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“Good morning, Mr. Jackson,” I greeted.
He looked at me over the paper and frowned.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Catarina walking to the couch in a robe carrying two mugs of coffee.
My already bad mood soured. I hated what that robe implied.
“Are you okay?” Martin asked.
Like he’d care.
“Of course.”
“Did your date not go well?”
Right, my fake date with Jack.
“We broke up.”
Cat’s eyes sliced to mine. I bet she was trying to gauge if I was putting on for Martin or I was telling the truth.
“I hope me keeping you didn’t upset him.”
Again, like the asshole cared.
“No. He turned out not to be the man I thought he was.”
Even as I gave my excuse I knew it was a lie.
Wilson was exactly the man I knew him to be. I just wasn’t the woman who could weather the blast. Maybe I could’ve been had he chosen to actually speak to me instead of pouring acid over a conversation that should’ve happened calmly and rationally.
That’s very judgmental, girl.
I could hear my grandmother’s rebuff in my mind. How many times had she lectured me about giving my father agency, reminding me that it was his grief to express and it wasn’t my place to expect him to grieve the way I wanted him to.
Was Wilson still grieving the loss of his wife?
She hanged herself in our bedroom.
Of course he was still grieving.
“Atlee?”
Martin’s voice yanked me from my reverie.
“Sorry. I promise my personal issues won’t impede on my performance. Is there something I can do for you this morning?”
I wasn’t a fan of the way the man was looking at me.
It was a disgusting thought but I’d rather his gaze move over me in lust than have him studying me so closely.
“I called you because I wanted to thank you in person for all you’ve done for me.”
It was then I noticed Eden wasn’t at the table where she normally worked. There were no women in sight. No extra sounds of people moving about.
“Are you checking out?”
“Yes. Weaver went this morning and finalized the property you found.”
