Into the Fire (Bridge Book 2) (23 page)

Maya beamed. “Did you feel it?”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I nodded. I had listened to Maya’s pregnancy milestones and complaints these past several weeks with no small amount of envy. There was no denying it—I wanted babies one day. Maybe my biological clock was ticking. Maybe I’d finally met someone who I could see forever with, and suddenly I was eager to see that future realized with a family.

Darren and I were a long way from having that conversation, but he was the one I wanted to take that journey with. I’d almost lost him. I wasn’t letting him go again. I could only hope the next chapter of my life away from Reilly would give us the space to even consider it.

“That was amazing,” I whispered.

“It’s a good sign.” She smiled broadly.

Suddenly I was too excited about Maya’s little miracle kick to worry about what the next few hours would bring. Life was too short, too precious to waste it the way I had been.

Reilly had made a mess of his career and mine, but I was so blessed to be able to move on. Even if things were about to get messy.

The Brooklyn office of the NYC Youth Arts Initiative resided in an old storefront, a commercial space in a neighborhood that was on the cusp of being revitalized. We walked into the office’s open floor plan. Student artwork covered every available wall space. Charcoal faces, bright-colored abstracts, and three-dimensional pieces that came off the wall and into the room.

A young girl sat at a desk near the entrance. “Can I help you?”

“Is Cheryl here?”

She pointed to an area in the back where several children were gathered around a table. I spotted Cheryl talking to another young girl who looked like a student volunteer.

“Thanks.”

I walked over, and Cheryl waved when she noticed me. She said something to the volunteer and came my way, meeting me and Maya as we approached.

“Vanessa. What brings you in? Does David need something?”

“No, but I was hoping we could talk if you had some time.”

“Sure.” She gazed over to Maya.

“This is my friend Maya Jacobs.”

“Bridge,” Maya corrected with a small smile. “I’m Maya Bridge.”

Cheryl shook her hand. “Any relation to Frank and Diane Bridge?”

“They’re my in-laws actually. You know them?”

“We have some mutual friends, yes. Small world. Are you interested in the initiative?”

Maya lifted a shoulder and looked around the big room. “Maybe. I’ve been seeing events advertised in the neighborhood. You have some great things going here.”

“Maya’s a writer,” I added.

Maya’s cheeks turned pink, but she didn’t deny it. Not long after she’d left Wall Street, she had opened up to me about wanting to get into writing more. She’d been writing poetry for years but never took it seriously until Cameron started pushing her to do something more with her creativity.

“That’s wonderful!” Cheryl smiled. “As you can see, we have some great visual arts programs, but we have a poetry program that we started this past fall also. We work with local high schoolers who put together poetry pieces, usually free verse. Then we organize monthly slam competitions. It gives the kids a chance to perform, but it also attracts new participants.”

Maya’s eyes lit up. “That sounds incredible. I would love to know more.”

Cheryl pointed toward the reception desks that we’d passed. “You passed Casey on your way in. She can tell you all about it.”

“Perfect. I’ll go explore and let you two chat.”

Maya walked off, and I was left alone with Cheryl.

“Do you want to chat in the courtyard? It’s a beautiful day.”

“Sure.” I followed Cheryl through a door in the back that led to a large courtyard. Several older students were gathered around different tables and benches. Some talking, some working in notebooks by themselves.

Cheryl and I settled at a wrought iron table.

“I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue, Cheryl, but I had to talk to you about something that’s kind of time sensitive.”

But the words were lodged in my throat, unwilling to come out. This was going to sound awful. All of it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know where to start.”

“I don’t know what David’s told you about me, but I’m not the wicked ex-wife he probably makes me out to be. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

I inhaled a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and began. “David has been using the nonprofit to funnel money to himself and his friends. Long story, but I found a trail of paperwork that implicates him and a lot of others around him.”

“How much money are we talking about?”

“Over twenty million dollars. Half of that should have been yours, or the charity’s really, since you’d both agreed to put that much into it over the course of your marriage.”

“You have proof of all this?”

