Runaway Wolfes of Manhattan Three - Helen Hardt Page 0,49
“Freeing it has freed me, in a way. I don’t expect you to understand. I kept to myself. Partially because of the repressed memories, but partly because it’s just who I am. I’m an artist. An introvert. I wasn’t there for any of you when you needed me in the past, but I’m here now. This is something I can do for all of you. Please. Let me.”
Silence.
Finally, I said, “What can you possibly say?”
“I’ll lie through my teeth. Don’t worry. I’ll make it look good.”
“Bro, if you’re willing, we’d all appreciate it.” Rock smiled.
“Willing isn’t the word I’d use,” Roy chuckled, “but I’ll do it. For my family.”
I smiled at my middle brother, the one who looked most like me. “You’re amazing, Roy.”
“Hardly,” he said, “but honestly, a weight has been lifted from me. I feel better now than I have in a long time.” He smiled at Charlie. “Of course, this lady has helped me a lot too.”
“A good woman can work miracles,” Rock agreed.
Both Charlie and Lacey’s cheeks reddened.
Servers brought coffee and tea. I inhaled the chocolaty aroma. Smelled great, but not as good as the coffee at the Bean House in Sumter Falls.
“Dessert will be served in a few moments,” the server said before leaving.
“I can’t possibly eat another bite.” Lacey added a touch of cream to her coffee.
“Me neither,” I said.
“You hardly ate anything, Riley,” Reid said. “Even after you insisted on beef. Are you okay?”
Was I okay? What a loaded question. I hadn’t been okay in twenty years.
Except when I was with Matt.
I was okay then.
In fact, I was almost…happy.
What an odd feeling—one I desperately wanted to feel again.
I couldn’t, though. My time running had come to an end. I had a family who needed me. I had a career, and I was done making Fredricka jump through hoops. I was going to be the ideal client now. Never again would I welch on a contract.
Riley Wolfe would earn her place in the world of modeling not by her name and face, but by her professionalism.
I was here to stay.
Dessert turned out to be Bananas Foster. How long had it been since I’d eaten dessert? Not long, as I’d indulged with Matt a few days ago, but before then? Years.
I hadn’t eaten much dinner, but for some reason, Bananas Foster sounded good to me.
I scooped some up in my spoon and brought it to my lips.
Then I let myself taste it.
The creamy vanilla ice cream, the smooth banana, and the sweet sauce of brown sugar, cinnamon, and dark rum.
Delicious.
I smiled to myself.
How Matt would enjoy this. He lived such a simple life, but he loved good food. If only he were here, sharing this meal with me.
I sighed after swallowing the deliciousness. Better that he wasn’t here. My life was a mess. I was determined to fix my career and take charge, and I had a lot of work ahead of me. Plus, I needed to fix my head. Get some therapy. Roy highly recommended his therapist. Next week, I’d call and get an appointment.
I had to get my head on straight. Get my career back in order, before I could share myself with anyone.
I held back a scoff.
Matt Rossi would have found someone else by the time I was whole enough to be worthy of him.
The thought sent a spear of sorrow arrowing through my heart.
I took another bite of Bananas Foster.
This one didn’t taste nearly as good.
32
Matteo
Morning in Manhattan. So different from morning in Montana. Lacey Ward was easy enough to find online. She was a partner at a Manhattan firm, so I called first thing after noshing on a bagel I’d picked up and smothered with cream cheese. Best bagel I’d ever eaten.
I called the law firm as I was wiping the last of the cream cheese from my lips. The receptionist spewed out the names in a sing-songy voice.
“Lacey Ward, please,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Ward no longer works here.”
“Oh? Could you tell me where she’s working now?”
“She’s legal counsel at Wolfe Enterprises.”
Of course. She married a Wolfe, so now she worked there. “Thanks. Sorry to bother you.” I did a quick search for the number I needed.
I got ready to punch in the numbers, when I made a rash decision. Why call when I could just show up? It’d be a lot harder for her to turn an actual person away, but she could easily dismiss a phone call. Chances were I’d get voicemail anyway.