Page 66 of Priceless
After laying out what had happened since I’d messaged last, I asked…
How can I simultaneously go home at the end of the trip and not cause Jacob a lot of heartache?
Let me list yer options.
#1. Make him dislike ye.
#2. Sneak away without telling him
#3. Pretend to fall for someone else.
#4. Pick yer nose and eat the result.
The last was only a jest, of course. Hearts, obviously, are not my forte.
Thanks a lot. That was no help at all.
My apologies. Perhaps what ye ask cannot be done.
But I have to go back.
He took his time answering.
Is it plausible to take him with ye?
I would do it in a heartbeat, but it’s just as impossible as me staying in Scotland. He has a staff and hundreds of friends who adore him,not to mention his generations-old bar. An entire city that loves him, including some sexy widow who will be more than happy to help him erase all memory of me.
Pity. Ye say it is impossible to stay?
It is. I don’t have much of a life back home, but it is my life. And if I replace it with a new one, if I just walk away from everything, it will be saying that my life, up until now, was meaningless. That the life I built with Paul and Peaches was just a way of killing time, waiting for something better.
Peaches is still here, building her own happy life. But Paul? It would be like erasing him.
I’m still holding his keys and wallet. It’s still my job.
And if Paul were here, what would he want for ye?
A clean house. A good car. And money in the bank. He didn’t have a will, didn’t like speculating about the future, but he made sure I always had that.
I also have to go back to handle the business.
I remember. A laundering business. Ye manage it?
No. But without a will, it came to me. Now his cousin wants to buy me out. He had a little piece, has been running it since Paul retired.Now he wants to own it outright. And all that will take a minute.
Let me know if ye’d like a list of single males in Denver, Colorado with fine Scottish surnames.
No. There will never be anyone else.
Then perhaps ye will want a dog. It worked for John Wick. Ye could name it Jacob.
Very funny. Even the dog didn’t work out well for John Wick.
I chose a poor example.
Would you like a list of ways to mitigate yer own heartbreak once ye’re home?
Give it up, Jocko. No one can save me.
