Page 419 of The Winslow Brothers

I shake off the unwelcome introspection. Those kinds of thoughts can fuck right off.

I let out a deep exhale. “I have to ask you one more thing.”

“Of course.”

“How is…Charlotte?” I start out bitter and cynical, but I don’t miss that my voice is practically a whisper by the end of my question. Neither does Cleo, unfortunately.

Charlotte might be the woman who tore my heart out of my chest, but anger and spite don’t erase their emotional counterparts. This is the woman I was in love with—the woman I planned to marry; I want her to be okay. And since I’ve had no contact with her since the wedding-that-didn’t-happen, I have no idea if she is.

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever met a man with a bigger heart than yours, Remington. Always taking care of other people. Always putting other people’s needs before your own. It’s a noble quality. One I hope you don’t let disappear because of the hardships life throws your way.”

Miss Cleo’s smile is soft and compassionate, and I loathe it with every fiber of my being. As a kid, right after my father left, I saw that smile often. From friends, acquaintances, teachers. I never ever wanted to be the grown man on this side of a smile like that. I should know by now, though, some plans just don’t work out.Some really fucking don’t,my mind adds bitterly.

“And Charlotte is doing okay. She’s finding her way.”

Although I have no idea if this woman canreallyknow how Charlotte is doing, my chest still eases with relief from her words.

“So…she’s safe? In California?”

That’s where she got the job offer that altered our entire course. She wanted us to go, and I didn’t want to move to the West Coast when my entire family was on the East. She couldn’t understand where I was coming from and, ultimately, chose the job over me.

Because youmadeherchoose.I shake my head to clear it again.Whose fucking side are you on?I ask my brain before shutting it off completely.

Miss Cleo nods. “Very much so.”

There’s a part of me that wants to ask more questions about Charlotte. That wants to dig deeper and try to figure out what she’s feeling and thinking and if she’s as miserable as me, but I know that’s not going to help anything.

I have to focus on my future now—my version of it. Not Cleo’s love-drunk, hippie-dippie, second-chance shit. Truthfully, who even knows if this woman really has psychic abilities. I mean, sure, she got my whole left-at-the-altar situation right, but thatwasonething. She also said all three of my brothers were going to find love, and I’ve yet to see a single one of them settle down. Quite the opposite, in fact. Jude appears to be on a mission to fuck every woman in New York.

I need to focus on me and my work and my clients and building my business. The biggest favor I could do for myself at this point is to get piss-in-a-golden-toilet rich and drown my sorrows in big-ass piles of money.

“Are you still taking on investment clients?” Cleo asks suddenly, breaking me out of my thoughts and, frankly, sending my balls a little farther into my body.

I meet her eyes with a furrowed brow. “Excuse me?”

Damn. Maybe she really can hear everything I’m thinking.

“Investment clients, my dear,” she repeats with a wink. “I have some money I’d like to invest, and I think you’re just the man to do it for me.”

“But you’re a fucking fortune-teller,” I blurt out on a shocked laugh. “I appreciate the confidence in my skill, but wouldn’t yours be more of a sure thing?”

“Oh, Remington, my moral compass doesn’t allow me to predict things revolving around money, and I would like to stop renting and purchase my own building while there’s value in it.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why won’t your moral compass let you fuck with money? It sure as hell doesn’t stop you from screwing around with other shit.”

“Haven’t you heard, my dear? Money is the root of all evil, and I only like to utilize my abilities for good.”

“Like telling me I was going to be left at the altar a week before my wedding?” I snap back. “That felt like a good thing to you?”

“I don’tmakethings happen, sweet Remington. I only convey the message. And fate isn’t done with you yet, I promise.”

I sigh, and she jumps from her seat excitedly. “I’ll get you a check.”

Pretty sure this will be the first time in my investment and day-trading career that I’ll be investing apsychic’smoney. Hell, this might be the first time in the history of the stock market something like this has occurred. I have a hard time believing Warren Buffett takes on kooky, Tarot-card-reading clients under his hedge fund.

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