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ATTICUS
“You can stop hovering, Micah.”
My brother leaned in the doorframe of my guest bedroom as he watched me doublecheck my suitcase. My housekeeper, Magda, always did a good job packing for me, but I was particular and liked things a certain way.
“I’m just saying, how can you be okay with this?”
Micah was usually careful about bringing Gwen up in conversation, but ever since he found out, I needed to go to London for a meeting, he’d been…hovering. It was the only way to describe it.
He kept staring at me like I was a lost puppy.
Did I still feel like my heart had been ripped out after sending her away?
Yes.
Did I still think about her every damn minute of every damn day?
Also yes.
But I had had my reasons and I was doing the best I could to move on with my life.
Liar. You miss her.
“You really think you’re going to go to London after two months of not seeing her and you’re not going to feel anything when you see her?”
“Don’t be daft, as you say. If I see her, and that’s a big if, considering how good she got at avoiding me before she left, we’ll be professional, cordial. It’s fine. She apparently is doing well and is moving on.”
Unlike you.
I’d made the choice I made to protect her and my mother. But it was a choice I’d make again to protect her. But I wasn’t saying it hadn’t torn me up every moment of every day.
Micah just stared at me, incredulous. “That can’t be it. You guys are bloody end game. You need to fix this. Go to her and grand gesture that shit.”
My brother was obsessed with romance novels. He always had his nose in a book and swore they were better than an actual relationship. But they were clouding his vision.
“This is real life, Micah. A grand gesture won’t resolve this. Not to mention the reason I broke things off is still breathing.”
My father’s ultimatum, to marry Gwen or save my mother, had rocked me. Suddenly, I’d been all of nine years old again and well and truly afraid of what he would do to me and the people I loved.
I knew exactly what he was capable of, knew about the deception and the violence and the pain so great it could ruin lives. So I’d made a choice.
One that ruined you.
"Well, big brother, do tell me you have a plan to fix this. Because you can’t keep looking like this. It’s pathetic.”
I gave him a sardonic glare as I zipped up my suitcase. “I’m not pathetic. When I’m gone, I want you working on the Marksom Project. Get in front of Phillip Marksom if you can.”
My brother crossed his arms. “Marksom, got it. But don’t you change the subject. You've been sleeping in this guest room since she left.”
Low. Fucking. Blow.
Her scent still lingered in the damn room. What was I supposed to do? About a month ago, I’d told myself maybe I just needed a new mattress to get better sleep. Which was bullshit.
My brother watched me with a shrewd gaze. “What happens when you see her?”
The idea of seeing her had my blood heating. “I’m not seeking her out. I have meetings.” My father was still poisoning the well, so I had some relationship repair to do in the London office as well as a new acquisition to vet.
I’d be busy. It would be easy to give her a wide berth.
