I’ve been hiding out in my rental, afraid that if I spent too much time at the gallery, I’d run into Pippa. I didn’t want her to know I was back. I didn’t want her to know I was doing everything in my power to fix this before I’d actually fixed it. She doesn’t deserve empty promises. She deserves grand gestures and facts. And I’m determined to give her that.
“You’ve got a visitor,” Trisha tells me, walking in with a Starbucks cup. The coffee is shit. Pippa’s is far better, but I didn’t want Trisha to blow our cover by going into Wake and Bake, so I’ve settled with coffee that always tastes like it’s burnt. And it sucks. What’s even worse is waking up in an empty bed. I’ve become far too accustomed to waking up with her body draped across mine. Once I’ve righted this wrong, I’ll be telling her that she’ll be sleeping next to me every night for the rest of our lives. There’s no other option. I don’t give a damn where the bed is; I just have to be with her.
“Camden?” Trisha prods, taking a step deeper into the room in my rental that has become my office.
I shake my head, sitting straighter in my chair. “Sorry.” I gladly take the cup of coffee from her outstretched hand, even when I know it sucks. I hold it up to her. “Clearly, I need this.”
Trisha smiles, looking over her shoulder. “Can I send Mr. Livingston your way?”
I take a sip of the coffee. “Which one?”
I hear a low chuckle from behind Trisha, Dean appearing in the doorway. “The best one,” he insists, giving a confident smile to Trisha. “The one that comes with good news.”
“Yeah?” I ask, gesturing for him to take a seat. I thought it was a long shot to reach out to him the morning I discovered Pippa gone from my bed, but to my surprise, he’d responded. Well, his secretary did, but shortly after, I got Dean himself. Come to find out, Pippa had already contacted him asking for help.
Dean unbuttons his suit jacket and takes a seat across from my desk. “I don’t have long. My daughter is with Pippa and her crew, having the time of her life while I told them I had a meeting. If I’m gone too long, I fear they may feed my daughter enough cupcakes that she’ll be bouncing off the walls all night.”
I laugh. I met his daughter briefly last night. She was as cute as can be. It was comical to see how wrapped around her finger he was. We’d only met long enough for Dean and me to go over some paperwork to take to the real estate group selling the properties before he had to go. “She’s probably had three cupcakes in the ten minutes it took for you to drive here.”
He grunts, picking a pen up from my desk and twisting it between his fingers. “Hopefully I don’t regret leaving her with them. I feel bad—she doesn’t get a lot of time with women. My mom watches her some, but she spends way too much time with me. I couldn’t say no to her tears when they offered to watch her as I had my next meeting.”
“How’s Pippa?” The question falls from my mouth before I can think better of it. It’s almost instinct, my desire to know how she’s doing. I know she must be hurting and tired and worried, and I hate it. Hopefully in two days, all of this will be in our past, and she’ll take my word for it when I tell her I’m all in with her—for the rest of my life.
Dean watches me closely. I barely know the guy, only enough to know he was kind enough to help me pull some strings to try and get the block of businesses to go up for auction. We’ve discussed ways it can help him, too, of course. He’s still a businessman. But he also seems like a decent human. One who cares about the town he grew up in, and I respect him for that. Finally, he sighs, still turning the pen between his fingers. “She seems tired but hopeful. She lit up when I told her I got confirmation that they’re taking the block to auction.”
I almost choke on the sip of coffee I was taking. “It went through?” I croak, trying to speak through the burning in my throat.
Dean nods. “Our plan worked. I told them they’d be foolish if they didn’t hear other offers.”
“This isn’t hearing other offers. This is just an auction, correct?”
He smiles. “Exactly. I made them feel like it was their idea to go to auction. Why hear offers when people can battle it out with money? Your idea was genius. It’ll go for far more than your uppity asshole friend offered.”
“He’s not a friend.”
“Either way, what’s stopping me from outbidding both of you at auction? My family owns most of the developments in Sutten anyway. Pippa’s block was the one part that went to a partner of my grandfather’s years and years ago.”