Fact was, I wanted him, simple as that.
Complicated as that, too.
Punkin jumped onto the swing and turned in a circle, settling into the corner and draping herself over our feet. Seb and I held each other, drowsily watching the moonlit lake as sleep began to pull me under.
“Just this,” he whispered, running gentle fingers down my hair.
And I knew exactly what he meant.Just this.Calm. Safe. Together. Possibilities stretching out in front of us as far as we could see. Not friction, not uncertainty, not loneliness.
Just this.
Just us.
I’d give anything for it, too.
Chapter 17
Dazzling sunlight woke me on the porch swing the next morning. Punkin lay beside me. Seb did not. After bolting up, spotting a couple taking a leisurely morning walk along the shore, I rushed inside with the dog on my heels and found the cottage empty. A note scribbled in the messiest lettering known to mankind was tucked under a pizza magnet on the fridge:
Off at noon today. Wags meeting at Benny’s this afternoon? Can swim and brainstorm about the cipher. Will pick you up. —S
P.S. Best porch nap I ever took
My stomach fluttered. Good Lord.I slept with Seb.It was only sleeping, but still. And it was nice. Really nice.
I checked the driveway but his car was gone. He’d used the shower—it was still wet, and a damp towel hung. Another note sat atop my razor and toothbrush:Had to use these, sorry. He’d used my toothbrush? That felt wildly intimate. As I was looking over the rest of the bathroom, Punkin nudged my leg with a cold, wet nose.
“Oh, I guess you’re hungry? Come on, sled dog, let’s find you some vittles...”
After filling up the husky’s bowl with an amount of kibble that I had to guess, I showered and dressed—cutoffs, T-shirt, black one-piece swimsuit underneath—then I made toast. I considered texting Jazmine, but before I could, she texted me to confirm that I was going to Benny’s this afternoon and promised to spill the beans then.
Eager to pass the time before our get-together, I busied myself with domestic chores and took the Corvair to the grocery store for a few necessities. When I got back, I checked my email for the first time and nearly had a heart attack when I spotted the subject lineR. Lee and Associates.
I couldn’t click on it fast enough.
My eyes scanned a form letter that had been sent from a generic email box: “Thank you for contacting R. Lee and Associates. If you’d like to make an in-office appointment to discuss commercial real estate with one of our brokers, please call us Monday through Friday...”
Disappointment collected in my chest, followed quickly by anger. Did anyone even read my email, or was this sent by some kind of automated AI assistant? Did I not identify myself as his former daughter? What kind of person sends a thoughtless, callous response to a clearly personal message?My father, that’s who.
I let the disappointment burn through me for a minute, then I typed a brand-new message into the Contact form of his brokerage website:
Dear Mr. Lee,
Please contact me about a legal matter as soon as possible.
Thank you,
Paige Malone
There. Short and simple. Maybe this one wouldn’t get a form reply.
But what if it does... ?I scrolled to the top of the webpage and stared at the telephone number listed for several anxious moments before tapping it. When the number started ringing, I nearly hung up in a panic. But before I could even make a decision, fight or flight, a recorded voice blared through my phone’s speaker:
“You’ve reached R. Lee and Associates. Sorry we missed your call, but if you leave your name and number at the tone, someone will return your call just as soon as we’re back at our desk...”
Fuck!I was unprepared but tried to be professional. “Um, yes, hello. This is, uh, Paige Malone? I’m trying to get in touch with Mr. Lee, and it’s sort of urgent? I’ve sent two messages on your site, but I don’t know if anyone’s read them. So if someone could get back in touch with me at your earliest convenience, you can reach me at...”
After reciting my telephone number, I couldn’t end the call fast enough. My heart raced like I’d been running a marathon, but hey: I’d done it! I’d initiated contact. Now I just had to wait for a reply. I’d give it a couple days, but that was my limit. And I supposed if he wasn’t going to respond to messages and a voicemail, I’d be forced to drive there in person.
