For good.
And you know what? My mom could be right about one thing: a loveless marriage doesn’t have to be a tragedy. I’ve seen worse.Hermarriage was worse. If Rosalind and I are honest with each other up front, no one has to be hurt.
The woman likely has no delusions about the reason for our union. We could set up boundaries and live separate lives with parallel futures, both centered around access to our wealth. She’d be free to use hers as she wishes, and I’d use mine for all the things that matter. To me.
This could work. No, itwillwork.
But.
There’s someone I want to tell about this first, and she’s probably not going to like it. No, she definitely won’t. She already said as much. Still, Loren’s one of the few people who knows about the money. And the clause. So I feel like I owe her the heads-up. Plus she’s my friend. Mygoodfriend. A point she makes as often as she can. And since that’s all we’ll ever be, I need to do what’s right for the most people, regardless of her opinion.
So I grab my phone, finger hovering over her contact, then I stop myself. This can wait until tomorrow. Loren’s probably beyond exhausted after the day she just had. Hopefully, she’s sound asleep now, back at Dex’s, on the mattress we dragged up the stairwell.
Man.
Was that less than twenty-four hours ago?
Talk about a pivot.
Just past dawn, my phone starts blaring at me from the nightstand.
A call from Dex.
“Whhhhhy,” I groan. “What’s so important that you gotta talk to me this early?”
“Sorry, man,” he says, on a low chuckle. “But you’re usually up by now.”
I haul myself upright, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m glad my fatigue amuses you.”
“Anyway, you left your little toolbox here yesterday, champ.”
“Not mine,” I grunt, my voice still rusty. “I put that stuff together for Loren.”
“Ahhh.” Another chuckle from Dex. “Of course you did.”
I run a hand through my bed-head hair. “I just figured she’d need some basics now that she’s living alone.”
“Uh-huh. So we’re just going to pretend your little toolbox means nothing more than friendship?”
“Stop saying little,” I mutter. “I’ll come by to pick up the completelynormal-sizedtoolbox in about fifteen and bring it to her.”
That gives me an excuse to talk to Loren in person. Tell her my plans face-to-face.
“Sayla and I won’t be here then. We’re headed to Stony Peak.”
“Now?”
“The contractors want to see us. The renovations are mostly done, but they’re basically out of budget, so we’ve got a couple last-minute choices to make.”
At this, my chest constricts. Wilford probably called Dex about the budget right after he called Loren. No more money for the gym or theater is bad for the school. No more money for summer school positions is bad for her. Just another reason I need to control my trust. “Sorry, man.”
“Not your fault,” Dex says. “Hopefully, Lincoln James will snag a big movie role soon. Toss out another one of thoseanonymous donations.”
I can practically hear the air quotes, and I grimace to no one but myself.
Not telling Dex I was the donor seemed like a good idea last year. I’m not about the flex. And I was honestly hopeful no one would ever have to find out.
But now that Loren knows the truth, I don’t want to keep the news from my best friend. Sayla either. I’m just not sure how and when to drop something like that.