Page 8 of Infinite

Ultimately, he opens the security gate and strolls inside. I can’t fault him. Leader or not, he belongs to my father as much as the rest of them, including my mother.

The only person my father never could control was Nana June. It’s one of the reasons I loved her as much as I did.

I stumble forward. I didn’t notice anyone pick up my jacket or phone, but they’re gone. I stagger toward the road and in the direction Hale vanished. I know that he left and that I made him. But it’s only when I come to terms that he’s gone that I finally break down. It’s not a pretty cry. It’s one of those awful, ugly cries that reflect the loss of a life and the one true love.

I dab my face with the edge of my dirty T-shirt. When it only brings a fresh jab of pain I give up and start the long road alone.

It would be several years before I saw Hale again. It didn’t hurt any less when I finally did.

Hale was my friend, confidant, the young man I could laugh with and cry to. The one man in my life I could always count on.

He was never supposed to break my heart.

And I wasneversupposed to break his . . .

Chapter Two

Hale

Ten years later.

“You know what your problem is?” Priscilla barks into the phone.

For someone who swaggers like a peacock, fanning her feathers to make sure everyone takes notice, this bird has a lot of bite.

“I’m emotionally unavailable?” I offer. “I don’t hang around long enough to cuddle and I could do without buying you more jewelry?”

“You asshole!” she screeches.

And when I say screech, I mean,screech.

I turn down the volume on my earpiece. Wall Street titans need their hearing and, being their king, I’m no exception.

“Pris, you knew what you were getting into the first moment you came up to me at the Governor’s Ball. I told you then. I’m telling you now. I don’t do commitment. I won’t wake up in bed beside you with puppy eyes, begging you not to leave me, and I’ll never give you more than I think you deserve.”

“You don’t think I deserve a ring?”

My driver glances at me through the rearview mirror. The privacy window doesn’t stand a chance against Pris’ shrill tone. In fact, I’m going to have to ask Al to double-check it for cracks. I flip through the report the new hire put together. It’s basic and juvenile, the research so sloppy and outdated, I’m surprised he didn’t top it off with a Hello Kitty sticker and some glitter. This guy went to Stanford?

“Are you listening?” Pris demands.

I give up on the report after noting he missed a major investment opportunity despite listing all those “facts.”

“Hale Wilder!”

She’s using my full name. Pris is real mad now.

“Pris, you really thought marriage was where we were headed?” I ask, sounding more laid back than maybe I should. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t that your half-naked body getting awfully close to that professional golfer? What’s his name? The one who cheated on his first wife, the second wife, and the third?”

“I can’t believe you!” she yells, sounding genuinely aghast, bless her heart.

“It sure looked like you,” I say. “It was in the headline of page six just the other week, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Of course it was me,” she shrieks (again).

“Good, I’m glad we established that.” I hold out a hand when the Town Car rolls to a stop.

“Traffic,” Al mouths. “Going around, Mr. Wilder.”

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