“Through with what? The marriage?” Loren scrunches up her entire face. “Have you been drinking?”
“Just think about it.” I shrug. “If I did marry Rosalind, I’dstay in complete control of the trust. Which means, going forward, I could invest my money in any wayIwanted. Donations to Stony Peak or anywhere else. Foundations at colleges and universities. Scholarships for STEM programs. And I wouldn’t need the approval of any board.”
“Yes, but youwouldbe trapped in a loveless marriage.”
My hand flexes. Involuntarily. A loveless marriage couldn’t be any harder than sitting across from a woman who will never know my true feelings about her.
A woman who’s sworn up and down she’s done with relationships. For good.
“Could be worse,” I say.
“Oh, really?” She guffaws. “Let’s make a list.”
“Or.” I cock my chin. “We could talk about the other big pro if I play along.”
“Like?”
“Like …” I let my eyes drift away from hers. “I could help you out. With your father’s expenses, for one thing.”
She reaches for my hand. The one I just unclenched. “That’s a generous offer,” she says. “And Imight’veconsidered letting you help. A little. Especially if you’d be able to do all the other good things you were just talking about. But if the only way to make those things happen is you saying yes to some fake marriage, I feel like my answer would have to be no. For your sake.”
“What if we?—”
“You were going to walk away before. Now that I know that, I can't let you change your mind. For me.”
My shoulders tense. That’s the least of what I’d do for her.
“In any case,” Loren goes on, releasing my hand, “I highly doubt Rosalind Winthrop Whatever-her-name-is would let me take a dime from you.”
“Winthrop Barrington.” I frown. “And you may have a point. But …” I take a beat, fumbling for a better argument, but Loren’s phone starts buzzing before I find one. The sound comes from the bag at her feet.
“Hold that thought,” she says, scrambling for her bag. As she digs in the front pocket, I notice her hands trembling. Then her phone buzzes again. She’s been so on edge lately, more worried about her dad than ever. And I don’t blame her. But I also don’t want her to think I’m hovering. Or prying.
So I check my own phone to give her some privacy.
There’s a new voicemail from my mother. And yet another email from her lawyers.
From: Stanton, Klein & Roth
Subject: Request for Virtual Meeting. Urgent.
I don’t bother to open the email. I already know what they want to talk about. Timelines. And compliance. The looming deadline. I avoid my mother’s message too. But I can imagine her lecture just the same. Crisp and efficient. Equal parts disappointment and hope.
You’re nearly thirty, Bridger.
Stability matters. And connections. Legacies.
This is how the world works.
It’s howourworld works.
I shouldn’t have looked at my phone.
Loren lets out a shaky breath, and I glance at her screen. She’s on a thread with someone named Noah. His avatar shows a thick mane of hair and a square jaw. Jason Momoa in a tiny circle.
“I have to take a rain check on dinner,” she says.
“Everything okay?” I ask.