Page 96 of Ghostly
Gabriel rifled through his scattered thoughts. No, not any of the Schuyler Sisters. The reporter? No, her voice had been snide, drenched with honey; very specific, very memorable.
So, since life sucked anyway, and things couldn’t get any worse, he opened the door and winked into the sunny morning.
The blurry shape on the porch gradually came into focus. Gabriel blinked again, not sure he saw right. “Wynona?”
“My god, Gabe.” His ex-client—and lover—looked as perfect as ever: a smooth, slicked ponytail, flawless makeup, powder blue jacket, hanging open to show a designer sweater underneath.
“Wyn,” he breathed, not sure whether he was surprised, shocked, happy, or all of it.
“Can I come in?”
“Huh?”
“Gabriel.” She grabbed his hand. “Are you drunk?” She leaned in. “No, you’re fine. Although I don’t smell coffee on you. That must be it. How long ago was the last cup?”
She was saying words, but his brain wasn’t quite catching up.
“Come on. Let’s get you sorted out.” She entered, took a quick look around, and led him to the couch. “Interesting taste in furniture. Very retro. Ah, there’s the kitchen!” She strode in while Gabriel vegetated on the couch. “What the hell is this? Do you have anything here fromthiscentury?”
Slowly, his brain pieced itself together. “The coffee machine is under the big table in the middle.” Good thing he dragged that back in yesterday.
Wynona prepared coffee while Gabriel rubbed his face.
Hold on. Hold. On.
Wynona was here.
“How the fuck did you get here?”
“Ah. There’s the Gabriel I know.” Wynona brought him a cup and sat next to him, legs crossed. “By car.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Hmm.” Her smoky eyes regarded him with a detective-like curiosity. “No complaining about me bringing you coffee?”
“Wynona…”
“I found out. From the news. Which you’re probably aware of.”
He hadn’t checked what that reporter had done, but he could imagine.
“Hell, Gabriel. What’s happened to you? You look like a savage.” Wynona reached out and tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear.
“Just like you said. Hell.”
“Please, don’t be melodramatic. Although, if I had to live in a place like this for half a year… I understand.”
Something dark passed on the edge of his vision. Gabriel flicked his eyes to the hallway. Ida? He couldn’t see her from here, but he couldn’t call out, either—Wynona was already thinking he’d gone mad.
“Gabe.” Wynona sought out his hand. He stared at her french-manicured nails, her slim fingers. She could touch him. And he could touch her. It made him feel sick; both from knowing he’d failed Ida, and from realizing he missed the touch of a woman so much he couldn’t even snatch his hand away.
“Youdidsee the article, right?” Wynona said, her voice taking on a stricter note. When he didn’t respond for a few seconds, she huffed, scrolled on her phone, and slid it over the sofa to him. Big letters read,Vane Affair In Vain?, but under that, strings of words blurred in front of his eyes. When would he finally wake up from this nightmare?
Wynona sighed and took back the phone. “I’m sure she’s only paraphrasing with a lot of artistic freedom, but that doesn’t make it any better for us.”
“Us?”
“You really didn’t read it,” she said, mildly surprised. “She’s painted us as the villains. I’m a ‘shallow, disgruntled housewife’—a housewife, would you believe it!—‘who didn’t find the gardener attractive enough, so she went for her lawyer, instead.’ Your part includes jewels such as, ‘perhaps Mr. Vane is choosing his cases based on theattractiveness of his clients’ behinds’ and”—Wynona took a deep breath, her voice shaking just slightly—“‘He’ll also take payment in sexual favors, if your credit card is running low.’”
