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“She’s not interested,” I say.
“I seriously thought she was with you. Her voice usually came from the same place as yours. I even thought I heard you kiss a couple times. Maybe I was dreaming.”
“You thought we were perfect because we stood close together?” I stare at the floor, remembering one or two occasions when I stole a quick peck, usually when she was trying to coax Jordan away for the night and being so sweet about it.
“She just always seemed to know...when you needed space and when you needed her,” Marissa says with a weary smile.
Damn it all. We should be talking about Jordan.
Still, I wonder.
If Sabrina was perfect for me, was I ever perfect for her?
“Forgive me, I think we’d better move on bringing Jordan home. I’ll call the attorney about your custody agreement.” I stand, heading for the door.
“Magnus?” she calls after me.
“Yes?”
“Am I seeing things or are there a couple of strawberries on your collar? I need to know for the doctors.”
I look down, holding in a growl.
Sure enough, there’s a shameful strawberry hiding under my collar and another tucked under my lapel. I pick them out and trash them. “It’s strawberries. Good eye.”
She laughs and then winces. “Oww! I’ve got to stop doing that. I just asked because they told me I need to let them know if I see anything funny.”
I have no idea what to say to that.
“Um, why are you walking around with strawberries on a three-piece suit?” she asks.
“My former assistant’s roommate pied me,” I grumble, immune to her knowing the truth at this point.
“Pied you? Oh my God. What did you do?”
“I left. What could I do?”
“No, I mean, what did you do to deserve a pie attack?”
“I—I upset her.”
“The roommate or the assistant?”
“Both. It’s a long story.”
Technically, not that long. Either we were really together and I was foolish enough to throw it all away or I had a fling with my employee.
No, it wasn’t a fling, and I know it.
I’d die for that woman.
And I’d rather die a thousand deaths than ever be the reason Baxter Heron and other filthy old men talk shit about her.
“You took care of Jordan while I was here...now I want to help you,” Marissa whispers. “She loves you. It’s that obvious even to a woman in a coma. Don’t give up on her, you hear me?”
I nod, stunned that I’m taking advice from this lady who’s barely conscious. I’m even more amazed she’s able to deliver it so poignantly.
“If you have to take two or three more pies to the face, do it. Fight for her. I think she’s worth it. I realize I don’t know her and don’t know you that well. But she came to the hospital with you every day and did everything she could to take care of your little brother. That doesn’t sound like an assistant. That sounds like someone who loves you. And whatever you did—people forgive almost anything for the ones they love.”
“She blocked my number,” I tell her for some unholy reason.
Why? Her issues vastly outweigh mine.
“Because. If she’s really important to you, you’ll find a way, Magnus.”
I leave then, telling her I’ll talk to her later. When I get to the parking lot, Armstrong is there in my town car waiting.
Marissa’s words echo in my head.
You’ll find a way.
“Armstrong, honest question...do you think Brina and I were good together?”
“Your personal life’s none of my concern, boss.”
“Sure, but did you?” I sigh. “Give me the truth. I won’t chew your head off, I swear.”
“Sir, I thought you were lucky she gave you the time of day.” His voice softens. “But I’m sorry she didn’t accept the latte.”
“Her roommate never told her I was there.” I huff out a breath. “How do I apologize if she won’t see me?”
“Mr. Heron, I’ve been married for over twenty years. If my wife got mad enough to leave me, I’d put up more of a fight, pies to the face be damned.”
He’s right.
I didn’t do enough to stop Jordan from leaving with Baxter that night. I stood there, numb and conflicted, while my whole world caved in.
I watched Jordan be led away by a pied piper’s lies.
I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by watching Brina walk away, too.
Not when there’s still something I can do about it.27Skywriter (Sabrina)Mom: Come over for lunch.
Sabrina: I’m working, Mom.
Mom: You’re unemployed. Just come! You can work here.
Sabrina: Paige helped me get a freelance gig. I’ll bring it over if you’re so lonely. (Eyeroll emoji).
Mom: Don’t roll virtual eyes at your mother, baby. Not nice.
Sabrina: It’s not virtual, Mom. They’re emoji eyes.
Her point is clear though. I’m supposed to come over for lunch and not complain about it.
Before I even pull into the driveway, I know something’s up. A giant card planted in front of the house spells out CONGRATULATIONS, EMILY BRISTOL!
