Page 16 of Red, White, and You (Merry Little Midlife #3)

Two Months Later

I step into my office, the familiar scent of leather filling my senses.

The sun casts a golden glow through the windows, illuminating the polished steel and glass furniture and the stacks of files waiting for my attention.

The room feels the same as it always has, but that ache in my soul grows heavier with each passing day.

A giant, gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

If time heals all wounds, why isn’t it healing this wound?

As I settle into my chair, my mind wanders back to those few precious days at Camp West. I find myself drifting back there more and more, no longer able to distract myself with work or lose myself to the job I once loved.

They never found Hargrave—or my files—the case of a lifetime disappearing with the man I was meant to defend.

And nothing has felt the same since.

No case has been as thrilling—or as dangerous.

But I know that Hargrave’s disappearance and the fallout after the robbery are only a small fraction of why life has lost its luster, why all the things I once enjoyed now feel… dull.

Life feels dull.

It’s been eight weeks since I last saw my ex-husband, and the ache in my chest has only grown stronger.

The memories of our reunion play on a loop in my mind, the way his eyes sparkled with joy when he first saw me, the way his laughter echoed through the woods, and the way his touch sent shivers down my spine.

We were like magnets drawn together, unable to resist the pull that fate had laid out for us.

But then reality came crashing back, as it always does. I had to return to New York, to my career, and to a life that suddenly feels empty without him. The city that once held so much promise now feels gray and lifeless. A city with over a million people, and I’m completely alone.

The demands of my job, which I once found thrilling, now seem trivial in comparison to what I left behind. What’s the fucking point without him?

It was one thing to convince myself that my memories of Brady West were tinted by the rose-colored glasses of youth.

That the passing of time had distorted my version of events.

For years I told myself that the fond memories of first love somehow morphed and distorted the truth and made him out to be more than he was.

But now I can’t lie to myself anymore. I can’t pretend I imagined how wonderful he was, or that the young girl I used to be turned him into something out of a Disney movie.

Because now I’ve seen him through the lens of adulthood.

I’ve loved him, touched him, tasted him—and he’s so much more than perfect.

He’s perfectly made for me .

And I’m miserable without him.

I’ve achieved everything I set out to and then some.

I have success. Wealth. Respect. Power .

Everything I ever dreamed of, I have.

Yet I am so dissatisfied, I can barely get out of bed some mornings .

I try to focus on the task at hand, flipping open the first file on my desk.

It’s a complex corporate case, one that would have once excited me with its challenges and intricacies.

But today, the words on the pages blur together, my mind unable to grasp their meaning.

All I can think about is Brady, his smile, his touch, the way he made me feel alive again.

It’s like someone showed me the sun, let me bask in its warmth, then tucked me away in the shadows.

It’s a longing I can’t put into words. A physical ache inside my soul.

The phone rings, jolting me out of my reverie.

I pick it up, my voice automatically slipping into professional mode.

It’s a client, seeking advice on a property dispute.

I listen intently, offering guidance and reassurance, but my mind wanders back to Brady, wondering what he’s doing at this very moment—and if he’s thinking of me too.

After the call ends, I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, and I can’t remember a thing we just discussed. Is this what my life has come to? A successful career, a prestigious law firm, and yet I’m incomplete without him.

Unable to stop myself, I finally do what I’ve held back from doing since I left him again.

I open my internet browser and search for Camp West, praying I’ll find even just a glimpse of the man who has my heart.

The first listing that pops up on the search results page is a sale announcement.

Gasping, I bring my hand to my mouth. “No.”

He can’t sell Camp West.

I scan the article in its entirety, then click out of it to see what else I can find. It appears that he’s been trying to sell the land for a couple months. Eight weeks, in fact. The initial sale listing went live around the same time I said goodbye.

My personal assistant knocks on the door, then steps into my office.

“Good morning, Brie. I just wanted to let you know that the partners are requesting an update on the Thompson case,” she says, her voice filled with a mix of concern and hesitation.

This is how Andi sounds these days, how everyone sounds.

They all see the change in me, but they don’t know what it means.

Only Chris knows the true extent of my pain.

And though she’s been picking up my slack since I returned from Pennsylvania and told her everything—about my marriage to Brady, reconnecting, then saying goodbye and leaving my heart in his hands—I wonder how long she’ll do so before she finds a way to push me out and take full control of the firm.

And with my mind so out of the game these days, I’m half-tempted to let her.

I click into another article about Camp West, trying to get to the bottom of this. How can Brady sell something he loves so much? How can he walk away from the camp he designed and built? He said it himself, his blood, sweat, and tears are all over that place.

Andi lingers for a moment, her eyes filled with sympathy. “Is everything okay, Brie? You seem…different lately.”

I manage a weak smile, trying to dismiss her concern. “I’m just going through a rough patch. Nothing I can’t handle.”

She nods, backing out of my office quietly, though the suspicion in her eyes tells me she clearly doubts I can handle much of anything.

As the day drags on, I find myself staring out the window, lost in memories of Camp West. Below me, the city buzzes with activity, people rushing to and fro, their lives intertwined in a tapestry of routine. I used to feel a part of that energy, a part of those New Yorkers.

Now it just feels… foreign. Detached.

There’s no connection.

In the three days I spent with Brady at Camp West, I felt more connected—to a person, a place—than I have anywhere else or any other time in my life.

He can’t sell it.

I pick up the intercom and say, “Andi, come back in here, please.”

She pops her head into my office quickly. “Yes, Brie?”

“Um…” I frown, trying to gather my thoughts before they spin out of control.

“I need…” Biting my bottom lip, I create the list of steps rapid-fire in my mind.

“My accountant, get him on the phone first. And I’ll need my real estate agent; do you still have Ryan Harris’ number?

If not, Betty in HR can get it for you. She’s the one who referred me to him back when I bought the penthouse. ”

I extend my hand toward her, wiggling my fingers as I try to make sense of what it is I’m about to do. My pulse speeds as the plan falls into place, filling me with an electric energy I haven’t felt in, well, eight weeks.

I chuckle as I say, “I’m going to email you a link to a property in Pennsylvania.” I turn toward the computer to begin that task.

“Okay.” Her brows furrow as she continues scribbling notes on a notepad.

“I’m going to buy it.”

“Okay… you’re going to…” Her pen stills on the page and I look up to find her staring at me with comically wide eyes. “What? ”

I splay my hands out. “I’m going to buy Camp West.”

Andi frowns. “Camp West?”

“Yes.” I huff. “That’s what I just said. I’m going to buy Camp West.” The grin stretching across my face is probably wild, judging by the stunned look in my assistant’s eyes, but I can’t help it. This might be the best idea I’ve ever had.

Andi glances over her shoulder like she’s looking for backup, but then she nods and makes another note. “Camp West. Pennsylvania. Got it.

“Ryan Harris,” I add.

She nods again, scribbling the name down. Eventually, she tilts her head, eyes narrowed as she meets my gaze again. “Are you sure you’re okay, Brie?”

With a deep breath, I nod and rise to my feet. Resting my fingertips on my desk, I lean forward, and say truthfully, “Andrea, honey, I’ve never been better.”