Pinching my eyebrows together, confused, I opened my hand, immediately recognizing the compass her mom gave to her one yearfor Christmas.
Shit. This was vintage and an heirloom. If she didn’t want it back, her family would. I couldn’t keep it.
I flipped it over, studying the piece, and saw the words inscribed on the back. “Happiness is a direction, not a place.”
She was wise, even then. She knew that no matter where I ran, I’d bring my shit with me.
I set the Cubs cap down next to my keys to take to the party tonight. I want her to have it. If I can’t be here, my heart can.
I clean out the sink and wipe down the counters, hearing the doorbell ring. I toss the cloth down and head to the door.
A FedEx driver stands on the porch. “Lucas Morrow?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He hands me a phone with a stylus. “Sign here, please.”
I scribble my name and swap him for the package, closing the door.
I inspect the box, recognizing the Dubai address. I sigh, wondering what emergency I missed that my assistant needed to overnight a package from across the world.
But as I peel open the tissue paper, I don’t see a tablet or documents inside. A small white box sits on top of a soft, white twill button-down, and I pick it up, rubbing the fabric between my fingers.
My stomach sinks.What is she up to?
Setting the shirt down, I open the smaller package and take out a bottle of cologne.
I cock an eyebrow as I swipe up a card with my assistant’s writing on it.
Leave three buttons open.
And wear the cologne. It’s lethal. I want to impregnate every man who wears it.
Have fun tonight.
-Isobel
Impregnate. A laugh catches in my throat.
And what does she mean,tonight? To the cookout at Madoc’s? How does she know about…?
But then it occurs to me. My calendar. I’d put it in my phone. I box the shit back up, ready to get it out of the way for the real estate agent and potential buyer.
But…
I do need a clean shirt tonight.
Quickly, I remove it from the box and hang it up in the closet, setting the box on the floor.
Taking my laptop case, I walk to my car at the curb, sweeping the street for that Traverse I’ve seen twice now. I want to see it. I want to know who’s inside and that Madoc and the others are safe if I leave.
The street is nearly empty, though. I climb into my car.
I’ll kill time at the gym, catch up on some emails, and maybe get some lunch before I head back here to shower and see Madoc for the last time.
It would be better to blow it off and leave now.
But I know I’ll go to the party, and I know why, even if I push the thought away before it can take form.
