of her being in someone else’s bed. Worse…was knowing she was right. For now, this was the only option.
I thumbed her bottom lip. “I’ve been too hard on my little wife.”
She shook her head. “You haven’t been hard enough. I can’t imagine what this is doing to you.” A breeze fluttered more blossoms, and she smiled weakly. “I missed you calling me little wife. I hate fighting with you. When this is over, I don’t ever want to fight again.”
“I don’t think that’s realistic, Snitch. You hog the bed and kick in your sleep.”
Her lips parted. “No, I don’t—” she broke off. “Jokes?”
I pressed my forehead to hers. “Jokes.”
She exhaled long and slow against my lips. “I’ve been thinking really hard about what you said that morning in February.”
“I was too rough—”
“You wanted a secret,” she interrupted. “Do you remember the first time we came out here? All four of us. You told me not to smile like them.”
Don’t ever smile when you’re sad. Promise?
I’d snuck away to smoke a joint, because fuck. That day had pulverized my heart into dust.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “I remember.”
“I was the biggest liar that day, Grayson. To Lottie, the reporter, to myself, to you.” She licked her lips. “You want a secret? You were inches away from me, but I missed you like you’d burned a cigarette hole in my heart. I always miss you. I would do anything for you, Grayson. Go anywhere for you. Be anyone. I’m powerless to you.”
“Powerless?” I groaned. Fuck, I don’t know why it fucked me so bad hearing her say those words. Maybe because I was powerless, too. Achingly, distractingly, devastatingly, and tragically powerless to her.
“I’ve been powerless to you. I only did this because I wanted to give you everything, the way you’ve given me everything.”
I closed my eyes, reining it in. “You’re the reason I have anything.”
“We can’t let Gemma marry West. Grayson…” she trailed off. “If leaving them destitute would have left you miserable, then what would leaving your sister with a monster do?”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet? You come first. You always come first. I don’t care if this entire house is about to collapse and you need a fucking Twinkie. I’m getting you that fucking Twinkie, Snitch.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Haven’t you figured it out, Grayson? I don’t care if you need my entire bloody and beating heart just to walk a little farther. I’ll give it, so you can be happy.”
We stared at each other as the petals fell around us.
“I promised Woodsy you wouldn’t disappear, Snitch. On his deathbed, I promised him. You’re already disappearing.”
“Do you think I would do this if I felt he was a danger to me, or to the baby?”
I pushed a curl out of her face, dragging my knuckles along her cheek so she knew my next words weren’t intended to be hurtful.
“I don’t think you see him clearly at all, Story. He’s the villain in your story but you want to write him as the hero. That’s what makes him so dangerous.”
Her brow furrowed, and she pulled back slightly, mouth opening to speak when a scream broke off whatever she was about to say.
“Oh my God! Lottie!”
“Where is the on-call doctor?”
As planned, across the garden, Lottie had fallen, and everyone ran to see if she was okay. No one would pay attention to Snitch.
It was like ripping off skin, but I stepped away from her.
“There’s a black car waiting for you. Do not get into a Crowne car or a du Lac car. I’ve hired this one specifically for you.”
Story’s eyes burned with our unfinished conversation. “But, Grayson—”
“Go,” I said, turning to Lottie. “They won’t stay distracted forever.”
Forty-Two
STORY
I met my uncle’s lawyer at a small office on Main Street. He had a bunch of papers stacked high on his small desk and looked out of sorts. So much had happened since my uncle’s death, I’d completely forgotten about his estate.
Maybe he’d have answers.
“Sorry for the delay,” he said, shuffling through the stack of papers. “Here we go…” He pulled a paper from the stack. “As I said, an estate of this size takes time to get in order. I’m not used to handling something of this magnitude. Luckily it was very cut and dry. Mr. Hale really only had one stipulation: you get all of the money.”
My brow creased. “All? How much did he have? A couple thousand?”
“Sixty million dollars.”
“Million?” I fell back into my chair. “What? How…”
“He did have one rather odd stipulation…” he trailed off, brow furrowing. “Even now, I don’t understand it, but he said you would.”
I nodded slowly, not really listening.
Sixty. Million.