a man with all the money in the world would be stupid to throw money away on an ex-girlfriend.
And at the end of the day, if I married Trey and had his children and things took a turn for the worse, he’d be one more moneyed man with the ability to hold something over my head—my babies. I don’t know that I could go through that again.
“Who was that?” Emmeline asks, speeding my already racing heart with the surprise of her voice. I didn’t realize she’d come out of her room. Everything around me is tunneled and my breath is shallow.
I’ve just closed the door on a beautiful forever. The gravity of that isn’t lost on me.
Mom follows her, a cleaning rag thrown over her shoulder. “Yes, who was at the door?”
“Trey,” I say.
“And what did he say?” Mom asks.
“He wants me back …”
“Duh,” Emmeline says.
“Yes, but what did he say?” Mom asks again.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes!” they say in unison.
Before I can answer, Mom’s at the window, brushing the curtains aside. And in an act of total unexpectedness, she dashes out the front door.
He’s still here …
He didn’t leave.
He’s going to fight for me—even if it’s a battle he can never win.
Fifty-Five
Trey
Present
I run my hand along the steering wheel, parked in the driveway, staring at the back of Sybil’s minivan, when my passenger door swings open and none other than Sybil herself climbs inside.
“This is unexpected …” I say.
“Isn’t it though?” she asks. “I came out here to tell you not to give up.”
I raise my brows. I wasn’t even sure she liked me. That first—and only—night we met, she was lukewarm at best, avoiding eye contact, alternating between stoic and fidgety. I couldn’t get a read on her, which is rare for me.
“I don’t intend to,” I say.
“You see her the way I do. Complicated and beautiful. And you like her anyway.”
I don’t just like her, I love her. But I don’t tell Sybil that—Sophie should hear those words first.
“I’m crazy for your daughter,” I say.
“I know,” she sighs, staring back at the house. The curtains are still. If Sophie’s watching from inside, I can’t be sure. “You have no idea the amount of angst she carries in her heart. And sometimes she lets that cloud her decisions. She doesn’t think straight. She’s always worrying over everyone else, never about herself. She likes to take care of people. Her greatest trait is also her biggest weakness.”
“I’ve gleaned that much from my time with her,” I say.
“Just promise me you won’t throw in the towel,” Sybil says. “She’ll come around.”
“I have no doubt.”
She turns to me. “You sound like a man with a plan.”
“I’ve got one.” I can’t speak on dismantling Ames’ company just yet. Not until our paperwork’s been filed and the acquisition is final.
“Good,” she says. “In the meantime, you work on that. And I’ll work on her.”
With that, she gets out and vanishes inside the house.
The dismantling of Ames’ company can’t happen soon enough. But when it does, I’ll be back to take my bride.
Fifty-Six
Sophie
Present
It’s been a week since Trey pulled into my mother’s driveway and asked me to come home. I haven’t heard from him since. Not a text. Not a call. Sometimes I glance outside and picture his SUV parked with perfect clarity, but it’s always a mirage.
I tried to turn in my two-week’s notice last week, but my manager talked me out of it, reminding me of the “mental health hiatus” built into our benefits package. I can take up to six weeks, fully paid.
Maybe by then I’ll feel like coming back …
Though I can’t say it’ll be easy seeing him around.
“Oh my gosh, Sophie, come in here,” Mom calls from Emmeline’s room.
I grab my phone off the coffee table and sprint back, assuming the worst. Only when I get to the doorway, I exhale my harbored breath. Emmeline is fine.
“What?” I ask, hand over my heart, taking shallow, adrenaline-fueled breaths. “You scared me. What’s wrong?”
“Did you see this article?” She shoves her phone into my hand and I read the headline.
WESTCOTT CORPORATION TO DISMANTLE AMES OIL AND STEEL AFTER FINALIZING MERGER.
This has got to be a joke.
I check the news source—NPR.
It’s legit.
“I don’t understand,” I say, scrolling and inhaling each sentence with an impatient fervor. This makes zero sense. “It says he’s selling for pennies on the dollar. He’s losing hundreds of millions of dollars on this. Why would he do that?”
“Don’t be so dense,” she says. “He’s doing this for you.”
I furrow