Page 100 of The Bourbon Bet
For the first time since leaving the derby party, my mind is clearing. Though the traitorous part of me still clings to Sebastian’s laugh and wants to curl up with a blanket and pretend none of this happened.
“You know,” I say, sounding and feeling steadier, “maybe this is the push I needed to stop being anyone’s charity case. I’ll fight this with people who believe in what I’m doing, unlike my cruel fairy godfathers.”
Paige pumps her fist. “Exactly, fuck the Blackstone boys!”
I can’t help but grin, even if my stupid heart weeps at the loss of Sebastian. Paige’s eyes light up. “Let’s do crowdfunding and in-person stuff. We could organize an emergency ‘Save Our Bookstore’ community fundraiser! Get local authors, musicians, and loyal customers involved. Transform it into an all-night read-a-thon.”
“I’ll have my mom send me my rare books from my personal collection to auction off. And there’s no sense holding on to that signed first edition ofOutlanderSebastian gave me.”
The memory hits like a punch. His barely contained excitement when he gave it to me, how he watched my face and said he wanted to be part of every story I loved. God, I actually believed him.
“Wait. That man got you a signed Gabaldon book, and it was a fucking-first-edition-Outlander.”
Paige’s face is so conflicted, I laugh. “Are you okay?”
She’s silent for about twenty more seconds, then says, “Sorry. I had to remember all this shit he’s put you through so I can stay mad.” She shakes her head and mutters, “Signed, first edition.”
I grin. “And I’ve been holding on to my French first edition, ‘The Little Prince’, for a rainy day. Well, it’s pouring now.” The ideas are flowing fast, my business mind kicking into gear.
“Exactly!” She exclaims. “We could have a special book club or extra perks for top donors. And we’ll livestream parts of the event for people who can’t attend in person but still want to contribute.”
Standing to retrieve my cell, I focus on the gratitude that cuts through my heartache. Though I’ve lost Sebastian, my friends’ support is a glimmer of love shining through the darkness. And that’s what I’ll concentrate on: the steps I can take forward, refusing to dwell on what has shattered me.
“This will work,” I say with near confidence.
Paige nods. “Because this time, you’re not doing it alone.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sebastian
The red leather portfolio sits on my desk, right next to the lamp Rosalia and I broke. It is a silent reminder of my mistakes. It’s funny how something so ordinary can represent what I’ve carelessly shattered.
My grip slips as I lift my coffee, sending drops across the polished desk. The dark liquid pools against the portfolio’s edge. I stare at it, making no move to clean it up. It’s been three days since the derby party and every time I close myeyes, I see Rosalia. The pain I’ve caused her, the trust I’ve shattered, loops endlessly through my mind.
I reach for my phone as the compulsion to apologize hits me again. But as my thumb hovers over our message thread, I set my cell face down. There’s nothing left to say that she would want to hear.
A knock at the door rips me from my self-loathing. “Come in,” I say, my attention fixed on the broken lamp.
“My legal assistant said you needed me,” Daniel says from the doorway.
I nod, gesturing for him to sit. The movement sends a sharp pain through my tense shoulders. I’ve spent too much time hunched over work that I barely focus on. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I can help Rosalia.
“Donate to her fundraiser. From my personal account. But make it anonymous.” I don’t need to tell Daniel whosheis. He knows.
“How much?”
“Whatever she needs to meet her goal.”
“That would be zero dollars.”
My pen clatters to the desk. “What? Already? It’s been three days.”
He shrugs. “I checked this morning. More than the amount has been given.” Daniel shifts in his seat. “There’s something else you should know...”
I keep my face placid, but my pulse picks up. “What?”
“Thorne sent some papers to my office this morning. About Rosalia’s bookstore lease.”
