Page 188 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
Jamison wrinkled her nose. “Working.”
“For how long?”
“Too long.”
Evie stroked her cheek. “You can take care of me in the meantime.”
“I think that sounds like a great idea.”
And it was too long.
Evie went home from the hospital a few days later, and Jamison stayed busy helping her. She talked to Liam every chance she could, which was at least twice a day. They were making progress. The smoke had cleared, so to speak, and body retrieval had begun. Excluding Michael and Taylor, they were up to—they thought—thirty-six. It was hard to tell, of course. Liam had kept the details limited for her sanity’s sake, and she was thankful for it.
And while the news coming from Liam was in short supply, Agent Anderson was a little more forthcoming about how they could proceed with their lives. The buzz of activity surrounding Zanmi’s highest members died off on the day of the bombing, and he assured them the threat to their safety had likely been neutralized.
She didn’t want to ask Liam about Michael’s body. He would do what he thought was best. The promise to try talking with Simone about it hung heavy in her heart, and one afternoon, she got brave enough to broach the subject.
But she made Annabeth come with her.
Which meant Rowan was there, too. He was keeping the security around them high, but allowing for less monitoring inside the homes. Most of his days were spent figuring out security details for a full return to the offices and running background checks on the new security personnel hires. They were increasing their numbers every day, vetting men and women who would keep their employees and themselves safe.
Annabeth, naturally, was right in the thick of it. Working alongside Rowan day and night, Jamison watched in awe as her friend found her footing amidst the paperwork. She kept Rowan organized, and when he didn’t need her, she filled in as the personal assistant to the CEO of Fairweather Holdings.
The bookstore wouldn’t reopen until closer to Christmas, which was just around the corner, yet Annabeth was taking her new temporary job seriously. “Ben, you need to keep better records. Samuel is up all night helping Evie with feedings, and you’re over here messing up his project notes for next Tuesday's meeting!”
Jamison thought her father almost looked relieved when she stuck her head into the dining room and asked to borrow Annabeth for her dreaded chat with Simone. “Take as long as you need, girls.”
“What are we doing?” Annabeth asked.
“Talking to your mom about something,” Jamison explained as they went to corner Simone in the parlor. “Michael Sinclair had a request, and I promised him I would honor it if he released us.”
Annabeth stopped dead in her tracks. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”
“I get that, but I still feel like I need to do my part and leave it up to Simone.”
Surprising them both, Simone listened. She didn’t shut it down. She wanted details—much more than Jamison had shared before—about her time with Michael. They talked for hours, going back and forth between the information she’d learned and the details Rowan had pieced together through his search.
Halfway through the conversation, Rowan slipped into the room and took a quiet seat in the corner. When Jamison reached the part where Parker knocked her out, she realized her father had joined them, too. He sat silently in the second wingback, listening to it all.
“Keep going,” her father told her when she paused. “I want to hear it.”
Recalling as many details as possible, Jamison stared at the floor as she spoke, not wanting to be distracted by their expressions. “He said he would only lead us out if I made the request to Simone personally.”
“And now you’ve done just that.” Simone turned in her seat to face Rowan. “What would you do?”
Rowan appeared mildly surprised. “Me?”
“Yes. I know what Ben would do. So, I’m asking you, Rowan McIntyre. What would you do?”
Rowan thought for a moment, clearly weighing his words. “He loved CeCe, obviously. But to bury him here, at Haven House? That doesn’t feel right—”
“That wasn’t the question,” Simone said, lifting a hand, effectively cutting him off. “I asked what you would have done if you were in Michael Sinclair’s shoes. What if Annabeth had been hurt the way CeCe had been hurt? What if she had been forced into a situation where she thought it was better to kill herself than go on living without you? What would you have done then?”
The confused expression on Rowan’s face faded, his gaze darting between Simone and Ben. “You’ve made your point.”
“She didn’t make any point,” Annabeth scoffed. “And I think you’re all being ridiculous.”
Simone regarded her daughter for a moment and then told Jamison she would think on the matter. “I’ll let you know as soon as I decide.”
