My hands shake with trepidation. I’ve never done anything like this before. Normally I’d pretend it wasn’t that important—and tell myself I’m not worth the trouble.
But I don’t want to do that anymore. I clench my hands and look Jeremiah squarely in the eye. “I don’t need to think. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Molly
–Me: I saw Jeremiah. She’s very nice. And I decided to go after Jack. Thank you. I wouldn’t even have thought of taking legal action.
I wait six hours, but Nicholas doesn’t respond.
Should I call?But will he answer if he doesn’t even want to exchange texts?
Anxiety winds tighter until breathing is a struggle. I munch on a few Saltines, then have more coffee. I thought the place seemed really big and empty when I ate dinner alone during the first week I lived here. But now I feel like I’m being buried alive in a pharaoh’s tomb.
So I send him another text.
–Me: I’m sorry about what happened.
I wince at how hollow that sounds. I’m still unsure exactly what I did wrong. And Nicholas is smart enough to realize that from the text.
The intercom beeps, and I rush over. I know it isn’t Nicholas, but I feel hopeful that maybe it’s flowers or something that hints at how he’s doing—what he’s feeling.
Georgia is at the gate. I open it, and a few minutes later, she comes inside.
“Hey, I brought some chocolate.” She comes in carrying three bags full of gourmet chocolates. She hugs me, then holds me at arm’s length and gives me a critical once-over. “You look awful. You hanging in there?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Sorry I couldn’t come by yesterday. I had to wrap up a last-minute project for a longtime client.”
“It’s okay.”
“Let’s get something to drink with this. Nicholas has to have some decent liquor.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“What?” She gives me a curious look. “Of course we should. That’s why it’s here.”
She goes to the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey.
“That looks expensive,” I say, uncomfortable with raiding his home for stuff when he isn’t around—and we aren’t together anymore.
She grins. “I know. He doesn’t do cheap liquor. This goes down smooth. Hangovers feel different when it’s the good stuff. Trust me.” She isn’t going to accept a refusal. We settle down in the living room with the chocolate and whiskey. “So he hasn’t been back since he had his man-tantrum?”
“It wasn’t a tantrum. He was just…unhappy with me.” My texts to her were sort of incoherent. Actually, now that I think back on it, I don’t think some of them were comprehensible English. I take a tentative sip of the whiskey. A few drops, and the tip of my tongue tingles.
“I see.” She looks at me like she has a lot to say, including “I told you so,” but she keeps it to herself. “Anyway, I asked Nikki about this ‘Stella.’”
I tense.
“She said the only Stella she could think of was Stella Lloyd.”
“Who’s that?”
“Barron Sterling’s girlfriend, apparently.”
The name is vaguely familiar… Oh wait. I know. He’s the mega-billionaire who’s in his seventies or something. The man’s ancient.
