Page 112 of Loathe at First Sight

Only half listening to what he’s saying, I ask, “How’d you find me? When I left LA, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. And honestly, I’m not sure that you even ever cared to remember where it was that I was originally from.”

“Honestly?”

I nod.

“I hired a private investigator to track you down. He found you here but then followed you and your new boyfriend to Miami.”

Well, shit. I guess the photos were ultimately my fault.

“Are you the one that sold the photos to the tabloids?” I ask.

“Oh, please, Liz. I’m not nearly that crass.” The way Mitch talks screams that he grew up rich. He has that whole ‘new money’ air about him. But knowing that he grew up with next to nothing. I think having any money at all has gone to his head.

How was I ever interested in such a stuck-up asshole like him? Did I act like this?

Good lord, I hope not.

But it wouldn’t surprise me if I did.

“You seem to be happy,” he says.

“Am I happy with Jack? Absolutely. He’s pretty much the only good thing in my life right now, so if you’re about to get on your soap box about how you did me some sort of favor, you might as well save that bullshit.”

“No, I know I did you wrong. As I said, I’m here to make amends.”

He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and hands me an envelope. “I know it doesn’t make up for everything, but I hope maybe it will help a little.”

I try not to let him see my fingers trembling as I tear it open. Inside is a check for half a million dollars.

My jaw drops.

“Am I supposed to believe this is real?” I ask.

“It’s a cashier’s check, Liz. It’s not like it’s going to bounce.”

“With you, I never know. Why the hell are you giving me this? And how do you still have this kind of money if you turned yourself into the feds?”

He smiles. “Let’s just say I still have a few friends who owed me some favors to keep their names out of my statements. I won’t go into details.”

“Who are you? Like, really. Because you aren’t the man I considered my best friend and partner.”

He adjusts his jacket. “I used to be that guy. And then, life chewed me up and spit me out.”

“What if I don’t want your money?” I ask.

“Then, don’t take it. Donate it or something. I don’t care. But if you want to go back to LA, I talked to Chelsea and Tiana. They’d love to have you come work for them, no questions asked.”

Chelsea and Tiana ran a competing real estate firm, but we were all best friends back in LA. When shit hit the fan, they tried to stick around for a while, but ultimately, it wasn’t good for their images.

He adds, “I explained to them that everything was my fault, and they know the whole story. They’d love to have you on their team if you’re interested.”

“I don’t need a handout,” I tell him. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. I’m not doing this because I pity you.”

I run my hands through my messy curls. “Then, why? Why do any of this? You were sitting on a plush beach somewhere I’m sure. Why come back and turn yourself in?”

“Because some sins are just too big to live with.”

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