Page 92 of Wicked Fortune

“Well, that’s because you only learned about it five minutes ago. But that doesn’t change the fact. It’s been twenty years. Close to that, anyway. And yeah, he stole it. But he also protected you. He’s the reason those fucking monsters never came near you again.”

I don’t say a word. She’s right.

“And the truth is, I don’t think it was as bad as you thought. The financial stuff, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just that we were kids. Neither one of us understood about mortgages and stuff. And it’s not like your dad would have really discussed mortgages and interest rates and stuff with you. You just overheard things. Put your own spin on them.”

“So?”

“So, you never lost the house. We grew up right next door to each other, and you were always there. My parents never worried that you might move. You always had food. Your family took some knock-out vacations, too.” She shrugs. “I’m just saying that when your little, a bulldog looks like an elephant, you know?”

I shrug, but I don’t say anything. Because, well, maybe she’s right.

“He still stole it—then sold it. And then he stole it again.”

Her eyes go wide. “Really?”

“Well, he has it now, doesn’t he?”

She shrugs. “Did he tell you that he stole it back?”

I shake my head. She tilts hers.

“So what is the lesson here?”

I scowl because she’s right. I need to talk to him.

I lick my lips, then pull up my knees and hug them. “The thing is … well, the thing is that I want him. I do. I just don’t know how to forgive him.”

“Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting,” Bree says gently. “It doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t happen. It just means you’re willing to let go of the hurt and move forward. And think about it. He used it to get his career started, sure. But then he got it back—stole it or bought it, he got the diadem back and kept it intact. Mostly, anyway. He said he couldn’t track down the yellow diamond. But that’s not the point,” she continues. “The question is why. Why did he go to all the trouble to get it back?”

“Because it’s one of his treasures,” I say. “Because of Vivien Lorainne.”

“Oh, fuck that. Because of you.”

I know I should argue, but I don’t. Because I want that to be true. I want it so damn bad. But I’m not ready to admit it. Not to Bree. I can barely admit it to myself.

“Hear me out, okay? The man risked everything to find out what happened to Jenny and the others, and when he learned the truth, he didn’t try to cover it up because it would embarrass his company. He got it back, then kept that diadem like it’s sacred—and that’s because of you, and not some movie star. And,” she adds with a triumphant lilt in her voice, “let’s not forget the night he protected you as a kid. He didn’t have to do that, either, but he did.”

“I know, but …”

“Stop arguing with me. Listen,” she says, “Ash isn’t perfect. Hell, the man’s done things that would make your toes curl—and not in the fun way. But he’s a good man. And a damn good husband. People aren’t one-dimensional. We have flaws, and those flaws don’t erase the good.”

I stare at her, my chest tight with emotion. “You really think Matthew’s a good man?”

She smiles, brushing a stray tear from my cheek. “I do. More important, you think so, too.”

She’s right, and a fresh wave of tears spills down my cheeks. Bree pulls me close again, holding me tight. “Take your time,” she whispers. “But then go talk with him. Don’t let the past rob you of your future.”

We sit there beneath the stars, and I try to dig deep. I try to forgive. But he lied to me from day one. Lied by staying quiet. For not telling me who he was or what he did or even hinting that our lives had intersected.

How do I forgive that?

And even if I find the way, how can I ever trust him again?

THIRTY