Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Molly
“ Y ou did what?” I manage to keep my voice even, but inside, I’m a tangled web of rage, just barely resisting the urge to flip my desk. If I did, all the clutter I can never seem to keep under control would end up on the floor and then I’d just have to clean it all up. I fucking hate cleaning.
We got back from California late last night, and judging from this conversation, I should have just stayed there. Or skipped work today and fucked Gabe until neither of us could walk while I ran my fake engagement ring over his balls the way I recently discovered he likes. Kinky fucker, I love him so damn much.
Instead, I’m on a phone call with asshole Brad, trying to keep from screaming my head off. It’s only eight-forty-five in the morning, and Monday already sucks.
“We executed the trust,” Brad says in a haughty voice that makes me want to reach through the phone and strangle him. “Uncle Harvey wanted to get it done, and you were on a plane with your fiancé.” He drawls out the last word, and my anger ratchets up another notch.
He’s expecting me to say something, but I don’t. Like the coward he is, he rushes to fill the silence. “Anyway, we couldn’t reach you and my uncle was eager to have it finished. But it wasn’t a problem because you copied me on the trust draft, so I finalized it and emailed him a PDF of the document that he could print out on the ship. All he had to do was sign since Pennsylvania trusts don’t have to be witnessed or notarized.”
He says that proudly, like he’s asking to be congratulated for knowing the most basic information about trust execution, as if every law student in a second-year wills class couldn’t give you that information without a second thought. Fuck this guy. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. When I speak, my voice is even because I’ll be goddamned if I show this douchebag a single ounce of my rage.
“So, what you’re telling me is that your uncle called you on a Sunday from his yacht somewhere in the Caribbean and told you it was absolutely critical that he execute his trust, weeks earlier than planned, at the exact time I was scheduled to be on an airplane?”
I’m internally cursing myself for being the conscientious kind of lawyer who tells her clients when she’ll be out of touch. I really should be just a little less responsible. Like this asshole.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Brad’s voice is smug. “Obviously he would have preferred you do it, but I explained to him that you were on a plane with your fiancé and unreachable. So, he suggested we just go ahead and do it without you.”
“He did, did he? You see, Brad, I find that astonishing because I was exchanging emails with your uncle just two days ago, where he outlined some changes he wanted to make to the trust. In addition, since you are so clearly up to speed on everything, you are obviously aware that the sole purpose of this trust is to hold a portion of the shares of your uncle’s family limited partnership. But since the partnership doesn’t exist yet, there would be no point in executing the trust since the finalization of the partnership and the execution of the trust typically happen on the same day. So now what we have is a completely worthless, irrevocable trust that will have to be revoked, a client who thinks everything is fine when it is, in fact, not fine, and extra work to do since you simply couldn’t resist the urge to take an opportunity to showcase to your uncle how smart you are and knock me down a peg or two.”
“I didn’t…I mean, I don’t,” he stammers before I cut him off.
“Don’t worry about it, Brad. I know you sometimes have trouble with the salient details of, well, everything. I’ll clean up your mess, but it’s a one-time offer. Don’t fuck with me and stay in your goddamn lane.”
I slam the phone down without saying goodbye and shove up from my chair, squaring my shoulders and shaking back my hair, slamming my hands on my hips in my power pose.
So much for not showing him my rage. It was a fool’s mission anyway.
You cannot commit murder, Molly, no matter how much you want to choke the life out of that colossal bag of dicks.
You’ll go to jail. They’ll confiscate your skincare and sex with Gabe will be off the table for twenty-five to life. Orange is not your color.
When my phone beeps, I reach out with one hand and grab it, reading it with my other hand still anchored on my hip.
Gabe
Don’t freak out.
Me
Not an auspicious way to start a conversation, Gabriel. Have you ever even met a woman before?
I’ve spent the last ten years hiding in a computer lab.
I snort out a laugh. God, I love bantering with him, even when my rage could power the city.
Me
So, no is what you’re saying.
Gabe
I don’t even know any women except for you.
Good answer. What am I not freaking out about?
[link attached]
I click the link, and my screen immediately fills with an image of Gabe and me from the night of the building dedication, the headline promising A Definitive Timeline of Tech Billionaire Gabriel Sullivan’s Whirlwind Romance and Engagement to Pittsburgh-Based Attorney and Fellow UC Berkeley Grad Molly Jenkins .
I laugh again because I’ve always been a big reality TV fan, and it looks like now I get to be the star of my very own show. Andy Cohen, if you’re listening.
The picture must have been captured by one of the roving photographers while Gabe and I were talking to his sisters. Gabe is standing behind me with his arms around my shoulders, and I’m resting back against him, my hands holding onto his arms. I’m laughing at something one of his sisters is saying, and Gabe is staring down at me. And the expression on his face. It has my breath catching in my chest. He’s looking at me like I’m the reason he lives.
I sit heavily back in my chair, my eyes still fixed on my phone. I’ve seen him look at me like this, but it’s another thing to see it captured on camera. To see what everyone else sees. It hits me all at once, how well I’ve been loved—and for how long. Gabe loved me when we were apart, over time and distance, and even when he didn’t know if I would ever love him back again. I shoved it down so deeply for so long, but now that I’ve let it free, I know I’ve loved him just the same.
Me
It’s a good thing all my sides are my good side. And that my outfit for that night was on point. I knew the gold sandals were a good idea.
Gabe
You’re not mad?
Of course I’m not mad. It’s a picture, Gabe. There will be lots of pictures. You’re kind of a big deal.
Also, it’s one hell of a picture.
I already got the newspaper to send me copies.
Of course you did. You are too good for this world.
I only want to be good for you. You sure you’re okay with the fiancée stuff? That’s a pretty big headline.
I think the time for me to not be okay with it would have been about a month ago. But yes, I’m okay with it. I have this kickass ring I get to wear, and the guy who gave it to me may be my fake fiancé but nothing else about him is fake. Or us.
Bet your ass. How’s your morning?
Well, asshole Brad fucked up in service of trying to show me up again, so I get to clean up his mess. I hung up with him like thirty seconds before you texted me.
You were in a power pose when I texted, weren’t you?
How did you know?
Just a hunch.
Your texts saved the city. I was about two minutes away from leveling Pittsburgh with the fire shooting from my eyes, Superman style.
Every time you make a superhero reference, I get hard.
There’s something really wrong with you, you know that, right?
And yet, you love me anyway.
That I do. Dinner and Marvel tonight?
Absolutely, yes. I’ll be waiting for you. Love you, Rory baby.
Love you back.
“Holy shit, you’re blushing. Like, your face is actually turning red. I didn’t know you did that.”
I snap my head up at Julie’s voice. She’s standing in the doorway to my office, grinning over at me. I open my mouth to say something snarky, but for once, I’ve got nothing.
“Only with him.”
“I know a thing or two about that.” Julie’s expression softens and it hits me again how much she’s changed since Asher. How much deep, rock-solid love has changed my once high-strung and tightly wound friend. We used to butt heads a lot, but not so much anymore.
I stand up and walk to Julie, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. She hugs me back, and when we let go of each other, she studies me.
“What was that for?”
“I’m just…proud of you. Of me. Of all of us. We’ve come a long way over the past two years, and I think we should say it more.”
“Jesus, Mol, that must have been one hell of a trip.”
I huff out a laugh. “You literally have no idea.”
“Well, you’re about to tell us. Donuts are downstairs, and Emma should be here any minute. It’s your turn in the hot seat.”
I find I don’t mind that at all. I may have been a closed book about Gabe once before, but right now all I want to do is sit with my friends and eat donuts and tell them absolutely everything about the man I get to call mine again.