Page 60 of Ms. Fortune

Bianca leaves the divider down and gives me a quick glare after getting behind the wheel. She still hasn’t said a single word to me, making this even more awkward than it needs to be. There’s no reason we can’t be cordial with each other.

I try to break the ice. “How are you, Bianca? You’re looking well.”

Another frown in the rearview mirror, deeper this time, and continued silence.

I give up. If I get the cold shoulder from everyone, so be it. We’ll keep it strictly business then. I lean back in my seat and stare out the window, resigned to a quiet car ride. Maybe I should consider using another car service if only to avoid moments like this.

“You broke her heart, you know,” Bianca calls back to me, her words threaded with protective anger.

I glance up at her, surprised. I wasn’t expecting a relationship therapy session on the way home. I’m also taken back by the accusation. My heart is equally broken, if not more. Meeting her eyes in the mirror, I only nod in acknowledgment. Not agreeing or arguing with her statement. I steel myself for the rest. A remark like that never shows up alone in a conversation.

“If I might be so bold…You can’t promise someone complete safety when you can’t provide it.” She shifts her eyes to the road in front of her but continues. “You don’t guarantee solutions when you don’t even know the whole problem. And when you care about someone, you certainly don’t travel across the entire damn country and leave them to fend for themselves in a life-or-death situation.” She catches me in the mirror again when we stop at a red light. “These are all my personal opinions, Mr. Carmichael, and not necessarily those of my employer. But I’d wager that they would agree with me.”

Each sentence rings so loudly with truth my head starts to hurt. I think the pain is mainly from the guilt echoing in my bones. I did all the things she just accused me of. I said whatever I thought necessary to make Normandy happy. I promised her security I couldn’t give. I failed to protect her when she needed me the most. And I left. I fucking left. That part alone is unforgivable.

All I can do is stare back at Bianca and nod my agreement. She’s right about everything, and I will not argue with her. There would be no point since I feel the same way. She can’t beat me up any more than I have about any of it, but hearing it all said by someone else just confirms that every bit of my self-loathing is justified.

The car behind us honks once the light turns green, and she shifts her glare to the side mirror. A few seconds later, the divider between us slowly rises. I guess our therapy session is over.

Chapter 40

IT’S ONLY LOVE

NORMANDY

When I got the call from Sophie asking if Mischief Motors would co-sponsor her charity food drive, I agreed immediately. The business is financially in a place where we can do things like this. Especially now that protection money isn’t being siphoned out of the coffers. When Sophie and I discussed her youth homeless shelter at the benefit gala, I was impressed by her work for the community and the difference she’s making in so many lives. Plus, Sophie is just the sweetest woman. I don’t think anybody can tell her ‘No.’

I arrive early, the growing heat of the Vegas spring is already rising, and Sophie puts me to work at once, organizing and labeling the shelving units where the donated food will be stored. It’s a reasonably large area to fill, but Sophie is confident there will be a big turnout. A few of the teenagers from the shelter have been recruited to help me as well, so we chat for a while and divvy up the responsibilities.

About fifteen minutes into the scheduled start time, we’re already super busy going through bags and boxes of food and sorting it properly. One of my recruits brought a little wireless speaker with a playlist we’re all dancing and singing to as we work. It’s nice to be able to laugh again. It’s been too long.

After sorting the first round, we return to the drop-off area to gather more donations. I’m crouched down behind a table when I hear a voice that could charm the skin off a snake. His voice. I peek over the table, and sure enough, there is Brandon, smiling and greeting the donors as they drop off boxes or bags full of food. I drop down a little bit to avoid being noticed and watch him for a few minutes as he interacts with everyone. The dimples are out in full force, and his hair looks like it could use a trim, but the slightly overgrown style suits him somehow. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and jeans that emphasize all the right places. He’s as impressive as I remembered. And not just his looks. He’s genuinely grateful to everyone he deals with; that type of honesty and humility warms my heart. But he looks different. He seems colorless. I don’t know how else to describe it. Everything about him isn’t as shiny and bright as it once was. I might be imagining it or projecting my own despondency onto him, but I see it. He’s still gorgeous in my eyes, though.

“Is everything alright, Normandy?” Sophie asks loudly beside the table, catching me spying on Brandon. Shit. Busted.

I do my best to look busy doing something important, not like I was just staring at Brandon for too long. I’m definitely not fooling Sophie.

“Normandy? What are you doing here?” My shoulders tighten as I hear his question. Damn it. After seeing him, I was hoping I could go unnoticed and not have to interact with him. No such luck.

“I was helping Sophie with her homeless problem. I mean, project. She asked if we wanted to co-host the event. I mean, co-sponsor, not co-host, because that would be stupid. So, I said sure, that sounds grapes…great, and here I am. I’m working in the back with a few kids sorting and organizing the food. They’re really great kids. We’ve been singing….” I let my diatribe fade out as I run out of breath. Holy shit, woman. Shut up. As I spoke, the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger, and I can’t tell if he’s laughing at me or not.

“I’ll let you two catch up…” Sophie says, and it’s clear to both of us then that she set this whole thing up for the two of us to be face to face with each other. We watch her walk away in stunned silence as she hums a song to herself. What an evil trick. Saint Sophie, my ass.

“I should get back….” I turn and start walking to the storage area, away from Brandon, as quickly as possible.

“Normandy, wait.” He catches up to me, touching my shoulder, and even that slight contact sends a shiver through me.

I force myself to stop and turn to him, but I have difficulty meeting his eyes. I didn’t know how I would react if we ever saw each other in person again because I didn’t think we would. We don’t exactly run in the same circles. I am unprepared for this, and I can still feel the blush on my cheeks that spread over me after my super long run-on sentence. One more round of me speaking should make my mortification complete.

I tell myself to use small words and short phrases from now on. “What?” I stare at his chin. It’s a safe space to look at. He has a great chin. Squared a little. Strong. A little rough when he needs a shave. Stop it.

He hugs himself a little and rocks back and forth on his heels, just as awkward as me. “How are you? How is your arm?” Genuine concern edges his voice as he points to my bicep, where the bullet wound is still healing. The bruises peek out a little under my short sleeve. I instinctively cover it with my hand.

I don’t like talking about what happened. I still have nightmares every night reliving it, and that’s only if I fall asleep in the first place. My anxiety keeps me up with irrational fears of being taken from my bed in the middle of the night. I’m sure I look like death warmed over with the shadows that are now constantly under my eyes that no amount of concealer can hide.

Still staring at his chin, I say, “I’m fine.” Short. To the point.

“Good…I’m glad to hear it.” He leans forward slightly as he shoves his fists into his jeans pockets, catching my eye. “I’m doing fine, too. Thanks for asking.”

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