Page 28 of For Your Love

“Who cares what wine I opened! I want to know who you’ve been fucking!”

Brian shook his head with a derisive laugh.

“Answer me,” she shouted, her voice shaking in fury.

His eyes flickered past her, and he ran a hand through his thick, blond hair.

As usual, he was evasive. It was time to take a stand. In a firm and controlled voice, she said, “I’m going to ask you again: Who have you been fucking?”

He lifted his chin. “Sheridan Morgan.”

“I knew it,” Colleen said, angry at herself for tolerating his infidelity for this long. “I never want to see you or talk to you again.”

“I planned on breaking up with you tonight,” he said with a smirk.

“Fuck you, Brian.” She gathered her purse.

Brian paused for a moment; his expression hardened. “No, thank you. You’re a lousy lay, Colleen.”

His words stung deep, chafing that old, vulnerable spot.Colleen moved in closer, and slapped him as hard as she could, knocking the designer glasses off his head.

Brian raised his hand, but withdrew it, rubbing his cheek instead.

Throwing her purse over her shoulder, she stood up straight, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Maybe Sheridan can help you find her clitoris, because God knows you could never find mine.” Colleen slammed the door and walked away with her head held high. Like a queen.

CHAPTER 11

COLLEEN

After crawling through Manhattan traffic, the Uber finally arrived in Tribeca. Colleen craned her neck to look up at the majestic brick building. This was O’Connor Tower. Notable for its architectural splendor, but also because it was the first of many properties renovated by Patrick O’Connor. It was held in a trust in Finn’s name and was never confiscated after Patrick’s conviction. Sean lived here, and so did Finn.

The doorman greeted her, and she stepped inside the stylish and spacious lobby with marble floors. One wall of the reception area had a stunning, illuminated marble wall with trickles of water cascading over its surface. The reception desk was made from different grains of wood with a marble countertop. A chic spray of calla lilies in a crystal vase was perched on the corner of the desk.

The concierge, wearing a stylish charcoal gray suit greeted Colleen with a smile. “Welcome to O’Connor Tower. How can I help you?”

She was immediately self-conscious of her appearance. Her hair was a tangled mess and the oversized, white shirt she wore during the flight had picked up a few red wine stains from the turbulence. “Hi. My name is Colleen Murphy. My brother, Sean, is tied up at work. He arranged to have someone let me into his apartment.”

She typed a few keystrokes on the computer. “Yes, of course.” She said to the doorman, “David, could you take Ms. Murphy’s luggage up to Mr. Murphy’s apartment? It’s apartment B on the tenth floor.” She handed the key to Colleen.

“Be happy to,” the jovial, ruddy-faced doorman said. “Go on up, Ms. Murphy. I’ll be there in a few minutes with your luggage.”

Riding up in the elevator, Colleen still couldn’t believe it had only been two weeks since she lost her job and broke up with Brian. And now she was in New York City. Althea Grayson, a friend of Lucy’s, had a job for Colleen lined up at her father’s art gallery.She would never have come here unless Lucy and her mom had encouraged her to take a chance. An old friend from college had a vacant room in her building, but it fell through. Fortunately, Sean offered to let her stay at his apartment. But Finn was here, too, and it was inevitable she’d see him again. She’d been rude to him after her father’s funeral, so she wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to avoid her. But maybe, in time, they would be able to return to being friends. She had flutters in her stomach, recalling his strong arms around her while they danced at the funeral reception.

Letting herself into the apartment, she looked around the simply furnished living room. She took her phone out of her purse and wandered through the apartment. She gazed up at the high ceilings, noting the exposed brick walls, and the broad expanse of windows that looked down at the mass of people on the sidewalk, and the traffic-congested streets. Everything about New York was different from LA and she couldn’t wait to jump in and explore her newly-adopted city.

Colleen took a photo out the window for Lucy to prove she had arrived. She typed out a text, attached the photo, hit send, and resumed looking out the window.

Her phone rang.

Lucy’s name came up on the screen. “Hey,” Colleen greeted. “I knew you’d reply to my text.”

“When I saw it, I had to call. Do you love New York?”

“I don’t love the traffic. But I’m excited.”

“I know you’ll do great at the Grayson Gallery. Althea said her step-sister can be intimidating, but not to let her get to you.”

Colleen wasn’t too worried. She’d had enough experience with the art snobs in LA. “Thanks for the warning. I’m nervous, but I’m prepared.”

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