Mend (Waters Book 2)
Page 41
An amused breath escapes me, and the corners of my mouth curves as even the near-darkness can’t hide the pleasure in his face. “You’re in love with her already, aren’t you?”
He blinks at me. “Is it that obvious?”
“I know you,” I say, raking my fingernails down his side, under his arm, and feeling him twitch as it tickles him. “How was your lunch with Charlton? Has he forgiven you yet?”
My husband snorts. “He only called me a pussy-whipped son of a bitch once, so I think he’s getting there.” Reaching up to my face, he brushes stray strands of my hair back. “How was Caroline?”
“Fine.” I roll fully onto my back. “Scott Mullane’s taken a plea, and so has Stu. Six months and a three-million-dollar fine.” Which is way more than he took in bribes, but I’m sure the money will go to a settlement for the city contractors who were cheated out of work, to stop them from suing.
“If they had Johanna, he wouldn’t serve any time,” Logan points out.
“Yeah, well, she’s still nowhere to be found. They think she had passports in fake names. She was ready to run.”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “I’d call her smart, except she stuck around too long, and getting involved with Caroline was tempting fate.”
“After Stu got acquitted, she probably felt bulletproof. And she had a plan for getting away, and it worked, so…” I shrug. “I filed for Caroline’s divorce again. Stu has agreed to give her whatever she wants in exchange for us not suing him for the damage he’s done to her firm’s reputation.”
“Well, that’s perfect, isn’t it?” His hand goes to my stomach and then skims up to fondle one of my tits, so that I’m not sure what exactly he’s calling perfect.
“Yeah,” I say, slightly out of breath, a zap of desire going between my thighs, where I still feel the sticky remnants of him. “So is Caroline telling me she has a friend who owns a tech company in the Valley who’s looking for new counsel. I have a consultation with her on Monday.”
He regards me with a thoughtful frown. “Corporate law?”
“There’s so much money in it.” I raise my brows at him, saying pointedly, “Which we’ll need once you start working for the ACLU.”
“I haven’t decided that for sure,” he replies, his face going blank.
“It’s your dream job. Why not?” He was approached by a director from their office in San Francisco a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been pushing him to accept the job offer. I understand his hesitation, know he’s been struggling to go from equity partner in a huge firm like Stevens and Hammerness to starting fresh with our own firm.
With the money from Hammer buying him out, we have zero financial worries, but Logan’s so used to raking in the big bucks, it’s become part of his identity. It’s going to take him a while to get comfortable with his new self.
“Just imagine my dad asking you how the defending-people’s-civil-liberties business is going,” I keep prodding with a teasing smile.
That gets me a bark of laughter. “He wouldn’t. Not snarky enough.”
“Good point.” I wonder what time it is, guessing by the lack of light coming through the slits in the curtains that it’s getting pretty late. “We should say good night to the kids. I’ll text my mom and see if they’re ready.”
They stayed with Mike last night, and tonight it’s my parents’ turn. Freya especially has found the move across the state a challenge, with leaving her friends behind down here. Living so close to their grandparents and their uncle Cam has helped a lot.
Mia and Jay are still in Africa, looking tan and sweaty and tired in their Facebook photos—but also happy. Probably because they’re having this experience together. I have no idea what their plans are when they do finally come back, but I’m hoping they decide to settle nearby instead of going back to Orange County. We all miss them so much.
“Okay,” Logan says, though he doesn’t let me go, instead tightening his grip on my ribs and pressing me into himself as he murmurs, “And then afterward, I want to find out if you really are all-inclusive.”
Smiling, I turn my head so we’re nose to nose. “I thought you’d figured out by now that I can’t say no to you?”
“Uh-huh,” his voice rumbles. “Because you’re my sexy, filthy little Good Girl.”
I let out a snort. “Better than being a kiss-ass Golden Boy.”
“Nah.” He plants a hard, lingering, hot kiss on my lips, and then he whispers, “I’m the luckiest pussy-whipped son of a bitch in the world. As long as you're mine, I don't want to be anyone else.”
I smile against his lips. I don’t want him to be anyone else, either. And he knows that. He knows he’s everything I want and need.
Some broken things can’t be fixed. But it turns out, we weren’t one of them.
In Memory
On December 21st, 2017, just as I was finishing this book, my dear friend, Walt Stone, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. Walt, along with his wife, Mica—who I knew before I did him—was a friend and business partner of mine since the early 2000s, and as I write this, I’m still reeling from the unreality of this loss.
Walt was whip smart, a man with seemingly endless knowledge and a mind that worked on a plane of its own. He was also kind and giving, and that combination of intellect, wealth of knowledge, and generosity with his time made him a person that I (and so many others, I’m sure) relied on for help. He was also funny and astute and a great conversation partner for just about any topic, and he was immensely passionate about stories and storytelling. I’m especially saddened by all the stories he’ll never find out the ending to, like Game of Thrones…and the current political theater, of which he was an enthusiastic follower and commentator.
He spent quite a bit of time with me, bouncing ideas back and forth about the plot of this book and the next one. I owe him a huge debt of gratitude for giving me a sense of direction when I felt lost and disheartened about where to take Paige and Logan’s story.
Walt was also a new author who was working on his second novel when he left us, and I encourage anyone who’s interested in a window into the brilliant mind of this much beloved man to check out his Young Adult Dystopian novel, Icefall.
His life was a light snuffed out too soon, and he has left behind a gap that is profoundly felt and can’t be filled, except with fond memories. With much love, Walt, you’ll always be remembered.
Acknowledgments
A huge thank you to Penelope Douglas. Your friendship is invaluable, your feedback is appreciated, your patience with my incessant questions and whining is admirable, and I don’t know how I could do any of this without you. Hope you’re enjoying all of the pens I’ve given you.
To my friend and critique partner, Alison Kent (aka Mica Stone), who over the years (so many years now!) has taught me more about the craft and business of writing and publishing than just about anyone. You’re an inspiration.
To Robyn Crawford, the winner of the Name a Character giveaway in my Facebook reader group. She gave me the name Baldwin for Mike McKinley’s retired K9 officer, because of its meaning: “Bold, brave friend.” She also named Freya, Abi, and Elliott’s nanny, Miranda, after Robyn’s favorite Golden Retriever, who apparently loved children!
To all of you who read BEND, reviewed it, and has sent me lovely messages about it — thank you! I can’t adequately express how much I appreciate your enthusiasm and support.
To my daughter, who makes me laugh every day.
And finally, the biggest and best thank you to my husband for always being there, for never letting me quit, for inspiring me in general and for this book in particular (in ways that only he will recognize), for keeping me sane(ish?), and for making me feel loved every second of every day. I’m so very sorry for how much I upset you when I said I preferred the Clapton Unplugged version of Layla over the original Derek and the Dominoes version. Also, “I seen my death,” and, sorry, but I’m going first. I love you, baby.
About the Aut
hor
Kivrin Wilson is a mother, wife, unabashed cat lady, avid reader, Netflix binge watcher, proud introvert, and a passably good cook. She grew up in Norway, but she’s lived most of her adult life in Las Vegas, Nevada, where she currently shares a roof with her husband, their daughter, and two young male cats who behave very much like teenage boys and of whom she shares too many photos on Instagram.
If you’d like to keep up with the latest news about Kivrin’s books, the best way is to follow her on Amazon, join her reader group on Facebook (where she posts exclusive content and giveaways), and subscribing to her newsletter.
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