“I have some personal and business matters to attend to.” He kept it vague on purpose, given his stiff body language.
It didn’t offend me that he didn’t divulge anything personal. I could relate. I slid a brochure of our different account types across the desk. “Here are—”
“Mymummy and daddy are gone,” Henry wailed unexpectedly.
My head shot up and caught Mr. Wickham’s defeated eyes. He sighed and hung his head. Meanwhile, I tried to comfort poor Henry, who began to cry into my bosom. I wrapped my arms around him, hoping his parents were on vacation or something, but Mr. Wickham’s demeanor said otherwise, and it broke my heart.
“My sister and her husband were in a car accident,” Mr. Wickham spoke low, refusing to finish the rest. I could guess. “Come here, Henry.” Mr. Wickham stood to retrieve his grieving nephew.
“No!” Henry refused, snuggling further into me.
Mr. Wickham looked at a loss of what to do. “I’m new at this.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind keeping him, if it’s all right with you.”
He sat back down, relieved. “I was only supposed to be the fun uncle.”
“I’m very sorry for your and Henry’s loss.” I stroked Henry’s dark curls.
“Thank you, love.” He suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “Do you mind if we move along? I have several appointments to attend to.”
“Not at all.” I kept one arm around Henry, who was shuddering against me. Poor baby. I used my free hand to point at the brochure. “If you could tell me a bit about your goals and profession, I can make a solid suggestion on the right account for you.”
He rested his hands on his legs and leaned forward. “Would you believe I’m an international bestselling author?”
I gasped.
“Areyou all right, love?”
“Yes,” I squeaked. “You wouldn’t happen to use a pen name, would you?”
His left brow raised debonairly. “As a matter of fact, I do. Taron Taylor.”
The bated breath I had been holding came out in a rush. “Oh.”
His lips curled up. “Have you heard of me?”
I nodded and, unfortunately, I could feel my cheeks burn.
“A fan,” he said, ever so pleased. “I love fans.”
“I never said I was a fan,” came rushing out of my mouth before I could stop it. I didn’t want to be rude to him. It was a conditioned response to men. A defense mechanism, if you will.
He didn’t believe a word or seem to take offense. “Which book is your favorite?” He flashed me a disarming smile.
It was enough to almost make me blurt out how much I lovedSilent Stones, but I stopped myself. “I think our platinum premium account would suit you,” I suggested instead of answering.
He laughed this deep, rich laugh. “Aspen, was it? I like you.”
I tucked my long, brown hair behind my ear. “Um, the account has a competitive APY, no fees, online and mobile banking—” I started to ramble, amusing him more.
“Sounds brilliant.”
“I’ll need your passport, individual tax identification number, and—”
His phone rang, interrupting me. He held up his finger. “One moment please. I must take this.” He answered and walked out but kept me and his nephew in his line of sight. Hekept smiling at me and shaking his head like he couldn’t believe this was happening. I had the exact same thoughts, but wondered why he felt that way. And why did he think we had met?
Henry had cried himself to sleep against me. I stroked his baby-soft brow. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I had to keep myself from tearing up. When I looked back up, Mr. Wickham or Taylor or whoever he was, was now pacing, running his hands through his gorgeous hair. I mean, his hair. It was just hair.
