Page 5 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
But things between me and Sean are still messy, even after six months. And the truth is, I’m not mad at Sean. I’m mad at myself for spending most of my thirties with a man who dragged his feet about settling down, who was open about the fact that he didn’t know if he wanted children. I wanted to believe in the possibility of growth and change. He was kind and steady, and he said he loved me. I wanted to believe that was enough. In the end, I knew it wasn’t.
“He’s texted three times this morning saying we need to talk. I better take this, Scar.”
“Okay,” she consents.
“Love you,” I tell her.
“Love you more,” she insists, and I click the button to accept his call.
“I have a presentation starting in four minutes. This better be important, Sean.”
He releases a slow sigh. “It is. It’s Murph.”
Fear tightens in my stomach. Murphy is a terrier mix we adopted from an animal shelter, back when we were still an item. He lives with Sean full time now for obvious reasons, but I still love him like crazy—the dog, not my ex.
“What happened?”
“Nothinghappened, but he’s not been himself. Hasn’t been eating well. I took him to the vet last week, and they ran some tests. I don’thave the results back, but now he’s lethargic, and I don’t know. I’m just worried. I wanted to prepare you.”
“Oh.” It’s the only word I can think to say. We weren’t confident in Murphy’s age when we got him six years ago, but he’d been an adult. I knew he wouldn’t live forever, but I also knew I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Murphy had represented a time in my life when I thought everything was going in the right direction. I draw a slow inhale. “Keep me updated, okay?”
“I will.” Sean hesitates, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to plant a bug in your ear that you may need to find a time to come home and say goodbye sooner rather than later.”
I’ve said goodbye too many times lately. It wasn’t a thought I wanted to dwell on. I have a meeting starting in ... I check my wristwatch ... two minutes.
I draw a fortifying breath. “I have to go,” I say to Sean. Sliding the phone into the side pocket of my Chanel tote bag, I compartmentalize, just like I do with any inconvenient emotion I don’t have time to feel.
“Joslyn,” I call from my office. My assistant peeks her head in as I’m reapplying my lipstick.
“It’s go time,” she says.
I nod and cap the lipstick before standing to straighten my cream silk blouse and smooth my palms over my black pencil skirt. I’m preparing to ask an investor I’ve never met for a million dollars. I have to look the part. My heels click along the tiled hallway as I follow Joslyn, who rattles off pertinent information.
“The presentation’s all loaded and ready. The Winthrops are seated and have been offered coffee, water, and tea, and their team of financial advisors from Boston have already joined the conference line.”
“Great. And the mood of the room?”
“Friendly. Relaxed,” she assures me, opening the door to the conference room that holds a large oval-shaped table and a dozen chairs. Today’s meeting is crucial, and there’s a lot riding on the outcome. I need to secure this funding if I have any hope of continuing my work in Nairobi. No pressure, right?
I take a deep breath and enter with Joslyn trailing right behind me.
“Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop, it’s very nice to meet you, and thank you so much for coming today. I’m Alessia Moore, the founder and director of Renewed Promise.”
“Our pleasure,” Richard Winthrop says, pocketing his smartphone. “And this is our son, Hartford.”
My gaze is pulled toward an incredibly handsome man with dark, tousled hair and a strong jaw. I know that smile. Those eyes. My stomach drops like I’m on a roller coaster.
“Hart,” he says, standing to offer me his hand. I place my palm in his, and he gives it a firm shake. He treats me to a lopsided grin and shakes my hand as though we’ve never met.
Okay, so we’re going to lie.Cool.
I stand there for a moment too long. He’s beautiful. And he’s smiling at me.
Thankfully, I snap out of it and find my seat—directly across the table from Hart. His gaze follows me as I slide out the rolling chair and slip into it, opening my leather portfolio.
“All right then, and we have Peter Cho and associates on the line, I believe,” Joslyn says.
Oops.I should have greeted their financial-planning team as well. A faux pas. But I’m distracted by the Winthrops’ boyishly sexy and very off-limits son, whom I once spent an evening flirting with in Florence.Dear God, why do these things happen to me?I’m flustered and suddenly much too warm.
