The End of Everything - Garner-Willoughby Brothers Duet Book Two

by Blaire Broderick

  She paused for a second turning to read my face. “I don’t know, Ev. I mean, sort of, but he stood up for you. His mom was saying all those horrible things, and he defended you. That oughta count for something.”

  I stood up and let the blanket fall to the floor, suddenly growing hot. “Yeah, but he lied to me, Carys. Everything he said to me from the moment I met him was based on a lie. How am I supposed to believe anything he says to me from now on?”

  “He was pretty shaken up when you left,” Carys said. “Regardless of everything, he’s still crazy about you.”

  “Then why couldn’t he have told me himself?”

  “Maybe he didn’t know how. Maybe he wasn’t expecting to fall in love with you.”

  I snorted. “And if he never would’ve fallen in love with me, I never would’ve learned about the trust fund.”

  “What trust fund?” Carys asked, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t hear that part.”

  “Julian set up a trust fund for me,” I said. “His will is at a law firm back home. That’s why I’m going back for a bit.”

  “Why didn’t Julian tell you himself?” Carys asked.

  I smiled. Loving Julian meant loving him for exactly who he was—a mysterious creature.

  I shrugged. “Why didn’t he tell me he had two brothers? I don’t know why he did things the way he did. I’ll never know.” I sat back down.

  Carys leaned over, resting her head on my shoulder. “I really like Jax.”

  She always knew how to lighten the mood at just the right time.

  I laughed. “I know you do.”

  “He’s different,” Carys mused. “Different can be good, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “And he’s so damn hot. Oh, God, Evie, is he hot,” she said, her lips curling into a smile as her eyes floated to the back of her head. “I’ve never met anyone who lives in the moment as much as he does. He doesn’t worry about anything. So laid back. So carefree. Up for anything.”

  “Just like you,” I said, proud to have paired them up. “Told you he was the male, surfer-dude version of you.”

  She bit her lip offering an uncontainable half smile. Contagious excitement radiated from her making me forget, for a moment, about the shitty hand I’d been dealt.

  “We don’t have anything like him back home, you know,” she said with a dreamy sigh.

  We didn’t have anyone like Jude Garner-Willoughby back home, either.

  “I just stopped by to tell you I’m leaving for a bit,” I said, standing in Jude’s doorway the next morning.

  His face fell. “Where are you going?”

  “Haverford,” I said. “Just for a little while. I don’t know what I’m doing after that.”

  “But your apartment is here. Your lease. Carys…” He rattled off all the reasons I should stay before adding, “What about us?”

  “I don’t have any answers for you,” I said, hiding the emotion that wanted to flood out every part of me. “I’ll be back. I don’t know when, though.”

  “I’ll wait for you,” he said without pause.

  “No,” I said, as much as it pained me. I wanted him to wait for me. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to feel the same deep, unshakable pain he’d inflicted upon me. “Don’t wait for me.”

  His face bent in disbelief as if he couldn’t understand why this was happening.

  “Evie, come in. Let’s talk.” He reached for my arm, but I stepped away remaining out in the hallway.

  “My flight leaves this afternoon,” I said.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said. “I’m coming with you to Haverford. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  A small part of me wanted to forget about everything, to run into his warm embrace, kiss his full lips, and feel the weight of his arms around me while he whispered all the things he knew I needed to hear. But the rest of me wouldn’t allow it.

  “I have to go,” I said, my shaky hand gripping the leather strap of my bag nervously as it dug into my shoulder. “I’ll call you.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.” I didn’t know anything anymore.

  “You’re coming back, right?”

  “I am.”

  Jude stared down at me with his golden hazel eyes, studying my face as if that moment was going to be burned into his memory forever.

  “I need to go now,” I said, the weight on my chest growing heavier with each passing second. I felt his eyes on me as I walked away, and within seconds, I felt the power of his hand on my shoulder bringing me to a complete stop a few feet short of the elevator bay.

  He spun me around slipping his hands around my waist and rendering me powerless.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Evie,” he said. He leaned down, our lips meeting briefly, igniting the sparks deep within my soul that still longed for him no matter how much I despised him for what he’d done to me. To us.

  Translation—I love you.

  27

  JUDE

  “You heard from Evie lately?” I asked Carys as she and Jax headed out the door one morning. It’d been a week, and I’d yet to hear from her. My calls and texts all went unanswered.

  Carys and Jax exchanged looks, and she shook her head. I knew she was lying, covering for Evie. I understood. I’d have done the same thing if I were her.

  “I only want to know if she’s okay,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. I’d fucked up. I knew that. But I wasn’t a monster. I still cared about her. I thought about her every fucking second of every fucking day.

  “She’s Evie,” Carys said. “She’ll be okay. She just needs space.”

  The second Carys and Jax slipped out the door, I wanted to slam my fist into the wall. I’d barely slept the past week. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d picture Evie running into the arms of her douchebag ex-boyfriend. And every time I sent her a good-night text, I imagined her picking up her phone and tossing it aside. Not hearing from her and not knowing where we stood pushed me deeper and deeper into a place I hadn’t visited since she came into my life, emotions stirring to the surface like muck from the bottom of a lake.

