I groan immediately, dropping back into my chair. “Lucy, please stop reminding me.”
“She’s traumatised,” Lucy tells Catherine.
“I am.”
Catherine pats my hand gently. “There’s no reason to feel guilty. Ray’s generous by nature.” A knowing smile tugs at her lips. “And trust me, he can afford it.”
“That’s not really the point,” I mutter.
Both women look at me expectantly. I sigh. “I just don’t want him thinking I’m with him for his money.”
Lucy’s expression softens immediately.
“Oh sweetheart,” she says quietly, “that man looks at you like he’d hand you his entire bank account just for smiling at him.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Still,” I mumble awkwardly, “I want to do something nice back.”
Lucy taps a nail thoughtfully against her coffee cup. “Then do something meaningful.”
My brow furrows. “What do you even get a man who already owns everything?”
“Not things,” Lucy says. “Something personal.”
I think about Ray for a second. “I don’t know,” I admit. “He doesn’t really . . . do hobbies, and he’s always so busy.”
Catherine leans forward slightly then, her eyes thoughtful. “What does Ray want more than anything?”
I open my mouth. Close it again. Then quietly say, “A family.”
Catherine points at me instantly. “Exactly.”
“And what did he miss out on growing up?” Catherine continues gently.
My chest tightens immediately. Love. Stability. Warmth. Normality.People choosing him.A home.
Catherine’s smile widens slowly like she can practically see the thought forming in my head. “He’s spent most of his adult life surrounded by expensive things,” Catherine says gently. “But I don’t think many people have ever done something for him just because they care.”
The words settle heavily in my chest.
Catherine reaches across the table and squeezes my hand gently. “Trust me,” she says softly. “Men like Ray don’t remember expensive gifts.” Her smile turns knowing. “They remember how someone made them feel.”
RAY
By one in the afternoon, I’ve already had three meetings, two arguments, and one accountant nearly burst into tears in my office.
So, naturally, my brain decides the only thing it can focus on is whether Wynter’s eaten lunch.
Pathetic.
I tell myself I’m only heading back to the apartment because Lucy left this morning and Wynter’s probably bored out of hermind alone. Not because I’ve spent the last hour thinking about the way she looked in that cream dress yesterday.
Definitely not because of that.
The second I step into the apartment, music hits me. It’s loud, blasting from the speakers around the apartment. It’s followed by bursts of laughter.
I stop mid-step, confused. The place is usually quiet during the day, but now some old eighties song blasts from somewhere deeper inside the apartment, mixed with Sebastian shouting lyrics completely out of tune.
Then Wynter’s laugh cuts through everything else. It’s warm and relaxed. Not something I often hear and I instantly love it. I’m drawn to it.
