“You miss Begonia, because she’s Begonia, but you won’t do anything about it, because you’re you, which is literally the only thing standing between you and Begonia being happy together.”
I bristle. “You have not known me nearly long enough to—”
“Do you honestly think Begonia would reject you?” Merriweather follows the question by downing a shot of espresso like a champ, then peers at me as if she has nothing better to do than badger me about my personal life.
And I have nothing better to do than answer her, because I fucking miss Begonia. “No, but she wouldn’t reject anyone.”
Winnie snorts. “She divorced her husband. I’d say the woman knows what she doesn’t want.”
“And what she does,” Merriweather agrees.
The door to my office jiggles. “Hey! Are you having an intervention without us?” Keisha calls.
Winnie leans back in her chair and props her feet on her desk. She’s not wearing shoes, and I should say something, but instead, I’m hanging on her every word. “Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Rutherford, that Begonia is just as afraid of not being loved as you are of not being loved enough by her? Do you realize, to even the smallest degree, how unfair that is to her? And how much she’s probably hurting right now?”
“Love’s a leap.” Merriweather pulls a second espresso shot off the coffee maker and lifts it, offering it to me.
I shake my head.
I don’t need coffee.
“Begonia is Begonia, and she probably has more men vying for her attention now than I have women,” I say.
“Probably not, because men are dumb,” Merriweather says.
They both peer at me, silently calling me dumb.
I growl.
“Also,” Merriweather continues over the hum of the coffee machine, “any man who wants her because of the tabloid coverage will be the kind of man she can see through, and if he’s smoother than that, she needs you.”
“Which would you rather have,” Winnie continues as Merriweather takes her second shot, “a safe life without love, or a risky life with it?”
“We’re basically pulling our hair out over how dense you’re being,” Merriweather tells me. “It’s Begonia. One, she clearly adores you. Two, all she really asks in return is that you adore her back. Three, she didn’t want to fall in love at all, yet here you both are.”
“She flew across the country to rescue the world’s worst dog. If she can love Marshmallow, surely, she can stay loyal to you too.”
“Excuse you—” I start again.
Winnie snaps and makes a zip it noise. “No, no, you don’t get to talk yet. Do you know anyone in this world more loyal than Begonia?”
“No.”
“Do you know anyone in this world who’s a bigger dick than her ex-husband?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a bigger dick than her ex-husband?”
“Only to people who are not Begonia. Probably to people sitting here in my office who should be biting their tongues right now, and who are only still employed because you’ve clearly been talking to her behind my back, and I want to know what you know, and I want to know now.”
Neither of them is fazed by my glare.
“We haven’t talked to her,” Winnie says.
“We’ve talked to other people who know her better.”
“They’re making suppositions.”
“But based on what we know about her—”
“And the way she looked at you—”
“We’re assuming we’re right.”
“So what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks are you doing here instead of chasing her down and getting her back?”
“I—”
“She got fired from her teaching job,” Keisha yells through my door. “That blow job was a bad look for her.”
“Mom said she looked like crap when she tracked her down somewhere in North Carolina too,” Jonas adds.
I cross the room in three strides, wrench the chair away, and almost take the door off its hinges. “Our mother went to see Begonia.”
It’s not a question.
It’s an order for him to fill in more information.
My brother shrugs. “She was worried.”
I stare at him.
Then stare more.
“She hated Begonia.”
“She knew it was fake,” Keisha says. “Marshmallow traded her vibrator for Begonia’s copy of your signed contract.”
Jonas makes a noise I’ve never heard him make in his life, on-or off-set. “Don’t ever say that again.”