Chapter 12: The Envelope

Erin's POV

I woke up alone in the gray sheets with a bruise on my hip and no regrets, which surprised me.

There was a note on the kitchen counter in a tidy, slanted hand.

"Coffee's made. I saw it. We'll talk. Don't do anything alone."

I read it twice and put it in my coat pocket.

Then I called the number Dean had texted from.

He answered on the first ring.

"Erin. Thank God. Where are you?"

"Los Angeles," I said. "You've known that since Tuesday. Ten o'clock. The coffee place across from the courthouse."

"I'll be there."

I didn't tell Warner.

I'm not proud of that.

I couldn't have told him without the argument, and I needed Dean to say it on tape.

I started the voice recorder on my phone in the elevator.

I set it face down in my coat pocket with the microphone against the seam.

Dean was already there.

He had a corner table and a black coffee that he hadn't touched.

He stood up when I came in and held out both arms.

I stopped three feet away.

He let them fall.

"You look tired," he said.

"I look like a woman who married a stranger."

"Baby." He lowered his voice.

A barista was watching us over the counter, so I kept mine low too.

"You've got this all wrong," Dean said. "Whatever you've heard, it's not what it looks like."

"I'm not asking about Warner's money," I said. "I'm asking about Saturday. I've heard you're marrying a woman named Brooke."

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