Page 38 of Thick and Thin

But a big part of me didn’t want that. I didn’t want to leave Sinclair…even though I knew I would have to now that this was all out in the open.

“All that said, we should probably have my lawyer put something in writing…make it a formality.”

I nodded. A few more days with Sinclair. That should be enough time for me to prepare.

“And I also have an offer.”

I jumped at it. “Yes?”

“Please stay and finish your work in the dungeon. I haven’t had the heart to work down there myself. Too many memories. It’s hard enough living in this…museum, as you called it when you first got here. That’s why I moved from the east wing to the west—I couldn’t bear being reminded of my father and brothers every time I walked down that hall. Too many bad memories.”

Part of me wanted to offer to work in the east wing as well—but that was a bad idea. As he’d said just moments earlier, I had nothing to repay. Was I going to ask him to hire me?

He continued. “I’ve thought from time to time of hiring someone else, but now that you’ve been down there lovingly tending to everything, I don’t know that I could trust anyone else. Edna, of course, would gladly work on any task I ask, but she already does too much around here and works too many hours as it is.” Pushing back his chair from the table, he steepled his hands together as if he were talking to his employees in a meeting instead of sitting at this table with me in nothing but his slacks. “So my offer: please consider staying on for a bit longer. After you finish the dungeon, I’ll see to it that your father’s medical bills are paid, regardless of what happens—and you can have the Lexus. I’ve seen the car you drive, and you need something more reliable.”

“I couldn’t possibly take it.”

“Would you prefer I have one of my accountants go over your timesheets and calculate the work you’ve done? I could pay you instead.”

Somehow, that didn’t seem right either. So I slowly shook my head. I had far too much to think about.

And I wasn’t about to clean my plate now.

“Think about it tonight. Give me an answer at breakfast.”

And, with that, he stood.

Did that mean we were ending here and now? Was this the last time we’d ever be together?

But then he held out a hand, inviting me to stand. And, after we gathered up our clothes, we headed upstairs.

I couldn’t sleep—and, it seemed, neither could Sinclair. Even though it was dark outside, it was relatively early, especially compared to many of the late nights we’d spent together.

And I had far too much on my mind.

Including something we hadn’t discussed.

“Are you awake?” I asked softly, in case he wasn’t.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, shifting so much that I lifted my head. I’d been resting it against his chest but now turned so I could look at him. “I’m sorry if I’ve kept you up.”

“No. It’s not you. I…have something I want to tell you.”

He sat up a bit so I did as well, but we wound up readjusting so that our heads were on pillows facing each other. “Have you already made a decision?”

“No. I, um, I finished reading your mother’s last journal.” Although his eyes seemed to darken, he did nothing more than give me a short nod. “And there’s something you need to know.”

“Hm.”

I didn’t know what his response meant, but he seemed angry. Even though I hadn’t told him where I’d gotten this final journal, maybe he knew. But, because he didn’t say anything else, I planned to simply keep talking. “Your mother didn’t commit suicide, no matter what anyone has told you. Or—if she did—it wasn’t for the reasons you’ve been told.”

“What do you mean?”

I let out a short breath through my nose, trying to decide how to tell him. Really, what I wanted him to do was read her journals in order—but, as deeply as the wounds cut him, I suspected that would simply reopen them rather than allowing them to heal. “She was really sick at the end—and the doctor was running test after test, trying to find out what was going on.” I didn’t want to go into gruesome detail, but I would if he asked. “She was getting weaker, unable to eat or keep anything down—but she wanted to live. She loved you with all her heart and you made her happy. You were her pride and joy.”

“I don’t see how I could have been. I was just a baby.”

“But she felt like you were hers—and that your brothers were more your dad’s. You were very special to her. It’s…hard to explain, but she adored you.”

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