“It’s complicated.” She lifts her Styrofoam cup and swirls it around to gauge how much is left. “Again, just please don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Anyone I might tell probably already knows.” I shrug and peer outside, my eyes following a striking man in a gray Macintosh jacket and wayfarer sunglasses who passes by. Our eyes lock and he smiles.
And then he’s gone forever.
As my mind is stuck on the panty-melting smile I was just gifted by that gorgeous stranger, it occurs to me that I haven’t thought of Jeremiah all day.
I’m not even sure that I miss him.
“Who would you tell?” Bellamy asks. My gaze jerks back to her.
“Well, Beckham.” I shrug. “We tell each other almost everything.”
Or at least it feels that way.
“Are you and Beckham together?” she asks.
A robust laugh originates deep inside, as if it’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. “Absolutely not. And please don’t ever ask me that again.”
Bellamy watches me laugh. So do the patrons at the next table over.
“Been there. Done that. Got the t-shirt.” I pull my small clutch from my lap and yank out my phone. “Speak of the devil.”
Beckham asks where I am and tells me Dane wants a quick meeting with me before they leave to visit Leo.
“I guess we have to head back. I have to go with Beck to see his uncle in hospice.”
I may not be invited, but I’m tagging along anyway. He needs my strength. He was silent the entire flight this morning, wearing nothing but a casual linen suit and the solemn face of a soldier going to war. Inside he’s got to be falling apart.
“Oh?” Bellamy rises.
“That’s why we’re here,” I say, standing up and tilting my cup back to get the last drop. After I toss it in a nearby trashcan, I whip out a tin of Rosebud Salve and coat my lips before popping in a stick of gum. “Want one?”
“Sure.”
“So Dane didn’t tell you about Uncle Leo?” I ask.
“No.”
“I’m shocked. The man practically raised them, well, since they were teenagers.” That’s pretty much all I know. I’m sure he’d have opened up to me more had I not been so adamant about not being friends.
We leave the coffee shop and stroll back to the office. A break in the clouds above allows for sunlight to filter through and warm the chilly air. Inside, I’m filled with warm coffee and sadness. My heart breaks for Dane and Beckham.
I need to call my dad later.
We used to talk on the phone every Sunday night. I stopped picking up the phone the second Jeremiah walked out. I can’t talk to him about it. He loves Jeremiah. On a larger scale, my heart knows that Dad’s waiting for me to marry off before he departs this earth. He’d never admit it, but he doesn’t need to. I see it in his eyes. I hear it in his words.
“I wish you could’ve met Uncle Leo in his better days.” I sound like I go way back with him. Despite only meeting him two weeks ago, he’s the kind of person who leaves their footprint in your heart. Warm and outspoken and dispensing unsolicited advice with every breath he takes, he’s the old bachelor version of a stereotypical Italian mother.
“Is there anything I should do for Dane?” she asks. “Anything to help him cope?”
My lips purse as my pointed heels click the cement sidewalk with steady strides. “I doubt it. If he hasn’t mentioned anything to you yet, he probably doesn’t want to talk about it. The doctors say it’s going to be any day now. If Dane’s a little more on edge than usual, that might be why.”
“I see.”
We trek into the lobby and approach the elevator, and when we hit our floor, we walk side by side past the reception desk where a gaggle of gawking girls stare us down. I shoot them my best New York bitch glare, and they all glance away, convincing me they share a brain.
“You ready?” Beckham rounds the corner and hooks his arm into mine. There’s a streak of misplaced playfulness in his stormy eyes. Maybe he had a chat with Dane that lifted his spirits? Or maybe he’s pretending, for his own sake, that everything isn’t actually falling apart. “Where’d you go?”
“Coffee.” My arm retracts. “And it was on you, so…thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he teases, one eyebrow arched.
“It was great meeting you, Bellamy.” I place my hand across the side of her arm. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be around this week, but I’m sure I’ll run into you again.”
I follow Beckham to the conference room where Dane waits, scrolling through his phone with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. He’s frustrated about something, Bellamy perhaps. His uncle.