Marry Screw Kill(9)

“Sin?” She seems surprised. Frankly, I’m as shocked as she is. So much for making a clean break, but I feel unsettled after talking to Henry about my relationship with her

“Hi, Rachel. Bad time?” Please say yes so I can end my misery—and hers.

“No, it’s fine. Just wasn’t expecting to hear from you ag—uh, so soon.”

Fuck, she was going to say again. I know it. I’ve turned a smooth ending into something jagged and awkward.

“I’m on my way to the airport now and I wanted to …” What exactly did I really want? “Hell, I don’t know what I wanted to say.”

We don’t have a future together as a couple, but walking away from her completely doesn’t feel right either. I’ve explored every inch of her body, and now we’re nothing more than strangers. I was hoping the call would help me sort through my feelings, but it’s only making it worse.

“You don’t have to say anything, Sin.” She’s making this far too easy for me. “You’re going to make a great doctor one day.”

“Thank you. You will, too.”

“Goodbye, Sin.” She speaks my name in a mere breath and hangs up.

“Bye, Rachel,” I say into the dead air.

We agreed to no feelings beyond the physical, so this odd emptiness makes no sense. Maybe I cared for her more than I realized, because something doesn’t feel right about never speaking to her again. It’s like I’m erasing her from my mind without thinking about her as a human, discarding her like yesterday’s trash.

As the cab skirts the edge of Manhattan on the FDR highway, my phone begins to vibrate in my hand. I loosen my fingers to read the screen and smile in relief. If anyone can center me, it’s Nina.

“Grandmother.” I sink back into the seat and wait for her to speak first—an art form she personally created.

“Sinclair,” she says in her Upper East Side tone. “You were supposed to call me before you headed out to Rochester, remember?”

Shit. “I’m so sorry. It slipped my mind.”

“All’s forgiven. Now, how’s my favorite grandson?” The teasing Nina appears. I grin at her question.

“Well, I am your only grandchild, so that puts me in the lead no matter what.” We laugh together and my mood shifts, lightening again. “I’m in a cab on the way to La Guardia. I’ll be in Rochester by dinner time.”

“Good, I caught you before you left. Maybe you can find out what’s up with my son. Your uncle James never returns my calls and I need a spy.”

“Oh, do you?” She can afford a full army of private detectives if needed. I wonder what’s up.

“Yes. Your father and uncle keep everything from me, but I only have myself to blame. I pressured your father to succeed in life, and now he’s become a cold, power-driven man. I indulged James, and as the baby of the family, he thinks the world revolves around him.”

“Ah, but you loved them. What they did with their own lives isn’t your fault.” I hate hearing the sadness in her voice. She needs to stop blaming herself, but she laments on like this so often, I know it haunts her. “You’ve pushed me to work hard and have also indulged me. Remember the apartment you gave me for graduation? Other than my stint in Australia, my life seems to be okay.”

“You’re my redemption, Sinclair. I thank God every day for you. I just wish I’d been wiser when I had the chance with my sons. I wasn’t even invited to your father’s wedding.”

“That makes two of us.” Before I graduated from Columbia a couple weeks ago, I hadn’t spoken to my father in months.

He claimed to be too busy with a deal overseas. Last year, it was the deal in California. The real deal is he doesn’t give a flying f*ck about me. And my mother, his ex-wife, spends her days as a New York City socialite living off the millions from the divorce settlement. Gala organizing, massages, making the boutique rounds with personal shoppers—her life is rough.

“Well, your father’s divorcing his newest wife anyway. Good riddance. What is it with men running after women half their age? Which brings me to James and the trollop he’s marrying. I need to know more about her before I agree to attend their wedding. I refuse to go and give my blessing if he’s marrying a gold digger as I fear.”

“She’s picking me up from the airport because he’s tied up at the hospital. What do you know about her? All I have from Uncle James is her name.” Harlow.

“She’s young, obscenely young compared to him. Beautiful, of course. Supposedly, she’s mature for her age, an old soul, which means she can tie her own shoes.” Heavy sarcasm underscores Nina’s description, along with an added chuckle. “She’s been living with him since they met a few months ago.”

“How did they meet?”

“She was brought to the hospital the night her mother was murdered,” Nina says, and I shake my head in disbelief.

“What?”

“Domestic incident of some kind.”

“Wow. Was she hurt, too?” James wouldn’t be wandering around the ER without a reason. Did she have an injury requiring a heart surgeon to examine her? It would explain how he met her.

“I don’t know any specifics, and James isn’t answering my calls right now. That’s where I need you to fill in the blanks for me. Connect the dots and see if they all lead back to his hefty bank account.” Nina has always warned me that my family’s wealth makes us targets for grifters and sycophants. Her radar is pinging, and now, so is mine.