Page 39 of Perfect Assumption
“I think that’s one of the many things Carrie was advising Angie to do on their way out the door.”
Sliding my feet off my desk, I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Knowing I owe him some kind of explanation for my behavior today, I start by asking a question. “Is there anything you truly regret? Something that if you could do it again would change the course of your life?”
He moves across the room to stand next to me. “Of course. I would assume everyone does, but since I ended up with your sister, it worked out the way it was supposed to in the end.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Frustrated, I lift the glass to my lips, only to have him place his hand on my wrist.
“Then tell me what you mean. And despite the fact you helped botch my wedding proposal to my wife, you know you’re one of my best friends.”
A small smirk crosses my face as the story of David and Carys’s perfect proposal gone awry comes to the forefront of my mind. Then the light fades as the weight of the world lands on my shoulders once again. “I was late because I had a meeting with our financial advisor today.”
David cringes. I wipe a hand over my face. “Yeah, that’s how I feel every time I meet with her. I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing about me and Carrie inheriting all of that money if once—just once—my father could tell me he was proud of me.”
“And then you came back to find not only were you being asked to do something—”
“—where I still feel like the details are a smoke screen for something more. I’m not an idiot, David. I get I’m being left out of the loop,” I conclude.
David nods. “And you know better than anyone that sometimes it has to happen like that. We sign agreements that ultimately dictate the client has the final say. But the real question you have to ask yourself is, do you trust Carys to do what’s right—what’s legally and morally right—to protect both the clients and employees of this firm?”
My “Yes” comes out so fast, I begin to wonder why I’ve spent hours picking apart my sister’s request. After all, more clients than Becks spend time at Redemption. My muscles begin to relax. “Then why am I still so worked up about this whole thing?”
“Could it be due to the fact you’re jealous of the connection between Angie and Becks?” David inquires mildly.
A surge of emotion insidiously begins crawling through me. I choke out a laugh. “Why should I care if our legal assistant has a thing for Beckett Miller after he’s been with half the women in the northern hemisphere?”
David’s amused eyes meet mine. “First, because despite the fact I’d love nothing better than to believe the trash written about him, you know better than that about Becks. Otherwise, your sister would never have maintained the relationship she has with him over the years.”
“Fair point,” I give in grudgingly. “And second?”
“Because I’ve seen the way you look at Angie when you think no one else is watching. So has Carrie.”
“She’s an attractive woman” is all I reply with.
“And we’re not idiots. But if that’s all you think about her, good for you for having the common decency not to go there. She faces too much day in and day out for someone like you to…never mind. I’ve said too much already.” David rips the drink from my hands and downs it in a few easy swallows. “Since you made your preference about how your partner for this evening should look to all of us in the conference room, I’m out of here to go get my son. You can pick Angie up at nine at our place.” He turns and heads for the door.
“Why not at hers?” I frown.
David barks out a laugh as he grips the door handle. “Because Angie doesn’t live in the city, asshole. It almost took an act of God, but Carys got her to agree to stay with us tonight so you’re not inconvenienced any more than you have to be. Despite the fact she has a fucking cat to feed.” And on those parting words, my brother-in-law flings open the door.
Leaving me with a lot more to think about than my own damn miserable day.
Fifteen
Angela
Based on last week’s online survey, women don’t get dressed up because we enjoy it. We do it because of men. Let me tell you, that’s a bunch of bullshit. Dress to make yourself feel good. Dress to feel empowered. Do NOT do it because some reprobate wants you to change.
— Beautiful Today
“That’s not too much?” I ask Irina, private sales associate from Saks, who Carys called ahead to pull dresses for me. What I’m really wondering is if it’s too little. The hem of the skirt barely covers parts of me I’ve been reluctant to allow doctors to examine in the last ten years.
“Darling, if I had your legs, I’d do everything possible to show them off. I mean, look at what it does for your derrière.” Without warning, she spins me on the pencil-thin heels she insisted I slip on and spins me so I can catch a glimpse of my rear in the three-way mirror. “I’d climb the Empire State Building three times a day for a tush like that. What kind of workout do you do?”
“Um, I climb the steps from the metro station to get to my car?”
“It’s a gift from God, and you’re hiding it in…that?” Her hand flutters to where she hung my serviceable work suit.
“At least I can sit in it.”
