“I came to visit you at work a few weeks ago,” Mac explains. “And I kind of got a little sidetracked…”
“You don’t say,” Jamie says, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “So, Maya was it? Are you going to come out with us tonight?” he asks. “It’s only fair we get to ply you with alcohol and ask a bunch of wildly inappropriate questions.”
“Oh, I don’t think—” Mac starts to protest, but Maya cuts her off.
“Well, that does seem fair,” she says wryly.
17
Spencer
* * *
On Saturday morning, I drive over to Brooklyn to pick Will up for our night away. Strictly speaking, I don’t really need an assistant for this trip; I’m just viewing the property to see if it might be something worth pursuing. But as far as I’m concerned, all that means is that Will’s accompanying me this weekend as my guest. My boyfriend. Not my employee.
Loophole located.
“No limo today?” Will teases as he approaches me where I’m leaning against the side of my Porsche. He looks absolutely gorgeous in dark jeans and a blue argyle sweater that brings out the color in his eyes. He’s left his hair a little messy today, not like the neat style he usually wears for work, and it has me even more tempted than usual to run my fingers through it.
“Despite common misconception I do actually know how to do some things for myself,” I say with a grin. “And besides, I prefer not to bother Isaac on the weekends if I can help it.”
I open the passenger door for him and he slides into the seat. I then walk around the back of the car to place his bag in the trunk before taking the driver’s seat. Once we’re both seated, I lean over the console and wrap my hand around his face to draw him toward me for a kiss.
“I’ve missed you,” I murmur against his lips.
“You saw me yesterday,” he points out.
“You know it’s not the same thing.”
“Yeah, it’s really not.”
We share a few more kisses before I pull away and turn my attention to starting the car.
“Music?” I ask, holding up my phone.
“Yeah, sure.”
I open up Spotify and select a playlist I know for a fact he’s going to like, then hit play on the first song. As my phone pairs with the car’s Bluetooth Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” starts blaring through the speakers.
“Great song,” Will remarks, settling back against his seat.
I smile to myself and set my phone in the console before pulling out of my parking space and into the street.
As the playlist continues, from the corner of my eye I can see Will’s features growing more and more curious. Finally, at the fifth song—Tom Petty’s “American Girl”—his suspicion gets the better of him.
“Wait a minute…” He reaches into the console and retrieves my phone, looking at the display on the screen. “This is my playlist.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “I was wondering how long it’d take you to realize.”
“How is this my playlist?”
“I started following you on Spotify.”
Will’s jaw falls open in mock horror. “Stalker!”
I chuckle. “What can I say, I was curious when you said The Who was one of your favorite bands. I wanted to know what else you liked.”
“And what’s the verdict?” he asks.
“Well, I have to admit, I was surprised at the amount of Burt Bacharach you have on there.”
“Oh, don’t you dare try to diss Burt Bacharach—he’s a music icon!”
My grin stretches wider. “I wasn’t. It was just surprising is all. How did you get into all this old stuff?”
“My dad.”
I cast Will a brief look of surprise before returning my attention to the road. I’ve never heard him talk about his dad before; as far as I knew it was just him and Claire.
“He used to like all that stuff,” Will says. “And when I was about twelve I found a whole heap of his old records and just listened to them non-stop. Kind of became addicted.”
“He’s…not around anymore?” I venture.
“He died when I was eight. Afghanistan.”
“Jesus. That must have been—”
“Yeah. Pretty early in the war.”
“Shit, Will, I’m so sorry.” I want to reach out and grab his hand but that’s kind of hard when you’re driving stick.
From the corner of my eye I see him give a little shrug. “It was a really long time ago. I’m not saying it doesn’t still hurt sometimes, but…yeah—it was a really long time ago.”
“I get it,” I say sincerely, thinking about my mom and how most days she barely even registers in my mind, but then something will come up that reminds me…
“You sound like you really do,” he says, curiosity in his tone.
I let out a soft sigh. He’s just revealed something really personal so it’s only fair I do the same. “My mom left us when Emily and I were four,” I tell him. “It’s not the same thing at all—she didn’t die, she’s out there living her life. She just didn’t want to be with us anymore.”
I feel Will’s warm hand close over the one I’m using to shift gears; he gives it a soft squeeze, filling me with the reassurance of his presence. “Do you know where she is? Have you tried to find her?”
“She’s in New Jersey,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “I tracked her down a few years ago and found out she’s been living a fucking hour away for the past fifteen years and never even tried to make contact. And it’s not like Em and I would be difficult to find—we have our name on the front of a fucking building in midtown Manhattan!”
“I’m sorry, Spence. You deserve better than that. Both of you do.”
“Thanks.” I let a long moment of silence stretch between us before I reveal the truth that hurts the most. “She has a new family now. New kids, new husband. A whole new life.”
“Does she know you tracked her down?” he asks gently.
I shake my head. “No. I never made contact. I don’t even know why I bothered looking, to be honest.”
“You looked because she’s your mother,” he says simply. “It’s normal to want to know where you come from.”
* * *
I know as soon as we start driving through the Hudson Valley that this is an area I want to build a property in. Whether it’s the vineyard we’re visiting today or some other property I come across in the future, it’ll happen one day.
“What’s that smile?” Will asks curiously.
I shake my head wryly. “I was just thinking, it’s strange. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been to this part of New York before. But this is the first time since Em and I took over CPG…it’s just weird how your perspective can shift sometimes.”
“By the look on your face I take it you’re already pretty sold on this property?” Will asks.