“Yeah.”
Neil’s reappearance is likely a coincidence. But I could be wrong. People can be selfish and destructive. My mind flicks to Natasha. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. Hopefully it stays that way.
“Tell me something interesting. And not some shit about insurance. Something that’ll distract me,” I mutter.
Rafe draws in a deep breath before letting it out as a weighted sigh. “I’minterestedin someone… and she’s my sister’s best friend.”
“What?” I stare at him. This is Rafe. A man who never dates the same woman for more than a few weeks. And that’s being generous. I’ve never known him to be seriouslyinterestedin anyone or anything, except his multi-billion-pound company.
He grimaces. “I know. What’s worse is, she’s thirteen years younger than me with a smart mouth and a bad attitude, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”
I lean back in my chair, my lips quirking, eating up the distraction like a starving man.
“You slept with her?”
“Course I bloody haven’t,” Rafe splutters. “Aurora’s Dove’s friend and… I shouldn’t even like her…” He blows out a breath, before his eyes glint. “She has this fashion vlog. She films herself trying on all these outfits… dresses, skirts...”
“Let me guess? It’s become your daily viewing?” I let out a throaty laugh, and it feels good.
“It’s not funny, arsehole.” Rafe grumbles. “It’s ruining my life. I can’t even enjoy sex anymore because it’s not with her.”
I hold back my amusement. Because as entertaining as the thought of Rafe lusting after a younger woman he can’t have is, my chest still pangs with an ounce of sympathy for him. The poor bastard’s a goner, I can see it in his eyes. Another reason why falling for someone just causes problems.
We talk a little longer before Rafe hangs up, and I head to Molly’s room to check on her.
My heart lifts at the little dark curls splayed across her pillow, shining from the glow of her nightlight. I walk over and press a kiss to her forehead. She doesn’t stir from her sleep.
“Sweet dreams, Sweetheart,” I whisper.
The explorer book she loves so much is on the floor at the side of her bed. I pick it up and stare at the cartoon character on the cover.
“She’d have loved for you to read this to her,” I murmur as though my brother can hear me.
But he never answers. Dead people don’t.
As I place the book on the nightstand, my eye catches on a Barbie doll Molly’s left there. It beams at me with a pink-lipped smile and perfect white teeth.
On its wrist is Claudia’s ring.
“What the hell?”
I lift the doll, sliding the ring off its arm and holding it up at eye level. The Barbie grins mockingly and my gaze drops to the picture it was sitting on.
I swallow a sudden swell of bile. It’s the picture Molly drew in my office the first time Tate watched her. There are two figures in it. Both with wide grins. A small one with dark swirls for hair. And a larger one with red hair, wearing pink.The red-haired one has a scribble on its arm with a light blue blob in the center, like a jewel.
My gut churns as images of Tate clearing up dinner flash to mind. Her bracelet had clacked against the countertop as she’d wiped it down. A gawdy thing that looked like it came from the bargain bin at Target—one big piece of clear plastic in the middle, mounted on a silver bangle.
I look back at my peacefully sleeping daughter.
“What the fuck have I done?”
16
TATE
“Give him hell, girl,”Ashley whispers as the bell chimes and Sullivan strides in like he owns the place.
It’s been days since he sent me those texts. What the hell does he want?
