Chapter Twenty-Five
Magnus
T hat night she came to the apartment plays over and over in my head.
I don’t know what drove me to stay there that night. And I’m not sure if it was a good idea or not, but I can’t regret what happened when I opened the door. Or the following morning.
I can’t.
Time is running out. I know it. Feel it. And I don’t mean with the Sinclair jewels or my father’s stupid stipulations. Those are pretty much in the bag and if it doesn’t work, then I don’t see what else I can actually do other than donate a kidney.
The store is something I can’t do forever, and since I spoke to Amelia the next day and I have the power over Zoey’s building now, there’s no reason for me to still go in.
But each day, I’ve gone in. I’m working hard and not smart since my days are spent with her and the past handful of evenings have been spent at the office or at that apartment, hoping she’ll come by again, working on my work moves.
My launch for everything is ready to go. And it’s all on paper.
And today? I’m heading out of town with Zoey. Something I absolutely know I shouldn’t do. But I can’t help myself. I like being around her and—
In my pocket, my phone buzzes so I ignore it as I find a spot for the car. I don’t own cars—that’s Ryder, but it is a nondescript white one I got from Georgio. It’s not his, but I ask and he always gets for me. And a so-called borrowed car is easier to explain to Zoey than me renting one.
The phone rings yet again. With a sigh I press answer and slip the blue tooth ear piece in my ear.
“Mother? I’m busy.”
“Where are you? I came by your office and you weren’t there. So I ate the cookies.”
My hand tightens on the device. Okay, so I might have taken more of Zoey’s little baked delights and not given them to my PA. “They weren’t for you.”
“Homemade and delicious, Magnus,” she says.
I ignore her as I head to the store. “Why are you there?”
“Ryder’s got himself involved in some kind of scandal. There’s a board meeting coming up in a few weeks. Can you help him with this?”
I don’t want to know what the latest thing is my brother’s got himself into, but it explains his hanging around a little more than usual. Beyond his concern over the jewels and keeping the family company in our control.
But the Sinclair flagship is very conservative in morality in the whole way the business is run. That was my father for you; keep the business as squeaky clean as a church while he himself would dabble in all kinds of things. Namely affairs.
“Is she married?”
“Married and famous.”
“Ryder’s a little decadent and likes to play fast and loose, but not in business.”
“You explain that to the board.” Her disappointment lurks beneath the neutral tone. She’s had a seat on the board my entire life and not one remarriage of my father’s could undo that.
“It’s time they brought themselves into this century.”
“Magnus.”
I sigh as my stomach tightens. Up ahead is Zoey’s little store. “Mother, I’m a little distracted, but yeah, I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She pauses. It’s one of her patented ones. “This all looks good, by the way.”
“My project heart.”
I can almost hear her wince. “Yes. But…”
“What?”
“There’s one part you haven’t named.”
I know that’s not what she was going to say and I know what she’s talking about. The centers where kids can go to read and get books and feel safe. Every name I think of doesn’t seem right. “Inconsequential.”
I ring off, promising I’ll talk to my wayward brother. And then I’m there, outside Zoey’s place. Before I can hit the buzzer the door opens and she’s there, cheeks flushed a pretty pink as she looks up at me. “Oh! I was just coming down to wait.”
The smile that blooms inside me is too real, like everything I feel around her. “Wait no more. Your rusted chariot awaits.”
She takes hold of my arm. “I can get a car—”
“Zoey.” I lift her hand up and kiss her fingers, then I slide my other arm around her waist beneath her coat. “I’ve taken care of things. Shall we?”
“What about your gran?”
I kiss the side of her cheek. I haven’t spoken to Amelia in a couple of days. She’s on orders to standby in case I need her. She’s well paid, so I don’t worry about that. Amelia’s done her job. “You want me to bring Gran?”
“No. I’m asking how she is.”
“She’s good. Now, ready for your trip?”
It’s a good day. The trunk is full of books and we poke about various little holes in the wall. I’m a little shocked how much I enjoy it because I’m not doing anything except hanging out with her.
