Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
He holds my gaze with his. “I’m glad. I know how close you two were before things fell apart.”
I take a step forward. “What about you?”
His left brow cocks. “What about me?”
“You and Finella didn’t make it,” I point out that undeniable fact. “What happened with that?”
His eyes close briefly as he shakes his head. “We’re not going there, Jameson.”
Maybe we’re not at the moment, but we’ll get there. He’s my brother, and although I’ve carried a lifetime’s worth of anger and resentment for him on my shoulders, I can recognize pain when I see it.
“I’m going to work on the Ballew deal.” He looks toward the doorway. “You should work on getting an assistant.”
That’s topping the list of what’s on my agenda for today. “I’ve got it covered.”
“I meant to ask if you’ve heard from Mom recently.” He laughs. “She called me last week. They’re in Spain now.”
Our mother’s life took a turn after I graduated college. She remarried and set off on a honeymoon with her second husband that has yet to end.
“I saw them,” I tell him with a smile. “I had dinner with her and Al in Geneva six or seven months ago. They’re well. They’re happy.”
“Good.” He exhales with an audible sigh. “There’s something else. We need to take Denia to the beach one last time. She wanted her ashes scattered in the Atlantic. I’m thinking the last Saturday of the month if you’re free.”
It’s a journey I don’t want to take, but honoring her is something I have to do. After everything she did for me, I owe her that. “I’ll be there.”
“We can head up to the beach house after work on Friday,” he suggests. “We’ll be back in the city by Saturday night.”
“I’ll pack an overnight bag.”
He nods. “It won’t be easy.”
The tremor in his voice doesn’t shock me. He loved our grandmother as much as I did. I go out on a limb to offer him what I know I’ll need to get through those twenty-four hours. “We’ll take care of it together. We’ll give her the send-off she wanted.”
“Damn right, we will.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Sinclair
GOOD MORNING SWEETHEART.
The message spelled out in candy hearts on the dining room table lures a giggle out of me. It’s the same sound I made when Jameson called me sweetheart on my fifteenth birthday.
I had told him that my boyfriend at the time decided that it was cute to call me “sweet cheeks.”
I hated it and told him to knock it off.
When I confided in Jameson that I loathed the pet name, he stared at me, and with a straight face, told me I was a sweetheart, not a sweet cheeks. Then he sang Happy Birthday to me, replacing my name with sweetheart. It was the best part of that birthday.
Over the years, he’d toss the endearment out whenever he knew I needed a laugh. I secretly loved it, and when he left town, I longed to hear it again, even if it didn’t come straight from his heart. It meant something to me.
I look down at the phone in my hand and make a split second decision.
I punch out a text without putting any thought into it.
Sinclair: I got the candy message. Good morning to you too.
I press send and wait.
It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before his reply comes through.
Jameson: Ah, the beauty has awakened from her deep slumber. You have the most adorable snore in the world.
Laughing, I type out another message.
Sinclair: It can’t possibly be more adorable than you talking in your sleep.
When I woke shortly after three a.m., Jameson was mumbling something under his breath about candies.
I smile when I read his reply.
Jameson: What exactly did I say? Let me guess. It was about how good you give head, right? Because fucking wow, Sin.
I skim a finger over my bottom lip. I did that sometime before dawn. It was intimate and tender. When we were finished, Jameson held me in his arms as I drifted back to sleep.
Sinclair: I’m glad you liked that.
His reply takes less than five seconds.
Jameson: Liked? I FUCKING LOVED IT!
I smile, letting out a huge sigh as I type out my final message of the morning.
Sinclair: I’m leaving for a meeting now.
I point toward the door of the penthouse. “Are you ready for a walk, Duds? It’ll be a quick one because I have to meet Brighton in thirty minutes.”
Dudley barks his approval as he races toward the door.
A soft chime from my phone lures my gaze back to the screen.
Jameson: Good luck with the meeting. Did you get my number from the notepad in my bedroom, or did you never delete it?
It would be an easy confession to make, but it would reveal a lot more than I want to right now. I already feel vulnerable after everything we did last night and our brief conversation about the day Jameson left New York.