Chapter 7: The Explanation
He came at noon, as I knew he would.
I'd put the ring back on.
Paul's advice.
Don't let him know anything has shifted.
Myles walked in carrying coffee — two cups, my order exactly right, the way he'd always remembered it.
He set one in front of me and sat down across the table like we were about to have a normal Saturday conversation.
"I owe you a real explanation," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"You do."
"Derek is — he's not a reliable source.
He's had a problem with me for years.
Personal reasons.
He's been trying to damage my reputation since before I even met you."
"What personal reasons?"
"We had a falling out over a business deal.
Years ago.
He blames me for something that wasn't my fault." He wrapped both hands around his cup.
"He found Vanessa and convinced her to help him get to you.
That's what last night was.
It was coordinated."
"So Vanessa is lying."
"Vanessa is —" He paused.
"She went through something hard.
I'm not going to pretend our relationship ended well.
It didn't.
But what she's telling you isn't the full picture."
"What is the full picture?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"She had some financial difficulties when we were together.
I tried to help her.
I put money into accounts to protect it from a creditor situation she was dealing with.
When we broke up, she decided to reframe that as something it wasn't."
"She says you forged her signature."
"She signed things and later claimed she hadn't.
I have no way to prove what she does or doesn't remember signing." He said it smoothly.
Evenly.
Like he'd said it before.
"I know how it sounds.
I know Derek has made it sound very damning.
But I need you to trust six years, not one conversation with a stranger."
I looked at him.
He looked back.
His eyes were steady.
Warm.
Exactly as they'd always been.
That was the part that frightened me most — how steady his eyes were.
"The joint account," I said.
Something moved across his face.
Just for a moment.
"What about it?"
"I'd like to look at it together.
Right now.
On your phone."
He didn't reach for his phone.
"I can explain the account."
"I'm sure you can.
Show me."
"There were some transfers I made for an investment opportunity.
I was going to tell you about it this week.
It's a good opportunity — I didn't want to get into the details until I had the full terms confirmed."
"Thirty-one thousand dollars."
"It's not gone.
It's working.
It will come back significantly larger." He reached across the table and put his hand over mine.
"I did this for us.
For our future.
The same way I did the billboard, the ring, all of it.
Everything I do is for us."
His hand was warm.
Familiar.
I had held that hand across six years of dinners and airports and difficult days.
I did not move my hand away.
"What's the investment called?" I asked.
A half-second.
Barely anything.
"Threshold Capital.
It's a private equity vehicle.
Very selective.
I got us in because of a contact."
"Can I see the paperwork?"
"It's not fully executed yet.
That's what I'm waiting on."
"So you transferred thirty-one thousand dollars to an investment that has no executed paperwork."
"It's a trust relationship.
That's how these things work at this level." His hand tightened slightly over mine.
"I know it sounds unusual.
But I need you to trust me."
I looked down at our hands.
His over mine.
The ring between us.
"Okay," I said.
He exhaled.
Smiled.
The warmth came back into his face like a light switching on.
"Thank you.
I know this has been a frightening couple of days.
I'm going to make it right.
I promise."
"I know you will," I said.
He stayed another hour.
He talked about the wedding, about venues, about a trip he wanted to plan.
He was charming and easy and completely himself.
When he left, he kissed me at the door.
"I'll call you tonight."
"I'll be here," I said.
I closed the door.
Locked it.
Took the ring off again and set it on the table.
Then I texted Paul: *He confirmed the transfers.
Said the company is called Threshold Capital.
Said it's an investment.
No paperwork yet.
He touched my hand and told me to trust him.*
Paul replied in under a minute.
*Perfect.
My colleague can meet tomorrow morning.
Bring your notepad.
Bring Vanessa if she's willing.
This is enough to move.*
I looked at the ring on the table.
Then I picked up the phone and called Vanessa.
"He came," I said when she answered.
"He had an explanation for everything."
May you like
"I know," she said.
"He always does."
