An Improper Ever After(74)

And just like that, all my fears disappear.

He is perfect, inside and out. And he's mine through the love we have for each other.

I look up at him with a slightly bemused smile. Reaching up, I brush the tip of my index finger over his chin.

He catches my finger and kisses it. "What are you thinking?"

"That I'm lucky to have you. We don't travel in the same social circles. We should have never run into each other."

"It's not luck, it's fate. I was meant to run into you, and you were meant to be mine."

"For a logical man, that's awfully whimsical."

His eyes darken, and he lowers his head. "A better word would be 'grateful.'"

My breath catches, and I tilt my face, my body warming with anticipation. But before our lips can touch, Nonny bursts out of her bedroom. "Anna, can I have a twenty?"




 

 

Elliot straightens with a sigh. "Your sister has shitty timing," he mutters. "I'm getting her a credit card."

"Don't even think about it." I give him a stern look, then turn to Nonny. "What happened to all your money?"

She shifts her weight from side to side, not quite meeting my eyes. "I … bought some candy bars."

Elliot gapes at her. "Were they wrapped in gold?"

I have to agree. Her allowance is exceptionally generous, especially given that Elliot pays for her clothes, food, all school-related activities and so on.

"Some junior high school kids came up to sell stuff …  You know, for a fundraiser? So I bought, um, three boxes."

"Good god." Elliot shakes his head. "You're going to get diabetes."

I lay a hand on his thigh. I know why she did it. She used to have to sell stuff too, and she was always the worst salesperson in the class. "All right. Bring me my purse."

She does. I fish out my wallet and pull out a twenty. A card slips out of one of the pockets and falls on the floor.

Nonny takes the money. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, but next time buy one bar, not three boxes."

"Okay. Sorry."

Before I can grab the card, Elliot reaches down and picks it up. His face pales when he reads what's on it. He glances at me sharply, then turns to Nonny. "Do you mind giving us a few minutes?"

Her quizzical gaze darts between us. "Um … sure." She walks off to her room, watching us over her shoulder the entire way.

As soon as the door closes, Elliot sits me up and gets to his feet. "How the hell do you have this card?"

His voice is seething with fury, and I flinch. Cold fear flows through my veins. This is the exact tone he used when he found out about Mr. Grayson.

* * *


Elliot

My wife's face turns pale so fast, I worry that she may faint without giving me the answers I want.

"What is it?" she whispers, her lips barely moving.

"Keith Shellington."

Her eyes don't register any recognition. But how can that be? She has his card.

"I don't understand," she says finally. "Who is Keith Shellington?"

"He's the fucker who stole from me and Lucas. The embezzler I told you about." I wave the card in her face. "This didn't jump into your wallet on its own." Grayson and now this …  I want her to explain what the hell is going on. Tell me what I need to hear to make the nasty pit in my gut go away.

"Let me see it." She takes the card from my hand and reads the name and phone number on the heavy stock. She shrugs helplessly. "It's a guy I ran into outside a sandwich shop two or three weeks ago." 

"What were you doing there?"

"Having lunch with Traci. We were just saying goodbye when he bumped into me and spilled coffee on my clothes. I told him it was fine, but he was all apologetic and gave me this card to call him in case I couldn't get the stain out. He said he would replace the dress. He seemed to feel really terrible about it, and I didn't …  Elliot, I had no idea he was the man who stole from you."

I can feel my eyes narrowing. The story is too ridiculous and contrived to be believed. Keith couldn't have known she would be at that particular place at that particular time. He doesn't even live in L.A. And for him to just conveniently run into my wife out of millions of people in the city?

No way.

Then I finally register the bloodless, glassy-eyed expression on my wife's face. Her slim arms are wrapped around her legs, and she's watching me like a prisoner awaiting execution.

She's horrified at having been found out.

The thought rams into me with the force of a wrecking ball, and my knees almost give. I curl my hands into fists, my body vibrating with a cocktail of emotions-bitter disappointment, anger and grief.

I mentally count to ten. I have to calm myself or I'm going to fuck everything up. I tunnel my fingers into my hair.