“What?”
“He left you a letter.”
“Excuse me?”
“A letter. I wanted to make you aware of it before I send it.”
I’m doing a stunning impersonation of a goldfish right now. “I don’t understand.”
“I never gave it to you. I’ve been sitting on it for six years because you don’t deserve anything special from him, but now with the inheritance passing to you because of his fucking will, I’m done. I’m just done with all of it.”
I want to tell him to throw it in the trash. That I don’t want it. There is nothing special from Harrison and anything he wrote will hurt a hundred times more than it could heal. Especially knowing he must have written it before that night. But knowing Bishop, he’ll just send it anyway to torture me.
“I’ll have my attorney contact yours. Don’t ever call my parents or try to find me again.”
With that, I hang up and block his number.
One hundred million dollars.
Even if I needed the money, I’d never keep it. I’d rather live in The Commons, sleeping on a bench than keep that money. But lucky for me, being a Fritz we have no shortage of needy charities at our fingertips, who will benefit greatly from Harrison’s generous donation. A hundred million can save a lot of lives. Can feed a lot of people. Can provide clothes and safe housing for families, women, and children.
But still…
I should get up and shower. I should get up and start some sort of day. Clean my house or do laundry or go sit outside somewhere even if the weather is still sort of gloomy—fall seems to be rolling in with a vengeance, going from hot and sunny to cool and gray in a matter of days.
Instead, I roll over on the bathroom floor, tucking into a ball and allowing myself these few moments to cry. To feel everything I need to feel, knowing I’ll get up stronger than when I sat down. Except clearly, I’m the only one who is in on this decision because no sooner do my eyes start leaking tears than my phone starts blowing up on the floor beside me.
With a piercing growl, I wipe my face and lift my phone. Aria. Aria, I can handle. My finger slides across the screen, answering it despite my desire to ignore it and tune out the world.
I clear my throat of any residual emotion and say, “You never call in the morning.”
She laughs into the phone and with that sound, a smile finds its way to my face. “That’s because I’m never up in the morning. At least not this early. How you people do this crap is beyond me.”
“It’s eight.”
“Right. Exactly. You try painting all night and then getting up early.”
“No thanks. I think you already know my painting talents end at paint-by-numbers and even they’re not very good.”
“All art is beautiful. What are you doing today? Are you working? It doesn’t sound like you’re working.”
I roll my eyes, forcing myself up and off the floor, going for my toothbrush as I set her on speakerphone. I guess my pity party is over. “That’s because I’m not working.” I hesitate, debating if I should tell her about my phone call with Harrison’s dad and then decide against it. I’m not ready to talk about it. Not yet. Not today.
“Perfect,” she chirps. “I have a ginormous favor to ask then. Speaking of art and painting.”
That gets my attention. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this favor?”
“You will. It’ll be fun. And it will include pizza and wine.”
“Spill it, Aria.”
I hear her heavy sigh into the phone. “Well, you know my brother, Brecken, right? The cocky but loveable jerk.”
I choke on my toothpaste, gagging on my toothbrush and having to spit out a wad of pepperminty suds into the sink. I rinse my mouth out.
“Are you okay? What was that?”
“I’m fine. What about your brother?” I swallow. Hard. “I… um. I ran into him last week at the coffee shop I like on Charles Street.”
And then again last night, but I can’t tell her about that either. Last night feels like a secret just between Brecken and me. Nothing happened but I wanted it to, and he did too, and we told each other things. It felt like a date. Like a truly incredible date even if it wasn’t.
“You didn’t tell me he lives in my neighborhood. Not even at the dinner party on Wednesday.” My eyes squeeze shut like a child afraid of getting caught telling a lie, even if that lie is by omission. No matter what I say, or don’t say, I’m withholding the truth from my friend.
And it sucks.
It’s a shitty ass feeling.
“Oh. Perfect. That’s fantastic. I meant to mention that you guys live close, but it slipped my mind. Anyway, he just got his furniture in his new place the other day, but the walls are just the wrong color. They’re so white, Rina.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. No, my artist friend likes her color. “So you need my help painting his walls,” I guess.
“Yep. Wes only has today off and I’m on deadline to finish a piece and Breck works normal Monday through Friday hours. Halle, Jonah, Margot, and even Drew are all working.”
“You called Drew?”
“He’s my friend, Rina,” she says defensively.
“I know. That just feels weird.”
“It is weird, but I’m trying to not make it weird. I love Drew. He’s such a good guy and I want us all to be friends. He says that’s what he wants too. Besides, he kissed Margot. Even if she claims it was just to help her out with her ex, I’m hoping things start to bloom there.”
I smile, running my long hair back and over my face. “She’ll swear up and down and sideways it’ll never happen.”
“I know, but I’m not so convinced. They’re perfect for each other. I just don’t know if trying to be friends with Drew is selfish or not.”
“You’re not selfish, Aria.”
“I’m an artist,” she interrupts. “We’re selfish by nature. Anyway, we’re getting off on a tangent. Can you come and help us paint Breck’s walls?”
And this is where I pause, debating the wisdom of going back to Brecken’s condo. Of being in close proximity with him. A man who gets my heart racing and my stomach fluttering without even having to try. But Aria and Wes will be there so it’s not like anything will happen. He won’t flirt if they’re there and if he’s going to be part of my life by extension, then I should start getting used to his company. Right?
Not to mention, today is a day I could really use a distraction and some busywork. What Aria is offering me is all of that and then some.
“Sure. I’ll be there.”
“Yay,” she squeals so loudly into the phone I cover my ears so she doesn’t perforate my eardrums. “I’m so relieved. Thank you so much. Come on over whenever. We’re already here. I’ll text you his address.”
And then she disconnects the call. Two seconds later, her text comes through, and I force myself out of my pajamas and into the shower to get ready. I guess I’m going back to Brecken’s. I just hope I’m making the right choice in getting closer to him.
13