I laughed. I had to take a deep breath, to pretend that I was still that same nerves-of-steel Charlotte he had once known. Well, once been almost-engaged-to, to be exact. I had told him I wasn’t ready to get married, and then had met Bill and gotten engaged five months later, which hadn’t gone over that well. Bill… I had been up half the night, my mind racing with how to get him home, with how much I needed a job, with how Iris was faring in these new circumstances. Usually when I was worried in the night, Bill would roll over and pull me to him, wrapping me in his arms, his breath soothing and rhythmic in my ear. Remembering only made it harder to fall asleep, but I’d eventually drifted off. I had to put that aside and be as cheery yet tough as possible. I needed to sound employable.

“Well, Bradley, I’m finally ready to come back to work, and I’m calling you first.”

Bradley had done very well and had his own midsize investment firm that got great returns. He was a smart cookie and very well-connected. He just wasn’t the love of my life. And, no, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even consider working for an ex, but, under these circumstances, I had a daughter to support—and if New York and Bradley were the way to do it, then sign me up.

“Uh-huh.” He was a little breathless, and I could tell his feet were pounding the treadmill. “Char, look, I have a soft spot for you. You’re smart as a whip and a real ballbuster. But you’ve got to give me some time here. I can’t hire you until your name is good and cleared.”

I felt deflated—but wasn’t it Bradley who had taught me that you had to overcome three objections before you’d get someone to say yes? “Bradley, I get that. I do. But the thing is, not only am I innocent, so is Bill. We have everything we need to get his name cleared. We’re just dotting some i’s and crossing some t’s.”

So, yeah. No way around it. That was a big, fat lie.

“Oh, Char. Do you believe that?”

Okay. Now he was pissing me off. “Bradley, it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about Bill. It’s about me.”

“Call me in four months,” he said, getting more out of breath. I heard the motor on the treadmill stop. “Hey, Char. Are you serious? You think he’s innocent?”

“I mean it, Bradley.” Not Brad! Never Brad! “He’s innocent. Someone set him up.”

“Well, Oliver Engle is the best. He’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I promise I’ll help you any way I can.”

My eyes puddled at the kindness. “By giving me a job!” I said, with faux brightness.

“Four months!” he said.

“Two!” I countered.