“I brought up his daughters.Long story short, I told him exactly what they’d think of him if he keeps caring only about money.”
Helen’s eyes widen with horror and awe.“Oh, you really went all out!”
“Uh huh,” I nod.“Then I thanked him for his time and walked out, leaving both of them sitting there stunned.”
“Then what happened?!”
I inhale deeply, ready for the final, most important part.“Matthew told me it might have worked.Harold is actually thinking about changing his mind.He told Matthew he needs time, and he’ll get back to him.”
For a second, Helen is speechless.Then, a slow, massive, triumphant grin spreads across her face.She leaps up from her chair and throws her arms around me in a bone-crushing hug.
“You did it, Ames!”she screams with joy.“You badass,chica loca, you actually did it!”
Laughing, surrounded by the strength of my best friend’s embrace, I finally, truly let myself believe it.
Maybe, just maybe, I really did.
FIFTY FOUR
BUOYED BY THE morning’s victory and the quiet, steady hum of my café, I feel more capable and clear-headed than I have in months.I stand at my desk, staring at the signed petitions, grateful for each and every one of these signatures.After a moment, I step over to the filing cabinet and open its bottom drawer.I discard dried-up pens and transfer documents to their appropriate files, making room for the petitions.With the whole pile now sitting neatly in there, I slide the drawer shut.
The sound of my phone buzzing is jarring in the quiet of my office.One glance at its lit-up screen, and my peaceful, happy bubble bursts.
My blood runs cold.
James.
My first instinct is a jolt of pure, reflexive panic.A desire to silence the phone, to throw it across the room, to never hear his voice again.The old fear is a phantom grip around my throat.But then, another thought cuts through the haze.
The check.
I remember my trip to the bank earlier.The teller handed me the deposit receipt.A tangible piece of my new reality.The money to pay him off is in my account.This call is my chance to arrange a meeting, hand him his money, and sever this last tie between us.
My panic recedes.
This is just business.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I swipe to answer, my voice level.“James.”
Ragged, uneven breathing answers me.
When he finally speaks, his voice is a barely recognizable, slurred version of itself.“Amy…”
“What do you want, James?”
“Friday night… that fucker… I saw you…him… makin’ out with you,” he slurs, his voice cracking on a bitter laugh.“Looked so damn into him… not for me, you know?Not in the cards.”
I roll my eyes, sinking onto the couch.“Call me back when you’re sober, James.”
But before I can hang up, his tone shifts, turning venomous.“James, yes.JamesfuckingDevlin.That’s me.James Devlin of the illustrious Devlin andfuckingSons Financial.”He spits the name like it’s poison on his tongue.“Family legacy my ass,” he laughs again, the sound full of despair.“It’s a fucking curse.”
“James, we can—”
“You…” he interrupts, sounding broken.“You were real… the only real thing in my pathetic life…fuck!I royally fucked up with you, Mimi…” He trails off.
I hear a strange shuffling sound.Then, a groan of pain.
“James?”I ask, a sliver of concern cutting through my anger.
