Page 120 of My Beautiful Sin

He flinches, as if my words are a blow. “So how do we move forward now?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I honestly don’t know if we can.”

Chapter Forty

“You’re surviving?” I ask Brandy when she calls the next day.

“It’s nice seeing Mom. She said to tell you hi. But Daddy…” Brandy trails off, and I can practically hear the shrug in her voice. “He’s my dad.”

“Sorry. I know it’s never easy being around him.”

“Yeah, well.” Brandy had been Mr. Bradshaw’s little angel growing up, but after she was raped—after she got pregnant—it was as if something had broken in him. Her mom, Sally, told Brandy that it wasn’t her. It was her dad’s self-loathing and regret that he hadn’t been able to protect his little girl.

Maybe that was true and maybe it wasn’t. All I know is that he pushed Brandy away, and as far as I can tell, he’s never been much interested in fixing that.

“How did it go with the various meetings?” I ask.

“So great,” she says, then proceeds to give me a blow by blow of the meetings she took and the orders she collected.

“I’m so happy for you,” I tell her. “And for the record, I want to point out that I only asked about work. I figure you’ll tell me the personal stuff in your own sweet time.”

“I never realized you had such a dirty mind.”

I laugh. “So you’re saying that dirty things happened?”

“Not dirty. Wonderful.” Her voice is singsong and I can imagine her smile.

I’m smiling, too. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m going to bring him down here soon. At the very least, I want him to meet Mom. Maybe at lunch or something. But until then…”

“Until then there’ll be a lot more Christopher at the house?”

“I think that’s a fair bet.”

“I’ll be sure and only wear my PJs that don’t have holes,” I promise, making her laugh. “When is the article about Christopher coming out?”

“I’m hoping in a couple of weeks. I talked to Tamra yesterday, and she said she’d been dealing with some crises at work, but was going to set aside some time today. So fingers crossed. How’s the romance of the century going?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Fine,” I say, not managing to keep the unnatural pitch out of my voice.

“Uh-huh. So what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” I lie. “Just a stupid disagreement. It’ll all be worked out by the time you get back.” I immediately regret the lie. Devlin surely told Anna what happened. And Anna’s become good friends with Christopher. If she tells him there’s trouble in paradise and he tells Brandy…

I shake my head, forcing myself to stay silent. If Christopher spills my secrets, then I’ll fess up. But Brandy’s hours away and dealing with the fallout of being in close proximity with her dad. She doesn’t need my shit on her mind, too.

“I got some more information about Peter,” I tell her in a not so subtle change of subject. I fill her in on Cyrus Mulroy. “I’ve called twice, but he hasn’t called me back.”

“Porn,” Brandy says. “Wow. I wouldn’t have thought it of Peter, but we were just kids then, so maybe it’s true. For that matter, maybe it wasn’t just one blonde he was dating. Maybe it was several. Maybe he filmed them and then sold the tapes to this Cyrus guy.”

I open my mouth to tease Brandy about this new cynical side of her, but then I realize she could be right. I don’t like thinking it, but that’s the thing about secrets. Most of them you don’t see coming. And they’re almost always unpleasant.

We wrap up the call, with Brandy promising to split a bottle of wine with me and give me all the details as soon as she gets back. Then, since he’s on my mind, I try Cyrus Mulroy again. This time, however, I can’t even leave a message since his voice mailbox is full.

I spend the rest of the day either avoiding writing or staring at the image on my laptop. Though Devlin had paused the process, I’d started it up again after he left out of spite or futility or just because I’m a glutton for punishment.

Now, the render is complete, and I’m staring at a slightly fuzzy but perfectly recognizable image of Devlin on the side of the building. Ronan’s image is less clear, but I can still tell it’s him. And I stand for a moment looking at the two of them, thinking that Corbin is a damn good programmer despite being an ass, and wishing I knew how I was supposed to feel about this.