Page 103 of Say You Will

He frowns and shakes his head.

“You tried to sell me to a business associate for money. You’re trying to use my relationship with Henry. You tried to steal my dog.” I bite out my last words.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“It was exactly like that. Say, ‘I’m sorry, Franki.’”

He shakes with fury, his face vermillion against the white of his hair as he chokes on his words. “I’m sorry, Franki.”

I dip my head. “I accept your apology.”

“Will you help me?” he grinds out. “Please. I’m begging you.”

I shake my head. “I’m swamped. You know how it is. You’ll figure it out on your own. I’m blocking your number. If you mail me anything at all, it will be returned to you. If we’re on the same street, I will look right past you. If you speak to me, a bodyguard will remove you from my presence.”

“You can’t do this.” He has the nerve to look like I’ve hurt his feelings.

I press End Call.

I sit like that, leaning forward on the edge of the sofa, phone held loose in my hands between my knees. I stare at the screen, but my vision blurs too much for me to read the numbers in my contacts. A fat teardrop lands on the glass screen. Then another. Another. Hands shaking, I pass the phone to Henry. I choke on my words, but he still manages to understand me through my ragged breaths. “Will you block . . . his number . . . for me? I can’t . . . see what I’m doing right now.”

He presses his lips to my temple. “Anything you need.”

Henry blocks my father for me, then sets the phone on the coffee table and lifts me onto his lap. Oliver whines at his knee. Henry lifts him onto my lap. I wrap my arms around Oliver, and Henry curls his around us both. He holds me, arms tight, rocking gently, a hand on my back and one holding my head to his shoulder as I grieve the loss of the father I never had.

thirty-two

Franki

One Week Later

Princesses Don’t Cry | CARYS

Henry throws on apair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, while I dig through my dresser for clean clothes. When my stomach growls, he nuzzles my neck. “I meant to feed us two hours ago.”

“We were distracted.” I lift the back of my hand to my forehead. “But now I may faint from hunger.”

He turns me to face him, his worried expression clearing when he sees that I’m teasing him. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,love, but you’ll have to trek through the forest and hunt down your dinner first. That was your childhood dream, if I recall.”

“I didn’t want to hunt; I wanted to fish and forage for nuts and berries. At the moment, I’d rather eat a peanut butter sandwich.”

“I’ll teach you to fish another time if you want. I think you’d like it. For now, I can do better than a sandwich. Any requests?”

I smile and stretch up to kiss the divot on his chin. “Surprise me.”

He runs his knuckles lightly over my cheekbone and searches my eyes. “I l—”

I frown in confusion. “You?”

He huffs. “I . . . left Oliver . . . in the kitchen. I’d better get him his dinner.”

Henry drops a kiss to my lips, then he’s gone. I sink to the edge of the bed with a smile and pull on loose cotton pants and a black cable-knit sweater. I’ve got one foot in a thick sock and am reaching for the other when the jacket I was wearing earlier chimes a text tone where it lays on the dresser.

My personal phone is on the shelf in the closet, and I never turned it back on, anyway. My business phone is on the coffee table in the living room.

I lift the jacket to find I’d covered Henry’s phone with it when we returned from our earlier walk. I pick it up, intending to take it to Henry in the kitchen. Instead, I stand, arrested, as my name flashes on the screen.

Spencer: I’m attaching the updated file we discussed regarding methods to secure Ms. Lennox’s cooperation. I would be remiss if I didn’t . . .

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