When I got home, I called Lindsay.
She should have been my first stop. I knew that now, but I'd been hesitant to admit to
her that I was so stumped. And it seemed an oddly personal question to ask of a man's sister.
"By the way, what do you think your brother would like for Valentine's day?" But I had such
misgivings about the book. Not the least of which was the fact that I couldn't prove it existed.
Internet searches turned up nothing. I started to wonder if Alice was sending me on a
wild goose chase, just to be cruel. But no, that didn't seem like her.
Did it?
I had to leave a voicemail with Lindsay; I should have known she'd be stuck in
meetings, too. She was nearly as successful as Daniel in her own right, and often seemed twice
as busy. I tossed my phone down on the sofa, and sighed.
Leaning my head back, I let my thoughts drift. Daniel Thorne, my husband. Half the
time, when I used that phrase - my husband - I expected people to just laugh at me. It felt so
strange and unnatural, still. Me? Married?
And to a man like Daniel, no less. I remembered how nervous I'd been, when I first
started working for his company. It was an outside shot for me, the application where I only
gathered the courage to press "send" when I'd had a few glasses of wine one evening. And
back then, he wasn't even famous yet.
When they called me for an interview, I thought for sure they must have mixed my
portfolio up with someone else.
For a long time, I knew Daniel mostly as a shape that moved quickly, almost silently
through the halls, leaving only a hint of body heat and expensive cologne. There were rumors
of his romantic entanglements, but I never saw any evidence of them. He seemed much more
in love with his business than with anything else, and that impression was solidified the day he
called me into his office.
For him, marriage was nothing more than a tool. A means to an end. His immigration
paperwork from Canada had been botched and he needed help. He knew I was single, and he
knew I didn't really believe in marriage. It was a match made in heaven.
She should have been my first stop. I knew that now, but I'd been hesitant to admit to
her that I was so stumped. And it seemed an oddly personal question to ask of a man's sister.
"By the way, what do you think your brother would like for Valentine's day?" But I had such
misgivings about the book. Not the least of which was the fact that I couldn't prove it existed.
Internet searches turned up nothing. I started to wonder if Alice was sending me on a
wild goose chase, just to be cruel. But no, that didn't seem like her.
Did it?
I had to leave a voicemail with Lindsay; I should have known she'd be stuck in
meetings, too. She was nearly as successful as Daniel in her own right, and often seemed twice
as busy. I tossed my phone down on the sofa, and sighed.
Leaning my head back, I let my thoughts drift. Daniel Thorne, my husband. Half the
time, when I used that phrase - my husband - I expected people to just laugh at me. It felt so
strange and unnatural, still. Me? Married?
And to a man like Daniel, no less. I remembered how nervous I'd been, when I first
started working for his company. It was an outside shot for me, the application where I only
gathered the courage to press "send" when I'd had a few glasses of wine one evening. And
back then, he wasn't even famous yet.
When they called me for an interview, I thought for sure they must have mixed my
portfolio up with someone else.
For a long time, I knew Daniel mostly as a shape that moved quickly, almost silently
through the halls, leaving only a hint of body heat and expensive cologne. There were rumors
of his romantic entanglements, but I never saw any evidence of them. He seemed much more
in love with his business than with anything else, and that impression was solidified the day he
called me into his office.
For him, marriage was nothing more than a tool. A means to an end. His immigration
paperwork from Canada had been botched and he needed help. He knew I was single, and he
knew I didn't really believe in marriage. It was a match made in heaven.