Page 114 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

My lips met Sumner’s and immediately I fell into the moment, the kiss, the warmth. One of my hands gripped the front of his shirt, holding on to keep from floating away or falling to the ground as he kissed me with a firm, bold, beautiful pressure. Warmth speared through me, spreading out through my body until I was nothing short of burning.

Strangely, in that moment, a fierce pressure squeezed my closed eyes, almost as if I could’ve cried. Sumner didn’t erase the fears of the unknown, nor the hardships we’d definitely come across, but knowing I wouldn’t have to go through it alone brought a near crippling sort of relief. No, I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have my favorite person at my side.

As Sumner deepened the kiss, and his hands wrapped around my body, I was excited for the future. Our future.

The kiss tasted familiar, and I realized it was the promise sealed between us before.I will treasure you, ithad said, with each gentle touch and each glance of his mouth.

I will treat you well. I knotted my fingers in the hair at the back of Sumner’s neck, basking in their softness, and that only I could touch them.You are mine.

Sumner’s hand curved over my lower back and pressed me closer until there wasn’t a millimeter of space that could separate us.

And I am yours.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

After the wedding and Nancy’s funeral, I waited for the other shoe to drop, and on the following Wednesday, a full week after Nancy passed, it finally did.

I sat on the counter in Nancy’s kitchen, kicking my legs softly against the cupboard while I watched Sumner rummage through the fridge. He’d gone to the grocery store on Monday, bought a few ingredients, and we’d both been making lunches and dinners there. Or, well, I attempt the first two times—after that, Sumner declared myself cooking-illiterate and banned me from making dinner. “It makes sense,” he’d said. “When was the last time you cooked your own meal?”

Outside of preparing a cold-cut sandwich, the answer had been never. I’d always relied on room service or a private chef.

“Are yousureyou want to try avocado toast?” I asked him now, watching as he pulled out a carton of eggs and a sealed container of leftover salmon we’d had the night prior.

“How hard can it be?” he asked, setting the ingredientson the counter. “Besides, the avocado is getting questionable.”

A knock at the door interrupted our perfectly mundane moment, and while it might’ve been a simple thing, it caused the both of us to still as our heads turned toward the sound.

No one, besides Destelle and Sumner, had showed up at Nancy’s besides Sunday when Ms. Jennings brought Aaron over. I’d been waiting for it, though. Waiting for my parents to come and harass me, waiting for whoever got Nancy’s house in the will to come and kick me out. Heck, I’d even been waiting for Yvette to storm in with a bill for her daughter’s wedding cake. I was surprisedthathadn’t happened yet.

“Do you want me to get it?” Sumner asked me.

I hopped off the counter. “No, I’ve got it.”

Despite my assurance, he still followed behind me as I made my way to the front of the house. It was a little funny, the way we were both tensed over a knock. When I undid the lock and drew open the door, a man I didn’t recognize greeted me. He was tall, so much so that the top of his head nearly reached the top of the jamb. Despite how imposing was, some of the weight eased off my shoulders at the sight of him. “May I help you?” I asked him through the screen door.

“My name is Jeffrey Franz,” he said with a deep voice, one that didn’t quite match his face. He lifted his briefcase a little. “I was Ms. Du Ponte’s lawyer.”

And just like that, the weight returned. “Oh… hello.”

“Are you MargotMassey?”

I could feel Sumner behind me, a silent supporter. “Possibly.”

“May I come in?”

I unlatched the screen door before taking a step back. Mr. Franz instinctively ducked his head as he came in, the scent of his expensive cologne filling the air. He proceeded into the house easily, clearly having been here before to navigate his way to the small table Nancy had in her kitchen. “You’re a bit difficult to track down,” he murmured as he deposited his briefcase onto the surface. “I went by Massey Suites, but everyone I spoke with acted as if they didn’t know who Margot Massey was.”

That was unsurprising. “Did you tell them you were Nancy’s lawyer?”

“I did keep that part to myself.”

“You might’ve gotten more interest had you shared it.”

He seemed to understand my meaning. “That’s why I didn’t share. I did come across a very helpful Ms. Jennings, though, and she pointed me in this direction.”

Sumner, a silent shadow until that moment, shifted so he stood beside me. “Why are you looking for Margot?”

The locks on his briefcase clicked as Mr. Franz opened it, shuffling through papers within. “Because she is listed as the executor of Ms. Nancy Du Ponte’s will.”

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