Chapter 16
Meirna
NETTIE: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!
NETTIE: WHY HAVEN’T YOU CALLED THE POLICE?!
NETTIE: ARE YOU OKAY?!
NETTIE: HOW THE HELL DID YOU NOT KNOW BOBBY WAS A TWIN?
Iknew this would happen when I explained what went down.
And why is Bobby calling Nettie hardcore about my whereabouts?
I trust my best friend; however, I think her big sister mode might kick in the moment I tell her I’m in Prague.
If I do, Bobby will be here in no time. And, honestly, I’m not ready to broach the subject line of Jolene and everything else I’ve found.
MEIRNA: I’m fine. And I’m not sure why, but his brother gave me all this evidence of everything Bobby has been doing.
NETTIE: Evidence?
NETTIE: Like a murder?
MEIRNA: Summarized version: he borrowed money from the mob, he’s been cheating on me with a hoe named Jolene, and several others in multiple cities, and Harding Holdings is a sinking ship.
NETTIE: The mob…
NETTIE: Did you say the MOB?
NETTIE: The MOB?!
NETTIE: Meir, where are you? Are they going to come after you next? You need to call the police right now!
MEIRNA: I’m safe, I promise. And I’m doing my own research.
NETTIE: How? You’re not a private investigator.
MEIRNA: *screenshot*
MEIRNA: I’d say I’m doing pretty good because I already found Jolene’s Instagram without knowing her last name.
NETTIE: There’s no way…
NETTIE: How do you know that’s not this Bronte dude? This could be him framing Bobby.
MEIRNA: Check her profile and tell me that’s not Bobby.
Jolene Abgail Fontaine is some basic little waitress in the Bronx, but she’s always posting pictures of Bobby’s shit with her in it.
His black Lexus.
His gold watch I bought him for Christmas two years ago.
His Aaron Judge New York Yankee jersey. Again, something I bought for him.
But the most damaging piece of evidence that nails Bobby to this cross is the compass tattoo on the inside of his arm, right above his elbow.
Bronte doesn’t have that.
I checked when he was still lying in bed asleep this morning.
Which he still currently is.
NETTIE: He cheated on you.
MEIRNA: Yep.
NETTIE: Shit, are you okay?
Not really.
I loved Bobby, I did. But it’s hard to be fully heartbroken when the man I initially took an interest in is in the other room and looks just like him.
MEIRNA: I’ll get over it.
NETTIE: What are you going to do?
MEIRNA: Do you still talk to that one guy in accounting? The one who loved anime and bugged Bobby all the time about costs?
NETTIE: Not really, but I still have his number.
MEIRNA: See how much information you can get out of him. I don’t know how you’d do it, but…anything to support Harding Holdings that is going downhill is going to be helpful.
NETTIE: On it.
NETTIE: Please, be safe.
AMANDA: Hey, Meirna! I hope you’re having an amazing honeymoon, hun! I’m sorry to text you right now, but we got another anonymous million dollars for the non-profit, like last year. Just wanted to give you the good news! See you when you get back!
I pause over her open text message thread.
Last year, Bobby claimed he gave it and didn’t want me to know when I mentioned the generous donation because it did wonders for Silver Pines.
We were able to create an on-site medical clinic so it would reduce the trips to the ER.
We made sensory rooms for a calmer environment for dementia residents and upgraded the flooring to prevent falls.
But with the bank statements Bronte provided, that would never be possible. Bobby doesn’t have a million dollars.
He lied, again.
Temporarily ignoring Amanda’s text, I shoot over to Nettie:
MEIRNA: I will. Report back as soon as you get the tea.
NETTIE: Will do. Love you!
MEIRNA: Love you!
Returning to Amanda’s message, I shoot her a thanks, that I’m having an amazing time, and I can’t wait to talk about starting our next project. Next on the agenda is wellness and therapy programs and technology upgrades, so our residents can stay connected to loved ones.
“Morning, Daydream.”
My focus immediately flicks upward, and Bronte has zero modesty. He’s looking at me, waiting for my response, but I’m too busy engaging with his shirtless torso and chest. The dip that disappears underneath the black sweatpants he’s currently wearing.
Then the black ink right above his waistline and descending even further.
I’ve never seen him in anything but a suit, I don’t think. I mentally go back to Christmases before, and what he’d worn when he’d kiss and fuck me, but I don’t remember.
This is ridiculous.
I don’t know this man.
“Mornin’,” I mutter back, gesturing toward the coffee table. “I got us coffee and pastries.”
