More Than Anything - Page 25

“No idea,” she replied, scrolling on her screen as she spoke.

I looked at the title on the script and wrinkled my nose. I loved TV, but I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. A successful series meant years of intense scheduling just to make anything else work. Ever since my separation, I’d scaled up the work. I was almost a robot as it was; I wasn’t sure I needed anything else on my plate. I took a hot sip of coffee and sighed. “This is perfect, Meredith, thanks.”

She was frowning at her screen. She’d only worked with me for a few months, but she was a professional, and I trusted her to manage the little things that popped up every day in my life. She was a godsend, and I had no idea how I’d managed without her.

“What is it?” I asked, my alarm bells ringing as she continued to frown at her screen. I expected something silly, like all the other rumors the tabloids created about me every day. If it was bad, my publicist Sean Collard would call and talk about plans to “change the narrative” or sue. Sometimes, it was harmless enough to ignore—news about who I was dating, whose husband I had kissed, who my estranged husband had kissed…such nonsense.

I swallowed a lump in my throat at the thought of Braden. My estranged husband. I tried to pretend it didn’t hurt me when his name came up in the news. Most times it was something to do with work, but he wasn’t spending our separation alone. Every time he was spotted somewhere exotic with someone beautiful, the tabloids gleefully let me know in brightly colored headlines just how much he wasn’t pining over me.

Meredith finally lifted her gaze from her phone. “It’s Braden,” she said softly. She’d never met him, but she knew to an extent how I’d felt, how I still felt about him. “His father had a heart attack and died two days ago. The family announced it just this morning.

I drew in a breath—the family, to which I didn’t belong anymore. I thought of Colton Rhodes. He’d always been kind to me. He and his wife had welcomed me into their family with open arms and stayed in touch even after Braden and I were over. I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh, God.”

“I’m sorry,” Meredith said.

I nodded. “I’d better call Celine,” I said, picking up my phone. It had been a few days since we’d spoken, just before Christmas, and now a few days after, her husband was dead.

I made the call and waited for her to pick up, wondering if I should wait a while before intruding on her grief. After a few moments, I heard her voice on the line.

“Oh, my darling!” she said. “I should have called you.”

“It’s okay,” I replied softly. “How are you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m finding it hard to believe. The doctors say I’m in shock. Braden is making all the arrangements. It’s surreal.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, thinking of Braden and how devastated he must be feeling. He loved and admired his father. “How is he?” I managed.

“Allison…” Celine sighed. “Will you come? I could use a shoulder.”

“Of course,” I told her. “Of course. Whenever you want.”

Eighteen

Braden

When my mother arrived at the hospital a few minutes after the ambulance and was informed that my father was gone, she had to be sedated. Her unnatural calm after she woke up scared me more than the screaming she’d done before. She let me arrange the funeral according to the wishes my father left behind, barely saying a word to anyone in the days that followed his death.

Now, a day before the funeral, I went to check on her again.

“Braden,” Clayton greeted gravely when he opened the door for me. He’d worked for my parents for a few years and had no job description. He was efficient and dependable, as I’d been reminded again while planning the funeral.

“Clayton.” I inclined my head. “How is she?”

“Holding up,” he replied.

“Has she said anything about tomorrow?”

“Not to me,” Clayton said.

I nodded, worried my mother had still not faced the reality that the next day, she’d have to say goodbye forever.

“She has discussed a bit of it with Mrs. Rhodes,” Clayton added, inclining his head toward the living room.

I frowned. “Who?”

“Er…Miss Gilbert. Your wife.”

I stared at him, nearly speechless with shock…and much more—hope, anticipation and an embarrassing rush of pleasure.

Tags: Serena Grey Romance
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