“I have all of it. Invoices, the LLC he set up to feed money into, and statements for an offshore account that the bulk of the money was transferred to.”

To her credit, she didn’t show an inkling of emotion. She could have been made of stone for the lack of a reaction. She looked away, over to the group of school-age children that were sitting in a circle around their leader.

She took a deep breath and returned her focus to me. “Why would you bring this to me? You work for him. Your loyalty should be to him.”

“Well…I…” I struggled for the best answer. In the end, though, the answer was simple. “It was the right thing to do.”

“Even with your job on the line?”

“Let’s just say that David’s given me a lot of reasons to question my loyalty to him. And for the record, I hated my job. You had his nights, so you know how it was. I had his days.”

“Fair enough.”

“He wants to try to get you off the board. Probably so he can keep you far removed from what he’s been doing.”

“I knew about the board. The monthly meeting was last week, but for some reason he didn’t bring it up. Maybe because I’ve been doing my own campaigning to keep my place, but of course, the one with the gold makes the rules. I did well in the divorce, but I can’t keep the organization going by myself. He’s had the upper hand.”

“If all this comes to light…”

Her emotionless mask seemed to come down. She rubbed at the frown between her brows. “I can’t begin to think of the repercussions of all of this. It’s a lot to take in.”

I slid the thumb drive across the table. “It’s all here. You can do with it what you wish, but I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell him that I gave it to you. I don’t expect to have a job in finance after this, but I don’t want to be in the middle of the storm if I can help it.”

She sighed. “I can relate. I’ve weathered the storm with him for many months now. I want justice too, but I’m not looking forward to facing off with him again. We do what we must, though.”

I was sorry she’d have to deal with him a little bit longer. Unlike me, however, she could console herself with more money than I could really wrap my head around possessing.

I stood, satisfied with having completed my mission. I was ready to move on. So ready. To what, I had no idea, but it wasn’t with Reilly. I had Darren by my side, which made the vast unknown ahead of me seem a little less frightening.

“Good luck with everything, Cheryl.”

I stood to leave when she said my name.

“Is this something you could see yourself being a part of?” She motioned around the courtyard. “Helping the initiative?”

“Like, to volunteer?”

“No, at a higher level.”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure how qualified I’d be to help. All I’ve been doing—”

“You’ve kept his life in order for two years, which is no small task. I’d say you’re highly qualified.” She held me in a thoughtful stare. “I have no idea what will come to pass when the truth comes out about what he’s done, Vanessa. I don’t need an occupation, but I want one. This place has been a home to me at some of my most difficult times. If I’m able to stay, I could use help from good people like you who see its value and can honor our vision.”

I was flattered and overwhelmed at the proposition. I’d had no idea where I could go from here. I’d never have a life on Wall Street again.

Cheryl looked down at the thumb drive and back up to me. “Think about it.”

I nodded with a sigh of relief. “I will.”

“
W
ell
, aren’t you quite the catch?”

Vanessa’s mom stood at least a head below me, and at least a few inches below her daughter. Her hair was coarse, a sharper shade of red than Vanessa’s. It had definitely been dyed.

Happiness lit up her smile, like I’d been the one she’d been searching for all along. I hoped like hell I was.

“He is, Mom.” Vanessa blushed a little.

Melody looked to her daughter and shook her head. “Isn’t she amazing?”

I followed her warm gaze to the woman who’d stolen my heart. “One in a million.”

“I can’t wait to hear you sing, sweetheart,” she said.

I couldn’t either. I’d been looking forward to this day since Vanessa had told me about the concert. She’d taken a spot at the Youth Arts Initiative not long after the news about Reilly’s shady business dealings became public. Even with an investigation under way, the organization had to go on, and Vanessa had found a place.

Today was their first open-air concert where Vanessa and her students would be performing. I couldn’t think of a better way for her to channel her love of music and make a difference in the lives of others.

An older man with a guitar in hand walked up to us. His wavy gray hair hit his shoulders, and he was dressed casually in blue jeans and a Hawaiian shirt.

