The Truth About Comfort Cove

But she could rest her head, for just a minute, on the pillow he’d used. Setting her tea down on the bedside table, with her cell phone still clutched in her hand, she lay back slowly, as if the pillows would evaporate from her life, as the man appeared to have done.

The pillows supported her weight. And they smelled like Ramsey Miller.

With a deep breath, Lucy lay her hands on her stomach and closed her eyes. Breathing in the essence of a man who made her feel…good. Just for a second, she’d take strength from knowing that he existed. He didn’t have to know. No one had to know. She’d be fine. Her old self. In just a second.

“Carol of the Bells” peeled from her stomach. Lucy grabbed the phone from her midsection, wondering why it was there, just as she was remembering where she was.

What time was it?

The LED screen showed two in the morning. Two hours since she’d come into Ramsey’s room? She’d been asleep for two hours?

Sitting up in the dark, she opened her phone.

U okay?

The most recently sent text message showed on her screen.

Scrolling with the thumb holding the phone, she read the string.

Possible Colton development to discuss when you get the chance. The first message that had come in just before midnight had been very closely followed by Let’s discuss Wakerby development.

She’d texted Amber’s news about Wakerby’s request to meet with his lawyer. She hadn’t mentioned the couriered box of belongings or her invitation to go through them. She’d been saving that for the phone call she’d been sure she’d receive that night.

He’d texted instead and implied that she should call.

Shaking her head, sleepy, but grinning, she texted back, Fine. Fell asleep. Up now.

Can you talk?

They’d known each other for months and suddenly he was asking?

Of course.

She’d barely hit Send when her phone rang.

“What’s the development?” she answered on the first ring. She was going to get up. Head to her own room. Or at least the couch.

In a minute.

“Two things. I got Colton’s current bank records. There was nothing from twenty-five years ago.”

“That was quick.”

“Yeah, well, I was convincing.”

He had a good case.

“Have you had time to go over them?”

“Last night.”

“And?”

“Nothing. He’s a saver, just like you suspected. He’s got a couple hundred thousand put away, but based on his income, which I am gathering from regular deposits and tax returns, all I can pr

ove is that he spends wisely. There’re no big influxes of money. No big deductions, either, other than the payments he’s making on his semi.”

“You don’t know if that two hundred thousand is from twenty-five years of working hard and living frugally or from other means,” she reminded him, lying back on the pillow that he’d used just a couple of nights before.