and photographer, I always seemed to have to take work home with me. Honestly, after the day I’d had, I just wanted to take a hot shower and curl up with a good book and an even better glass of wine—anything to take my mind off the pain and loneliness of having yet another precious person ripped out of my life. After her death, I’d cried every night and even at work in the bathroom. In the midst of those emotional meltdowns, I felt the world crashing all around me.
My attorney looked down at his watch. “He’s late.”
“Who’s late?” I inquired.
“Your mother left very specific instructions, and we have to abide by them,” he said.
I hoped he’d give me a little clue about who our mystery date was going to be, but he remained secretive and mysterious. Mr. Shelby had been my mother’s lawyer for thirty years, and she’d trusted him completely. I knew there was more to the whole thing than he was telling me, and I could tell by his nervous twitch that he was up to no good.
“Please tell me what’s going on, Mr. Shelby,” I begged. “You know how much I hate surprises.”
Lifting a brow, he recited robotically, “I’m sorry, Miss Roberts, but according to the terms of the decedent’s Last Will and Testament, I am not permitted to mention his name.”
“But who else would she include? All of her closer friends and the rest of my relatives have already received whatever she bequeathed them. I thought I was the only one left.”
He picked up a file and smiled a grin that looked even faker than his toupee. “Please just be patient a while longer.”
My mind raced with questions. I was really the closest person to my mother. My father had died two years earlier from a heart attack, and I had no siblings. My mother had been a lonely child, so I just didn’t get it. We were just a small, close-knit family, so it didn’t make sense that she’d brought in an outsider.
Mr. Shelby looked at me. “You may want to check your face. It seems your mascara is running.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, excuse me for crying. This is very difficult for me.”
“That’s understandable,” he said softly, sounding surprisingly human and handing me a tissue.
I pulled out my compact and stared in the little round mirror at my bloodshot hazel eyes. I looked so tired and beat. I used the tissue to wipe the blackish-gray rivers from my cheeks and to touch up my raccoon eyes with the Samsonites under them, then fixed the long brown strands of hair that had insisted on falling out of my French braid. Fortunately, my clothing had stayed pretty much intact; I’d opted for a long-sleeved, covered placket blouse tucked neatly into fashionable black slacks.
A knock on the door made me glance up, eager to see who we’d been waiting for.
“Come in,” the lawyer said.
When the heavy walnut door creaked open, my jaw dropped. There, standing before me, was my high school sweetheart, though he somehow looked like a stranger. Speechless, I stared at his beautiful face. His rain-soaked black locks fell around his shoulders in silken ebony waves. My eyes slid up his towering body, gliding over his high cheekbones and the dark stubble shading his sharp jaw.
I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My breath froze in my throat, and my stomach clenched. The last time I’d seen the man was when he’d stood me up on my wedding day, five years prior. Now, all that loneliness rushed right to my head again, leaving me lightheaded. All over again, I felt like that broken girl in the fluffy white gown, shooing guests away from the ceremony that was not meant to be. I had no idea how to react to such an unexpected intrusion. I couldn’t breathe, and the attorney’s office seemed to suddenly grow smaller and hotter.
He just stood there, staring at me with those baby blues, those eyes I thought I’d spend the rest of my life getting lost in. He was casually dressed in a white T-shirt that stretched over his
My attorney looked down at his watch. “He’s late.”
“Who’s late?” I inquired.
“Your mother left very specific instructions, and we have to abide by them,” he said.
I hoped he’d give me a little clue about who our mystery date was going to be, but he remained secretive and mysterious. Mr. Shelby had been my mother’s lawyer for thirty years, and she’d trusted him completely. I knew there was more to the whole thing than he was telling me, and I could tell by his nervous twitch that he was up to no good.
“Please tell me what’s going on, Mr. Shelby,” I begged. “You know how much I hate surprises.”
Lifting a brow, he recited robotically, “I’m sorry, Miss Roberts, but according to the terms of the decedent’s Last Will and Testament, I am not permitted to mention his name.”
“But who else would she include? All of her closer friends and the rest of my relatives have already received whatever she bequeathed them. I thought I was the only one left.”
He picked up a file and smiled a grin that looked even faker than his toupee. “Please just be patient a while longer.”
My mind raced with questions. I was really the closest person to my mother. My father had died two years earlier from a heart attack, and I had no siblings. My mother had been a lonely child, so I just didn’t get it. We were just a small, close-knit family, so it didn’t make sense that she’d brought in an outsider.
Mr. Shelby looked at me. “You may want to check your face. It seems your mascara is running.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, excuse me for crying. This is very difficult for me.”
“That’s understandable,” he said softly, sounding surprisingly human and handing me a tissue.
I pulled out my compact and stared in the little round mirror at my bloodshot hazel eyes. I looked so tired and beat. I used the tissue to wipe the blackish-gray rivers from my cheeks and to touch up my raccoon eyes with the Samsonites under them, then fixed the long brown strands of hair that had insisted on falling out of my French braid. Fortunately, my clothing had stayed pretty much intact; I’d opted for a long-sleeved, covered placket blouse tucked neatly into fashionable black slacks.
A knock on the door made me glance up, eager to see who we’d been waiting for.
“Come in,” the lawyer said.
When the heavy walnut door creaked open, my jaw dropped. There, standing before me, was my high school sweetheart, though he somehow looked like a stranger. Speechless, I stared at his beautiful face. His rain-soaked black locks fell around his shoulders in silken ebony waves. My eyes slid up his towering body, gliding over his high cheekbones and the dark stubble shading his sharp jaw.
I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My breath froze in my throat, and my stomach clenched. The last time I’d seen the man was when he’d stood me up on my wedding day, five years prior. Now, all that loneliness rushed right to my head again, leaving me lightheaded. All over again, I felt like that broken girl in the fluffy white gown, shooing guests away from the ceremony that was not meant to be. I had no idea how to react to such an unexpected intrusion. I couldn’t breathe, and the attorney’s office seemed to suddenly grow smaller and hotter.
He just stood there, staring at me with those baby blues, those eyes I thought I’d spend the rest of my life getting lost in. He was casually dressed in a white T-shirt that stretched over his
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