Page 4 of True Hearts

“I don’t know.” I turn the bag over in my hands. “Really. I don’t buy this sort of thing.”

“Purses?”

“Anything, really. I’ve got a…” I was going to say accountant and then realized how snobbish and out of touch that sounds. “I did buy my nephew a car. I could probably tell you if those were real. Also booze. I’ve bought a lot of whiskey for my poker nights.”

She looks dumbfounded. “I can understand not buying a purse, but what about all your clothes? Or sheets? Towels? Groceries? Do you at least shop for groceries?”

Maybe the internet was right, and I do need to be taken out. “Think of it this way. I’m employing people to do things that they enjoy like cooking or writing checks, and if I bought food or clothes, they’d have to be paving asphalt or selling hot dogs on the corner.”

“Who likes writing checks?” An adorable line appears between her eyebrows.

My fingers itch to smooth it away, so I shove my hands in my pockets before answering. “Accountants?”

“Does your accountant know someone who can authenticate this?” She taps the bag in my hand.

“Maybe. I’ll call and ask.”

“No, don’t,” she says, but I’m already on the phone.

“Hey, Lee. Got a question for you. Do you know of someone who can tell a fake from a real when it comes to purses…what kind of purse? It has a C on it. Two Cs, actually…oh, okay, that’s great. Text it to me, will you? Actually, can you make us an appointment for today in say, twenty minutes?” I lower the phone and ask Luna, “Twenty minutes good for you?”

She nods. I confirm the details with Lee and then call for my driver. “Let’s go.” I tuck the purse under my arm and wave for her to go in front of me. When we arrive in the lobby, the doorman is talking with my driver.

Luna stops and turns to me. “I don’t need to go.”

“Okay.” I’m confused, but I’ll roll with it.

“I know it’s fake. If my ring is fake, so is this.”

It dawns on me that the purse was a gift from Montclair. “He’s given me so many expensive things, and I loved it because before him, the closest I’d ever come to a Chanel bag was an ad in my dentist’s copy ofVogue. I feel like a fool.” She rubs the back of her hand across her forehead, and her lower lip trembles.

The line between her eyebrows is no longer adorable but heartbreaking. I pull her full against me and shove her face against my chest. “I’ll break that asshole for you, Luna. Don’t you worry about a thing. Just lean on me.”

ChapterFour

LUNA

He smells so good. Too damn good, in fact. I close my eyes for a second and lean on him. His hand runs up and down my back gently. I didn’t think I’d be a cuddler, but this is rather nice. Taking a deep breath, I force all my sadness down. I don’t even think it's sadness over Michael but that I was fool enough to believe him. I’m so stupid.

“How about we go get you something to eat?” Graham offers. “I interrupted whatever you were about to get at the bakery.” I drop my head back to meet his gaze.

How has he been more understanding and sweet to me than Michael ever has? If Michael didn’t want to buy me some fancy purse because he’d forgotten we had dinner plans or whatnot, he could have just said sorry and tried to make it up another way. He didn’t have to make me look stupid. I think that may be what bothers me the most. What Graham is giving me right now is priceless because, honestly, I don't want to face my friends right now.

"That sounds nice." Graham keeps me tucked to him as his driver holds the door open for us. I give him a smile and tell him thank you. Graham opens the back door for me to slip in. I slide over, and it’s not long before Graham is next to me.

I don’t know why I feel so comfortable with this man after such a short time, but I do. Graham may honestly know more about the real me in a few hours than Michael does after all these years.

“If you’re looking for a more private setting, my friend Brooks owns The Plate. I could call to give him a heads-up that we are coming,” Graham suggests, probably assuming that I don’t want to be in a busy, public place right now.

“That might be for the best. Retired FBI agents are trying to find you.” We both laugh, and some of the tension that had built inside of me releases. Graham pulls out his phone and clicks away before telling his driver to head toward The Plate.

I sink back into the seat, remembering I’m supposed to go to an event with Michael tonight. “Shit,” I mutter, pulling out my phone. I don’t text him. Instead I send a message to his assistant that I won’t be able to make it tonight. That’s honestly more than he deserves. I’m sure his assistant will glad. The woman doesn’t like me.

“I was supposed to go out with him tonight,” I tell Graham, tossing my phone back into the bag.

“The engagement off?”

“I suppose.”

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