Page 129 of Meet Me on Greenwood

Built it? I had so many questions.

He rubbed his hands across my body, stopping when he reached the entry point for the wound on my stomach.

"May I?" he asked.

I nodded as he kneeled, lifting up my shirt to examine the stitches. "That will leave a scar," he said. "The doctor who stitched it should have done a better a job."

He smirked, as he stood lifting me into his arms. "You have no idea how happy I am," he said. I looked down at him, my legs wrapping around his waist.

"I think I do," I said, cupping his face. "I love you so much and I hate that I didn’t tell you that enough."

He smoothed my hair. "I love you too, Gema."

He lowered me slowly until our mouths were only a breath apart. I stopped, my lips against his. "Hatley Industries bought the ORI," I said, meeting his gaze. "Do you know who the CEO of that company is?"

His hands went to the back of my neck, getting lost into my hair. "Paul and Gemini Hatley," he said with a grin.

"Oh, thank God," I said, and leaned in until our lips met. It was like we hadn’t lost any time. I was desperate for him, and he answered with the same fervor of someone who knew how close we were to losing this, losing us.

When we finally separated and our breaths had calmed, he took my hand in his. "Shall I show you around?" he asked. "I could go for a slice of sweet potato pie."

"With butter pecan ice cream?" I asked.

"I believe that is your recipe."

"And then you’ll take me on the ferry boats?" I asked. "Like our first date."

He peered at me. "You’re not afraid?"

"Never with you."

49

Epilogue

Bri

It was strange being on my own again. I’d developed such deep relationships with my counselors and the other patients, but as my therapist said, she couldn’t be my friend and I needed to reconnect with the people who loved and wanted the best for me. It had taken some time, but I realized that was Gema.

Ever since she’d awakened, she’d made every effort to be there for me, including moving to Tulsa with her new husband, Paul, though sometimes he went by Houston. We were no strangers to wealth, but even the elite had tiers, and Houston was at the top. That was why, when Gema had offered for me to stay at their pool house, I’d accepted immediately. Even though I lived on the property, I rarely saw them, which was good. I liked Houston, but seeing those too constantly looking at and touching each other was enough to make me nauseous. I’d promised my therapist I would complete a year of celibacy, and I meant to keep that promise, which meant I was disgusted by public displays of romance. Still, I was happy for my sister. She deserved to be happy.

Now that I didn’t have the full-time job of being an alcoholic, I poured that energy into making art. At first the pieces were dark and chaotic, but eventually, they morphed into something so deep, I had to take breaks from it. My latest was a portrait of our mother. Gema had come to see it often, asking if I could make one for her. I wished that I could, but the way I had to channel every emotion into the piece, I knew I’d never be able to recreate it. I planned to gift it to Gema around Christmas. It was the least I could do for everything she’d done to help me.

I was looking for my swimsuit so I could lie by the pool when I got a call from an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Yes, is this Brittany Cross?""It is," I affirmed cautiously, hoping it wasn’t another bill collector. "This is Edgar Benton, your father’s old law partner and the executor of his will."

"I remember."

"I have some additional documents to go over, if you have time to swing by."

"I would have to see when Gema is available," I said.

He was quiet for a moment. "That is not necessary. This only requires you to be present. Could you come down today?"

"I suppose."