“Beautiful,” he replies, making his way toward our breakfast. “How did you sleep?”
Perfect.
The best I’ve slept in a while.
“Fine,” I reply. “Always a bit off and on when I’m in a place I don’t know.”
Bronte takes a seat across from me. The same spot he sat before when I said Bobby was better in bed. “You looked completely out when I carried you to bed.”
I glower at him because he touched me without asking.
He did a bunch of shit without asking.
Thankfully, he was lying in the bed when I woke up. Unless he left it before I woke up.
“Which one do you recommend?”
Poisoned ones.
I inhale before answering with, “The cherry or the cream cheese.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Both. I can never choose. So I always…buy both.”
He bows his head and takes one of each, placing it gingerly on one of the glass plates. “Would you like to go explore today? I know we didn’t get a chance to roam yesterday, but I think—”
“Yes,” I immediately blurt out. We’ve been in Prague for two days, and I haven’t left this hotel room yet. I’d hate myself if I didn’t go out and explore just once and when am I ever going to be here again?
“What’s the number one thing you wanted to do when you got here?”
“I didn’t have one. I wanted to see it all.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
I watch him pour himself some coffee, taking it black when he brings it to his lips for a sip. “You did it, didn’t you?”
His light greens slice up to me, his lips hovering over the edge of his white mug. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific, Meirna. I’ve done a lot.”
“You donated the million dollars.”
Bronte doesn’t freeze up like he’s been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. He continues to take two other sips of his coffee before saying, “To what?”
“To my non-profit.”
Casually, he sets down his coffee and picks up the cherry danish. “When?”
“Bronte…” I warn because I just want him to come out with it.
“You ever heard of the term anonymous, Daydream? That means the person doesn’t want you to know.”
“How did you know it was anonymous?”
“Because you’re not asking me. You’re telling me. But you want me to confirm, just in case.”
“I do.”
“And if I didn’t?”
“You did.”
“Then what’s the point of asking?”
“I’m not. Like you just said.”
Bronte either really wants me to have a psychotic break or he wants to die because this time, he takes a long draw at his steaming coffee before answering me again. “Fine, Daydream. I did.”
Oh my God. What hasn’t this man done for me?
He met me first.
He had sex with me under the guise of his twin brother.
He’s been funding my non-profit organization.
He pulled me out of a possible loveless relationship, saved my financial future, and now he’s giving me until New Year’s to stay married to him while we’re on our honeymoon in Prague.
I’ve never had someone do all this for and to me before. I don’t know if I should file a restraining order or get on my knees and properly thank him.
So, now we’re giving out complimentary blowjobs for million-dollar donations?
“Bronte, that’s too much.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“That’s a matter of, I wasn’t your girlfriend, just someone you met once.”
“Is that how you’re looking at this?”
He takes a small bite of the danish before licking his bottom lip, and I can’t get over how nonchalant he is about this whole thing. How, even if he had more time to wrap his head around it, how this isn’t weird now that I know about it?
“Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I open my mouth, but he quickly adds, “And before you get on my ass about it, I did it because the senior living center needs it, too. I know how important it is to you. And I wanted to help. Besides, my brother wasn’t doing shit, so consider it payment for wasting your time.”
My stomach coils with the reminder of betrayal and my lack of reading the room.
I can’t help but blame myself for not seeing things for what they were. Nettie was right, but the real story was so much more complex and deeper than that.
Bobby did cheat on me. The text messages are black and white. His flirting and comments about not being able to wait to see Jolene and the other females he had in line. I’ve seen more than I wanted to see.
Naked pictures.
Snippets of sexting that I couldn’t stomach for long.
Unless Bronte went to lengths to forge and make them up, Bobby and I don’t have a future together.
I just need to hear him once I bring it up.
“That was generous,” I divulge, so I don’t sound or come off ungrateful. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
He examines the danish as if it’s something he’s never seen before, which prompts my next question. “You don’t like sweets?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then don’t eat it.” I hold my palm out. “I’ll take it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He looks up at me. “Sometimes things grow on you, Daydream.”
I don’t see this man ever having an epiphany that sweets are the next best thing coming.
But I don’t miss that meaning either.
Him growing on me.
“How are you affording million-dollar donations?”
Bronte leans back and hits me with a blank stare. “Not, what do you like instead of sugary danishes, or do you like having eighty questions peppered off at you early in the morning?”
I mean…
I can’t say I’m the chiperriest person alive, but I’m wired.