  I crashed on the couch, idly flipping through my phone contacts and debating whether or not I should call her one more time when a call came in from one of my potential J-Corp buyers.

  “This is Jude,” I answered.

  “Jude,” he said, his voice booming with the confidence of a man who could buy the world if he wanted. “It’s Frank. Frank Angelico.”

  “Yes, how are you doing today, sir?” I replied, sitting up and clearing my throat.

  “I wanted to talk to you about buying J-Corp,” he said. “You have time to meet with me this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, I think I can do that,” I said, preparing myself to tell him J-Corp wasn’t worth as much as he probably thought it was anymore.

  “Listen, I know your top bid was seven, but I’m prepared to offer you eight,” he said. “I want you to think about that before we meet today. I’m serious about this deal, son.”

  “We have a lot to discuss, sir,” I said. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  “Brown Derby at 2:00 p.m.,” he said. “See you then.”

  At 1:45 p.m., I sat and waited at the table.

  “Water, sir?” the doe-eyed server asked as she batted her lashes.

  “Please.”

  “There it is,” the host said as he led a striking Italian beauty to my table.

  She offered me a coy smile, her lips covered in juicy pink gloss and her thick, black hair spilling down her shoulders in an overabundance of waves. Shopping bags hung from her arms, which she promptly put down the moment the host pulled out her chair for her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said softly. “You must have the wrong table. I’m meeting someone here.”

  “Right,” she said with a smirk. “My dad. He said I could join you guys.”

  In my former life, I’d have wasted no time turning on the charm and working her six ways ‘til Sunday u
ntil she’d be crawling all over me begging me to take her home. Her ample curves, dimpled smile, and lush lips were enough to drive the old me wild. But I wasn’t that guy anymore, not since Evie came around.

  “Jude.” A boisterous man with a large belly and expensive Italian silk suit walked up. A thick, well-groomed mustache filled the space above his upper lip. “I see you’ve met my Samantha.”

  I smiled, throwing her a courteous look.

  “She was in the area, so I thought I’d invite her to lunch with us,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” I lied.

  “My hope is she’ll take over the family business someday,” he said, pulling up his chair and turning to her. Frank beamed like the proud father he was. “She needs to see how these things, these deals, come about.”

  “Well,” I said, turning to her, “I hope we don’t bore you too much.”

  She brushed her hair off her shoulder and leaned in, engaged and ready to observe.

  “So, have you thought about my offer?” Frank asked, whipping his napkin out and placing it in his lap just under his bulbous belly.

  “I have,” I said, pausing.

  “And?”

  “I feel it’s too generous, sir,” I replied. I had to be honest, as much as it pained me. “One of my investors has sold out at a huge loss, and I’m afraid it’s affected the areas of expansion I’d been developing.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning down as his brows furrowed. “That’s not what I wanted to hear at all.”

  Samantha’s lips parted as if she wanted to offer an idea.

  “Hmm,” Frank said, leaning back and tracing his fingers across his mustache.

  “Why don’t you invest for now, Daddy?” Samantha suggested. “Let him grow J-Corp to where it needs to be, and then you can buy out the rest of it?”

  He pursed his lips and slowly began to nod, bobbing his round head back and forth. “That idea’s not half bad, Sam. Jude, would you be willing to entertain something like that?”

  I took a sip of my water, my throat parched and scratchy. Independent to a fault, I hated partnerships. I’d been itching to get rid of Veronica since a month into starting J-Corp, and that had taken years. The last thing I needed was some middle-aged, pompous Daddy Warbucks coming in and dictating what I did with my company.

  But what choice did I have?

  “Absolutely,” I lied.

  “Okay, so how much of an investment are we talking?” Frank asked. “What do you need, son?”

  “Well, at least two million,” I said. “That would replace most of the dent the other investor left when she sold her shares. I could expand the company to where it needs to be and then hand it over to you. Give me, say, six months?”

  “Perfect,” Frank said. “You mind giving Sam a job?”

  “Daddy,” she said, shooting him a look.

  “What? I think it’d be a good experience for you,” he said to her, his voice hushed. “You’re going to take over this company when we buy it. I don’t know a damn thing about search engine optimization or any of that hullaballoo.”

  He was buying the company for her, that much was clear. There was something about seeing a father care so much for his child that he wanted to give her a company and teach her how to be successful even if half the work was already done for her. He meant well, and he did it because he loved her more than anything in the world. I could see it in the way he looked at her. It was the way I had always hoped my father would look at me.

  “I think I could find something for her to do,” I said.

  “I’m not talking about filing and copying,” he said. “She’s not a secretary.”

  “Understood.” I clenched my jaw and forced a smile crossing my fingers that she was bright and could catch on fast. I didn’t want to spend any more time with her than necessary. I enjoyed my freedom.

  Samantha looked at me, laughing nervously. She was clearly attracted to me. I could feel it when our eyes met. As much as she pretended to be annoyed with her father, everything I knew told me she was secretly excited about having to work with me.

