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I didn’t understand the push. In my mind, she should be happy. Three out of four was a good record, especially for such a short time. She should be enjoying the outcome. Even if she wasn’t happy about it, she should find a way to accept it and stop prodding me about it. I wasn’t ready for the whole family thing. There was plenty of time ahead of me. If, and it was a big if, I ever decided to jump into domesticity, I would do it when it was right for me.
But I couldn’t really avoid everybody until then. Puffing out a breath, I picked my phone up and read Lindsey’s messages again. I sighed and answered.
I’ll be there after work. But I’m not going to be able to stay for long.
Yay! The answer came seconds later. That’s fine. You don’t have to. We’ll just be happy to see you.
Ugh. There it was. “We.” There was no longer a distinction between Lindsey and Vince, apparently.
It was both convenient and inconvenient for them that I played dual roles in their lives. As Lindsey’s best friend and Vince’s brother, I was a built-in third wheel. Remy made that easier, rounding everything out and turning visits into family gatherings rather than just a couple and an extra. But when he was spending time with his father rather than with Lindsey, I was on the third wheel. They could both have one of their closest people with them by extending just one invitation.
But her best friend and his brother being only one person did have a certain drawback to them. They couldn’t hook me up with myself. She couldn’t tell her best friend that her boyfriend had a single brother, and he couldn’t tell his lingering single brother his girlfriend’s best friend was single. I came all in one package.
Setting my phone aside, I noticed a headache beginning behind my eyes. I reached for my coffee mug, but it was empty, so I got up for a refill before diving back into my work for the afternoon. It included a couple of meetings and a nearly endless stream of emails, calls, and paperwork.
Nothing but glamor was coming from over here.
I was headed for the promise of fresh coffee when my office door opened. I paused and watched a woman step in. She was beautiful but looked sad and worried.
“I’m sorry to just come in,” she said.
Shaking my head, I set my mug down and crossed the room to shake her hand. “It’s alright. Nick Freeman. What can I do for you?”
Her expression twisted, her eyes darted to the side, and she let out a short exhale as she seemed to wrestle with some sort of internal debate. She wriggled her shoulders and stood up a bit straighter before meeting my eyes again with a determined look.
“I need you to help me find a way to undo what my ex did and get my money back,” she said.
It was firm, straightforward, and unflinching. But it told me just about nothing. I had so many questions and thoughts of what I was going to do after getting the nagging need for coffee out of my mind.
“Come on in,” I said. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
She nodded and closed the door behind her before stepping further into the office. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
I went back to the coffee bar and pulled open the cabinet lined with bags of coffee. “Do you have a favorite flavor?”
She looked at it and lifted her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s some serious commitment.”
There were few things in my life that word could apply to, but apparently coffee was one of them.
“Everybody is entitled to a vice.”
“What are you having?” she asked.
“A limited-edition grind from my favorite roaster. S’mores flavored.”
She shrugged, the sad expression on her face not changing. “What the heck. I was a Girl Scout. Lay it on me.”
I scooped the fragrant grounds into the machine and dispensed two cups. Augmenting hers with her requested cream and sugar, I carried the mugs over to the desk, handed her one, and invited her to sit down.
“So, tell me your story.”3BrynThe cup of hot coffee held between my hands was comforting, but I still shook with anger, frustration, and sadness. Coming here wasn’t something I’d planned all the way out. It was a sudden decision made after Trish recommended it to me. I hadn’t gone into all the details of the situation with her but told her enough for her to give me Nick Freeman’s name and tell me to go see him.
I probably should have called and made an appointment. That was what people did when they needed to speak to professionals about sticky, potentially catastrophic financial issues. And yet, there I was, sitting across the desk from him after just letting myself into his office. Not a great look. But there was no receptionist or secretary acting as gatekeeper, and my brain was too full of churning emotions and tangled thoughts to think through my behavior all the way.
