“It is,” I repeated. It had to be.
He studied me for a moment. “How old are you, Rose?”
I licked my lips, adjusting myself. “I just turned 23.” I didn’t want to be assessed or judged for my beliefs. I just wanted to have a nice conversation about things that mattered. Love? That didn’t matter. Art and music and literature,thatmattered.Those things wrote this world, but love? Love had nothing to do with it.
Malachi smiled softly. “You’ve barely just begun, baby girl.”
And something about the way he said that made my stomach warm and my eyes fill. Nobody had ever called me that. Mom called me ‘sweetie’, ‘honey’, but never that. Never anything with such warmth behind it.
“You’ve got a whole life ahead of you, take it from this old man. Traveling the world, seeing all of those beautiful things in all of those beautiful places, it is much better spent with a soul sitting beside yours. One that sings the same song as yours. You don’t want to write poetry and songs about how lonely you are and how tragic this world is, you want to write them about how your souls sing together in the light of the midnight sun.”
I pressed my lips together, my eyes filling to the brim at how lovely that sounded. How beautiful.
“Dancing under the stars is better spent with a partner, hmm?” he continued with a smile. “You are still a child. Your compass isn’t broken, Rose, you just haven’t been taught how to read it yet.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and smeared my lips together, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Well,” I said, picking up my glass, my eyes finding his again, “you sure know how to make a pretty girl cry,” I laughed lightly.
He chuckled as he pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to me. “I’ve heard that a lot, oftentimes in not such pleasant circumstances.”
I took it gratefully and gently dabbed under my eyes despite there being no fallen tears yet. “Thank you for the advice, Malachi.”
“You’re very welcome. Now, I suppose we need to get business done before it gets too late, hmm? This old man needs some rest.”
Right, I almost forgot.
He pulled out an envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it over the table towards me. “Let Mrs. Lemont know that I was absolutely sure about this until I met you. She’ll get her loan just as she asked though, in the amount she asked. Tell her our deal stands.”
It took everything in me not to react as I took the envelope and slid it into my clutch. A loan? Why thefuckwould they need a loan? “Thank you.” And why were they contacting people here to get one? And why was he sure of it until he met me? What did that mean?
“You’re welcome, Rose. This was such a lovely evening. I hope to meet with you again.”
I smiled and nodded as he stood and walked over, pulling out my chair for me. “Yes, I would like that.” And I really would. Just to talk. Just to have an hour or so of real conversation, even if it was just with the banker who gave my family a loan.
We walked out to the sidewalk and said our goodbyes. He offered to call me a cab, but I declined. I needed the walk. I needed to make a call and not be interrupted or listened in on by the cab driver. I needed a second to say how I felt without being judged.
I waved goodbye at him and started down the street in the direction of my apartment, the street still busy with the nightlife, my mind reeling with what I had just discovered.
Why did they need a loan? And why were they getting one out of the bank here and not in Denver? Was she trying to get me to be more involved in the business?
I didn’t want that.
I mean, I did, but not like this. I wanted to be more involved with the paperwork. With the finances, the expanding, but this? We shouldn’t need loans. Ever.
I pulled my phone out of my clutch, angry and ready to callmom only to see that Steven was already calling me.
My stomach tightened, all of the good feelings from dinner completely wiped away just like that.
I hit answer, put it to my ear and adjusted the thin strap across my chest, my clutch sitting comfortably on my hip. “Hell—”
“Where the fuck are you?”
I flinched back from his tone, my steps slowing. “I told you that I had dinner tonight with a client. I sent you a text.” Was he drunk? He sounded drunk.
“Oh my God, a prostitute, Liv? Seriously? God, you’re so fucking disgusting. Is that where you get your money? You’re out there fucking other guys to earn a few hundred bucks? I probably need to get tested, don’t I? Fuck, I knew it.”
My eyes widened, my head spinning from the whiplash of how sharp the conversation had turned.
I shook my head, pressing my hand into my forehead. Just breathe. Breathe. He was drunk and angry, that was all.
