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“I’ll wait here.” Declan points at his shiny black shoes.
He switched out the board shorts for the suit he was wearing yesterday. I’m weekend casual in jeans and a black sweater. I may be following his lead to the office today, but there’s no one there to impress.
“Be right back,” I toss out before I approach the double glass doors of the building that Calliope once called home.
I spot Leon immediately. He’s behind a reception desk tucked away near the elevators. There’s a cap on his head and his uniform looks freshly pressed.
“Leon!” I call out to him.
He turns to glance in my direction. His gaze wanders my face as I approach him as if he’s trying to place me.
“Sean Wells,” I help him out with a gentle reminder. “We met one night when Calliope Morrow stopped by.”
His face brightens with a wide-mouthed smile. “Of course. Mr. Wells. It’s good to see you, sir. If you’re looking for Miss Morrow, she’s not here. She only stops by on occasion.”
“I’m here to see you.” I hold out the rectangular box with the pen. “Calliope said you have a pen collection. I thought you might want to add this one to it.”
“Sir?” He glances at the box and then at my face. “What do you have there?”
I snap open the lid, and the guy’s eyes widen in their sockets. His jaw drops too. This gift from good old Uncle Bruce is about to make someone happy.
“I’ve seen pictures of this, but I’ve never…” He runs a gloved fingertip over the pen. “How much?”
The question catches me off guard. “It’s free, Leon. I brought it for you.”
“You did?” His eyes search my face. “Why?”
“Why?” I echo. “Why not?”
That draws a hearty round of laughter from the gray-haired man. “You sound like Miss Morrow. She brings me pens just because she knows I collect them.”
I shove the pen at him. “Add this one to that collection.”
He reaches for the box. “You’re sure, sir?”
“Positive.” I glance beyond his shoulder to the bank of elevators.
“Can I do anything for you?” he asks quietly. “I feel I should repay you for your kindness.”
I could use his gratitude to fuel my curiosity by asking the name of the fool Calliope used to live with, but that feels like a betrayal.
I step back and shake my head. “No need, Leon. Enjoy the pen.”
“Thank you again, Mr. Wells. I’m glad Miss Morrow has a friend like you. She deserves only the best.”
“You’re right about that.” I pat him on the shoulder. “Calliope deserves the world.”
I turn to leave and make it a few steps before one of the double doors open, and a blond-haired man dressed in a white polo and matching shorts walks in.
He stops mid-step when he catches sight of me.
I stare at him. He’s changed slightly since I last saw him, but it’s unmistakably the bastard I took to the ground in high school. I still remember what it felt like when my fist connected with his nose.
With a smug look on his face, he approaches me.
“I thought I saw your brother standing outside,” he drawls. “Tell me you’re not moving in here, Wells.”
Tell me you’re not the asshole that Calliope was engaged to.
