That's easy…she’s right. I made assumptions.
Those assumptions weren’t really made because of her. The past flows through my brain, as realization hits me. All those hateful things I thought or said…really had nothing to do with her and everything to do with my past. I let that woman ruin another part of my life.
Having a neighbor who rightfully hates you isn’t a good thing.
But treating a woman badly because you haven’t gotten over your ex is something else entirely.
“Everything okay, Dad? Did you see what I mean about Greer?”
The only thing I saw was my own stupidity and a woman who could single-handedly take on all the evils of the world and win. “She’s fine.”
“You know that word means the opposite when women say it.”
Oh yeah. “But I’m the one saying it. You don’t need to worry about her.” I might need to worry about this Rothswyler guy…would she really send someone to physically hurt me?
I wouldn’t hesitate if someone was bothering my woman. Greer mentioned Creed being the smart one…Did he ask her instead of assuming?
He told me once that she wasn’t dating anyone. “Has Greer ever mentioned a man named Rothswyler?”
“Yeah. That’s her family lawyer.”
Family lawyer? “What do you mean? Like a friend of the family who’s a lawyer?”
“I think he’s a friend, but no. Her family has Rothswyler on retainer. He found and purchased this house for her.”
But it’s owned by a trust…and she’s carrying a twenty-thousand-dollar bag like people carry a drawstring bag to the beach. “Greer is rich.”
“Oh yeah. I didn’t look her family up, but I get the impression that she’s very rich.”
“So he isn’t her boyfriend?”
Creed grins. “Nope. No sugar daddy.”
“Why do you think this is funny?” I glare at him.
“Because the next thing you’re going to realize is why you were dipping her braids in the inkwell.” Creed closes his book and stands up. “I think I’ll go make dinner while you process all that. And Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“Remember that I really like Greer when you figure it out.” He takes the food out of the bags while I stand there trying to decipher his words as guilt flows through me.
At least Greer doesn’t plan to send a hitman after me.
You Were A Prostitute?!?
Greer
The icing bag slips out of Cordelia’s fingers and plops into the sea of mini cakes she was decorating. “HE THOUGHT YOU WERE A PROSTITUTE? You, Greer Hestons, who has only ever kissed one man—and it’s debatable if he’s even considered a man—in your life, a prostitute?”
“Yup.”
“I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or call Winnie.”
“Calling Winnie has run across my mind several times.”
“So, who did he think was paying you for sex? Does he know how much you’re worth? I mean, he couldn’t thinking that about you. But still, your mother would require a trillionaire to sully her pure daughter’s name.”
She’d probably settle for pimping me out to one, but she’d prefer that I married him. “Rothswyler.”
