Page 28 of Dirty Legacy

“Right. Connor. Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

She hangs up.

I stand alone in my father’s foyer, my phone still in my hand.

This is fucking stupid. I don’t have time to meet with Angie, not when I should already be at the church. I’m walking down the aisle in three hours… I’m pledging my life to another woman…

I’m selling myself for the good of the family.

Because that’s what I’ve always done. That’s all I know how to do.

Only this is Angelina… this is my angel…

I owe her more than she’ll ever know.

And I’m desperate to sit across from her one last time as a single man.

We’ll do it in public where I can’t cross the line. I’ll hear what she has to say, watch her quirky lips, try not to laugh at the way her nose wrinkles and twitches, or the way she brushes her hair back from her ears, or the way she walks pigeon-toed, which I find goddamn adorable.

One last time and then it’s done. She’ll be just another employee.

I hurry out the door, telling myself I can handle this, over and over, and knowing I’m fucking lying to myself.

The Third Rail is a hipster place around the corner from my father’s house. Lots of wood and glass. It smells good, like freshly baked bread and chocolate. It’s not too crowded at this time of the day after the morning rush but before the lunch crowd. I get there first and stake out a spot near the back. I order a double espresso, hot and dark. I need the caffeine to help counteract the bourbon. I grab a latte, exactly the way she likes it, and place it down at the seat across from me.

This’ll be easy. No problem at all.

It’s normal that I know her coffee order.

I get another text from Marcus, a call from Sinead, and a text from Rowan. I let my sister know that I’m coming, but I’m delayed. Otherwise, I ignore them, and I’m thinking this won’t be that big of a deal, at least until Angie slips in through the door.

And I realize I’m fucked.

She’s in jeans. I don’t see her in jeans often. She dresses formally at the office even though our dress code leans casual. Her hair’s up in a messy bun and her make up is simple, and she’s practically glowing as she chews on her thumbnail until she spots me. She jolts when our eyes lock and her cheeks flush red, and I think about the look she has in my favorite picture, one of the three I kept: eyes sparkling with amusement and arousal, mouth open, thumb between her teeth. I kept that shot for that look more than even her incredible body.

I stand to greet her. She awkwardly offers me a hand. I lean in and kiss her cheek. “How was getting here?” I ask as she takes her seat.

“Uh, no problem, I took an Uber.”

“I’ll reimburse you.”

She waves a hand. “No, no, that’s totally fine. Is this for me?” She takes a sip of her drink and laughs. I love how genuine it is. “It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“How’d you know I took my coffee like this? Actually, never mind, doesn’t matter.” Her smile fades and she takes a deep breath. “I should just say it, you know? I need to spit it out and get it out in the air before my head explodes.”

A drop of dread spills down my spine. “Say what, Angelina?”

Her eyes meet mine. Her back goes straight and she folds her hands together in front of her. For a moment, she reminds me of Sinead: serious, strong, and proud.

A woman any man would die to have.

“We slept together. A few weeks ago. You remember, right?”

“That’s not something I’d forget.”

“Right. Good. And we didn’t… you know… use protection.”