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“I didn’t exactly tell her, but she figured it out. And she wants to see you. Please, Ren. For me.”
Again, she could hear him breathing, but he didn’t answer.
“Think about it?”
“I need to call my lawyer.”
Her heart fell, but she understood. “Okay. Will I hear from you later?”
His tone softened. “Of course.”
“Good. What are you up to?”
“Elbows deep in payables. I really need to...Trina, can you help?”
“Can my parents help you?”
“Ouch,” he laughed. “No, I’m being serious. You were a wiz in our accounting class, and I was dismal at my best. I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“That was ten years ago. No, eleven. That was our junior year.”
“Did you go to the reunion?”
“Hmm? No, it hasn’t happened yet. And considering Emily is the one organizing it, I’m not sure I’ll make the invitation list. And you’re totally changing the subject.”
“Guilty as charged. I need to call my lawyer, though. And Trina?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for telling me.”
She smiled even though he couldn’t see. “You’re welcome.”
Her smile fell when the call ended and an uneasy feeling set up residence in the pit of her stomach.
Emmett Torrence was gone.
Lorenzo was going to have to fight Emily.
***
“Ican’t fucking standher.” Lorenzo was pacing in their spot in the woods, cigarette in hand, and he inhaled on it deeply. “I really can’t fucking stand her.”
“What did Emily do now?”
Lorenzo paused his pacing and turned to Katrina, who was lighting a cigarette of her own.
“Everything.” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “She doesn’t want me in their fucking Christmas photo this year, and I get it. I’m not part of the family, but...”
“But what?”
His jaw set in a firm line. “Mrs. Torrence insists.”
“So it’s World War Three?” Katrina teased.
“You know, I get it. I’m a nobody who they get paid to look after. I don’t have a family, I don’t...fuck, Trina, I don’t even want to be there.”
“Is it really that bad?”
