I grabbed my bag and stepped outside. Marshal stubbed out a cigarette as soon as he saw me and took a step forward to see what I needed.
“Dad’s at the diner,” I said. “I’m going to have lunch with him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, opening the car door. There was something about the way he smiled, as if I’d finally accepted that he was there to take care of things, and no longer in danger of losing his job.
Dad and Lisa were waiting for me just inside the diner. Lisa stood to hug me like we were old friends, and I bent down to hug Dad before taking my seat.
“Well, look at you,” I teased, nudging Dad’s hand. “Out and about like it’s nothing.”
“She’s been driving me all over,” Dad grinned.
“I know it feels good,” I said, smiling. “We haven’t done that in a while.”
“You’ve been working so hard,” Dad added. “You always pretend to hate that place, but I know you love Fiddlers like it’s yours.”
“That’s what we should do,” Lisa chimed in. “Go to Fiddlers one night.”
It stopped me cold. He’d never seen me work. Not since I was a teenager. And I’d never been able to take him because it was too busy, too chaotic, and there were too many reasons why it wasn’t safe. But now? The thought of him sitting at the bar he used to drink at, now with me behind it, making sure his beer was cold and his table was reserved?
That sounded like healing. With Lisa, it was possible.
Conversation flowed from there. I told them about the trip. How my first flight was on a private jet and no one blocked my path to the bathroom. I also threw in all the fun we had at my first concert. Then I told them about the beach, the food, and the dolphins. Lisa put her hand to her heart when I described them, saying she’d always loved dolphins but had never seen them in person.
She and Dad had been listening to Loxley Adams on their drive and said they fell in love with her music. I made a mental note to ask Loxley for an autograph if I ever saw her again. Something small to give Lisa, to thank her for taking such good care of my dad.
But then reality settled in again.
I probably wouldn’t see Loxley again. I wasn’t actually part of that family. And that thought sat heavier than I wanted it to.
Still, I smiled. I let it go. And I stayed in that booth, soaking up the one moment that actually felt simple.
Chapter Thirty-Four
WEST
“Mr. Brooks?”
I heard Marcus’s voice, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed fixed on the window of my office, the city lights stretching endlessly beyond the glass. I hadn’t even gone home. I’d come straight to work after we landed and somehow never left. The building was empty. Everyone else had gone.
“Mr. Brooks,” Marcus said again.
I should’ve answered him, should’ve acknowledged that I’d heard him the first time. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to go home. If I’d had my own car, I would’ve let him leave a long time ago.
But I didn’t. Because I wasn’t thinking clearly.
All I’d done all day was think about Blue. Through every meeting, every email, every call, she was in the back of my mind, taking up space I didn’t realize she occupied until she wasn’t near me anymore.
I kept replaying everything that happened this morning. How I handled it. How I froze. How I wished I’d been a little more human, a little less rigid, a little more capable of reaching for the thing I clearly wanted. I didn’t know how to processwhat almost happened, or how certain I was that it was going to happen again.
I’d already made peace with the fact that Blue didn’t count. She felt like an exception. Like a free pass. Like someone I could find pleasure in without the anger I always carried when I even thought about being intimate with another woman.
“West,” Marcus said, his voice shedding the formality, slipping into the space where he sometimes let himself be my friend instead of just my employee.
“Sorry,” I muttered, grabbing a few things from my desk and sliding them into the drawer. “Let’s go home. I’ll drive myself in tomorrow so you can sleep in.”
Marcus huffed a laugh and shook his head like I’d officially lost it.
“There’s nothing waiting for me at home but dirty sheets and a sleeve of stale saltines. I’m not in a rush,” he said. “But I thought you might want to know that Marshal just texted me. He just drove Mrs. Brooks to the lake house.”