“Dad!” Vanessa brightened and went to him.

He held her in a long tight hug that I guessed was long overdue. She hadn’t seen him in a year. I had a feeling today was going to be one of the most meaningful visits they’d share.

When they broke apart, he looked to Vanessa’s mother.

“Heaven, I think I missed you, Melody.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Oh, stop.”

“Honest to God, I think I did.”

Their gazes settled over each other. I wish I’d ever seen my parents look at each other that way. Even if it meant knowing they weren’t together anymore.

The group singing
a capella
on the stage wound down, and applause filled the air.

“Okay, they’re about to start. You ready, Dad?”

“Always, darling.” He grasped the handle of the guitar in one hand and slid the strap over his shoulder.

A teenage girl wearing a T-shirt that associated her with the organization hopped up on the stage. She tapped the microphone. “Thank you, everyone, for coming out to our debut Youth Arts Initiative summer concert. And now to wrap things up this afternoon, our program director, Vanessa Hawkins, will perform with her father, singer and songwriter Beau Lehane.”

The audience clapped and hollered, and a few people shouted Vanessa’s name in support. Together they went up onto the stage. Vanessa sat on a stool. Beau was beside her, guitar poised in his arms just so. She smiled to the audience and then to him before looking down to the ground, the same way she’d done that first night doing karaoke at the bar.

Up there, she looked gorgeous and natural as she always did. But also happy and relaxed. The tension had left her in a way I couldn’t name. She was free of an old life, a chapter past, and reaching for a dream she’d never really accepted as her own before.

This is where she was supposed to be, using her talents and her mind, sharing the goodness inside of her that others had taken for granted. The sentiment lingered right next to the other one that struck me daily and often—that I loved her. That she’d defined love, personified it for me. She’d transformed before my eyes, changing from a set of physical features that had lured me in to becoming my reason for living.

Beau spoke into the microphone. “Thanks, y’all, for coming out. We’re going to sing a little song for you. Hope you like it.” He glanced over at Vanessa and then out into the crowd with a crooked grin. “I wrote this song a long time ago for a beautiful woman who I had the pleasure of performing with for many years. She went on to bigger and better things, but I’ll never forget the good times we had. This one’s for you, Melody.”

Beau strummed his guitar. The opening notes of a song that I didn’t recognize rang out over the park through the speakers on either side of the stage. He sang the first verse, and then Vanessa’s voice took over the next. Goose bumps raced over my flesh, and my heart sped up.

The song was about love, a love so wild and passionate that it made you take chances, do crazy things you’d never do.

Vanessa’s voice rang out, strong and true, mingling with her father’s, fading back and taking over in a beautiful harmony. She was singing her heart out, and I wondered if I’d ever loved her more.

As the song faded out, I released a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

She and Beau took a bow, and the clapping went on and on. She was loved here, appreciated in a way she hadn’t been before. She left the stage, and the crowd started to move now that the show was over.

When she reached me, she seemed tentative. But as soon as she was close enough, I went for her, hauling her into my arms and lifting her off the ground. She squealed and laughed when I held her tight.

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” I said. “You were amazing. I have no words.”

I lowered her down, but kept her close, tight against my chest. My heart raced. Adrenaline thrummed. Like I was about to do something crazy, launch myself into a situation that someone else would run away from. I gazed down into her eyes, at a face I wanted to cherish for the rest of my life.

“Marry me.”

She blinked once, scanning my features. Her jaw fell a fraction. “What?”

“Marry me. Be my wife. I want forever with you, Vanessa. Every single day. I love you so much, and if I don’t do something about it right now, thirty years are going to go by and I’m going to look at you the way your dad just looked at your mom. And I’ll know that I wasted a lifetime not loving you the way I should have.”

“You’re serious.”

I kissed her softly. “You know I am. Now say you’ll marry me. You know I love you.”

She smiled. “You make me do crazy things.”

I waited, breathless, like I was at the edge of the cliff.

“Vanessa…”

“I’ll marry you,” she whispered.