Page 80

I look up to see her reaction, gauge what she is thinking. There isn’t one. I keep moving forward, getting this out.

“When I saw you through the window, my heart dropped. I hadn’t even registered where I was, what I was holding, when Cassandra leaned in. She whispered, ‘I wouldn’t. If you go to her right now in front of everyone, it confirms your relationship. If you acknowledge her publicly before her suspension is resolved, it could be career-ending. For you and her.’”

I let that settle for a moment, then admit, “The worst part is I listened.”

Her expression gives nothing away, but I trudge on. “I know that isn’t an excuse, but it’s true. I didn’t react quickly, and by the time my brain caught up, Cassandra had planted just enough doubt to make things worse for you. When the applause died down, I looked for you, but you had already left. I left the restaurant immediately, needing to get away from them. I drove by your house and saw your light on. You were writing furiously on a legal pad. I must have watched you for thirty minutes before driving away.”

“I don’t accept this as an excuse.”

“I know you deserve better.”

“But I can understand how there might have been … hesitation. And although she did it for her own gain, Cassandra wasn’t totally wrong. Exposing the relationship in a dramatic and public way, while suspended, would only go to discredit me.” She straightens, sending a glare my way. “However, your record of events is noted.” I feel a small sense of relief before she begins again. “Speaking of Cassandra and dinners … Why did she go to dinner with your family?”

Shit. Would my list of grievances ever be complete?

I roll my shoulders back before I begin. “My grandfather was in town but not in the office. He wanted to meet Cassandra but didn’t want it to feel like a formal business dinner. His request was for it to feel more casual, to hopefully catch her off guard.”

“Fine, but why was your mother there? She doesn’t work for Morrison Rose.”

“True. But she is sort of … a secret family weapon.”

She cocks her head to the side slightly. “Your artist mother is your litigation wild card?”

I chuckle. “No, not in the courtroom. My mom has terrifying intuition. Growing up, my brothers and I called it emotional surveillance. She thinks she’s an empath, that she can read others. And the annoying part is she’s usually right. My grandfather has been using her skills since she was a teenager, inviting her to business dinners. Probably one of the reasons she steered clear of the profession. She says people are constantly fake in the business world.”

She gives a small shrug, knowing better than anyone how true that is.

“So, we invited Cassandra to dinner to get a read on her. We were having a hard time with the investigation. We knew her father was sick, and we knew there were problems with the accounts. We didn’t know how involved she was or how deep the issues went. I decided it was time to bring in the big guns, so to speak.”

“I can understand that. Nessa is wicked good at reading between the lines, hearing what people aren’t saying. She says it’s a Scorpio thing.”

What if Nessa and Mom were ever in the same room? I shudder at the trouble that would cause.

“Alright, last one.” She shifts in her seat, readjusting her ankle. “The peppermint oil.” She swallows, not meeting my eyes. “I … when you gave it to me, I thought it meant something. That you saw me, or that you cared.”

“I did, and still do.”

“But it wasn’t ’cause I was special, was it? It’s something you do for anyone, or did for anyone?”

Her words hit me like a sucker punch, knowing I am going to hurt her again.

“Cassandra read my reports; she saw that you had peppermint oil. I was on the phone with my mom, and Cassandra barged in at the tail end of it while I had it on speaker, sifting through emails. She had mailed me a package and told me she had included extra peppermint oil again.”

Phoenix’s expression gives nothing away as I trudge on. “The next day, Cassandra saw them sitting in my office and asked why I needed three bottles. I should’ve lied or said something instead of brushing it off. She brought up that she had headaches as well, and I handed one over without thinking.”

I didn’t understand that Phoenix would recognize it immediately. I should have, but I was careless.

“But it wasn’t just peppermint oil, was it?” I force the question back to her.

She looks away, eyeing the ceiling as if the texture is fascinating. “No. It wasn’t to me. To me, it was being seen, being cared for without having to do anything else.”

This vulnerability from her is a gift, one she rarely shares, and it kills me it’s coming out now.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve seen that. Been more thoughtful.”

“No.” She stops me short. “You are thoughtful. I’ve never told you that before, but it’s true. It’s—” She pauses, gathering her words before meeting my eyes. “We grew up different. Jackson, you came from a place where love was freely given, with no consequences. I came from one where it had to be earned. Showing care is easy for you, second nature. For me … well, I don’t really know how to receive it.”

I rub my chest to ease the ache of her words. I may not have created the wound, but I re-opened it. I move in front of her, crouching down near her outstretched leg.