AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“To tell you that I don’t agree with Reid, but he was coming at you anyway.”
“Have you told Daniel?” I ask of my younger brother. “I assume he’s shut out too, since you guys don’t speak to us outsiders?”
“We wanted to tell you first. I’m going to call him when we leave, unless you want to call him.”
“No. You call him. He deserves to find out and ask questions I can’t answer.”
Reid lowers the letter, scowls, and starts walking. Gabe grabs me and kisses my cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He takes off too, and when the door shuts, I realize they took the letter. Damn it. I grab my purse and keys, and then my jacket off the coat rack, and go after them, but it’s too late. I reach the elevator and the lobby and they are gone. I flag a cab and head to the restaurant. I’m early, but I don’t care. I’m going to drink more wine, and one thing I know with certainty: Reese will carry me home if I need him to. He’s the one man in my life I know really will catch me if I fall. I don’t need a man to catch me—I can catch myself—but it’s nice to know that he would right about now.
Reese
I’ve just finished dressing in a black button-down and black slacks, and have pulled on a jacket, when my phone rings with a call from security. “Sir, you have a visitor at the front desk.”
“Who?”
“She says it’s a surprise and asked if I can send her up or if you could come down. I can escort her up if you like.”
It has to be Cat. “Just send her up.”
I end the call, and as much as I want to see Cat, it hits me then that she’s cleared with security. I walk downstairs and pour a drink, downing the rich stout whiskey, while remembering Cat’s stout coffee comment. I laugh and there is a knock on the door. Cat has a key. I set my glass down, and walk to the door, pulling it open. And the woman standing there is not Cat. She’s the last person I expected to be here right now.
Chapter thirty-three
Cat
Isit in the restaurant waiting on Reese. And waiting. He’s late, but I know how this goes. You get with a client and can’t get out. He must still be at work. This night sucks. I’m not mad. Not at him. I don’t have that capacity right now. I’m too focused on my father’s stroke. I have a glass of wine. That makes three. My limit is really one. But I eat a bunch of bread and I’m remarkably okay. Funny how anger can sober you right up. Reese is still not here. At nine thirty, I decide maybe I’m angry. He can’t be at work. I’m not going to make excuses for him. Then I get worried. My dad had a stroke. What if Reese had an accident? I call him. It goes to voice mail. I hang up.
I feel sick.
I hate men.
I will never have anyone in my life that is more than a fuck buddy. Fuck. Buddy. Fuck all day and all night to please me, and then get the fucking fuck buddy out of my life.
I throw money on the table and leave. I don’t have a car. I call an Uber and sit on a bench at a corner I’m lucky to find. And then I just dial my father. I don’t think. The wine does. He answers. “Cat?”
“You had a stroke?”
“It was nothing.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“It was nothing.”
“It was a stroke. I don’t like you, but I love you. You tell me when things matter, and just in case your hard head doesn’t get it. This matters.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I hang up on him. And then I call him back. “It matters.”
“I love you, too, Cat. And your book was good.”
“You read my book?”
“Gabe nagged me until I did, and I’m glad I did. And your coverage of the trial was brilliant.”
“Brilliant? Did my father just say brilliant?”
