Page 89 of Negotiating Tactics

I almost tripped at that thought but righted myself and headed to the bedroom.

I hadn’t been able to bring myself to go back into the one Alex had been in, so I went to the room across the hall.

I showered, and as I dressed, I looked on the side table and saw that fucking envelope from Prescott.

It taunted me, a reminder that I’d been too weak to burn the fucking thing.

I grabbed a lighter and then grabbed the letter, determined to do just that.

But stopped.

I’d just said that I didn’t run from things, and I sure as hell wouldn’t run from Prescott fucking Wilder.

No.

I faced what came head-on and wouldn’t let Prescott and whatever bullshit he had to say be any different.

I held the letter as I went back down the stairs but didn’t open it.

Instead, I picked up the trash that littered the living room and washed the dishes I had accumulated, which consisted of two tumblers.

When the kitchen was clean, then the living room, I finally sat on the couch and ripped the letter open.

Noah,

I know you’re reading this.

I don’t know how I do, because I can’t say that I know you.

Truth is, I don’t.

I don’t know anything about you, and that’s my fault.

So maybe you aren’t reading this.

Maybe you burned it.

Maybe you never came back at all.

Maybe I, in my old age and infirmity, have gotten optimistic.

But something tells me you are reading it.

I know your grandmother had a hand in raising you, and though I only met the woman once, a not so pleasant story that I hope she never shared with you, I know she raised you to be brave.

I put the letter aside and pushed off the couch, pacing as my thoughts swirled.

I thought I knew the story, but reading Prescott’s words, I wondered.

All Nonna had said was that she had met my father once. And when he revealed his true self, she decided there was no need to see him ever again.

She never explained what “revealed his true self” meant.

Just like she had never said a bad word about him.

It would have been so easy. If anybody deserved to have their name trashed, it was Prescott. But Nonna never had.

I always thought it was to spare him, but now, I wondered if it was to spare me.

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