Page 88 of For Her Own Good

Lacey departs, but I can’t refocus on my patients. I don’t have time for a trip to the gym or a run to get my head in order, and I feel too scattered and edgy for anything else to do the trick. Perhaps, though, calling the other most important woman in my life will be something at least. So I ring up Maeve, knowing I’ll get an earful because it’s been overlong since we spoke.

“Lowry, you delinquent. It’s nice to hear from you. I understand the flush of young love is distracting, but you could show me a little more deference. What with being your first wife and all.”

There it is again. Maeve thinks of this as a foregone conclusion—she’s my first wife, which implies Starla will be my second. But I’m still not sure that’s something Starla wants from me.

“Lovely to hear your voice, Maeve. How are you?”

“I’m good. Very good, actually.”

Maeve isn’t a shy person but she sounds a bit bashful now. It’s wildly unlike her, and I’ve got to wonder what that’s about.

“Aye? And what’s that about?”

“I’m, uh, maybe, seeing someone?”

“Are you, then? That’s brilliant. Isn’t it?”

“I think so. So far.”

“And who’s the lucky bastard?”

Not that I’ll know him. Unless it’s one of those fancy blokes I met at some function I went to with Maeve. Then I might have a shot in hell. But Maeve’s never had much of a taste for those society gents, seems to prefer downtown men even though she’s a decidedly uptown girl.

“This is actually a bit awkward. I don’t want you to think there was anything going on when we were married, because there wasn’t, but I… Denny. It’s Denny. I’m fucking Denny, okay?”

Denny? As in her driver, Denny? It’s a bit of a shock, but I never would’ve accused her of fooling around on me—neither of us are built for that, and there was no reason for her to stay with me if she’d wanted to be with him.

“You don’t need to get your dander up, hen. I always liked Denny, was glad he’d still be around after I wasn’t all the time. He clearly likes and respects you. I’m glad for you both if it makes you happy.”

“You are?”

I forget sometimes that even though Maeve is mostly a machete, sometimes the woman’s got a soft side to her as well. Shouldn’t surprise me at all that she values my opinion as I value hers, but Christ, I wish she weren’t worried.

“Course. Why wouldn’t I want you to be happy? I always wanted that for you more than anything else, and I hope he’s the man who can give you what I couldn’t because I’ve got no sense in my head at all.”

“Fine, then. How’s Starla doing? I’ve heard talk about Jerome Garrett sniffing around Patrick Enterprises. Even though that would be difficult to pull off, if anyone can do it, it would be him. She must be frazzled.”

Normally I’d poke a bit more and ask the obvious questions about Maeve and Denny: How long has this been going on, how did you get together? But I’m distracted by Maeve’s mention of Starla. Star has hardly said anything to me about her father’s business, and I haven’t been much keeping track otherwise, figuring she’d tell me about something if it were noteworthy. But this sounds major.

“She hasn’t mentioned it, actually.”

Something that’s not exactly embarrassment burns high up in my chest, nearly in my throat. Maeve knows something about Starla I don’t? Why didn’t Starla tell me? I pride myself on her being able to share anything with me, anything at all, but it seems as though the business and fortune elite insiders have got information I ought to have. No, that doesn’t feel good at all, but I’m sure there’s a reason for it. Must be.

“Oh. I’m sure she has it handled, then. She’s got a team of sharks for lawyers so they’ve probably got it all under control. I’m sure she doesn’t want to worry you with all that since you never cared much for industry gossip or goings-on.”

That’s true, but I do care very much for Starla. I try to shake it off even as I plan how to ask her about it later. In the meantime, I’ll interrogate Maeve about her love life.

“So, you and Denny, huh? How did that come about?”

Chapter 29

Starla

Last nightand this morning I’ve had Lowry around to distract me from my upcoming meeting with Jerome Garrett. Eight p.m. Friday at a steakhouse in the seaport. Jesus, what does one wear to something like this? I’ll have Holden pick something appropriate out. Something that makes me look professional but also dangerous. Something that says, “I know what I’m about, don’t you dare fuck with me.”

For now, though, I’m ravenous because I’m somewhat insatiable when it comes to Lowry. I want him all the time. I want him calling me his darling little girl all the time, I want him spanking my bottom all the time, I want him inside me all the time. I cannot get enough.

It’s a good thing he’s a responsible adult who reminds me—us—that we ought to eat something, if only to be able to keep up with our shenanigans.

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