Page 59 of Perfect Assumption
“That’s what she said about our parents’ home. She felt strongly about wanting to live there.”
“And you didn’t?”
“The people who made it a home for me weren’t there,” I declare.
“And the memories were making it worse for you than if you left,” Angie guesses intuitively.
I gape at the beautiful woman across from me. We’re eating in the boardroom so we don’t get any of the pho on either of our desks. “That’s exactly it. Everywhere I turned, I felt smothered. How did you know?”
“My grandmother knew she was passing, Ward. She encouraged me to sell the house if the memories overwhelmed me.” Her smile is crooked. “Even at her age, I wonder if she would have done that very thing if I wasn’t living with her when my grandfather passed.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“And I for yours.” Angie dips her spoon into her broth. “How long has it been?”
“Thirteen years.” I pause for a moment since she had just lifted the spoon to her lips. After I’m certain she swallowed, I finish my explanation which hopefully will explain my behavior that I never had a chance to apologize for with Becks’s nonsense. “On my birthday.”
Angie’s spoon clatters into her bowl. “Excuse me?”
“Yes. I’m sorry…” I begin.
“Don’t you apologize to me!” Sparks fire from her blue eyes. “What was Carys thinking?”
“Well, when I came back and found her crying—”
“Ouch.” Angie winces.
“Yeah. That sums up my feelings pretty well. But she believes wholeheartedly my parents wouldn’t want me mourning them forever.” What I feel is something I keep to myself.
“Now, I understand your behavior so much more that day. It was very much out of character for you. Cool, distant, yes. Angry?” She shakes her head back and forth.
Her analysis warms something inside me I didn’t realize was frozen over. “What did you do with that money?” I ask, suddenly certain she didn’t keep it. Because the woman who lives in her grandmother’s home, who comes to work in dated but still-elegant clothing, who offered to pay for her share of lunch isn’t the kind of woman to take close to five hundred dollars because a cake flopped on her clothes. I’d bet my condo on it.
Angie stands and walks over to the credenza. Opening a drawer, she pulls out the wad of cash I flung at the table. “You mean this money?” She gets closer and holds it out to me.
“What happened with your clothes? The ones that got ruined that day,” I clarify.
“They weren’t ruined. Not according to my dry cleaner.”
“Then at least let me pay for the dry cleaning bill.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s only right, Angie. I did cause the incident that soiled them.” I choose my words carefully because it wasn’t an accident, but I wasn’t trying to be malicious. She was collateral damage—something I’ll never allow again.
“You. Will. Not. You just paid for lunch.” She stomps her foot as she emphasizes her point.
I have to mash my lips together to prevent the grin from spreading across my face.
“Geez, Ward. If I wanted a man to buy me clothes, I’d have taken Becks up on his offer years ago. And he’s one of my closest friends.”
Just her mention of the other man brings a slight scowl to my face. “How did that come about anyway?”
“What?”
“You and Becks.”
She opens and closes her mouth before she blows out a gust of air. Returning to her seat, she picks up her drink. “Becks recognized the real me” is her evasive answer.
