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“What conclusion is there to jump to when your—.” I paused and lowered my voice slightly. “When your dick was inside another woman?”
The woman in question appeared at the top of the stars, her silver dress slightly skewed on her body and her sandals clutched in one hand as she hurried down.
“I’m so sorry,” she muttered to me as she passed, earning a flash of sympathy in my chest.
“Get out, Shane.”
“Scarlett, I’m not going?—.”
“Is everything okay here?” Matt asked, and a phone glinted in his hand. “Do I need to call for assistance?”
“No, no it’s okay,” I assured him quickly. “He’s leaving.”
Shane’s jaw straightened and his eyes narrowed, but he finally seemed to get the hint and stepped outside.
“Scarlett, this isn’t?—.”
His last excuse was met with the door slamming in his face, and silence fell in the hallway. My heart was pounding so fiercely in my chest that I almost felt dizzy, and it took a few long seconds before I gathered my thoughts and smiled up at Matt.
“Sorry about the light. The bulb blew.” I indicated upward, then tilted my head and walked toward the kitchen. “Follow me.”
“It’s quite alright.”
I quickly turned on a few lights, flooding the cozy kitchen with warm lighting. With wooden countertops and a stone sink, the kitchen was every bit as homely as the rest of the small cottage I called home. I had spent my life here, running around as a child right up to taking over after my mother passed. This was home, and many memories had been created in this kitchen.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Wine?” I asked.
“No, thank you. I don’t drink when I’m working.”
“It’s after 8; you’re still on the clock?” I cast my eye over him as he settled onto one of the thatched stools near the breakfast bar.
“On business like this, there are no clocking-out hours,” Matt explained with a smile. “I work when I am needed.”
“That sounds exhausting,” I chuckled. “You don’t mind if I do, do you?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks.” Not that I needed permission, but with everything that had just happened, I almost wanted to be drunk again. Matt’s arrival and the confusion he brought with him was cutting through the numbness and I didn’t want to feel the true heartbreak. Not when I still had a bed to change if I had any hope of getting some sleep tonight.
Sighing, I poured myself some red wine from the box situated near the sink, then turned to face Matt.
“So, what’s all this about? I’m a little confused because I don’t have a dad. I’ve never had a dad.”
Snapping open his briefcase, Matt started to pull out a few sheets of paper. “Francis Ashbluff was the head of the Ashbluff Estate and Ashbluff Wines. Have you ever heard of them?”
“I drink wine from a box,” I scoffed, halfway through my glass already. “If it comes in a bottle, I’ve never heard of it.”
“They are quite an exclusive brand,” Matt chuckled softly, closing his briefcase. He slid one sheet of paper toward me. Scrawled across the top was the Ashbluff logo, and beneath was the obituary for Francis. I pulled the paper closer and studied the phonograph of the elderly man smiling up at me. His eyes were bright, even for a picture, and the cut of his suit screamed the riches I had only ever seen on television.
“He passed away last week from a heart attack. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“My loss?” Draining my glass, I pushed the paper back toward Matt. “You’re still not making any sense.”
“The reading of Francis’ Will was held yesterday and within the Will, a letter was included from Francis himself. It was unclear exactly when it was written, but I know it was added about six months ago. In the letter, Francis explained in great detail that he had an affair twenty-five years ago with a woman called Amy Parker who lived at this address.”
My grip on my wine glass loosened as I listened, and my mouth ran as dry as the desert. Licking my lips, I glanced back down at the obituary.
“That was my mother’s name.”
