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“I think it’s brilliant, Bridget.” He turned to look at me. “When Layla asked me to fly out here, I was glad to come, you know. We’ve all been worried about you, these last three months.”
I blinked twice before answering. “They asked me to communicate every day, and I’ve done that.”
“Yes, you have.” He frowned at me. “But you’re obviously not yourself yet. I get it. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost Layla. I almost did.”
He had one week without her. Three months had passed since I’d been dumped. Zeke left her, not the other way around. We weren’t in the same situation, but I wasn’t discussing it with him.
I’d moved to New York, rented an apartment on the Upper East Side in a building full of people three times my age and older. I’d be looking to buy in a year, once I was sure I wasn’t going to fail.
I shrugged. “This is who I am. It’s probably who I always was.” I walked toward the door. “I’ve always been the girl next door, right?”
And that was what I was naming my business:The Redheaded Girl Next Door Investments. I would own it. I might be the girl next door, but I also attended one of the most prestigious business colleges in the country. I could be both the beautiful redhead in pictures and the one who made a fortune for others over the years.And I am all of those things. What I wasn’t was romantic or dreamy. I didn’t believe in happily ever afters for myself, and I was damned sure going to figure out how to have a good life that didn’t involve getting married and daydreaming about families.
My sisters built their lives with extraordinary men, which made sense because they were extraordinary women. I was glad for them, but I was done trying to have my version of their lives.
Zeke followed me out of the suite. “I’ll tell Layla the place is perfect, and you…are who you’ve always thought you were?”
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Thanks for coming, Zeke. It’s so good to have family. I’ll fly out in three months to see the boys…and the secret one you guys aren’t telling anyone you’re expecting.” I grinned at him, and I hoped it didn’t look deranged. I was out of practice. “I noticed how green Layla was last week on the video call.”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure anyone can keep a secret among triplets. Listen, if you can tell she’s pregnant before she tells anyone, then you also know she can tell you’re in agony. Can I help? For real, is there anything I can do? I’d love to help you fix things.”
“No.” I patted his arm. “See you soon.”
I left him there on the street, walking away without a backward glance. It wasn’t the politest response, that was for sure, but I couldn’t pretend to be okay for him or my sister. If I had to live it, they would have to just watch me suffer.
I knew Amanda Hill took coffee with her sources every other Friday at a coffee shop in the East Village. The woman drove my sisters nuts with her reporting over the years. Quasi-obsessed with Layla, she reported nonstop about her on her vlog. Afterward, she tried to tank Hope after an argument at the gym. She basically insinuated Hope was fat, as if that would be the worst possible fate imagined. In the end, my sisters were happy and away from her.
But I was about to use the crap out of the woman.
I dressed the part, choosing a designer Layla recommended—one of the ones Layla helped back when the designer first started in the industry, so she owed a favor or two to the family. Even my hair and makeup looked flawless. My security remained a short distance away, but I could feel their eyes on me. Two brothers, according to Zeke, who he’d found somewhere. I didn’t know their names and maybe it made me a bitch, but I didn’t care to learn them. We all agreed I’d do a year of heavy security and then they’d ease off. If no one else tried to poison me for a year, I was probably in the clear anyway.
But my stomach would be an issue. If I ate or drank the wrong thing, I could start puking on Amanda. That would be a nightmare, so I reminded myself to avoid things like coffee in her presence. If I drank something, only chamomile tea, one of the few safe beverages since the poisoning.
I survived it, but my stomach…it would probably never be the same.
For the best, then, that I didn’t want to date. I couldn’t go to restaurants anyway. Maybe if my belly ever really recovered, I would take it as a sign to get back out there.Or maybe not.I didn’t believe in signs. My stomach’s return to normal wasn’t a sign of anything other than healing.
I got in my ride service and tried to be pleasant. I hated small talk, but I didn’t want to lose my rating. I could see myself in the window—finally fashionably skinny, borderline malnourished.Imagine that.
The perfect figure, and I only had to be nearly killed to get it.
But the poison hadn’t taken my brain.Just my stomach and my ridiculously sentimental heart.That was gone, too.
I exited the vehicle two blocks from Amanda. I couldn’t accidentally bump into her if I was getting out of a ride. Instead, I had to fake it, and I was good at that. I’d always been a terrible liar, so I didn’t even bother with a ruse. I’d tell her the complete truth, but not mention why I was there to tell her that truth.
I was my father’s daughter, unfortunately. And I could do this.
There she is—beautiful, with subtle and smoky shadow and a pretty berry lip shade. I steeled my back and walked into the room. Her source hadn’t arrived yet, so I showed up early enough. I’d plotted our meeting for a week, practically spying on the woman. Michael would be proud of me. I blinked.No, he wouldn’t.He didn’t like me, and I was bad for his business. He wouldn’t want to know anything about my plans.
That’s okay. I don’t need his approval.
“Bridget Radford.” She gasped. “You’re back in town. And look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
I smiled. The game was on. I wouldn’t tell her anything about my sisters, but I could make her a lot of money, and in return, she’d put my business out there to the world. She also wouldn’t ever know I played her.
“Amanda.” I gave her a half-smile. I shouldn’t like to see her in this farce. “Look at you. You never age.”
We are off.
