The Man Who Has No Soul (Soulless 1)

“I want to see it.”

“It’s a two-hour drive, assuming there’s no traffic. If you can take the day off work, we can go later this week. If you can’t, we could go on Saturday.”

“I can’t take time off right now.” He sat straight in his chair, switching his gaze to me. “Can your client wait until Saturday?”

I’d make him wait. “Yes.”

“And you don’t mind coming with me?”

“Not at all.” I did it for clients all the time. I’d been repairing issues on luxury residences for a long time, so I knew what to look for when inspecting a new home. Now that I was seeing someone, I could make plans to do something fun with him, but I’d rather help Deacon than do anything else.

“Arrange for a driver. We’ll leave at ten. Is that too early for you?”

I’d probably be up at eight anyway. “That’s great. Want me to grab us some coffee before we go?”

“Have the driver do that.”

“I don’t mind…”

“It’s Saturday. I’m not going to make you run around.”

It was a thoughtful thing to say, but I still considered myself to be on the job. I had a lot of things to do, and I was putting them on the back burner to do this for him. But I didn’t say that. “I’ll meet you here.” I closed the laptop and pulled it back toward me. “I’m glad you like the place. I thought you might.”

“I wish I could live there instead of here.” His plate was empty, so he pushed it to the side.

“Well, when you retire, it’ll be ready for you.”

“I’ll never retire.” He rested his elbows on the table, his jaw clean because he’d shaved that morning. He seemed to do it every few days, before it turned into a beard. “I’ll work until the day I die. Sometimes I think sitting by the lake all day would be nice, but I know that wouldn’t last longer than a week…”

He was too brilliant, his mind too fast-paced for a simple life.

“I work too much, but I’d be unhappy if I worked too little.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

“Maybe you should try to balance it out. Instead of working on the weekends, take a trip out to the cabin and leave your work at the office. Try other hobbies.”

“I don’t have other hobbies.”

“That’s why I said try.”

He stared at me for a long time before he turned his gaze away. “I’d like to bring Derek here…someday.”

“It’ll happen.”

“I hope so.” He took a deep breath, like his lungs ached from all the air he’d just sucked in. “I miss him…”

“I know you do.” My heart seemed to grow for him every time he talked about his son, because it was so beautiful to watch a man wear his heart on his sleeve for a single person. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“He’d like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Well…he’s like me.”

“Tucker mentioned he’s smart like you.”

Deacon quickly broke eye contact. “He’s gifted. He hasn’t been assigned the label, but he is. I can tell he struggles to talk to people the way I do. It’s not that he’s shy. He just doesn’t get any stimulation from social interactions. It’s one of the reasons I love him so much—he’s the only person in the world like me. He’s the only person I can connect to.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I have to be here for a while for work, but if I can’t get him out here…I might have to move back.”

The idea of Deacon leaving Manhattan made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t imagine my life without him, couldn’t imagine not seeing his face all the time. He was such a special person, someone who had changed my life permanently, and the idea of losing him…made me so sad.

“Because I can’t live where he isn’t…and be happy.”

It was the right thing to do, the sacrifice every parent should make. Derek was the only thing that should matter to him. But I didn’t want him to leave for my own selfish reasons. I had to get Valerie to move here. I had to get Derek to move here.

Otherwise, I’d lose him.

On Saturday morning, I stood in the lobby and waited for Deacon to join me. It was a warm day, so I wore a black dress with a blue blazer on top, dressed professionally but also comfortable.

I didn’t text him to remind him because Deacon was punctual.

A moment later, the elevator doors opened, and he emerged, dressed in black jeans and a gray tee. His hair was dark like the color of his pants, and the brown color of his eyes was like splashes of espresso. There was a shadow along his jawline, like he had shaved the day before.

Looking right at me, he walked up to me, his eyes taking in my features the way they had on the night I’d accompanied him to the award ceremony. The look was brief, but it was definitely there. Without issuing a greeting, he stared at me.