  But all I wanted was Evie.

  28

  EVIE

  My flats padded lightly against the white marble floor of the bank as I approached a teller. My clammy palm held a folded letter, my late husband’s last will and testament, which I’d retrieved from the law firm that morning.

  “May I help you?” a snobbish, middle-aged teller with wrinkled, red lips and sandy blonde hair asked, looking me up and down. Her nametag read ‘Debbie,’ and I was almost certain I went to school with her kids.

  “Yes,” I said, my mouth dry and my hands trembling. “I needed to check into an account that was under my late husband’s name.”

  “What’s the name?” she asked, turning to her computer, fingers floating over the keys.

  “His name was Julian Garner-Willoughby,” I said. I hated saying the word ‘was.’

  “ID?”

  My fingers fumbled with my wallet as I pulled out my driver’s license which indicated that I was Evelyn Garner-Willoughby.

  She typed in a few things on the keyboard and clicked a couple of spots on the screen with her mouse. After double checking my license, she picked up the phone and dialed someone mumbling a few inaudible words.

  “We’re going to have you meet with our president,” she said with a smile that piqued my curiosity though her eyes were unable to unglue themselves from the screen.

  Caroline probably had the account flagged. I sighed.

  “Mrs. Garner-Willoughby?” a man’s voice called from a hallway full of office doors. I spun around to see a slender, gray-haired gentleman in a navy-blue suit and red tie waiting for me. “This way, please.”

  His smile was nice, but something about him made me nervous. I could feel the sweat above my brow as my heart pounded in my ears with each footstep.

  “Please, have a seat,” he said, motioning to a chair and closing the door. “Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

  “No, thank you.” I was too scared to even think about drinking anything.

  “Let me pull you up here,” he said, scooting into his seat and clicking around on his computer. “There we go.”

  I sat straight up in my chair crossing my legs and fidgeting with my purse strap as I waited.

  “So,” he said, turning to me. “You’re what we call a Platinum Customer.”

  “I am?” A wave of relief rushed over me as I realized this meeting was a good thing.

  “Your husband left a pretty sizable account here, and you’re listed as his beneficiary,” he said. “Were you aware of that?”

  “Yes,” I said, omitting the fact that I’d only found out twenty-four hours ago.

  The banker turned his monitor to face me and pointed to a little gray box that held the numbers—$31,097,699.08.

  A heat wave consumed me, head to toe, as I stared, speechless. I gripped the sides of my chair repositioning myself and clearing my throat.

  “You’re acting surprised, Mrs. Garner-Willoughby,” he said.

  “We’d just… never discussed dollar amounts. That’s all.”

  “Well, it’s all here,” he said, switching the monitor back in place. “Earning interest daily. We have it enrolled in our highest-yielding savings account reserved only for our Platinum Customers.”

  “So no one else can touch that money?” I asked. “Like, his parents?”

  Confusion morphed his smile. “No. You’re his sole beneficiary. You’re entitled to the full amount unless otherwise specified in his will.”

  If Caroline had the chance to wipe the account clean, she would’ve done so months ago when Julian died. There’s no way she would’ve left the money sitting there for the taking.

  “Was this a trust fund?” I asked, curious about the origination of the account.

  He typed a few things into his keyboard. “It appears to h
ave been a trust fund that matured when Mr. Garner-Willoughby turned twenty-four.”

  He’d turned twenty-four in January, a month before we met.

  “If you want, we can have you talk to one of our investment bankers,” he offered. “We could get some good investments going, and you could live very comfortably off the interest of that money alone. Put that money to work for you.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” I said. “I need to do some thinking. Can you guarantee no one can touch this money for now?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, his wrinkled eyes genuine. “If it would make you feel better, we could freeze the account or put it into another account that’s in your name only.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Put it into an account in my name only.” The last thing I wanted was for Caroline to remotely have any connection or access to it.

  “That we can do,” he said. He seemed pleasant and non-judgmental, immediately putting me at ease. He grabbed a logoed pen and application and set them in front of me.

  As I filled out the paperwork, a warm, happy feeling flooded my body. It wasn’t about the money, it was about Julian taking care of me, just as he’d promised. He’d been a man of his word unlike his slimy brother.

  “Why would they put a trust fund in his name knowing he was going to die?” I wondered, realizing I’d said it aloud.

  The banker’s eyes darted around the room, and his lips twitched. “Sometimes, there are ways around tax laws. You invest in certain things or create certain accounts, and it reduces your tax liability. If they thought he was going to pass away, the money would’ve been absorbed back into their estate.”

  I rolled my eyes. So Caroline.

  I left the bank a ball of excited energy. I had to tell someone. I couldn’t keep it contained much longer. I whipped out my phone and dialed Carys.

  “Hello?” she answered by the third ring. Every ring felt like an hour.

  “Carys, you alone?” I asked, my voice hushed.

  “Yeah, Jax is in the other room. Why?”

  “I just went to the bank,” I said, my heart fluttering like a wild butterfly. “Julian left me an account with over thirty-one million dollars…”