Page 49 of Let Me Love You

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Page 49 of Let Me Love You

“She was a distraction. From the guilt I’d been carrying around after my dad passed.”

With a small nod of understanding, Ash asks, “Will she want me there? I don’t want to make anything more awkward than it already is.”

“I want us to be a united front throughout all of this. And I’m not letting you go, Ash. Not for anything.”

Her sad smile greets me, but she nods again. “Okay.”

“We’re gonna make it through this. You and me.”

“You and me,” she repeats.

My arms hold her a little tighter.

You and me.

16

ASHLYN

Colt’s death grip on my hand makes my fingers tingle, but I don’t pull away as we walk inside the building. It’s gray and old, the smell somehow riding the line between bleach and stale air.

The waiting room is mostly empty. A few metal chairs are spread around the edge of the room, and there’s a woman behind a reception desk, her gaze glued to her computer. Another woman stands when we cross the threshold. She adjusts the top of her cream-colored blouse and walks toward us. I don’t recognize her.

“Mr. Thorne?” she asks.

“Yeah.Colt,” he answers.

“Hello.” The stranger offers her hand. “I’m Alexandra Marshall, Ms. Elshner’s attorney. You can call me Ali. We spoke on the phone earlier. It’s nice to meet you.”

She looks young. Gorgeous. With dark chocolate eyes and curly brown hair reaching her collar bone and framing her face, and a conch and daith piercing.

I’d expected a stingy old dude in a suit with a constant frown etched into his aged, weathered skin. But Alexandra Marshall? Yeah, she’s pretty much the opposite of who I expected to be dealing with. I warm up to her almost instantly.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

Colt takes her offered hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Ali. This is Ashlyn, my future wife.”

My eyes pop as Ali greets me. “Congratulations, Ashlyn. When’s the big day?”

“No idea,” I answer, forcing a laugh as I shake her hand too.

If Colt wanted to toss a bomb on me this morning, he’s succeeded, but Ali simply takes it in stride. “I understand you’re—”

“Sorry I’m late,” a feminine voice calls out. We turn around to find a gorgeous brunette middle-aged woman with a baby carrier hanging from her right forearm. She strides toward us in black heels and a black pencil skirt hugging every inch of her curves. Not gonna lie. When I pictured a mysterious professor’s wife, she was a stern woman with a slicked-back bun, a type-A personality, and a fetish with rulers. But this woman? She’s—I gulp—stunning.

“Jaxon was hungry, and I had to make a quick bottle,” she continues.

I step back, not wanting to intrude when she walks into the little circle we’d created while chatting on the opposite side of the room. Colt’s attention falls to the car seat, but he doesn’t say a word.

“Have you unblocked my number yet?” Eleanor asks him. There isn’t any malice in her question. Only genuine curiosity and a dash of remorse.

She has his number?

Duh. Of course, she would have his number. They’ve slept together, remember?

I attempt to swallow the lump of jealousy in my throat, but it doesn’t dissipate.

“Not sure this is the time, Eleanor,” Colt mutters.




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