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“You’re not going to fight, are you?” The disappointment in Jack’s tone stabbed me in the heart.
“I need…time.”
“Time to talk yourself out of loving him?”
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
“Time to think.”
“I don’t know what he said to you but I can imagine he tried to convince you Barbara took her life because of something he did. That’s the guilt talking. She had severe depression when she was in high school. From what I read that went undiagnosed from childhood. For whatever reason she never told Wilson, her parents didn’t tell him, and she’d stopped taking meds in college. And I’ll tell you something I’ve never told Wilson—I read her psychologist’s notes. She stopped her meds against his advice. She told him she was cured.”
My heart ached for this unknown Barbara who lost her life to her illness.
“Why would he tell me it was his fault?”
“Because he’s in love with you and scared.”
Now Jack was lying to me. Wilson didn’t strike me as a man who was afraid of anything.
“What? You don’t think men get scared?” he pushed when I remained quiet. “You don’t think opening your heart to someone and being vulnerable doesn’t scare the fuck out of us like it does women? It’s been twelve years since Barb died and you’re the first woman he’s gotten close to. You put the fear of God in him. I warned you he was going to do this. Now, Atlee, are you going to let him get away with his bullshit or are you going to fight for him?”
“He…” I paused, not sure what to say.
“He’s wrecked. What he did to you is eating away at him. I know Wilson. I’m sure he went for maximum damage and doubled down to convince you he’s an asshole and you should leave him.”
“He told me he’d fail me.”
“That man will never fail you. He’ll burn the world down for you.”
He’d bankrupted a man for following me. That wasn’t exactly scorching the earth but it was a little overboard in my opinion.
My phone beeped with another call, reminding me I was at work and had other guests besides Martin to deal with.
“I can’t talk about this right now. I have another call.”
I heard Jack’s frustrated sigh.
“But we’ll talk later. Oh, I forgot. I think Dale’s last name is Weaver.”
“Okay, I’ll check into it. Be safe and text me if you’re going to the mansion,” he demanded.
How had I been saddled with two bossy-as-hell men?
“Righty ho, bodyguard,” I quipped.
“Smartass.”
I disconnected and saw I’d missed the call from the O’Neils who had just checked in.
Not a good first impression.
Damn.
I needed to push Wilson out of my head and get to work.
