Trade It All(67)

“I don’t know,” Willa said somberly. Over a couple more glasses of wine, she brought her sister completely up to date. She didn’t hold anything back. She started with how Dax hadn’t seemed to want her to work for Clay. “Oh, my God, I wonder if Dax knew about the bet?”

“Does it matter?” Lexi asked. “It worked.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter how we got together,” Willa said, not completely convinced. “Being with him, Lexi, is so good it’s terrifying. I keep waiting for it to end.” She told Lexi about the playful way she and Lance had staged a second first meeting. She walked her through the wonder of their craft fair date and how much she’d enjoyed meeting his friends. She told her about touring Emily’s museum, being caught by Asher, and his reaction to them dating. Before Lexi had a chance to comment on that, Willa went on to describe how welcoming everyone had been when she’d gone to dinner with the family. She kept the intimate details of Cape Cod to herself but shared how amazing it had been to be with him. Her smile wavered however when she retold how a phone call had stopped her from finally telling him everything and how strained the long ride home had felt. “I know this sounds paranoid, but I don’t know if I believe that there was really an emergency at his office. Am I being ridiculous? Why would he lie?”

Lexi wrinkled her nose. “I would tell you to call him, but I’m buzzed. I wouldn’t take my own advice right now.”

Although Willa didn’t feel drunk, she’d definitely had more than her norm. “I can’t call him. What would I even say? I can’t ask him if he lied to me. Who admits to that?”

“Do you want me to do it?” Lexi asked then quickly added, “Just kidding.”

Willa waved a finger. “Not funny. So not funny.” But she found herself smiling.

Pouring the last of their second bottle into her glass, Lexi said, “He’ll call. He said he would, didn’t he?”

Resting her head on one hand, Willa thought back over their parting conversation. “Come to think of it, he didn’t say he would.”

After a long pause, Willa raised her head slightly. “What did you promise Clay if he won the bet?”

Lexi covered her eyes and groaned. “That’s the part of the conversation I can’t remember. I’m not too worried about it, though. I don’t believe an inebriated bet is a binding agreement. He hasn’t mentioned it since, so he might not remember either.”

Lance went for a long run that night and another one in the morning before heading to his office. He threw himself into working furiously on the Capitol Complex plans for the next few days, hoping to find some clarity in that distraction, but he didn’t. All he saw when he looked at his proposal was what it lacked.

He’d redesigned the open space to allow for flow and optimal space, but there was nothing to draw people in. It lacked heart.

Like me.

Willa needs someone who loves her. Why can’t I say those words?

I want to be with her. What’s holding me back?

He spun his chair so he could stare out the window of his office. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his aunt’s journal sticking out of the corner of his computer bag.

That book, a fucking old woman’s ramblings, is somehow the answer—but to which question?

He cleared his desk and retrieved the journal. On a piece of graph paper, he copied the numbers from the pages that led up to where Patrice had torn out pages. Patterns emerged. Some of the numbers repeated in sequence.

Instinctively, he reached for his phone. “Willa, I figured it out.”

“What?”

“All the numbers in my aunt’s journal. Some are phone numbers, but the rest is a code. Names, addresses. It’s a fucking code. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

“What do you think it means?”

“It means I’m going to Aruba.”

“So the problem at work is resolved?”

“What problem? Oh, that. I—” Fuck. “Willa—”

“There wasn’t a problem, was there?”

In the quiet moment that Lance used to choose his next words, Willa hung up.

I told myself I wouldn’t hurt her this time. I swore I’d do it the right way.

Why do I keep fucking this up?

That question plagued him for the next two days. He almost called her a hundred times, but stopped when he realized he didn’t yet know what to say.

On a whim born in frustration, Lance flew to Aruba and tracked down the first name on the list. It was a doctor. Lance shamelessly bribed the record’s clerk at the private hospital where Kenzi and Kent had been born to look up the name. He hadn’t delivered the babies, but he’d worked there at the time they were born.