Was he insane?

“Why would I kiss you?”

His expression went from annoyed disbelief to stormy in a flash.

“Why would you kiss me?” he whispered sinisterly.

“You know, Mickey,” I threw out a hand, “just do this. Don’t draw it out. It doesn’t help anything when you draw it out. Clean cut. Surgical. That’s the way to go.”

“Clean cut. Surgical.” He was still whispering.

The kettle whistled and I moved to it, taking it off its flame.

“Yes. If you would, please,” I requested, not looking at him and moving back to my mug.

“All right then, Amy. I did it,” he stated.

I poured my tea. “Did what?”

“Took my inheritance.”

I set the kettle with a crash to the cement countertop as my eyes flew to him.

“What?” Now it was me who was whispering.

He didn’t answer me.

He turned and walked away, disappearing into the hall that led to my bedroom.

I stood wooden where he left me staring at where I last saw him. This must have lasted some time because by the time I came unstuck and was about to move into the hall, I saw him prowling back down it. He did this in a way that I quickly backtracked, walking backward.

I stopped in the kitchen.

He stopped at the end of the counter and threw what he was holding on top of it.

I looked at it and saw it was the letter from Addison Hillingham that I’d shoved in a bathroom drawer I didn’t use so the kids wouldn’t see it.

I’d forgotten all about it.

“Forget to tell me something?” he asked.

Again, my eyes flew to him.

“Mickey—”

“You’re not gonna live any way than what you’re used to living. They yank your money out from under you, I cannot give you that. So I set about makin’ it so I could give you that as best as I can. Called my dad. Had a chat. He already wanted to do it so he was all over it. He talked with Sean, Frank and Dylan and they were all in. Then he went to his accountants to finagle whatever the fuck they gotta finagle so the IRS wouldn’t take a huge fuckin’ chunk outta what my dad wanted me to have. They did their conniving, got it sorted, Dylan was on board, so Dad gave both him and me fifteen million dollars. We signed away any claim to the company, that’s Sean and Frank’s. I can’t touch the money unless there’s an emergency but I get the interest. When I die, it’s split and my kids get it. The interest is a fuckload. And it might not be what you had, but you aren’t the kinda woman who needs that anyway. It’ll still be better than what I could give you without it. So I did what I had to do to make it so you don’t feel the hurt your parents wanted to lay on you for whatever fucked up shit they got in their heads that made them strike out and make their daughter bleed.”