“Tell her to go fuck herself.”
I chuckle. Maybe I’m not Darby the Doormat anymore, but I’m not quite Fuck Off Trick Roth either. “If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that there’s a part of me that’s curious what my father has hidden in his closets. Even one picture of my mom that I haven’t seen before would make it worth my time, so…” I glance over at Trick “…looks like I’m going to New York.”
He sucks in a slow breath and releases it with equal control.
“I don’t expect you to go. You can stay here or go back to Todos Santos. I would understand.”
He nods, twisting his lips to the side. “When are you going?”
“Well, I don’t want to drag this out, so I’ll probably go through his stuff here tomorrow then fly out on Saturday, then either back here or home on Sunday depending on where you’re going to be.”
“Where do you want me to be?” he asks as we pull into the garage.
With me.
I shrug. “I know you were in the middle of a drawing before we left for Chicago, so if Grady and Tamsen are leaving in the morning, maybe you should head home too,” I say while opening the door.
Trick takes my heels that I slipped off in the car, my coat, and purse in one hand then helps me out with his other. In spite of his constant reminders that he is not a sweep-you-off-your-feet prince charming with refined manners and censored speech, everyday he does something … the smallest gesture … that shows me he’s becoming my gentleman. And right now he’s doing it—carrying my belongings in one hand and leading me with his other. I feel loved, cherished, and utterly adored. Best. Feeling. Ever!
*
When Tamsen finds out about my trip to New York, she changes her flight to go back with me on Saturday. Then she offers to go with me to Barrington Hills to sort through my father’s personal items while Trick takes Grady to the airport.
“So you’re going to pack up all of his suits and things…” Tamsen holds up a Cubs Jersey like it’s going to bite her “…and do what with it?”
I riffle through the drawers in his walk-in closet. “I’m not packing up shit. Rachel can deal with his clothes. I’m just looking for anything from my past or my mother’s—photos, jewelry, sentimental items. Although I’m not holding out much hope that we’ll find anything like that. I don’t think Calvin Carmichael was into scrapbooking or had a cedar chest filled with ancestral relics.”
Tamsen dives into drawers on the opposite side, even checking coat and jacket pockets hanging above her. “What’s this?”
I turn as she holds up a necklace with a heart pendant, diamond letters “LC” in the middle. “Where’d you find this?” I take it from her, running my thumb across the diamonds.
“It was under these silk handkerchiefs.” She points to the drawer. “Do you recognize it?”
I nod. “From the picture of my mom on her wedding day. She was wearing it. Nana said my father gave it to her as a wedding gift.”
“LC?”
“Lucille Carmichael,” I whisper.
“I’m surprised he didn’t give it to you.”
I shake my head in slow disbelief. “After he and Rachel got married, I asked him for it, but he said it got lost in the move.”
“So he lied?”
“Yes, but … I don’t understand why. Maybe he did misplace it and later found it, but forgot to say something.”
Tamsen laughs. “God, I love your innocence.”
I slip it in my pocket. “You mean my ignorance or naïveté.” I shake my head. “I just keep trying to see what my mom must have seen in him.”
We spend the next two hours going through his stuff, but end up leaving everything behind except the necklace.
*
As soon as we get back, Tamsen leaves to meet an old friend from college for a few drinks since deciding to stay in Chicago for another night. She invites me to go, and as tempting as a girls’ night out is for this girl, I decline.
“Giving up on a night with Tamsen for me, huh?” Trick grins, looking up from his computer screen at the counter.
“Yes, so don’t make me regret it.” I slip off my boots and hug his back. “Did you decide to stay or fly home?”
“Home. I’ll dive into my work…” he turns to me “…then when you get there I’ll take a couple days off to get a long wife fix.”
I tease my fingers through the nape of his hair. “So your Darby fix has turned into a wife fix, huh?”
“Yes. It’s pathetic, I can never get enough.”
I nod, rubbing my lips together, eyes perusing my badass, tatted husband. “Take your shirt off.”
He raises a single brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I grin.
And then it begins with that single, barely noticeable lip twitch. Now that he’s mine, I welcome that cocky as fuck arrogance. Tonight it’s all I want.