Page 82 of Pulse
Would Alexis be jealous of her much older husband’s love for a woman who’s so close in age they could be sisters? Would it matter that Dahlia was his daughter?
I don’t know. Some women,insecure women, can be petty over things like that. And Alexis isn’t working, so she has time on her hands.
What if …“I think you need to take a closer look.”
“What’s your working theory?”
I get to my feet and wander around the living room. The bookshelves lining the living room's far wall are filledwith books, mementos, and pictures. Multiple framed images of Lincoln and his family fill nearly every empty space on the shelves. I can almost hear their laughter through the photographs, and I wonder what this house is like when they’re all here.
Is something like that a possibility someday for a guy like me?
“Working theory,” I say, refocusing. “Dallo married Alexis around four months after Dahlia’s mom passed away.”
“And?”
“I wonder if our blushing bride knew her sugar daddy already had a baby with someone else? Hadn’t married anyone else until the love of his life passed away?”
“Okay…”
“I can’t ask Dahlia. She isn’t going to know that, and I don’t want to plant ideas in her head in case I’m wrong. If I’m completely off course, I won’t ruin their relationship over a hunch.”
“You know, it makes sense.”
I nod. “Think about it. You’re a beautiful thirty-year-old woman in the prime of your life. And you marry an old rich dude with no kids. I’m not saying she’s a gold digger. But she didn’t marry an old poor dude or an old rich dude with a great reputation.”
“Then you marry him …”
“And realize you’re splitting the inheritance. You’re riding that old cock for half.”
Ford sighs. “You might be right.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“You know, I’ve been considering scheduling a meeting with Dallo. He’s busy, so he might not even want to see me. But let’s bring him into the fold and see what shakes out. Let’s see where his loyalties lie.”
“I have one request.”
“What might that be?”
I smile. “If he’s behind this, you’ll give me two minutes with him alone before you call the police.”
“Go to bed. Get some sleep.”
“Think of all the things I’ve done for your family. Remember Barrett’s election and the fight at the farm? Or when Lincoln almost got rocked by Nate Hughes? Or when Graham tried to intimidate Walker Gibsonin a bar?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“Two minutes, Landry, or we’re done,” I say, only half joking.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
I end the call, shut my computer, and put my mug in the dishwasher. Then I go back to bed.
Dahlia is sleeping peacefully, her sweet lips pressed together in a pout. I want to kiss them, but if I do, she’ll wake up, and we’ll fuck and …
I climb in beside her and touch my lips to hers.
