“Me, too, but the attorney said it was in your best interest to see him,” Sin adds.
“I don’t understand why he couldn’t tell me more. It felt like he wanted to, especially when he said it would be beneficial to my future.” There was a hidden message in those words. I have no idea what it is, though.
“You know what I think, Thomas wanted to leave something to your mother before he died,” Margaret says. “He had such an anxious face when he spoke to me that day. Like he was desperate to see her.”
“But why after all these years?” I question. Surely, Thomas could’ve found my mother. He had the resources to pay for the best private investigator available.
“Dying has a way of making people reflect on their lives,” Margaret adds, and she’s right. Being faced with our own mortality, or watching someone you love die, changes you forever.
After a few more steps, we stop in front of the building. I look at Sin and take a deep breath.
“Let’s do this,” he says.
Sin opens the door and places his large hand on my lower back, guiding me to the reception desk with Margaret at my side. We breeze through security after confirming my appointment, make our way to the row of elevators, and enter an empty lift.
Sin stands against the back wall and I lean into his side. He lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer to him. It’s just what I need.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The familiar smell of leather and earth fill my lungs. We stand this way in silence as we wait for the elevator to stop.
I let out a disappointed moan and untangle myself from his side as the doors open. We exit into the hallway and a shiny wooden door with “Myers and Simon” written across it greets us.
“I need you here,” I say to Margaret, and hug her before going in to the office. We have years of hugs to catch up on. There’s something about a grandmother’s touch that melts the worries away.
“I’ll always be here for you, Harlow. Always.” The crinkles at the corner of her eyes look more pronounced. She’s concerned for me, too.
“I need you both with me.” I glance between Margaret and Sin.
We enter the office and I let the receptionist know I’m here. After I check in, we are led to an inner office door. The receptionist taps on the door and waits for a response.
“Come in,” someone calls.
The receptionist opens the door on cue and we walk into the office. It has a large glass window with a sweeping view of downtown Chicago. A well-dressed man moves around a large desk in the middle of the office.
“Please, come in,” the man says with a warm smile, instantly putting me at ease.
The man is a few inches shorter than Sin and wears a midnight blue suit with a red silk tie. He looks like a lawyer, dignified and polished down to his shiny shoes.
“Good afternoon. Miss Masters, I presume?” the man asks, looking at me. I nod my head. “Samuel Myers.”
“Nice to meet you,” I respond, thankful my manners haven’t slipped my mind with all my edginess.
Mr. Myers reaches out and we shake hands. “I am the attorney for Thomas Bradley’s family trust. Let me introduce you to Andrea Bradley, the executor of the trust.”
I follow Mr. Myers eyes and see a woman standing near a far wall. I didn’t see her when I entered, but she is beautiful, classy. Her shoulder-length black hair frames her pale face. Add red lipstick and piercing green-ish eyes, and she’s stunning.
“Hello, Miss Masters,” Ms. Bradley says, walking toward me. “I am Thomas Bradley’s widow.”
“Hello,” I reply, unsure what more to say to her. I might be the child from an affair her husband had with another woman. The word awkward comes to mind. She reaches out to shake my hand and I quickly wipe my palm across my dress before shaking it.
Sin places his hand on the small of my back and the tension leaves my body at his touch. I turn to him and give him a small smile, trying to tell him thanks with my eyes. He understands me and nods.
“I see you brought two people with you today,” Mr. Myers acknowledges the two pillars of strength at my side.
“Sinclair Elliott.” Sin shakes Mr. Myers’ hand. “I’m Harlow’s boyfriend.”
I’ll never get tired of Sin telling people we are together. He gazes down at me and I see a sparkle in his whiskey-colored eyes.
“Yes, we spoke on the phone. Glad you are here with Miss Masters,” Mr. Myers says, and turns to my grandmother. “And you must be Margaret McMasters.”
“I am,” Margaret replies.
“Please, have a seat.” Mr. Myers gestures to three chairs in front of his desk.
We follow his instructions and sit down. Mr. Myers drags another chair to the desk so Thomas’ widow can join us.
There is a silent pause as we all stare at one another, the anticipation building.
“Well, I imagine you’re wondering why we wanted to see you,” Mr. Myers pauses. “Do you mind if I call you Harlow?”