Page 117 of The Love Bandits

It’s Saturday, a little less than a week after the tea. Over the past week, there’s been plenty of drama, between the fallout from Rosie’s secret to Anthony’s broken engagement. Lainey and I have also been working on our plan for expanding the Love Fixers.

All of us drove to upstate New York yesterday to take this meeting, because no one wanted to fly with a multimillion dollar piece of jewelry. Mrs. Rosings rode with Lainey and me, and talked seemingly the whole time without really saying much. Which would be fine by me, normally. I enjoy talking. It’s just…the plan is…

There is no fucking plan. Mrs. Rosings insists she can get Roark to release my brotherandDale’s watch, although I have to wonder if that’s just because she’s so accustomed to bossing people around that she expects everyone to bend to her will. Truth be told, I can’t imagine what she could have on Roark from thirty-some-odd years ago that would hold any sway now.

Nicole’s guess was “dirty photos,” Lainey’s friend Claire thinks he might still love her, and Damien pointed out that it doesn’t actually matter, since the only way we were getting the necklace to the meet-up was if she went with it.

So here we are, parked in the lot of a fast food restaurant that looks like it’s been closed for the last decade, sandwiched between the dirty façade of the building and a bunch of trees gone to wild, waiting for Roark to show up with my brother. I’m sweating, my palms patting the wheel as if I’m trying to form a loaf of bread.

“Can’t you sit still?” Mrs. Rosings asks from the back seat.

“Nope. Are you sure about this? He’s not the kind of man who gives things away for free.”

“I can’t entirely be sure,” she admits, lips pursed. “People change. But I do believe I have the right of it.”

I glance back, taking her in. “Do you ever believe otherwise?”

She makes an incredulous sound. “Why on earth would I?”

Not much I can say to that.

Her eyes narrow. “That’s part of the reason I knew you weren’t a therapist. Therapists can sit still. Anthony would have figured it out too if he weren’t so trusting.”

“I expect he won’t be as trusting anymore,” I say, feeling the burn of having played a part in that.

“No, but at least he won’t be married to a woman who’d make a fool of him morning, noon, and night.”

She continues to watch me, and it’s more fucking unnerving than it should be, but I’m not the kind of man who enjoys backing down either. I hold her gaze.

Finally, she nods, as if having established something. “You’ll do.”

“For what?”

“For your young woman. She’s a spirited girl. She needs a man who can keep up with her, if she insists on having a man.”

“You care about her,” I say, stating the obvious. It’s not as if it surprises me. Anyone with sense would care about Lainey and want things to go well for her, but it is something that twines us together, Mrs. Rosings and me. She cares about Lainey, and I’d burn the world down for my girl—or beat it really hard with a shitty umbrella.

“She reminds me of myself as a girl,” Mrs. Rosings says after a moment. “Which is why I’ve been hard on her. You’re too young to understand, but as you get older, you start to recognize patterns. You can see where someone’s choices are likely to lead, and it’s hard to sit in the backseat and watch without attempting to direct them.”

My mouth hitches up. “And yet here you are in the backseat.”

She smiles at me and gives the slightest nod of her head. “And yet here I am.” She’s quiet for a second, which is a real novelty for both of us, then says, “Will you really help my son?”

I slide my hands along the wheel. I toggle my foot. “I’d like to, but I’m far from sure he’s interested in more ‘help’ from me.”

Especially once he learns the full truth about who I am and why I sought him out. I’ve decided I’m going to tell him, which won’t be a particularly fun conversation. But if I’m going to start living my truth, I need to break free of the lies that have piled onto me over the years—the luggage of people who do not exist.

I’ve also decided that I’m going to go talk to Dale, watch or no watch. Damien’s words have stuck with me like the burrs from aburdock plant. I don’t like the thought of Dale wasting his time worrying about me. It’s fucked up that he should have to lose both his watch and his peace of mind.

Mrs. Rosings gusts out a slow sigh. “I’m afraid that boy needs all the help he can get. Not just to secure his trust fund. He needs a real friend. It’s no easy legacy, being Adrien’s son.”

She’s not wrong, and guilt plucks a familiar rhythm in my head. I’d like to be that friend, if he’ll let me.

Then I hear a car pulling around the front of the abandoned restaurant, and my heart starts hammering. And all other thoughts vanish from my head.

I’m finally going to see my brother. He’s going to be free, out of that locked room.Out.

A black van with tinted windows turns the corner, and after it parks, Roark climbs out of the front. He looks…old. His face is lined, and there are dark circles under his eyes. Maybe being in constant contact with my brother has drained him. Good for Ryan.

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