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Now.
I don’t care if he’s busy with the president. He’s going to see me whether he likes it or not. I push through the glass doors determined to speak with him.
The receptionist calls out to me, “Mr. Gil, you can’t go in without permission.”
“What are you doing?” Derek, the voice of reason, walks behind me until he grabs my arm. “Stop, Finn. There has to be another way.”
“I have to speak to him, now.” But then, I realize I have an ulterior motive. This is my ticket to finally reach out to Piper.
She might think this is over and that she can write me off, but she can’t. We’re still linked together by that invisible thread made out of everything good she gifted me from the moment we met. I might not remember her, but I remember her love. Isn’t that enough?
Byron Langdon, who is supposed to be my cousin, suddenly appears in front of me with arms crossed and glaring eyes. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
I frown. “Are you Piper’s lawyer?”
“Nope. That’d be my husband, and he’s busy at the moment.” His warning gaze is almost scary. “You try to get to him and I’ll kill you.”
I lift my arms, as if surrendering. Slowly, I say, “I need a word with him.”
“He’s busy.” Lang shakes his head. “Make an appointment.”
I point to the highly radioactive envelope Derek’s holding. “She returned everything Archer gave her—but she won’t talk to me.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Who? Pipe?”
I nod.
“You poor bastard.” He sighs, tilting his head toward a hallway. “Why don’t we go to the conference room? I might be able to help you.”
“Are you a lawyer?” I ask as Derek and I follow him.
“Yes, and also Piper’s friend,” he mumbles. “She doesn’t need the aggravation.”
We make our way to the spacious conference room. As soon as we’re seated, he asks, “Did you read the letter she sent you?”
I fidget with the hem of my jacket and avoid his gaze. “There’s a letter?” I ask instead of mentioning how I only skimmed through the first few paragraphs before I freaked the fuck out.
He groans and locks eyes with me. “You’re definitely not Archer. He wasn’t explosive and…” Lang shifts his gaze to Derek. “I just connected the dots. You’re the dude hitting on Piper—and the physical therapist. Aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t hitting on her,” Derek blurts out. “We were business partners and I was—am—in love with her.”
Lang nods silently as if accepting his story. He then gestures to the envelope before saying softly, “Empty it and search for the letter.”
I open the big manila envelope and find a piece of periwinkle paper folded into a cute triangle with my name on it. I cautiously open it so I don’t rip it and then read what’s written.
* * *
Finnegan,
I didn’t know how long it would take me to get to the point of acceptance. It finally happened. I appreciate you giving me the space to come to an understanding and letting me grieve.
Archer St. James is no longer among us. After his disappearance, he left, and you’re now occupying his body but nothing else. That’s a hard pill to swallow.
Too hard, but I finally accepted it.
You seem like a great person, and I wish you nothing but happiness.
The last step in my healing is to get an official separation from Archer, but as my lawyer pointed out, I can’t divorce the dead.
