Page 108 of Silver Linings
I take a deep breath before pulling the contents of the envelope out. It seems she put a lot of things in here, the first being a save the date to her wedding that I promptly set aside.The next is a handwritten letter. It’s short, to the point, and lacks any sort of familiarity.
Your father and I started a savings account for you when you were born. I continued to pay into it when I could throughout the years after his passing and thought it was time for me to give it to you. Do whatever you want with it. Paul and I hope to see you at the wedding.
Best, Mom
Best.
Not love. Not sincerely. Not even a warm regards. It doesn’t sting the way I think it would have a couple weeks ago.
I reach behind theheartfeltletter for the third and final component to her interruption in my life, pulling out a thin slip of paper—a check to be exact. For fifteen thousand dollars. I drop it like it just caught fire in my hand and burned me.
“Unbelievable,” I mumble.
I look to Hendrix, my steady rock against the crashing waves. He’s been stroking my leg in a soothing motion since I brought him up here to do this, never wavering in his support of whatever I choose.
“Talk to me.”
“She’s trying to bribe me. Her future husband wants me at their wedding, and this is how she thinks she can accomplish that. If I take her money, I’ll feel obligated to go.” It’s hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice. For as much as I’ve worked through the dynamic between myself and my mom in the last couple weeks, I can’t say I’m fully at peace with it. I don’t think Iever will be—my new therapist told me it was a perfectly normal reaction to all I had been through. I was still figuring it out.
“It could be helpful after you depleted your reserves,” Hendrix points out. I know he’s right, suggesting it to make sure I weigh all my options.
I reach down to pick the check up off the floor and extend it towards him. “If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He pushes it away from himself like it’s riddled with the bubonic plague.
“I’m serious. You did so much physical labor on this place and deserve to be compensated for it. Let me pay you.” I lean forward to try and shove the check in the pocket of his hoodie.
“Absolutely not.” He grabs my arm, stopping me from forcing the check onto his person as he grabs me by the waist with his other arm, swinging my body over to straddle his, effectively shutting me up.
I wiggle in his lap, eliciting a groan from deep in the back of his throat. To make matters worse—for him—I lean forward to pepper kisses along his obscenely perfect jawline.
When I reach his ear, I lean forward. “Please let me use my mom’s guilt money to pay you.” A delicate bite to his ear has him clenching his teeth.
His firm hands are on my shoulders, pushing me so there’s a respectable amount of space between us. I hate it. I want to burrow under his hoodie and stay there forever. It’s crazy what being happy and in love does to a woman.
I pout, and he appeases me by giving my lips a quick peck before holding me away again.
“I helped you because I wanted to be near you every second of every day. I never had any intention of taking money from you, and I didn’t need help with a portfolio. I already had an extensive one. So no, I will not be taking the money. I don’t needit.” He smirks with the arrogance of a man who knows what he’s capable of.
Getting let go from The Langham actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because Hendrix now has all the free time in the world to work on custom builds Kena has been commissioning. He was so impressed with the design Hendrix turned in a couple weeks ago, he wanted to have his very own hot carpenter on speed dial.
“So, if you don’t take the money… Oh my god. I’m Richard Gere in Pretty Woman, and you’re Julia Roberts. You’re my paid for whore.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about, but I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
I lean forward, bringing my face close to his. “Great answer,” I murmur against his mouth before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. The soft kisses have become my favorite—unhurried, tender, and always with the promise of more.
“I think I want to donate the money to the library.”
The look in Hendrix’s eyes is enough to make me melt into the floor. His gaze is intense but gentle, beaming with pride. “I love you.” A soft smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.
I’ll never get tired of hearing it. I have no clue how I’ve made it this far before realizing I needed it, this connection. I think I was always just waiting for him. I could have never felt this magnitude of emotion for someone else, an electromagnetic wave so potent and visceral, there would only be one outcome. Cosmic, kismet, fate, magic—whatever you wanted to call it, it was us, and it was perfect.
“I love you too, Herschel.”
The laugh that bursts from Hendrix’s mouth as he tips his head back is bright and boisterous. It’s the loveliest sound I’ve ever heard, my favorite drug.
He surges forward and kisses me full on the mouth. All earlier traces of gentleness are gone, replaced with something bordering on feral. Not that I’m complaining—I’m still straddling his lap, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke, and it’s suddenly feeling too hot on this cozy second floor. The store has only been open for a few minutes, and we haven’t had any customers stop by yet, so I decide to lean into the recklessness a little longer.
