Page 151 of Perfect Satisfaction

Many fans might remember Brendan competed on the showCaketasticyears ago to raise awareness for acute myelogenous leukemia—a rare form of blood cancer his nephew suffered. Although Josiah has experienced a full recovery, “there are still others out there who need assistance for other disorders.”

The single, “Bloodline,” will release in the fall. One hundred percent of the profits will go to charity.

—Moore You Want

“Helen thinks you’re charming,”Sula pronounces as she comes closer.

I stand and move in her direction. “And you didn’t correct her?”

“There’s a fine line between humoring someone and delusion. If she approaches it any further, I’ll take action.” Her lips quirk.

My own curve upward. I’m noticing things about my wife I never noticed until other people took the time to point them out to me. “You wanted to study journalism?”

“What? You thought it was your good looks that drew me to you the night we met?”

“Yes,” I reply without hesitation.

“You’re right. It was.” Her eyes flit over to the mausoleum. “As much as he despised the idea, before I landed in Pennsylvania to go to school, there wasn’t much West Moore couldn’t use to his advantage. He’d already thought of a way to twist what was a passion for me into something that would benefit MSW. I swear, he had more love for MSW in his lifetime than he had for the women he married and subsequently divorced. Definitely not for his children.”

“You used a plural. Again.”

“Yes. Brendan and I have another sibling, and no, I won’t share their name.”

Something niggles in the back of my brain, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I extend a hand to her and ask, “Will you tell me more about your father? About your life here?”

She nods. Just as she’s about to take a step, I realize her heels will cause her to fall. I race forward and band my arm around her waist. She gasps as her head falls backward. Mingled surprise and confusion completely undo me. “You were going to fall.”

She chews her lower lip before admitting, “Few people have cared enough to catch me.”

We stand in each other’s arms for a few moments, saying nothing. Knowing if I do what I want to—which is kiss her into oblivion—I’ll never get answers to the questions burning through me. Instead, I guide her to the bench.

“Thanks.”

“No thanks necessary.” Clipped to her jacket is her employee badge. Without warning, I reach over and remove it. Then I yank off the visitor badge I’ve been wearing all day and toss both into the grass.

Her enormous eyes make her face appear even more waif-like. “What was that for?”

“I want this conversation to be between me and you, not the employee and the reporter.” Before she can contradict me, I inform her, “You’re everywhere in this company, Sula. Every spot Helen took me to had your stamp on it, but you said you never wanted this job.”

Her breath expels. “No, this wasn’t the job I wanted.”

“You wanted to be a journalist. Why?”

Sula tips her head back to absorb the rays of sun on her face. “I was so damn idealistic. I lived with so much and I knew the world was full of wrongs people needed to know about. I was going to be the one to tell them.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“My optimism. Moments of silent frustration where words wouldn’t come. Putrid feelings in my stomach when I was probing into people’s lives.”

“I understand that feeling.”

She blinks. “You do?”

“Sula, despite evidence to the contrary, I had my reasons for doing what I did. I finally apologized to Angie.”

Her lips part in surprise.

I brush a light kiss against them. “When you’re ready, I’ll share them.” I study her face intently, watching the push and pull and I know what she’s feeling.