Page 59 of Ms. Fortune

“That’s too bad. He seemed like a great guy. And the two of you together are just adorable.” She’s got that interfering-mom tone in her voice that I know all too well. She’d like nothing more than for me to get married so I can give her a soccer team worth of grandchildren.

I miss Brandon. Like crazy. But I had to break things off. There’s no way I could trust him again. I don’t even trust myself anymore. I can’t seem to make the right choice about anything, especially when it comes to men. And especially Brandon. I fell too hard and fast with him, clouding my judgment. So much that I almost got myself killed because of it. I can’t ignore that. No matter how much my heart wants to. I’m just not made that way.

“Yeah, adorable isn’t enough for me anymore, Mom.”

Chapter 39

I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE GONE

BRANDON

Back in New York, I throw myself into my work. It feels like I abandoned it entirely since I was so wrapped up in everything Normandy. I pull twelve-hour work days just to make myself exhausted enough to sleep. Even then, I put off going to bed until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer because the bed, the room, and everything at that end of the apartment reminds me of her. Half the time, I pass out on the couch and stay there just so I don’t have to face the empty bedroom.

Eve and her husband were indicted for their involvement in the real estate money laundering scheme they were running. It’s still unclear why she got in a relationship with me, but I can only assume it was some sort of cover for their illegal activities. Luckily, I’m not under suspicion for any involvement in their crimes. That’s the last thing I need right now. With all of that behind me, I can move forward.

I keep telling myself those types of things. Move on. Let it go. Focus on the future. I can’t seem to listen to myself, though. When I do think about the future, I only think about what could have been with Normandy, not what it’s going to be like without her. I can’t imagine my life going forward alone now that she’s been a part of it. It just feels wrong.

We were just getting started. Everything was new, but everything was completely natural too. I could feel myself falling deeper in love with her at various times, and I would note it in my head, ‘Here’s where I fell in love with her laugh,’ or, ‘We’ll joke about this dinner conversation twenty years from now.’ It would hit during the tough moments too, and I’d think, ‘I never want to be the cause of that pain in her eyes,’ and, ‘I want to take that pain away and feel it instead of her.’ Every interaction with her multiplied those inner thoughts and exponentially increased my feelings for her. But she didn’t reciprocate the emotions like I thought she had.

Or maybe she did, but breaking my promise to her, even though it was out of my control, did enough damage to erase it all. That is one area where Normandy and I are alike; once someone has broken my trust or offended me or someone I care about, our relationship is never the same. I may not cut you out of my life completely, but we are no longer anything more than acquaintances. So, I can see where Normandy is coming from, especially with her history. But I can’t stand the thought of only being her acquaintance.

“Mr. Carmichael, I have Sophie on line one for you.” Diane’s irritated voice on the intercom pierces through my inner monologue, slinging me headfirst into the present.

It’s odd that Sophie would call. I hope she’s okay. “Thank you, Diane.”

When I answer, Sophie sounds out of breath. “Brandon, is that you?”

The skin on the back of my neck prickles. “I’m here. What’s the matter? Are you okay?” My brain smashes into hyperdrive with horrible imaginary scenarios.

She laughs. “I’m fine. I’m at the youth shelter and just jogged up three flights of stairs. I guess I’m not eighteen anymore after all.”

Relief floods through me. I don’t think I could handle another emotional grenade right now. “Well, what’s up? It’s got to be early there still, right?” It’s just after nine here in New York.

“I need your help, Brandon.”

That sounds ominous, but Sophie never asks for help, so it must be serious.

“Of course, anything you need.”

“I knew I could count on you.” She pauses to take a deep breath and then continues. “We’re getting ready for our spring food drive, you know, the big one we do every year. Well, almost all of my usual volunteers have other commitments. So, I was wondering….”

“When is it?” I can’t say no to this woman. Not when it comes to her passion project. There is no denying Saint Sophie. Plus, it’s something else to distract me.

“Two weeks from tomorrow. Is that too short of notice for you?”

I check the calendar on my laptop and only see a haircut scheduled, which is easy enough to move.

“Nope. I’ll be there.”

“I knew you'd answer the call if I put up the bat signal.”

“Still not Bruce Wayne, Sophie.” I can’t help the smile. “But I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Anytime, Brandon.”

The following two weeks seem to drag by, and I get antsy to return to Las Vegas. Antsy and nervous. The nerves come with hiring Mischief Motors for transportation from the airport, as I usually do, but this time it feels different, like I’m sneaking around behind Normandy’s back, but at the same time like I’m taking advantage of our relationship. Neither of those makes any sense.

I received a chilly greeting from Bianca when I arrived, but I didn’t expect a warm welcome, to be honest. I had hoped for at least neutrality but understand the hostility. Bianca is Team Normandy if we’re picking sides; I don’t blame her. I’m Team Normandy too. I’d join if I could.

---