I don’t do that. I don’t waste time.
Yet here I am, doing exactly that and liking it.
Or maybe it’s the company I like.
I’m not the only one. Everyone loves her. From the people at the estate sale to the little stores we go into. A lot know her, some don’t, but every single one of these people glow when they talk to her.
If I could bottle that Zoey essence, I’d be a trillionaire.
She pokes me in the ribs as we pull up at a little diner. “You’re quiet.”
“I had a good day.”
I lead her in and the waitress gets us a table. Over burgers and fries—things I don’t usually eat—she tells me all about the different people she knows here, and how she loves these trips, and it warms me from somewhere deep in my chest.
Zoey smiles, those dark blue eyes shining. “You’re the first person I’ve ever asked on one of these trips.” She shrugs and drags a fry through a dollop of ketchup on the edge of her plate. “It’s not Suze’s thing, and there’s no one else I thought might like it.”
“I’m honored.”
“It’s just a boring buying trip.” She rolls her eyes.
I steal the fry from her before she can eat it and I vaguely wonder what I’ve become. Fries, burgers, cookies, feeling weirdly squishy inside? One might think I have an actual heart. Or maybe one might think I really like Zoey more than I can admit.
That doesn’t matter. How I feel or don’t feel doesn’t matter. This all has a use by date that’s fast approaching. And even if I suddenly wanted to do a three sixty, I can’t. Her store is slap bang where I’m building.
The best I can do is make the transfer easy, pay her out above and beyond and look back on this all as something sweet, something better than a stupid jewel.
She’s going to be fine. I know that. Zoey won’t have her crumbling store, but she’ll have something bigger, better, that comes with a nice fat cushion of money to fall back on.
I don’t know who I’m trying to convince here. Me or the imaginary Zoey of the near future.
“Actually,” I say, “it isn’t. Because it’s with you.”
I mean those words. With Zoey, things are better.
I’m going to have to start easing out of her life. I’d prefer it if she never knew who I was. If I didn’t spoil that. Already a part of my mind is working on graceful ways to get out of it. Maybe Magnus Simpson and Gran can move because he gets a job. Maybe he can convince Gran that moving is better than staying.
But I’m not going to think about that. I’m going to make sure we have a good time for the rest of the week, and then I’ll disappear.
“I’m glad you’re here, Magnus,” she says quietly. “I like you. A lot.”
“I like you.”
“I was thinking, maybe…maybe we could see where this goes?” She stops, looking horrified. “Or maybe—”
“We take it one day at a time. See where it goes.”
Those are stupid words, I know it, but the softness to Zoey is worth it. The way she doesn’t seem so stressed here is worth it. One little lie. One little fantasy. It’s not much. And she’s into someone who doesn’t exist. Someone who is me, but without all the shit she hates. Someone without the fortune and the hard fucking lines I take, the relentless drive.
I didn’t even know this Magnus existed until I met her.
“That’s a deal,” she says.
The drive back to Brooklyn is long, but it passes quickly, and I beg off staying the night, although I spend a little too long making out with her like some kind of hormonal teen.
As I leave, I turn my phone on and I go through the messages from Georgio. I call Ryder, who isn’t answering. With a sigh, I tell him to put his dick back in his pants and clean up his act. Then I realize something.
I left a message for Amelia this morning and she hasn’t called me back.
She always calls me back.
I’m close enough so I head over there.
The building, I think, really does need an overhaul, and I mentally put it on my list of things to do.
I knock on her door and all along the hall noises tumble out of the other apartments. But Amelia’s is silent.
I knock again. “Amelia?”
No answer.
I have keys and she told me she’d be staying there during this. But maybe she’s out. So I send her a text and then I unlock the door.
The apartment is dark and silent as I step inside to leave her a note. Hey, she’s on my dime. A lot of my dimes, so I don’t care about coming in here. I switch on a light and freeze.
It’s not just silent because she’s not here tonight.
Every last trace of her has been erased.
Amelia Johnson, fake gran, is gone.