Marry Screw Kill(80)

The skyline of Chicago comes into view as we travel down the highway. I shift in my seat for the millionth time since we left Park Ridge. I think it’s nerves. Sin glances over at me, smirking.

“Take my hand,” he offers, and who am I to refuse? I reach across the center console and place my hand in his. It’s warm and strong. The kind of strength that protects those he loves or stops those who harm them. He gives me a one thousand watt smile and my jaw drops in awe.

Until I met Sin, I never believed someone could leave a person breathless. I thought it was just a crazy made up term used in poems and songs. But as I stare at his handsome, smiling face, my breathing stops for a couple seconds. It’s more than just me holding my breath; it’s me being unable to catch the very air around me and pull it into my lungs.

“Are you doing okay, dear?” Margaret asks from the backseat.

“My mother didn’t have a will when she died, so I am a little nervous. Visiting an attorney usually means someone is in trouble.” At least, in my world it does.

“A probate attorney doesn’t deal with criminals. Worst thing he deals with is pissed off family members who aren’t happy with someone’s will. There’ll be no cross-examinations or gavels. It’s all good, babe.” His smiling face reassures me and draws the worry from my mind.

“Okay, oh wise one,” I kid. He grins back at me and we laugh.

Sin exits the highway and weaves through Chicago’s downtown streets. We’ve been exploring them together in the beautiful early summer weather since he had never been to Chicago before either.

He believes Chicago is a smaller, cleaner version of gritty New York City. He promised to show me the difference soon, but I have to be realistic. Long distance relationships rarely work, especially ones built on a rocky foundation, like ours. If we stay together—God, I hope we do—people are going to ask how we met, and where will we even begin?

We arrive at the downtown offices of Thomas’ attorney. Sin parks the SUV and we all walk toward the building.

“You ready?” Sin asks, while giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I am.” I think. “I just wish I knew what to expect.”

“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.”