The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (3)

“No, darling. That marriage wasn’t meant to be. The rest of your fortune is much brighter,” she states, and I search her eyes.

“What do you mean, the rest?”

“I mean, my dear Remington, I had more to tell you before you left. Though, Flynn did stay back to hear it.”

“He did?” I question, outright shocked by that revelation. “He hasn’t said a word about that shit to me. And it’s been a year, so I’m pretty sure he’s had an opportunity.”

“While I do agree that family shouldn’t keep things from one another, I think in these circumstances, it makes sense that he hasn’t told you.”

I raise one eyebrow at her. “And why would that make sense? It’s about me, I should fucking know.”

“Oh, darling, you’ve been too closed off. Too angry.” She raises a hand and gestures toward me. Even now, I’m practically vibrating.

I wish I could say she’s wrong, but for the past year, I’ve been a real unbearable asshole. But her being right, of course, only pisses me off more.

“Okay, fine. I’ll bite, Miss Cleo. What’s the rest of my supposed fortune?” I ask, disbelief and sarcasm still dripping from every word. “Am I going to move off-grid? Become some kind of loner from society? Or are you going to tell me I’m months away from winning the lottery and everything will start coming up roses?”

Cleo doesn’t balk at my words or my tone. For some reason, she seems immune to both, reaching out to take my hand and smiling softly when I pull it away. “Yes, you have experienced the great heartbreak I predicted, but there will be a chance for happiness for you. A redo, so to speak. But only if you learn to open your heart.”

“You’re serious?” A wolflike laugh jumps from my throat. “That’s the rest of my oh so great fortune? I’m just supposed to open my heart and all will be well?”

After Charlotte leaving me on our actual wedding day, when all our friends and family were there, waiting to watch us say “I do,” opening my heart to anyone sounds like the worst fucking idea in existence.

She nods with a patronizing tilt of her head. “It’s understandable that you’re not ready now, but one day, someone will walk back into your life, and it will have the power to change everything. Only you will be able to determine if it’s worth it to open yourself up again.”

“Someone, who?”

“Someone whom you still hold close in your heart.”

I narrow my eyes. “For a woman who can apparently read my mind and predict my goddamn future, you sure like to say a lot of vague shit.”

“Oh, my child,” she says with a knowing smile. The kind of smile that makes goose bumps roll up my arms. “I can’t tell all of fate’s secrets. Otherwise, I risk altering your true path.”

I stare down at my forearms and hands, my skin still prickling with visible uncertainty. All this effort, all this time spent here listening to her bullshit, and I’m supposed to figure it out on my own? Just wait for opportunity to come a-knockin’ on my evil ogre door?

What a waste.

“So…that’s it, then? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“It’s all I can say, Remington,” she comments and surprises me by attempting yet again to place a gentle hand over mine. “You just need time. Lots of time. But it will be okay. That, I can tell you with certitude.”

I glance down at her bright-red, inch-long nails on top of my olive skin and wonder how I’ve been reduced to a man who is taking advice from a fucking psychic in a velvet robe.

Probably because said fortune-teller was right about Charlotte.

Even thinking her name stings like a bitch. When I care about someone, when I love someone, I’m an all-in kind of guy. I don’t hold back. I don’t play games. And I certainly don’t mince words or feelings.

I gave my everything to that relationship—bet everything on it going all the way. And all I got was a knife to the back.

Is that the way it went, dude? Or was it your ultimatum that forced the knife into her hand?

I shake off the unwelcome introspection. Those kinds of thoughts can fuck right off.

I let out a deep exhale. “I have to ask you one more thing.”

“Of course.”

“How is…Charlotte?” I start out bitter and cynical, but I don’t miss that my voice is practically a whisper by the end of my question. Neither does Cleo, unfortunately.

Charlotte might be the woman who tore my heart out of my chest, but anger and spite don’t erase their emotional counterparts. This is the woman I was in love with—the woman I planned to marry; I want her to be okay. And since I’ve had no contact with her since the wedding-that-didn’t-happen, I have no idea if she is.

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever met a man with a bigger heart than yours, Remington. Always taking care of other people. Always putting other people’s needs before your own. It’s a noble quality. One I hope you don’t let disappear because of the hardships life throws your way.”

Miss Cleo’s smile is soft and compassionate, and I loathe it with every fiber of my being. As a kid, right after my father left, I saw that smile often. From friends, acquaintances, teachers. I never ever wanted to be the grown man on this side of a smile like that. I should know by now, though, some plans just don’t work out. Some really fucking don’t, my mind adds bitterly.