SYLVIE

I’m dressed in a long silver cocktail dress—one of the five Allie sent over for me to choose from for tonight’s event. But I’m still in Holt’s master bedroom, waiting for him to respond to my text about the fundraiser. Just in case there’s a slim chance I can get out of compounding my guilt with yet another thoughtful date night. Not to mention, what if Jack Calson is there?

Which is why when my phone vibrates and lights up with a 501 number, I press the accept button in a flash.

“Hello?” I say, sitting on the bed with the phone.

“I hear your name made it on the VIP list for Holt Calson’s Botanical Gardens fundraiser tonight. Now, that’s a piece of news!”

It’s that reporter, Kyle Drinnen. I haven’t heard from him since he tried to get me to spill the beans about Holt three months ago. But I recognize his voice immediately.

And I’m even more adamant this time when I say, “Look. I’m still not interested in talking to you.”

“That is a shame, Ms. Pinnock, because I sure am getting more and more interested in talking to you as I get further into this juicy story. When I first decided to dig into Calson Jr. and Sr., I thought it would be a straightforward business story. But you, Ms. Pinnock, keep throwing in twist after twist. First, Calson Jr. brings you back to the States from Jamaica. Now, three months later, you’re his plus one at tonight’s big event. Sounds like he really wants everyone to know you two are an item.”

Yes, it does, I think with a guilty wince. But still, I give Kyle another firm, “No comment.”

“Okay, no comment about Holt. But can we talk about you? Is it true you two crazy kids shacked up ten years ago? Just a few months before your move to Jamaica, huh?”

My heart chills, but I say nothing.

Kyle’s voice shifts into a not-so-neighborly tone as he says, “This story is happening, Ms. Pinnock. Whether my editor or the Calsons like it or not. And if you don’t want your reputation to go down in flames with the rest of them, I suggest you start talking to me.”

I decide to do the exact opposite and push the red telephone symbol, hanging up on him without another word.

But getting rid of that man’s voice isn’t nearly enough to slow down my thunderous heartbeat. Oh, mercy…the reporter knows about Holt’s summer with me. That means he may know everything else, including—

The phone buzzes again, interrupting my panicked thoughts. Holt’s name pops up on my caller ID.

“Holt,” I answer, my voice still shaky from my call with the reporter.

“Sylvie, did my father get to you ten years ago? Is he the reason you left me like you did?” Holt demands, his voice stiff with anger.

I choke. Of all the things I expected Holt to say, this definitely was not one of them.

But I can’t answer, I remind myself.

“You’re not answering,” he says. “That means Dad not only got to you, he made you sign an NDA. That son of a bitch!”

Again, I say nothing. Jack Calson’s words about what he would do to my mother still ring in my ears. And even if I weren’t so concerned about my mother’s livelihood, I would owe him money if I told Holt the truth. I’d have to pay him back the six figures we spent long ago on hospital bills and funeral expenses for my father. Money I definitely cannot afford to pay back.

“So it’s true. Otherwise you would say something…anything. Fuck, Sylvie.”

I can hear the rage vibrating in Holt’s voice and I brace myself for what I think is going to come next. But Holt surprises me yet again.

“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out! And that I didn’t trust you enough to connect the dots. Fuck me. Babe, I am so sorry. I am so very sorry.”

I blink, unable to believe he is blaming himself instead of me. “This isn’t your fault,” I insist. “It’s not.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course, this is my fault. I always knew he would never let us be together. That’s why I wanted to marry you so quickly…before he found out. But then I overdosed. I’m the one who fucked up and let him get to you. And you couldn’t say a thing. Oh, babe. You never did any of those things he said. You didn’t abandon me. In fact, you called for help, didn’t you? And Javon—that bastard was on his payroll. His first call was probably to my prick of a dad. I knew I was making the right call when I decided to fire him and hire a new bodyguard with my own money.”

Javon actually contacted the paramedics, and then Holt’s dad. But Holt is close enough to the truth that I feel like crying.

“And when you pushed me away, it was because you knew how I was. That if I thought there was any chance you would still want to be with me…”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and never before have two words felt so inadequate for the feelings I am having.

“No, do not apologize. Don’t you ever apologize to me for what that bastard did. Just…Sylvie, please marry me.”

I blink, not understanding. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” I tell him like I did the first two times he proposed to me.

But this time he is sober and he insists, “I want you to marry me. I want you to be the mother Wes deserves. And I will hunt down Barron’s father and make him sign a consent form so I can adopt him, too, free and clear.”

So many alarm bells go off in my head, I can barely focus. “Holt, we can’t do that!” I tell him. “We can’t simply marry and become an instafamily.”

“Why the hell not?” he demands. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is. And I never stopped loving you. Are you saying you don’t feel the same?”

I try to say just that but I can’t lie. Not anymore. Not about that. “No, I do love you, but—”

“But nothing, Sylvie! Look, my car is here. I need to head to the event. I’ll see you there, and we can announce our engagement then. Don’t rabbit out on me this time. The stakes are too high.”

“No, Holt…I can’t! We can’t—Holt, wait!”

But the phone disconnects, leaving me with nothing but dead air.