Page 58 of Cry, Little Dove

“Bet you do.” He winks and leads me around the side of the room to a quiet spot by buffet tables stacked with hors d’oeuvres. A server offers us champagne and we each take a glass. I sip from it, humming as I appreciate the fine bubbles and subtle notes of citrus and peach. This is the good stuff.

“Surely, you’re no stranger to compliments, curly? I can’t imagine you’ve never been told how devilishly handsome you are,” I say, squeezing his arm. “Every single woman in this room has been devouring you with her eyes since we walked in.”

He scoffs. “I don’t give a damn about any of these people. None of them matter. When will you finally understand that I only wantyou, Erica? I hope that in time, you might want me as well. And maybe, if I’m really lucky, you’ll even like me a little, too.”

I almost drop the champagne. The words forming on my tongue have my heart racing in tandem with my thoughts.

“Cain, I—”

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please!” Amanda’s voice rings out from the speakers.

My lips press into a tight smile and Cain’s shoulders drop. Can one be relieved and disappointed at the same time? About what, I’m not sure. At this point, I’m not even certain what I meant to say.

That I already want him, even though I shouldn’t? That I like him? That I couldn’t stop thinking about him the whole time we were apart? That I felt cold and lost without him today?

The music and conversations quieten, replaced by polite clapping, and the collective focus shifts to Amanda. She practically glows under the stage lights, the sequins on her dress glittering like rubies while she’s basking in the attention.

“Good evening! My name is Amanda Morrow and I’m honored to host this year’s Little Hearts fundraiser again. Before we get into the entertainment and cheque writing, please welcome the man whose generous contributions have kept the Little Hearts Hospital open, funded the extensive renovations and the new transplant wing finished earlier this month. My brother, Dr. Cain Morrow!”

My eyes widen.Contributions as in donations?

“Excuse me, darlin’,” Cain says quietly and puts his glass on a table behind him. The mass of people parts for him as he walks to the stage and climbs the steps by the side. Amanda hands him the microphone, but when he addresses the guests, my heart stutters.

Until that moment, I didn’t realize that Cain’s special smiles are just for me.

The tilt of his lips doesn’t reach his eyes as he glances over the sea of guests. True affection shines in them when he looks at his sister, but it’s still different than when he smiles at me. The grins he gives me are softer and lighter, hotter at the same time, and utterly, devastatingly adoring.

Cain wears different masks for the world. Loving, responsible brother for Amanda. Serious businessman and calm doctor for work. It must be exhausting, keeping up the act.

Am I the only person to see his true, unfiltered self?

Cain speaks about the hospital’s development and other charity projects he’s invested in, encouraging everyone to lend their support to medical research and advancement, especially in the pediatric sector. He talks about how fortunate everyone gathered in the room is, and that it’s the responsibility of the lucky ones like them to help those in need.

Every word seems carefully chosen to be diplomatic without losing its bite. His stern charm and passionate appeal work, and many guests already take out their cheque books. Strangely, the cute drawl has entirely disappeared from his speech. His accent is the very definition of academically neutral. It’s sad he feels like he has to hide his drawl, but I know how irrationally prejudiced some people can be.

As soon as he has said his bit, Cain gives the microphone back to Amanda and walks offstage to another round of earnest, but polite applause. When he returns to me, he takes my hand.

“I need to get out of here for a bit,” he says, pulling me along to a set of doors leading to a wraparound balcony. “I can’t stand another second with hundreds of eyes following my every damn move.”

“When were you going to tell me that you’re a philanthropist?” I push a gentle elbow against his side, sipping on my leftover champagne.

The golden sunset frames Cain with an otherworldly glow, and his long shadow moves in unison with him as he shrugs. “Never?”

“But that’s amazing! You must have saved so many lives.”

Cain leans against the railing, taking a fancy cigarette case from his pocket. We’re alone out here, and I don’t miss how his stance relaxes.

“You sound surprised, little dove. Did you think a brutal butcher like me ain’t capable of doing any good in this world?”

There it is again, that charming accent. I can’t stop myself from smiling. “That’s not it. I guess I don’t understand why you do what you do. The things in your basement, I mean. It can’t be for the money.”

He plucks a cigarette from the case before sliding it back into his pocket. Searching my face, he lights it. His cheeks hollow as he takes a deep drag and exhales in a smoke-stained, grey sigh.

“You sure you want the whole story? It might mess up that neat preconception of the evil killer you’ve formed about me in there.” He taps my forehead.

I toss my hair back. “Pah. Try me.”

“The first time wasn’t a choice. I did it for Mandy. She was low on the waiting list for a heart transplant and never would have made it until it was her turn. The doctors just shrugged.” His hands shake, a shadow of anger crossing his face, but he quickly composes himself. “Our parents were already gone, so mother couldn’t throw her weight around. Money was a little tight after our clinic went into the red.”

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